Page 224

Walt wiped his cheek with the heel of his hand, and Leo nearly reached for him again.

Nate pulled a chair closer. “Here. Sit down.”

Leo crouched in front of it as Walt sat. Nate showed him where to look, and Walt leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Here?”

“Yes,” Nate said.

Not quite. His eyes were fixed somewhere near Leo’s ear. Leo moved a little. There. That was better. Now Walt was looking at him.

“I’ve missed you,” Walt said.

Leo looked down at the hands clasped between Walt’s knees.

He hadn’t meant to forget him. That was the first thing he needed Walt to know. He’d tried to find him as soon as he knew there was someone to find, but that sounded awful too. How was he supposed to explain that he’d forgotten someone he loved this much?

“I don’t remember enough,” he said. “I’ve been trying, but there’s so much missing. I couldn’t even tell Nate your name. But I knew I loved you. I remembered that clearly.”

Nate’s voice caught a little when he repeated it.

Walt bent his head. Leo lifted his hand toward his cheek and stopped just short of touching him.

“I knew your name as soon as I heard it,” he said. “I told Nate I would.”

“He did,” Nate told Walt. “He was very sure about that.”

Walt looked up again. There was a small, unsteady smile on his face. “He’s always been sure about everything. He used to argue with me a lot.”

Leo huffed. “I’m sure you gave me plenty of reasons.”

Nate passed that on, and Walt laughed. He wiped his face again, but he was still smiling when he lowered his hand. “What do you remember?” he asked.

“Your eyes. The cigarettes.” Leo glanced at Nate. “He’s still doing that, apparently.”

“Apparently,” Nate agreed, and told Walt.

“I did give up for a while.”

When? Where had he been living? Had someone talked him into it, or had he decided for himself?

Leo wanted to ask about all of it, but there was one thing he needed to know first. “I remember you downstairs. In the room behind the wall. You had a blanket around you, with a blue stripe.”

Walt’s smile faded as Nate described it.

“There was a woman,” Leo continued. “She said nobody would find you.”

“Yes,” Walt said. “She brought me tea. I remember.”

“You were crying.”

Nate spoke more quietly this time.

Walt looked toward Leo, and Leo almost told him to leave it. They could talk about something else. Anything else. Where Walt lived. Whether he’d had breakfast. People liked talking about food, didn’t they? He could ask Nate to make him some. They could sit here a little longer, and Leo could try to make Walt smile again.

But the room would still be downstairs. He’d still remember Walt crying in it.

“Was it because of me?”