Chapter 9: The Truck

Hannah's POV

It was raining when I came out of the hospital at seven in the morning, a thin gray rain that smelled of hot pavement.

Nolan's truck was at the curb.

The engine was off, and the windows were fogged from the inside.

I stood in the doorway with my bag on my shoulder and my badge still on.

I should have walked to the bus stop.

I opened the passenger door and got in.

He was sitting with both hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead.

He had not shaved, and he looked like a man who had been awake all night deciding something.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"A while."

"Since three?"

"Since a little after."

"Nolan. You can't sleep in a parked truck outside a hospital."

"I wasn't asleep."

The rain ticked on the roof.

I could smell wet wool and coffee and the clean scent of his jacket.

It was warmer in the cab than anywhere else I had been that week.

"You were going to say something last night," I said. "In the bay. And you didn't."

"I know."

"Are you going to say it now?"

He turned his head and looked at me.

His eyes were grey, I noticed, a steady grey like deep water, and they were not looking at my face. They were looking at me.

"I want to," he said. "I'm trying to find how."

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