seventeen hours had passed since she stood on the street corner in the darkness and watched her life incinerate before her eyes. She still felt the explosion in the tension in her muscles, a vibration in her bones as her body trembled. A flurry of emotions battled for control—lingering sadness, sheer terror, and a sense of uneasiness—twisting her insides and leaving her a tangled mess of frayed nerves.
She felt like she didn't know herself anymore, much less the guy naked in the bathroom. For all intents and purposes, Genevieve Galante and Matteo Barsanti had died in Little Italy… so who were they?
Her gaze turned to the bathroom door as it stood cracked open. Matty was all she had now, the only thing keeping her grounded, keeping her feet planted on the shaky ground. Well, him and… little him.
Genna's hands drifted to her stomach.
Or her. Whatever.
It was much too soon to tell, given the baby resembled a lima bean at that point, but the doctor had assured them everything seemed fine. They'd stopped at a small hospital in New Jersey, where Matty had assured her they'd be safe, but Genna wasn't a fool to think anywhere was beyond her father's reach. They'd lingered in the area just long enough to catch their breath, long enough for Matty to get his hand on a couple burner phones for them to use in case of an emergency.
Genna sighed, grabbing the map she'd found in the glove box of the stolen truck—or borrowed truck, as Matty had called it. We'll leave it somewhere for them to find, just as soon as we're out of the area. She spread the map out in front of her, smoothing out the creases as her fingers scanned the area around their current location.
The water in the bathroom shut off, the only noise the drone of the air conditioner. Matty strode back out, a white towel loosely wrapped around his slim waist. Heat rushed through Genna. Her face flushed as she impulsively scanned his chest, her gaze lingering along the trail of hair running down his toned stomach. She averted her eyes, so not to be caught gawking at him, but his amused chuckle told her he'd noticed the attention.
"Any luck?" he asked, plopping down on the bed beside her without bothering to get dressed. Genna fought to keep her eyes to herself, but all of that glorious bare skin was much too tempting to ignore.
"Any luck with what?" she mumbled.
"With finding somewhere to go."
"Oh, no." Focus on the map, Genna, not the man. "Not yet."
"You've got the entire country in front of you," Matty said. "We can go anywhere you want. Just take your pick."
Easier said than done. She scanned the area, tracing her fingertips along the highways. "It's just... I can see it all, and I know what it is, but that doesn't tell me anything about what it's like. All these red and blue roads, weaving together, going here and there... they're kind of like veins, you know? You can tell me where they go and what they do, but it says nothing about the person they make up." She groaned before he even had a chance to respond. "That probably makes no fucking sense."
"It makes perfect sense," he replied, reaching over and grasping her hand to still it. "Kind of profound, actually. Must not have fried your brain, after all."
"Damn near."
"And I get it. It's not easy deciding the future."
"So how do I choose? How do I know?"
He gazed at her. "How did you know about me?"
"I didn't," she said. "I still don't. I don't know anything. But it was a feeling I got. You know, it... you... well, it just felt right."
"Then that's how you choose," he said. "We settle down when something feels right."
"What if it never does?"
"It will," he assured her. "Besides, silver linings, Genna. If we don't know where we're going, we'll never really be lost, right? Wherever we end up will be where we're supposed to be."
He made it sound so simple. Genna glanced back down at the map, reading the neighboring city names. "You know there's a town called Climax near here?"
"There's also a High Point."
"No shit?"
"Saw a sign for it earlier. Climax and High Point."
"Huh." She scanned the area again, finding it. "That's kind of redundant, don't you think?"
"Redundant, maybe, but there's nothing wrong with that," he said, running his hand up her inner thigh. "You can never have too many, well, you know..."