Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden #2) - J.M. Darhower Page 0,26

Tell me."

"I just…" Her voice cracked. "I love you so much."

Confusion took over Matty's expression before a smile touched his lips. Pulling her back to him, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "You're pretty okay yourself, you know… for a Galante."

All at once, the spell was broken. Genna let out a sharp laugh as she pushed him, the last few wayward tears streaming down her cheeks as she rolled her eyes. "Okay, Barsanti."

He stared at her. "Guess that's not us anymore, huh?"

"It'll always be us… just nobody will know."

Jen Gallivant. That was her name on the fake documents Matty had gotten, while his said Matthew Barton. Close enough to their real names for them to remember but a big enough difference that nobody would make the connection. Genna hated it. She hated everything about it. As much as she'd once despised him being a Barsanti, that was who she'd given her heart to. Matthew Barton was a fraud.

She got it, though, as much as she hated it. Being them almost got them killed. They couldn't risk it.

"Well, then, Matthew." She scowled as she said that name. "Since the water is working, I'm totally going to take a bath."

"It'll be cold," he warned, "until the hot water heater gets fixed."

"Pfft, as hot as it is in this place? It'll barely be room temperature."

"Whatever you say." He kissed her forehead before stepping away. "You enjoy your bath while I find a store. You need anything else while I'm out?"

"Cake."

He cut his eyes at her. "Cake?"

"Yeah, chocolate cake with strawberry icing."

"Chocolate cake with strawberry icing."

"Yeah, and like… sprinkles on it. I love sprinkles. Oh, some chocolate sprinkles. A fuckton of them."

He ran his hands down his face. "Chocolate sprinkles."

"Some kind of ice cream would be nice, too, to go with it, if you love me."

"If I love you," he muttered, walking out before she could say anything else. She laughed to herself, stepping out of the room behind him, watching as he disappeared downstairs. Genna waited until he was gone, until the car started up outside, before she made her way to the bathroom.

She almost hadn't believed him.

It felt too good to be true.

But the moment she turned the squeaky knob and water shot out of the faucet into the bathtub, Genna let out an excited squeal. It filled as Genna stripped out of her dingy clothes, discarding them on the floor. She stepped into the water, yelping as the bitter cold nipped at her skin. She didn't hesitate, her teeth chattering as she sunk down into it. It would warm up quick enough. There was no way she was waiting.

No soap. No washcloth. Hell, she hadn't even sought out a towel. But that mattered not to Genna. It was the best goddamn bath she'd ever taken in her almost nineteen years on Earth. The water soothed her achy muscles, washing the grime from her skin. She lay in silence, staring up at the ceiling, as the water warmed.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered.

For the first time since leaving New York, she actually believed it.

It's going to be okay.

An old Lincoln Continental.

1963? 1964?

Genna wasn't sure about the year, but the car was recognizable. Even broken down, the black paint faded and chipped, part of the body rusted out, she knew what it was as soon as she spotted it.

It was parked behind the house, visible through the living room window. The car had been through hell and back, ransacked just like the house, but still, she found it beautiful. The thing had charm.

Opening the back door, Genna stepped out into the hot summer afternoon, grimacing as the dry heat slapped her. Matty looked up when he heard her, smiling from where he was hunkered down beside the archaic air conditioning system, still trying to get it running. Probably a lost cause, but she said nothing, letting him do whatever he needed to do, whatever would make him feel better.

After all, it wasn't always about the ending. Sometimes it was more about what you did to get there.

She returned his smile as she stepped over to the car, surveying it. She ran her hand along the beat up front end, stepping around the driver's side as she glanced in. The vinyl seats were cracked, but otherwise, the interior appeared in decent shape.

"I wonder what happened to the people who lived here," she said. "They left a lot of stuff behind."

"So did we," Matty pointed out.

"We were running."

"Maybe

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