by M. Pierce
I thought of Wendy and the farm animals.
"What's the matter?" Hannah whispered.
"I had... some vegetables. In the fridge."
"We had to throw some out. We ate as many as we could."
Anger gripped me as I imagined Nate and Hannah cooking together. I held my manatee and glared out the window. Hannah held my hand.
The Librium came on strong as we hit the highway. I listed against the door. Hannah pulled my head onto her lap and I curled up across the bench.
"We are we going?" I said quietly.
"To your brother's house."
"Then where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?" She ran her fingers through my hair.
"Wherever you're going."
"Then you'll come back to Denver with me. I'll take care of you, Matt."
I fell asleep to the feel of Hannah's fingertips on my face.
I woke to the sound of my nephew's shrill voice.
"Uncle Matt Uncle Matt Uncle Matt!"
My nephew is an unholy terror. I sat up in time to see him throw himself bodily at the car. Nate laughed and climbed out.
Maybe dealing with eight-year-old Owen was how Nate learned to deal with me.
"Wow," Hannah murmured. She was looking out the window, up the sloping lawn toward my brother's house. I felt another twinge of anger—and jealousy.
First they were cooking together, now she was admiring his suburban monstrosity. Was this the kind of thing Hannah liked? I followed her gaze to the house, a two-story brick-front beast that sold new to Nate for a cool million.
"We could—" I rubbed my jaw. "I could—" Fuck these drugs, tangling my thoughts. What was I trying to say? We could get a place like this? Oh, please.
Nate opened my door and Owen launched himself across my lap. Valerie was hurrying down the driveway to meet us, pulling Madison by the hand.
My niece is a quiet, bookish girl, thank god.
I carried Owen out of the car. Everyone was staring at me. Everyone. Nate, Valerie, my niece and nephew, Hannah. I wanted to melt.
We exploded into awkward greetings. Valerie hugged Hannah, then me. I kissed her cheek. My niece hugged me obligatorily. We shared a look that said: I knew the feeling.
"Hey Val," I mumbled. "Hey Maddie." I set down Owen and he latched onto my leg. I had to walk-drag him up to the house.
I never let go of my manatee, and I never let go of Hannah's hand.
It was three in the afternoon. Valerie made some noise about dinner.
"I'm not hungry," I mumbled. I felt like death. The potpourri odor and purple scheme of Nate's house turned my stomach.
Hannah and Madison were deep in conversation about the Inheritance Cycle. I shook off Owen, who proceeded to tear through the house screaming like a banshee, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.
Nate moved ahead of me with the suitcases.
"I'll put you two down here," he said, heading to the basement. "That okay?"
"Mm."
"Maddy wants to look after your rabbit. She's been dying to meet him."
"Sure," I said. Better Madison than Owen.
The basement was fully finished with its own bedroom, kitchenette, full bath, and TV area. Like I cared about any of that. All I wanted was to be with Hannah.
Nate rubbed my back and we traded glances.
"I'll tell Hannah where you are," he said, and I nodded. I knew, as I had known for years, that I had the best older brother in the world.
CHAPTER 28
Hannah
_____
NATE DETAINED ME on my way to the basement.
"Hannah. I'm not sure if we'll get to talk again. You know, without Matt looming." He waved a hand and laughed. He looked apologetic.
Over the last five days, I sensed that Nate was giving me the brother test—making sure I was good enough for Matt, or insane enough. Casual conversations about my job or interests turned to grilling sessions, after which Nate was aloof and broody.
And as we cleaned the cabin, Nate periodically surveyed the wreckage and announced, "This is the way Matt is." His tone was always the same—uncompromising, almost proud—and I caught his meaning perfectly.
This is the way Matt is; take it or leave it.
Nate didn't realize that I was already all in.
Then, when Matt refused to see me in the hospital and I stayed on helping clean the cabin and pack, Nate's attitude started to change.
He began to talk openly about Matt's substance abuse.
I learned that Matt had detoxed half a dozen times before. He'd been in and out of hospitals and rehab. He'd also been to court more than once for drug possession, public intoxication, and drunk driving, always handily evading charges with the family lawyer.
Nate told me endless anecdotes about Matt. Funny stories. Scary stories. I drank it all in. I understood that Nate loved Matt desperately, and so we had something in common.
I paused with my hand on the basement door.
"Sure," I said, "what's up?"
I'd spent the last thirty minutes locked in conversation with Matt's niece, then Nate's wife, and finally admiring Owen's Lego collection. I was itching to get to Matt.
"Oh, nothing particular." Nate loosened his collar. The guy ran on mysterious funds of energy. After a week of flying, driving, cleaning, and packing, he didn't even look tired. "I've seen him go through this, you know. It's important that he take his meds."
"I know. I'll make sure he does."
"It won't be easy for a while, Hannah. He usually needs some time to snap out of it."
"The drinking?" I frowned. I was not equipped to rehab Matt, much as I wanted to.
"Oh, no. I doubt he'll drink. That was very situational."
Very situational. Very much my fault.
"What I mean is, he may not seem like his old self for a while. I'm sure you've noticed some of that already."
I nodded.
"And he's not your responsibility," Nate went on. "I'll arrange tickets for you two tomorrow, if I can, but if that's too soon—" He frowned. He was having a rare struggle with words. "Rather, you've done all I hoped, Hannah. More than I hoped. Please don't feel—well, you know I can keep him here for a while. I would do it happily. I would do anything for him."
Nate was staring up at the large, arched window above the front door. Afternoon sunlight warmed his face. Looking at him—his patience and seriousness—I knew that he meant what he said. He would do anything for Matt.
And still, I didn't doubt for a moment where Matt would be happiest.
No one could love him like I loved him. He belonged with me.
"Tomorrow is perfect," I said. I fully planned to reimburse Nate for the last-minute airfare, somehow. "The sooner we get back to our lives, the better."
"My thoughts exactly, Hannah. I'll move forward with the tickets then. You can run it by Matt, if you don't mind. And thank you, again. He's lucky to have you."
Nate kissed my cheek. The brush of his lips was so formal and chaste, but all I could think of was Matt's jealous stare. He'd hit the roof if he saw this.
I closed the basement door behind me.
I expected to find Matt asleep, but when I got downstairs I heard the shower running. Our suitcases stood in the bedroom. I pried off my boots and paced the plush carpet.
Valerie seemed nice enough, but holy hideous decorating scheme. She'd turned Nate's mansion into a dollhouse.
The shower ran... and ran as I paced.
I cased the kitchenette. There were sodas, fruit, and sandwich stuff in the fridge. That would do if Matt got hungry. Should I make him eat? God, I had no idea what I was doing.
I began to undress, laying my jeans and sweater over my suitcase. I shimmied out of my bra and thong. I didn't need a shower—I had one that morning—but I needed to be with Matt.
I let myself into the bathroom. Steam filled the spacious interior.
The girl in me got giddy looking at that bathroom. Valerie's pr
incess décor may have failed in the house, but it worked like magic here. The rugs were lush, the towels fluffy and huge, and the sink brimmed with candles, lotions, and perfumes.
I shut the door loudly to announce my presence. When I drew back the shower curtain, I found Matt standing under the water, staring lifelessly at the drain. Our eyes met; he rolled his away with dog-like diffidence.
He may not seem like his old self for a while.
I stepped into the shower and eased my body under the spray.
"I guess we both like a hot shower," I said, my mouth near his ear.
He grimaced and looked away.
I didn't need anyone to tell me that Matt was mortified. I had seen him at his lowest. He would never willingly show me that.
I also didn't need anyone to tell me that Matt was happy to see me. His grimace notwithstanding, I felt his stiffening member touch my leg. I brushed against it and watched his eyelids flutter.
Between guilt and desire, he was static. I took his hand and brought it to my breast. He squeezed gently and I moaned.
God... that touch, did he know what it did to me?
"Matt, touch me. I've been desperate for you, please."
My hands devoured his body. I cringed as I felt ridges of bone.
For the pure pleasure of it, I ran a bar of soap along his skin. I slicked my fingers up his back and lathered shampoo into his hair.
Gradually, Matt began to touch me.
He was cautious at first, caressing my shoulders, arms, and sides. He watched his hands, never my eyes. His cock hardened between us. When I touched it, he covered my breasts.
He lifted them and circled my nipples with his tongue. He touched me as though he'd never touched me before.
His fingertips danced over my sex. I groaned and tried to grind onto his hand, but nothing could rush him. He touched me wonderingly; he spread my folds and fingered me as I panted. My god, I couldn't bear this slow torture.
At last, we stumbled out of the shower. I gripped the edge of the sink and gazed over my shoulder at Matt. Wet curls were plastered to my neck.
I hoped I looked half as good as Matt, who looked like a sea god come to shore. Water coursed down his hard body. His golden treasure trail glistened. Was I under the influence of Valerie's décor?
Matt held my hip and positioned his head against my slit. He started to tremble.
"It's okay," I whispered. "Please, I need it..."
He entered me with slowly deepening strokes. I bit my lip to suppress a groan. If I let go, everyone in the house would hear me.
Frantically, I wiped a patch of fog from the mirror.
Matt stared at our reflection as he bucked into me. His body couldn't disguise its need. His thrusts grew brutal and his eyes burned as he watched.
"Oh... Matt," I gasped, bracing myself against the counter. "God, don't hold back."
Matt was unusually quiet. No dirty talk tumbled from his lips—not even a moan.
He was transfixed by our reflection. I saw him watching my breasts, their heavy fullness bouncing as he slammed into me. Color flamed my cheeks. I remembered the first time, when he yanked up my top and fondled me in plain view of my house. Where was that man?
He looked down at our bodies.
"Tell me," I panted. "What do you see?"
Matt opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Disappointment crashed through me.
He usually needs some time to snap out of it.
I knew I wanted too much too soon, but I was addicted to Matt's dirty mouth. I was addicted to the way he humiliated me in bed.
Spurred by my rising crescendo of pleasure, I rocked back into his thrusts. I found my voice and started to babble.
"Your cock," I stammered. "I feel it, Matt... deep between my legs."
"Hannah..."
My name was a whisper on his lips.
"Tell me, please, talk to me—"
"Mm... my dick," he gasped. I moaned in need and encouragement. "Fuck—take it. I'm watching you take it. Ah, fuck, I'm watching your tight little pussy—"
I let go of my dignity; the rush of passion tore it away.
"Give it to me, Matt, fuck me, come in me—"
"Fuck, Hannah!"
Matt's hands snaked around me. His strong fingers found my clit and rubbed it, tickling the nerves, making my body explode.
We came together and collapsed against the sink.
Afterward, Matt was inert again. I wrapped a towel around him and ruffled his hair with another. I had hoped that sex would knock his head clear all at once, which was ridiculous. Nate was right—Matt needed time. And I could be patient.
I kissed his mouth. He kissed me back halfheartedly.
"Tired," he murmured, shuffling out of the bathroom. I watched after him in dismay. He did look tired, and with good reason. His body had been through a punishing ordeal. Fuck, maybe I shouldn't have coerced him into sex. What was wrong with me? I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. Hannah, grow a brain!
I grabbed an orange and a bottle of water from the fridge and hurried to the bedroom. Matt lay belly down on the quilt. He was wearing a pair of black boxers and the manatee I had given him was nestled into his side.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"I brought you an orange."
Silence.
I set the fruit on the bedside table. His pill bottles were there.
"Have you taken these? I think—" I fiddled with a bottle. "—I think you're supposed to take this twice a day."
Matt held out a hand.
"Um, yeah, okay, so—" So don't fuck up Matt's meds. Oh god. Which was which? Tapering dose... highest dose. After some fumbling, I set a 25 mg capsule in Matt's palm. He washed it down with the bottled water.
"Sorry," he said after a space.
I patted my body dry and climbed naked onto the bed. I stretched out beside him, hugging him and fitting my curves to his skin.
"No apologies," I said.
"It makes me sleepy. Can we talk?"
"Of course we can talk."
"I messed up. With you."
"No apologies," I repeated. "I'm not sorry I met you."
"I tried to stay away. At first, I tried."
"You couldn't have." My chest tightened reflexively at the thought of a life without Matt. I gathered a breath. Time to sound like an idiot. "Can I tell you something?"
"Mm."
"Matt, I—I don't think I could have stayed away from you. Not in this lifetime." I traced my fingertips over his back. "I love you. You know I love you."
"Why?"
It helped that Matt's eyes were fixed on the wall. Those penetrating green eyes... I couldn't have said these things to them.
"I think I've always loved you," I whispered. "I felt something since we met, since we first started writing together. It was like I had loved you without knowing you, and the love was in me, waiting to happen. So you can't apologize, Matt. It's you I love. There's no why about it."
Matt rolled to face me. He met my gaze—finally—with obvious difficulty. We watched one another.
"You and Nate..."
"He's been a perfect gentleman," I said.
"Yeah?" Matt searched my expression drowsily.
God, was he actually worried about this? I sighed and cupped his cheek.
"Matt... I don't want a perfect gentleman."
"What do you want?"
"You."
For the first time in months, I watched Matt's gorgeous face light up with real laughter. It was soft, enervated laughter, but it was laughter. I wanted to cry.
"Not a gentleman," he chuckled, his eyes slipping closed.
"Definitely not a gentleman," I murmured.
CHAPTER 29
Matt
_____
HANNAH AND I had an unspoken understanding.
I would live with her in Denver.
"Here it is," she said, smiling at an unassuming corner building.
I paid our cabby and wedged Laur
ence's cage off the seat. I dragged our suitcases onto the sidewalk.
The condo complex was small and frankly hideous. Flimsy balconies jutted from brown brick. Inside, we had to lug our bags to the second floor.
"I haven't... had much time," Hannah said as she let us in.
What had Hannah been doing for three months? Her condo was a shell. I set Laurence's cage on the floor of the family room. Family room? Living room? With one lamp and a "table" that consisted of plywood and cinder blocks, it was hard to tell.
I wandered through the empty rooms. There was no kitchen table. I found two plates in a cupboard. Another smaller room was entirely empty.
Only Hannah's bedroom showed signs of life: books, a mattress on the floor, a calendar on the wall. I cleared my throat. She was hovering in the doorway, watching me.
"It's..." I scanned the space for a single redeeming quality. "Ah, got nice high ceilings."
Hannah burst into laughter. She hugged me tight and I lifted her off her feet.
"You're here, Hannah," I said into her hair. "This is the only place I want to be."
It was true; I couldn't stomach the thought of my sprawling, modern, lonely apartment. I didn't even want my furniture and appliances. I wanted to start fresh with Hannah.
"I've been stalling on the décor," she admitted. "But now I'll make it really great. I'll cook, too. Fatten you up." She poked my ribs and I smirked.
"Fatten yourself up while you're at it."
"Oh, right." She toed the floor. "Kind of lost my appetite... in the craziness."
"Mm. You cut your hair, too." I fluffed the layered curls at the back of her head. They were heavy with product. Hannah blinked up at me. "I like it, bird. I like it a lot."
She exhaled in relief.
I roamed through the condo some more, feeling like a ghost. I couldn't get hold of my moods. The highs were sharp; the lows were deep. Was it the Librium? I felt totally dislocated. Hannah trailed after me, perhaps feeling equally lost.
"What?" I murmured. She was staring at me again. I knew for a fact I didn't look stare-worthy. My wardrobe, at the very least, needed to be fetched posthaste. I was wearing an old pair of jeans and a blue thermal turtleneck.
