42. Maddox

FORTY-TWO

We cut across the house to the back of the living room, but instead of heading up the stairs, Hannah leads me down a little hallway.

She hesitates for a second, then walks through an open door.

Following, I find myself in Hannah Utley's bedroom.

It's small. Probably the same size as my walk-in closet. But it's comfortable.

I glance at what must be a full-size mattress and try not to imagine how much I would not fit on that bed.

The built-in bookshelves make me think this may have been designed as a study, but Hannah has turned it into a nice bedroom.

"I don't have any chairs in here." She stops at the head of the bed and turns to face me. "But we can sit on the bed if you'd like."

My eyes roam over the neatly made bedding.

I want to feel it. The cream-colored comforter. The mattress. All of it.

But I don't sit. I want to stay standing for this.

I focus my attention on the woman in front of me.

There's no great way to lead into this, so I just start. "Last night, you said you're the one who didn't call." She rolls her lips together as she watches me. "But we never shared our numbers, and I know you know that. So I need you to help me understand."

Her eyes close. "I shouldn't have said anything. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," I tell her.

She opens her eyes, and they're full of sadness. "Why?" Her tone sounds so defeated.

So I tell her the truth. "Because I missed you."