Then he’s gone, his fingers leave my chin and hair, and I’m frozen in place.
He walks to the kitchen and scans the fridge. There are still aged magnets and notes my aunt scribbled when she was alive on the front. I haven’t had the heart to move any of her things. I came from Pennsylvania with a carload of clothes, some books, and personal things, but nothing large like furniture.
I’m living a hand-me-down life if there ever was one. And that thought makes the old inferiority swirl up like a tsunami.
I walk to the bathroom and close the door behind me. I drop onto the toilet and let a few quiet tears fall.
Pull up your big-girl panties,I tell myself.
He’s a friend. My aunt’s friend’s son. He’s not judging whether or not he wants to date me. He’s helping a woman who’s gone through a terrifying experience. I’m just lucky it was him who showed up at the café or I might have to spend tonight completely alone.
I dry my tears and twist my hair into a loose bun, then I wash my face with cold water.
“Franco?”
He’s standing in the kitchen but starts at the sound of my voice. “What? Are you okay?” he blurts, then comes toward me like he’s genuinely concerned some new danger sprung up in my room.
I’m starting to feel human again, more like myself. I give him a smile. “I just wanted to know if I should pack a pillow and blanket?”
He looks at me with an unreadable expression. His lips are slightly parted, and he seems to notice my hair is up as he trails his eyes from my lips to my hair and back to my face. “No,” he finally says. “It’s all good. Leave all that, unless you need special things. Ma made sure I have extra of everything.”
I shake my head and sling my bags over one shoulder. “I’m getting hungry now, though. I think the shock is wearing off and my survival instincts are kicking in.”
He nods. “Good thing I brought Dad’s leftovers. We’ll eat at my place. You want a drink?”
I nod.
“Just wine, or the harder stuff?” he asks. “I think tonight calls for a gin and tonic.”
“I usually stick to one beer or one glass of wine, but I’m up for anything.”
I click off the lights and am slightly reassured by how homey the place looks now that I’m calming down. Everything is where it should be. This is where my aunt lived. And this is where I’ll make a life too. Tonight is just a scary bump in the new path I’m forging. I’ll get through it.
And I’ll be okay.
At least, that’s what I hope.
7
FRANCO
When I pullup to my place, I leave the truck in the driveway but pop the garage door with the opener.
Chloe spent the entire ride looking at her hands and fidgeting in the seat, to the point where she was making meanxious. But something about seeing the lights go on in my garage, along with the sight of my bike, workbench, and weights restores a little sense of normalcy.
I switch off the truck and turn to her. “I’ll carry everything. Let’s just get you inside.”
She mumbles something under her breath and nods, then shoves open the passenger door.
Once we’re inside, I lock the garage and set her bags down at the base of the stairs. She has slid out of her boots and is shifting from foot to foot, looking uncertain.
I check the time, and it’s nearly nine. I stifle a yawn at the same time my stomach gurgles. “I’m going to heat these leftovers,” I tell her. “I’ve got to cook some pasta, so it might be twenty minutes. That cool?”
She nods. “Can I help?”
“Let’s get your things settled, and we’ll cook.” I grab her bags and bring them upstairs. “I’ve got shit everywhere,” I say, “but you can leave your stuff up here.” I drop her luggage and show her the bathroom. “Towels are here. Feel free to shower or take a bath if you want. Just make yourself at home.”
She is looking down at her socks, when I realize she might not feel ready to be alone yet. She might want to make a call to someone, but she doesn’t have her phone.
