Page 47 of Run

Fifteen

Vincent

Sergei had left, but I’d stay in the same spot. I was lingering, trying to hold onto the hope that I feared had died. I should have gone somewhere, anywhere, but leaving wasn’t an option.

I didn’t look up when I heard the front door open, but I didn’t have to look up to know it was Gia who emerged. I didn’t look her way, but listened as she got closer and then stopped beside me.

It felt so right to have her there, and more than anything I wanted to reach for her hand, hold it, hold her, and never let her go.

But I didn’t. Instead I just stood there, waiting.

“Vincent, can we leave?”

Her voice sounded strained, alarming, and when I looked at the blank expression on her face, I could see that she was emotionally wrung out. Even after all that had passed between us, the desire, no, the absolute necessity of protecting her was still there.

I reached for her, threaded my fingers between hers.

“Let’s go.”

I guided her to the car, some part of me melting when she did nothing but let me.

Vincent

I had a thousand questions, but I stayed silent, kept my eyes on the road instead of looking at her, demanding she tell me what she was thinking.

She wouldn’t.

Giovanna had always played things close, and as fiery as she sometimes was, I was often left to wonder about her true thoughts.

Even when we’d been so in love, I’d never been able to shake the idea that she would one day come to her senses, leave me without a second thought. I’d been right about that. Remembering what had happened before was essential now, even when I wanted nothing more than to know all there was to know about her.

I stopped in front of my house and got out, and Gia followed without saying a word. I should have taken her to some other place, but here was the one that felt right.

I wanted Gia here, even if it was only for the night.

She barely looked up after I let her in, so I stood in the sparsely furnished living room with Giovanna feet away, feeling awkward in a way only she could make me.

“Your girlfriend hasn’t fixed your place up for you?” she asked.

“You asking me a question, Gia?” I said through the instant flare of anger.

She looked at me, and her expression dropped, her eyes dark in the dimly lit room. “I did that to her too,” she said.

“What?”

“I tried to bait her, push her to get mad. She said that’s what I always do.”

I said nothing, didn’t confirm or deny her words, but I didn’t think she wanted me to.

“I’m sorry, Vincent,” she said, her voice and face as sincere as I’d ever heard or seen either.

“What are you sorry for, Giovanna?” I asked.

My own emotions were too strong for me to hide, and they bled through in my voice. Something else only Gia could make me do. I prided myself on being calm and in control, at least on the outside, but two words from her shattered that.

“For what I said and did. For everything. For being me,” she replied. There was a resignation in her voice that I hated, but there was also a depth in it. A self-awareness that I’d never heard from her.

She moved closer, looked me in the eye. “Is my sister happy?”