nothing out of place, all of his belongings right where he’d left them, like it had all just been sitting there, awaiting his inevitable return.
Curiosity nagged at Dante as his gaze drifted across the hall to his sister's bedroom door. Quietly, he stepped over, gripping the knob, hesitating before opening it.
A disaster greeted him.
Clothes were strewn everywhere. It was nothing new where Genna was concerned. The girl lived in chaos, while Dante always preferred order. Something in the room drew his attention, though, and he stepped further inside, careful not to trample on any of her things. Across the room, near her closet, on the floor, was a black duffle bag. A few pieces of clothing had been tossed in it, but otherwise, the thing was empty.
They were going to run, Gavin had said.
Guess they weren't fast enough.
After looking around, Dante headed back across the hall. He hadn't lied about needing some sleep. As exhausted as he felt, he could've slept for days, but he'd been out of commission already for too long. Anarchy had reigned in his absence. As much as he wished everything could go back to normal, it was impossible, because normal was gone.
So as he stood there, stripping out of the scrubs, he thought about where to go from there.
He considered his options. All of them sucked.
Stepping into his connecting bathroom, he turned on the shower, leaving the water scorching hot. What would Genna do? What had she done?
She'd rebelled.
It was in her nature. If you told her she had to go left, she'd deliberately veer right. Unlike Dante, the obedient soldier, Genna forged her own path. She was free-spirited like their mother. Dante always admired that about her. He'd been raised to be unyielding like his father. He saw only black and white. But Genna saw the gray area. She'd lived in it.
The gray area. That was what Nurse Russo had called him. She saw in shades of gray, too.
Maybe I ought to be more like that.
"Oh God, yes," Genna moaned, tossing her head back and closing her eyes. Sweat coated her flushed face. Goose bumps sprung up along her skin. "Holy fuck, that feels so good. Don't stop. Never stop. More. More. More."
Laughter rung out from across the room. "Should I be jealous?"
Genna peeked an eye open. Matty stood in the doorway to the kitchen, filthy from head-to-toe. Sweat soaked him, his dirty clothes clinging to his bronzed skin. He'd spent so much time working under the sun that parts of him, like his shoulders and his cheeks, were pink with sunburn. Ugh, that's gotta suck.
"Probably," Genna replied, closing her eyes again. "I'd definitely be jealous, you know, if it weren't happening to me."
Footsteps started in her direction, careful and measured. A soft smile touched Genna's lips as he approached. Cool air blew down on her from the vent in the kitchen ceiling. It wasn't cold, no, but compared to the desert heat, it felt glorious. She could stand there forever, in that exact spot, and die a happy woman. For over two weeks, Genna had felt like she'd been baking in that house.
"I can't remember the last time you looked so… satisfied," Matty said. "Starting to make me question my skills in bed."
Genna's smile grew. "You're alright."
"Just alright?"
"Well, I mean, I wouldn't say it's anything to write home about."
More laughter. Genna opened her eyes, gazing at Matty. He stood just a few feet in front of her, close enough to reach out and touch him if she wanted to.
"What a shame. I would've liked to see you write home to tell your father about all the spectacular sex we've been having."
"Right?" Genna sighed dramatically. "What a shame. Instead, I'll have to tell him about the ancient air conditioner and how it's blowing my goddamn mind by, you know, blowing."
Matty grasped her hips, stepping even closer. "I'm definitely getting jealous now."
"I told you—you should be." Genna wrapped her arms around his neck, gazing at him, as her fingers ran through the hair at the nape of his neck. His hair was getting longer. He needed to get it cut. Hell, he needed to shave. He could use some better deodorant, too, because whatever he'd been using hadn't been working. The man was a mess... a filthy, smelly, desperately-needed-a-shower kind of mess. But he was her mess. "You know, it's totally true what they say: you don't know what you've got until that shit is taken away."