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“No.” I watch him, his focus on the road and worlds away from me. “How do you know I’m that person?”
“Am I wrong?” He looks at me then, and the fire in his eyes forces my gaze to avert from his to my lap.
“For the people I love, I’m exactly who you describe.”
“For the people you love,” he echoes, tasting the insult on his tongue. “Maybe my hope is that one day you’ll love me.”
“Would you love me back?” I ask after taking a steadying breath, pleased my voice doesn’t shake.
He doesn’t speak for a long time. Long enough that I resign myself to the fact he’s chosen to ignore me. But then he speaks, and my heart feels something for him I never imagined it would.Pity.
“I don’t think the darkness within my heart would ever allow space for love,dolcezza. Monsters are more afraid of the light than angels are of the dark.”
eight
The tires of Vincent’s car crack over sticks and dried leaves, an echo of nature I haven’t heard in a very long time. The dirt road winds around curves I can’t see beyond, but I stretch my neck all the same. The sun struggles to peek through the canopy of trees, and I remove my sunglasses. I shiver. The coolness in the damp outside air is enough for Vincent to switch the air-conditioning off, the loss of the constant fan heightening the sound of silence between us.
A cabin comes into focus on the last bend, and I gasp at its beauty. “Wow.”
It’s small, sure, but it holds a rustic ruggedness that welcomes you in a warm embrace. Three steps lead the way to a porch just big enough for two. It’s been built from old logs; stained and well-kept.
“It’s lovely,” I breathe out.
“You thought we were going to hide away in a shack?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“It’s not luxurious by any stretch, but it’s clean and will fit what we need it for.”
I can live with that. “Does it have a fireplace?”
“Yes.”
I clap, feeling silly, but not enough to stop myself.
“Can you wait in the car for a minute?” He switches off the engine. “I just want to check it through.”
“For what?” I eye him warily. “Intruders?”
“I just want to make sure it’s safe.”
I lower my voice. “What happens if someone is waiting in the woods?”
He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.
“Okay, okay,” I concede, removing my seat belt.
He leans over me and opens the glove compartment to pull out a handgun.
“Jesus.”
He smirks. “Just in case.”
He enters the cabin and returns within minutes to open my door. He holds my hand as I climb from the car, and my heart flutters at the basic show of intimacy.
“Go in. I’ll grab the bags.”
He’s been locked awayin the small office for hours. When we arrived, he dropped our bags into the only bedroom and closed himself away.
