Page 79 of The Sound of Him

Travis calls that night.

He’s on his way back to the safehouse.

Mica was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Thirteen

Matt

Nolan is lying in bed beside me when I wake up, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t notice me at first. He looks tired. Sad.

I tap him twice on the back of his hand where it rests between us. He startles, blinks, then smiles at me. It’s not fake, but it’s muted. “Good morning.”

I arch an eyebrow at him as if to ask,Is it?

He rolls his head on his pillow until he’s looking at the ceiling again, his smile slipping away. “He’s back.”

My stomach twists.

Jake is my monster, at least my monster that lives in the house, but Master Nathan -no, that’s not the right name, what’s his name again?- is Nolan’s. And now he’s back.

Does that mean he found Mica? Is he imprisoned? Dead?

Or does this mean that Mas - no, not the right name, he's, he's, he'sTravis, yeah,Travis- failed? Is he still out there, somewhere, hurting someone else? Stealing someone else’s voice?

Nolan’s hand slips into mine, squeezing. I turn to him. He looks worried.

I squeeze his hand back, trying to tell him that it’s okay. Everything will be okay. It’s hard to get that across without words, though. Or maybe it’s just hard because I don’t believe it.

Iwantto believe it.

In Ace’s office, I hadalmostbelieved it. With Dr. Singh, too.

I don’t know. Maybe thingswillbe okay.

Then again, Travis is back. Mica might still be free.

And Jake.

Jake’s still here.

I squeeze his hand again. I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean this time. Maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe me just being here, confused and worried alongside him, is helpful. I feel better when he squeezes mine again, after all.

It’s enough.

Maybe I can be enough.

It’s another bad day for Nolan, but he doesn’t hide away in the bedroom this time. He wants to be out in the open. Even though he flinches every time someone new comes into the roomwe’re in, or has to close his eyes and breathe whenever he hears Travis’ voice. He’s anxious and shaky, rambling half to me, but mostly to himself. The recipe he’s making for dinner is long and complicated. He’ll have to stay in the kitchen for a few hours. He says it like it’s something he has to deal with, sighing and shrugging a shoulder as if to say it can’t be helped, but he’s the one who chose the recipe. He’s the one who looked through the little book of recipes that had suddenly appeared just a few days ago, taking his time until he settled on this particularly long and complicated one.

Though, maybe it’shimmaking it complicated. It does take him nine minutes to peel a single potato, after all.

I keep him company, trying not to look too closely at the food he’s preparing, hoping my stomach won’t growl with hunger or rebel against the sights and smells until I get sick.

It’s just before dinner when it clicks for me - the reason Nolan was sacrificing himself out in the open. I see it in the way his whole body relaxes when Maison walks into the kitchen. Nolan’s eyes dart around as he seems to check every inch of him, making sure he’s in one piece.

Maison is self-destructive, Nolan has told me. Maison is full of shame and guilt. Maison is devastated.

I have my own observation as I watch them look at each other: Maison breathes easier when he has Nolan nearby.