I didn't know how long we drove, but it was done in silence. I looked over at Arlo again, seeing and sensing the change in him the closer we got to wherever our destination was. His body was tighter, his concentration sharper. He had retreated to some hidden part of himself where emotions couldn’t touch, where he was a machine without feeling and only had cold, dead calculation as his compass. I focused out the windshield again, because if I thought about this too hard, I’d have to retreat into myself to get through this.
It was another five minutes before Arlo finally slowed and pulled the BMW into the cracked and uneven parking lot where an old casino sat. It didn’t even look like it was still operating for business, but there was a flickering light above the scarred and faded front door, like a welcome mat for anyone brave—or stupid—enough to enter.
He maneuvered the car toward the back of the building where no light touched before turning around so he faced the street. He cut the engine, and we sat in silence for long seconds as he stared at the back of the casino, both of us plunged into darkness so shapes were distorted and reality didn’t quite look how it should.
“Arlo?” I whispered his name but didn’t know what I was asking him.
“You’ll stay in the car, Galina.” He looked at me then, the first time since we’d left the hotel. He reached over and opened the glove box, a dim light from the small interior breaking up the density of the blackness. He pulled out a gun and held it to me, the barrel facing the windshield. I glanced from the weapon back to him. His silence was loud, his message clear.
Use this if anyone fucks with you.
I reached out and took the gun, our fingers brushing together for a split second before the contact was broken. The weight of the weapon was substantial as I stared down at it, the metal cold but warming the longer I held it. I knew how to shoot, had to learn at a young age. But this weapon was heavy in my palm, bigger than the one I owned, and I felt a light sheen of perspiration cover my forehead.
“Arlo, let’s just go,” I suddenly said and snapped my focus to his face. “I just want you to be safe. Let's go and forget this.” I was rambling, my fear so strong right now I couldn’t control myself. And I felt ashamed over that. Right now I need to be strong. I’d never let fear control me, but at the thought of Arlo getting hurt—or worse—this cold terror encompassed me.
“Moy svet,” he murmured. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His jaw tightened. “I won't let anyone take you from me.”
I shook my head because he’d misunderstood me. “I don’t care about me. I can’t lose you,” I said and was immediately embarrassed. I didn't want to cling to what we had, to let it be a weakness, but here I was, begging him to leave with me so there wasn't a threat that he’d be taken from me.
“My sweet Galina,” he whispered and cupped my face as he leaned in and kissed my lips softly, then the tip of my nose, and finally settled on my forehead. I closed my eyes and let the feeling and smell of him surround me until that hard panic started to lessen.
“Not even death can take me from your side.” He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “Not even death,” he said again, and I nodded, although I wanted to tell him he couldn’t guarantee that. No one was immortal or invincible. No one could predict when or how they died, or stop it. But when Arlo said it with such stony determination and finality in his voice, it was hard not to believe that if anyone could defy death itself, it was him.
“Tell me you understand.” His voice was hard, as if he expected me to comply no matter what, to believe my words even if they were a lie.
It was hard to breathe, let alone speak, but I managed to say, “Okay. I understand that you’re crazy.” I was the one to lean in and kiss him this time and felt his lips tilt into a smile against mine.
“U nas yest' vsya nasha zhizn', chtoby byt' pravymi.” He pulled back and smoothed a finger over my bottom lip. “We have our entire lives to be together.” And then he was out of the car, the locks engaging, sealing me in, the gun in my hand a reminder that I had to use it. Because although I told him I’d stay in the car, there was no way I was letting him go into that situation alone. There was no way I’d let him get hurt because he was making things safe for me.