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?