An hour later, several Union tanks rumbled by on the road, followed by a dozen armored trucks. Enzo began pacing back and forth across the room. “We should leave.”
“Definitely not. The area will be clear at the end of two weeks. Otherwise, my parents wouldn’t be planning to come back.”
Enzo flung his hand in the direction of the door. “We’re in a warzone. If the tanks start lobbing penetrators, we’ll die. If theyburn down the forest, the smoke will kill us. Right now, we’re sitting in a very fancy coffin.”
“We’ll be okay,” she insisted. “My father wouldn’t have told us to come here if we weren’t safe. I always wondered why the timeframe wasn’t one week, but now that makes sense. Leaving after one week wouldn’t have been safe. And this location makes sense too. If the special ops department is trying to track you, they won’t send anyone out here to search for you.”
Enzo didn’t seem cheered by her logic. For the rest of the day, he checked the cameras relentlessly, even though the security system hadn’t sent out alerts that anyone else was around.
Stragglers went by on day eleven. No one showed up on day twelve.
On day thirteen, things still seemed clear. Charity should’ve started to pack up her belongings but didn’t. It was her last full day with Enzo at the cabin, might be her last day with him altogether, and she wanted it to seem as normal as possible. The thought of leaving made her feel bleak.
Enzo was more silent than usual. He hardly paid attention to the movie they watched that night. He had to be worried about what would happen tomorrow.
She put her hand on his knee to get his attention. “My parents will probably just release you somewhere safe.”
“You think that?” It was clear he didn’t.
“You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone that you handcuffed me and ran off. I won’t. If for no other reason than I’d never live it down with my brothers.”
Usually, that sort of statement would’ve earned her a smile. This time it didn’t. “Good,” Enzo said. “I also don’t want your brothers to know about that incident.”
She tapped her foot nervously. “It wouldn’t be so terrible, would it, if you had to spend more time with my family?”
Enzo didn’t comment about that, but he gave her hand a squeeze and left his resting on top of hers.
That was holding her hand, wasn’t it?
So did that mean he agreed that no, spending more time with her wouldn’t be bad?
She stared at the screen and didn’t move. Maybe his hand on hers was only a gesture of comfort or solidarity or a way to keep her from nervously tapping her foot again. Should she snuggle in closer to him? Did she want to do that?
Well, the answer to that was an aching yes, but she had to think logically. What would it lead to? She might not see him again after tomorrow. Unless he wanted to stay with her family.
Charity sat still, feeling his skin on hers with every cell in her body. It would be so easy to lean against him and rest her head on his shoulder.
But Enzo had already rejected her. Twice. She wasn’t about to go through that again. If he wanted to kiss her, he could make the next move, and she would be the one to decide whether to reject him or not.
Enzo didn’t lean toward her or bring her hand to his lips like he’d done before. He just sat with his hand on top of hers in a gesture of perhaps comfort or solidarity or affection.
She watched the movie without seeing it at all.
That night when Charity went to bed, she didn’t sleep well. She kept waking up to check the time. At three in the morning, she heard noises coming from Enzo’s room. Something thudding and shuffling.
Was he planning to leave in the middle of the night despite his promise? She couldn’t stop him, but she’d at least confront him.
She grabbed her phone, turned on the flashlight, and marched to his room. His door was cracked open. The light was off, and yet she still heard movement inside.
She opened the door and pointed her flashlight toward the dresser and the closet, expecting to find him standing there.
No one was there. She glanced at his bed. He lay there, fitfully turning one way and then another, gripped by some nightmare.
She dimmed her light and padded over to him, softly calling his name. He didn’t wake. He spoke in his sleep, desperate words she couldn’t quite make out.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “Enzo.”
In one quick motion, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him. She yelped in alarm.