"I'm sure."
"Because once we start looking, we might find things you don't want to know."
"I already know everything I don't want to know, Enzo." I meet his eyes. "Let's just find out who's watching us."
He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then nods.
"Let's go."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The town is a twenty-minute walk from the cabin, and Enzo doesn't ask if I want to take the bike or wait for a ride. He just starts walking with that purposeful stride I've come to recognize, and I fall into step beside him with my hands buried in my pockets and my eyes fixed on the road ahead.
The morning air is quiet and empty, nothing but trees lining both sides of the gravel path and the rhythmic crunch of our footsteps breaking the silence.
I try not to think about the photo on my phone, but it proves to be impossible.
Miss your happy place?
My stomach turns over and I have to force myself to keep walking.
"You okay?" Enzo's voice comes out low and careful, like he's trying not to spook me.
I don't look at him. "Fine."
"You're breathing like you just ran a mile."
I am. Short gasps that don't quite fill my lungs no matter how hard I try. I force myself to slow down, to inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, counting to four the way my therapist taught me years ago.
"I'm fine."
He hums, but then he steps beside me close enough that I can hear his breathing too. Steady and controlled and completely unaffected, like nothing in this world could rattle him.
Probably nothing can.
The town appears around a bend in the road, smaller than I expected with just a gas station sporting peeling paint, a diner with a faded sign hanging crooked, and a hardware store that looks like it hasn't been open in years.
"I think we should split up," I say, looking between the gas station and the diner. "That way, we can cover more ground. I'll take the diner, you take the gas station."
He looks at me. "No."
"It makes sense. I'm better at getting people to talk without terrifying them and you—" I frown at him. "You look like you want to kill someone at all times. It's not exactly conducive to friendly conversation."
"We're not splitting up."
"Enzo—" I throw my hands up in frustration.
"I'm not leaving you alone, Isabella. That’s not happening."
"If you would stop being a caveman for a second and just listen! It’s a diner full of locals at breakfast time and a gas station right across the street. You'd be able to see the door the entire time." I hold his gaze. "Five minutes. That's all."
He looks at the diner. Then the gas station. Then back at me, and I can see him running the numbers, running them again, not liking the result either time.
Goodness, this man is a piece of work!
"You don't move from inside that diner," he says finally. "You don't step outside for any reason. You see anything that feels wrong, you call me immediately."
"Agreed." I grin.
