I close my eyes, kissing the back of her neck just once. I might not be able to get my happy ending, but hopefully, if I do this right, she’ll be able to get hers.
29
CHLOE
* * *
The next morning I wake up alone. My first thought is that he’s gone, this time for good. I sit up, all tiredness gone in an instant as I try to process the concept of him vanishing again.
Then I hear him making coffee, the smell of it drifting through to me from the kitchen. For a moment I think I’m home, that it’s Maisie and Spock is going to jump on my bed at any moment. I miss home with a pain so strong it’s like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I get up but I don’t want to put the clothes back on that I wore yesterday. There’s still blood on them from the things I don’t want to talk about.
I wrap one of the thick blankets around myself and I’m about to stick my head out of the bedroom when I notice a pile of clothes neatly laid out on top of the dresser. All are still bagged and tagged.
I pick a few things up. A long floral dress. A shawl that feels like real cashmere in light pink. Underwear too, a matching lace set in black. I try them all on. The fit isn’t perfect but it’ll do just fine until I can get back to my own wardrobe. If I ever can.
Once I’m dressed, I walk out and find Enzo carrying two coffees out to the porch. “Sit with me,” he says. “I think it’s time we talked.”
“I think you’re right. Where’d these clothes come from?”
“My sister has stuff she’s never got round to opening, let alone wearing. I figured she wouldn’t mind you borrowing a couple of things.”
“Thanks. To both of you.”
“No trouble at all. Now come on outside. It’s a beautiful morning.”
He’s not kidding. From the porch, I can see the sun rising over the tops of the trees. Thin streaks of yellow and orange are lighting up the celandine blue-gray sky. There’s a light breeze but it’s already shaping up to be a warm day.
I sit on the swing seat and look down at the dust-sheet-covered car in front of me. Yesterday, it was just a car kept hidden away. Now it’s a part of Enzo’s history. He killed his foster father with that car. I get the feeling the parts of the story I wouldn’t let him tell are about to come out.
Is that what I am? Under a dust sheet? My family history hidden away, about to be uncovered?
I feel like I should have let him talk last night but that’s because I got some rest so now, I feel I was only faking being tired.
The truth is I was exhausted to my very bones. I’m still tired but nowhere near as much, especially as the caffeine from the coffee starts to get into my system.
Enzo is sitting beside me, rocking the seat a little with his feet. “Used to come up here and sit with Imelda sometimes. The only place I could ever relax my guard.”
I know what he isn’t saying. Not anymore. “Is anywhere safe?” I ask him. “For us, I mean.”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” He puts down his coffee, looking out at the trees. “I grew up in a small town not too far from here. Mount White. Named for the mountain next to it.”
“Imaginative name.”
“You’re telling me. I used to think the founder took one look at the snow on the mountain and thought, what name would work best if I had no imagination at all?”
“Could have been Mount Snow. Changed every spring to Mount Thaw.”
He manages a flicker of his lips in return before he carries on. “I know what it’s like to live in a small town and to lose your parents. Mine died when I was three.”
“How did it happen?”
“They were out hunting and dad shot mom. They said it was an accident but he couldn’t handle the guilt anyway. Offed himself a month later. Me and Imelda got put with a foster family but the father was a violent drunk and he drank a hell of a lot.”
“What about your foster mom?”
“Whored her out until she hanged herself. Left us with him and there was nothing to keep him in check anymore. I did my best to keep Imelda safe from him but I didn’t always manage it.”