Chapter 6: Twelve Minutes Past

At twelve minutes past midnight, headlights swept across Beth's living room wall.

I was sitting on her couch under a blanket, awake, with my phone on my knee.

Beth was beside me with a softball bat across her knees.

"Put that down," I said.

"I'll put it down when he's on the porch with his hands where I can see them."

A car door slammed, and then someone knocked, three times, hard.

"Hannah," Dylan called. "I know you're in there."

I stood up and pulled Beth's cardigan around me.

"Open the window if he gets loud," Beth said, and she put the bat behind the door and stayed in the hallway where she could hear.

I opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.

Dylan stood under the yellow light in the charcoal suit.

The white rose was still pinned to his lapel, and the petals had gone brown at the edges.

He looked worn out.

"You said midnight," I said. "It's past midnight."

"I drove straight here."

"From where?"

"From the inn." He raked a hand through his hair. "Hannah, I need you to listen."

"Did you use the suite?"

"We had dinner," he said, too fast. "That's all. It was a dare. I had to see it through or they'd think I was a coward."

"So you stayed married to her until the clock ran out."

"You walked out. What was I supposed to do, chase you in front of everyone?"

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