"It's already too late."
"So that's how this is going to be?"
"That's how it's always been."
The man glared, although he didn't appear surprised. He'd been playing the game longer than Dante. He knew the rules. He knew how things went.
"If this is how you want to play it, so be it, but mark my words: this war is over. Enough people have been hurt. Too many lives have been lost. So I suggest you take a step back and let me do my job, or you just might go down also. You got me, Galante?"
"I got you, Detective, but get me," Dante said. "I've spent my entire life protecting certain people, and no threat from you is going to stop me from doing that."
His expression shifted, the smugness he'd walked in wearing fading. The man had a family, a wife and a daughter, so maybe he knew all about protecting the ones he loved. But he didn't know what it was like to lose them. He didn't know what it was like to give your all but still fail.
"It wasn't a threat. It was a warning. Don't get in my way." The detective turned to walk out but paused in the doorway. "I'm sure your father's elated about your survival. Must have been torture, not knowing. I'm hoping we get to bring the Barsanti family the same kind of news, but so far it hasn't happened."
The detective walked out, leaving behind an unsettling tension that coated Dante's skin. He felt eyes on him, a curious gaze. He glanced at the nurse, seeing a flicker of something in her eyes.
Concern.
"What happened to you?" she whispered.
He stared at her as a strange sensation stirred inside of him, compelling him to tell her, to confide in her, but he shook it off before any of the truth spilled from his lips.
"It doesn't matter what happened," he said. "What matters is that I survived it."
She didn't press the issue, pushing some buttons on some machines, before stepping away. Pausing beside the bed, she looked down at him. "Some advice, Mr. Galante?"
He raised his eyebrows.
"This is their game here, not yours… meaning while you're playing, they make the rules," she said. "So you've got two options: either you play along or you forfeit. Because standing on the field, trying to make up your own rules, won't work for anybody."
She smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, before walking out of the room, leaving him to his isolating peace.
When Genna awoke on the grubby couch, bright sunlight streamed through the nearby windows, the glare blinding. Holy shit. Squinting, she pulled herself up to a sit, shielding her eyes. No curtains. No blinds. Who the hell lived in the desert and didn't block out the sunlight?
Masochists. That's who.
Her entire body ached, spots of her sore from the springs poking her all night long. Grimacing, she looked around, realizing she was alone.
"Matty?" she called out, her voice loud in the old house, bouncing off the vacant walls.
No answer.
In the light, the house appeared ransacked. Nails stuck out of the walls where pictures used to hang, broken frames sitting around, a layer of grime coating everything. Reaching over to the end table, she picked up a small picture frame than had been face down. The glass was smashed, inside of it a faded photograph—a man, a woman, and two kids: a boy and girl. Twins?
"It's like The Shining up in here," she muttered, standing up and stretching, before setting the frame back down. She strolled through the downstairs, peeking into the same rooms she'd seen the night before. There was no sign of Matty, so she headed for the stairs, skimming her hand along the thick banister. The wood was rough, and she jerked her hand back when a massive splinter jabbed her, stabbing right into her skin.
Groaning, she yanked it out, keeping her hands to herself as she made the trek upstairs, the wooden steps squeaking beneath her. The second floor was even more eerie, ruts dug all along the floor leading down the hallway. She peeked in rooms as she went, finding a master bedroom with the bed frame still set up, the mattress half-pulled off of it, annihilated like someone had torn into it, ripping it apart. The rest of the room was intact, empty wine bottles scattered all around the floor.
"Oh-kayy," she mumbled as she moved on, heading further down the hall. She encountered a girl's bedroom next, judging by the belongings still hanging in the closet, old makeup scattered along a small vanity. Right across the hall, she opened another door, knowing right away it had belonged to the boy. An old comforter lay on the small bed, the logo faded but still obvious. Batman. Chicago Cubs memorabilia was scattered throughout the room, a small bookcase along the side of the room with old children's books stacked up on it. Genna stepped over to it, scanning the titles before pulling one out. Where the Wild Things Are. The copy was old and faded, the pages yellowing, the binding loose, but it held together when she opened it.
"What are you doing?" Matty's voice called out from the doorway behind her. Genna turned, seeing him standing there in nothing but jeans, sweat pouring down his bare chest, making his tattoos gleam in the sprawling sunlight, his tanned skin already sun-kissed, a hint of pink to it. He was filthy.
"Being nosey," she admitted, holding up the book. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to get the air conditioner running," he said, stepping into the room, his brow furrowing at the Batman comforter. He didn't comment on it, though. "There's a piece broken, so I'll need to find a store before I can fix it."
"Hate to break it to you, Matty, but A.C. requires electricity."
Matty stared at her as he reached over beside him, flicking the switch on the wall. The overhead light came on, flickering, before going right back out with a loud pop. Genna flinched, as Matty glowered at it. "Probably should grab some new light bulbs, too."
"You got the power turned on? How?"
He shrugged the question off. "Got the water running, too."
Genna stared at him, eyes wide. "No shit?"
"No shit."
"Oh God, does that mean I can take a bath?"
"Well…" He hesitated. "The hot water heater is busted, but otherwise…"
Genna launched herself right at him, wrapping her arms around him. He laughed, nearly falling, and hugged her back. Nuzzling into his neck, Genna inhaled the scent of him, oddly comforted by the stale odor of dirt and sweat. Okay, that's totally gross. But he'd been hard at work while she'd been asleep, busting his ass, trying to make things okay like he's said they'd be.
Tears stung her eyes, tears she couldn't hold back, as emotion consumed her. He was so good. So, so good. A Barsanti boy, one of the ones she'd been raised to see as the enemy, was doing everything in his power to make the world okay for her. Despite trying to swallow it back, she let out a sob, holding him as the tears fell.
"Whoa," he said, rubbing her back. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she cried. "Nothing's wrong."
"Come on, Genna, baby, don't lie to me." He pulled back to look at her. "Why are you crying? Tell me."
"I just…" Her voice cracked. "I love you so much."
Confusion took over Matty's expression before a smile touched his lips. Pulling her back to him, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "You're pretty okay yourself, you know… for a Galante."
All at once, the spell was broken. Genna let out a sharp laugh as she pushed him, the last few wayward tears streaming down her cheeks as she rolled her eyes. "Okay, Barsanti."
He stared at her. "Guess that's not us anymore, huh?"
"It'll always be us… just nobody will know."
Jen Gallivant. That was her name on the fake documents Matty had gotten, while his said Matthew Barton. Close enough to their real names for them to remember but a big enough difference that nobody would make the connection. Genna hated it. She hated everything about it. As much as she'd once despised him being a Barsanti, that was who she'd given her heart to. Matthew Barton was a fraud.
She got it, though, as much as she hated it. Being them almost got them killed. They couldn't risk it.
"Well, then, Matthew
." She scowled as she said that name. "Since the water is working, I'm totally going to take a bath."
"It'll be cold," he warned, "until the hot water heater gets fixed."
"Pfft, as hot as it is in this place? It'll barely be room temperature."
"Whatever you say." He kissed her forehead before stepping away. "You enjoy your bath while I find a store. You need anything else while I'm out?"
"Cake."
He cut his eyes at her. "Cake?"
"Yeah, chocolate cake with strawberry icing."
"Chocolate cake with strawberry icing."
"Yeah, and like… sprinkles on it. I love sprinkles. Oh, some chocolate sprinkles. A fuckton of them."
He ran his hands down his face. "Chocolate sprinkles."
"Some kind of ice cream would be nice, too, to go with it, if you love me."
"If I love you," he muttered, walking out before she could say anything else. She laughed to herself, stepping out of the room behind him, watching as he disappeared downstairs. Genna waited until he was gone, until the car started up outside, before she made her way to the bathroom.
She almost hadn't believed him.
It felt too good to be true.
But the moment she turned the squeaky knob and water shot out of the faucet into the bathtub, Genna let out an excited squeal. It filled as Genna stripped out of her dingy clothes, discarding them on the floor. She stepped into the water, yelping as the bitter cold nipped at her skin. She didn't hesitate, her teeth chattering as she sunk down into it. It would warm up quick enough. There was no way she was waiting.
No soap. No washcloth. Hell, she hadn't even sought out a towel. But that mattered not to Genna. It was the best goddamn bath she'd ever taken in her almost nineteen years on Earth. The water soothed her achy muscles, washing the grime from her skin. She lay in silence, staring up at the ceiling, as the water warmed.
"It's going to be okay," she whispered.
For the first time since leaving New York, she actually believed it.
It's going to be okay.
An old Lincoln Continental.
1963? 1964?
Genna wasn't sure about the year, but the car was recognizable. Even broken down, the black paint faded and chipped, part of the body rusted out, she knew what it was as soon as she spotted it.
It was parked behind the house, visible through the living room window. The car had been through hell and back, ransacked just like the house, but still, she found it beautiful. The thing had charm.
Opening the back door, Genna stepped out into the hot summer afternoon, grimacing as the dry heat slapped her. Matty looked up when he heard her, smiling from where he was hunkered down beside the archaic air conditioning system, still trying to get it running. Probably a lost cause, but she said nothing, letting him do whatever he needed to do, whatever would make him feel better.
After all, it wasn't always about the ending. Sometimes it was more about what you did to get there.
She returned his smile as she stepped over to the car, surveying it. She ran her hand along the beat up front end, stepping around the driver's side as she glanced in. The vinyl seats were cracked, but otherwise, the interior appeared in decent shape.
"I wonder what happened to the people who lived here," she said. "They left a lot of stuff behind."
"So did we," Matty pointed out.
"We were running."
"Maybe they ran, too."
"Maybe," she said. "Do you think they'll ever come back for any of it?"
"I doubt it," he said. "Are we ever going back for our stuff?"
"We have no reason to go back. There's nothing there for us."
"Then what makes you think there's something here for them?"
"I didn't mean there was. I was just wondering if they still wanted any of it."
"Why?"
"Because I kind of want to keep this car for myself."
Matty laughed, setting down a wrench and plopping his ass down in the hard dirt, stretching his legs out. He was filthy, drenched in sweat. "Whether or not the owner wants it has always been irrelevant to you, hasn't it?"
"Funny."
"If they wanted the car, Genna, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be rusting out behind an abandoned house in the desert. But I don't really see what use it is to you. It doesn't run."
"I could fix it."
"Do you know how to fix it?"
"Not really, but I could learn."
"Is that smart? Fixing up a car in your condition?"
"Don't." She pointed at him. "I swear to God, I will suffocate you in your sleep if you pull that delicate pregnant woman bullshit on me one more time. I'm fully capable of doing stuff."
Matty shoved up from the ground, wiping his dirty hands on his pants, but it did little to clean them. Stepping over to her, she reached up, cupping her chin, smearing dirt along her jawline. "I know you're capable. I'm just saying…"
"You're saying blah blah blah sexist Barsanti shit, but I'm not going to listen to it. My father treated me like a fragile ice sculpture my entire life. Everyone acted like I was breakable, but I'm not. I'm not going to break. I don't need coddled. Don't coddle me."
"I promise not to coddle you," Matty said, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Unfortunately, I think this air conditioner is fucked… unless you want to give fixing it a try?"
She scowled at him. Smartass. "I could've told you that. You need, like, a serious repairman."
"It probably needs an entirely new system. We'll have to make do. Maybe get some fans. Make it tolerable until I figure it out."
Tolerable seemed to be the name of the game. Genna glanced back at the house, studying the dirty outside. "How long are we going to be here?"
"Until we have somewhere else to go."
"And if we never have anywhere else to go?"
"Then we stay right here."
"So we've got an open invitation? The place is ours for as long as we want it?"
"Something like that." He eyed her. "Why?"
"I was just thinking, you know... maybe we should fix it up, too."
"The house?"
"If we're going to be living in it for who the hell knows how long, we should at least make it livable... a step up from tolerable."
He gazed at her, smiling. "Two months pregnant and you're already nesting."
"I'm what?"
"Nesting," he said. "Like how a mother bird builds a nest to lay her eggs in… when a woman's having a baby, she gets the instinct to make sure a place is all together for the baby to come home."
"Are you...?" She gaped at him. "Did you seriously just compare me to a bird?"
He laughed. "It's a real thing mothers do."
"How do you know?"
He leaned toward her for another kiss. "Because I know everything."
Groaning, Genna shoved away from him as she rolled her eyes. "I'll probably learn to tolerate this house of horrors before I tolerate that ego of yours."
"You love me."
"I do," she said. "But that doesn't mean I like you."
"Oh, but you do. You like everything about me. That Galante stubbornness just won't let you admit it." Smirking, he stepped past her. "I'm going to go take a shower now."
"I hope you freeze your balls off."
He laughed as he opened the back door. "Love you, too, Princess. Don't you ever forget it."
She watched him as he strolled into the house, trailing dirt with him. After he was gone, she turned back to the car, nodding to herself as she admired it.
Yep, totally fucking fixing it.
Chapter Five
The hospital inevitably evicted Dante from the ICU.
He was put into another room, on another floor, in another ward. A private deluxe suite, they'd called it. It was the size of a fucking closet. His medicine decreased and the catheter was removed as they called in a physical therapist and let him move around on his own.
But still, he didn't speak.
He had nothing
to say.
The doctors seldom showed their faces, the psychiatrist wrote him off, and the nurses? Well, leaving the ICU also meant leaving Nurse Russo.
His nurse on the general medical ward resisted looking at him, much less engaging in conversation. He preferred it that way. He was grateful. It gave him time to stew without interruption.
But still, he had to admit he missed Nurse Russo.
He kept replaying the moment she'd kicked his father out of the room, the look of determination on her face when she demanded he leave. Worked, too, because he hadn't returned as far as Dante knew. He'd had no more visitors. He was sure his father would be keeping tabs, like always, but he hadn't shown his face.
Dante wasn't sure how to feel about that.
A few times he considered calling him, ready to ask his questions, ready to hear the answers he feared, but every time he stopped himself for some reason.
Maybe he liked living with his head in the clouds. Maybe he liked the false sense of hope.
He couldn't shake it.
The hope had settled in his bones. Every second of every minute of every hour, a part of him refused to accept that something had happened to Genna.
Sitting up in the bed, Dante leaned over the side of it, his head down and hands covering his face, when a light rapt of knuckles echoed through the room from the door. Dante's heart did its bullshit hesitation as the hope flared. He raised his head, seeing the last person he expected to see.
Gavin Amaro.
Even Genna showing up wouldn't have surprised Dante as much.
"Man," Gavin said. "You look like shit."
Dante laughed dryly, the motion hurting his ribs. He clutched his side, grimacing. "Yeah, well, you should see the other guys."
"I have," Gavin said, taking a step into the room. "They look like they normally do."
"Exactly." Dante motioned toward himself. "All of this will heal, but there's no helping those assholes."