The trio approached the rickety porch, which led to a narrow red door. Enzo stared. For a brief instant, he glanced over his shoulder to see Michelle also surveying the situation with dissatisfied eyes.
“Is there a kitchen?” she ultimately asked.
“Sure,” Frankie said. “I already have something in the way of supplies.” He dropped a few plastic bags before smoothing his hands across his cheeks. “Shops will be opening up soon. If you make me a list, I’ll get you what you need.”
“Then let’s find some paper and a pen,” Michelle said resignedly.
She stepped past Lorenzo, not meeting his eyes. And he felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach as she tried and failed to open the door.
“Hold up,” Frankie said, running up the porch’s short set of steps so he could turn the key and let them in.
“After you guys.” The kid made a great effort of gesturing inside. Michelle swiftly disappeared into the darkness. As Lorenzo started to follow, he had to steady himself on the shaky railing.
“You okay, Enzo?” Frankie worriedly asked, scooting back to his brother’s side.
“My side,” Lorenzo stated through gritted teeth.
“You never could take a punch,” Frankie said, trying for a joke. He failed.
“This was a little more than that,” Lorenzo said.
“All in all, you did pretty good for yourself.”
Sensing the sincerity in Frankie’s compliment, Lorenzo relaxed some and allowed his brother to help him into the house. Michelle has already turned on a few dim lamps as she rifled through a kitchen drawer.
“One sheet of paper,” she said. “Well, what did I expect?”
A bit more searching brought a pen to her hand. She clicked it once and started to write.
“And… there’s no ink in it,” she said. “I’ll keep looking.”
“No. Wait.”
Disentangling himself from Frankie’s hold, Lorenzo reached into his right breast pocket. Somehow, despite the melee, he still had a small pen tucked away, and he offered it like an olive branch, holding his breath as Michelle gently snatched it away.
“Thanks,” she said in a dull voice as she resumed writing once more.
“Adamo only brought me out here once before,” Frankie admitted as he lit another lamp. “Remember, Enzo? When I told him I was interested in hiking?”
“Vaguely,” Lorenzo responded. “What were you? Ten? Eleven?”
“Twelve,” Frankie answered. “And I don’t know. Jersey just didn’t do it for me. Now when I went to Italy…”
His voice trailed off as Lorenzo felt his eyes roll. Frankie chuckled awkwardly before stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Another story for another day,” he said. “But it’s not like you guys will be out here forever.”
“Here’s the list.”
Michelle cut into their conversation, brushing past Lorenzo and handing over her scribbled piece of paper.
“Whoa!” Frankie exclaimed.
“What?” Michelle asked.
“I mean… you’re not moving out here,” Frankie said. “I bet it’s just gonna be a few days.”
“And how else can I pass the time if I’m not cooking?” she challenged.
Lorenzo cleared his throat. “I have an idea,” he said with a smile.
Michelle finally looked at him. His mind flashed back to their encounter in the kitchen, but she shook her head and glanced at his hand on his side. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re hurt,” she said. “And that’s not the only reason.”
She stomped off, likely in search of the nearest bedroom, and Lorenzo released a heavy sigh.
“That was cold,” Frankie said.
“You think?” Lorenzo asked before making his way to a dusty sofa and falling into the sinking cushion.
“I’ll be back soon,” Frankie promised. “Hang tight, fratello.”
With that, Frankie was gone, and Lorenzo rubbed the bridge of his nose. His mind kept flashing back to the confrontation in the kitchen, and he wished that there had been another way. But Fiorenza’s flunky was ready to kill.
And how could he just stand by and see Michelle hurt?
His head perked up at a soft sound emanating from the bedroom. Stretching off the sofa, flinching as his side ached once more, Lorenzo made his way to the closed door. Pressing his ear to the frame, he quickly recognized the sound as crying and lightly knocked.
“Michelle?” he called out.
When she failed to answer, he tried the door. Surprisingly, he found it unlocked. He turned the knob to find her crumpled on the bed and weeping into a pillow.
“Michelle. Hey. Come on.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively rubbed her back. She did not shy away from his touch but also made no move to meet his eyes.
“I don’t want to be here,” she said.
“Me neither,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry that—”
“Don’t,” she snapped, finally leaving the bed, and starting to pace the room. “I’m not even mad at you.”
“You’re not?” he dumbly asked, not quite knowing what to say next when she pressed her hands to the window and hung her head.
“You’re not the one who set this in motion.”
She slowly turned around, her hands playing with her rumpled locks as she spoke fast.
“Pop did this,” she started. “I mean… he didn’t want to have the stroke. He was playing with fire long before that, but he kept me in the dark.”
She flexed her fingers before her hands curled into a fist. She waved it in the air before bringing it back and crashing her hand into the wall.
“Michelle, no!” Enzo yelled, leaving the bed, and ignoring the pain in his side as he hurried toward her, trying to stop her from bashing her fingers into the wall a second time.
“Jesus!”
He fell short in his efforts, his own hand bearing some brunt of the injury. He winced and stumbled back to the bed as Michelle slammed her hand a third time before she slid against the wall to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I didn’t mean to take this out on you.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “And maybe Frankie’s right. Maybe we won’t have to stay here too long.”
“But they find out? What then?”
He saw that she was broken in more ways than he could describe, her adrenaline ebbing and her face falling as he crawled back to her side and sat with her against the wall.
“Guess you’ll just have to keep cooking until the cows come home,” he said.
“You saw them, too?” she asked. “How many dairy farms are there in these parts?”
“I’m amazed it’s not the beef state,” she said.
“Careful,” he warned. “We don’t want to end up in Nebraska.”
She laughed at that and rested her head on his shoulder, softening at last. Lorenzo forgot his aches and pains as he wound one arm around her, pressing Michelle closer.
“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad… I’m with you after all,” she said, looking at him.
Their eyes locked as he traced one finger under her chin. His touch found her lips, and Michelle suckled the tip of his finger. Her tongue graced the tip of his nail, and Lorenzo leaned forward. He pressed his brow to hers as he touched her leg. Their heated breaths mingled before they settled on a soft kiss. Michelle broke away first and stared at him hard.