Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
ENZO
Fall has always been my favorite season in Vermont.
As a kid, I made tons of great memories—carving gruesome jack-o'-lanterns with my mom and uncle, watching scary movies with my friends and pretending we weren’t terrified, and raking giant leaf piles for Rascal to jump in.
When I got a little older, I would go hiking with Uncle Caleb through the property and up north along the Long Trail. That’s when he taught me about appreciating the stillness and beauty of nature.
Even now, when I look at the trees transformed into brilliant reds and oranges and golds, I can remember that first fall after I moved here. I was sad, missing my friends, still feeling worried and guilty about my mom getting hurt, but something about the peace out here soothed me.
Sitting on the front porch with my uncle, drinking apple cider and eating fresh-picked apples, I looked out at the woods that were so different from our city apartment in Buffalo and my problems didn’t seem as big anymore.
I think, deep down, I always thought of Bliss as my real home. Even though I left it for so long, I never forgot how special it was.
How special it is . Especially now that I have Winter.
With Winter, I’m making new memories. And they’re ones I’ll carry with me forever.
Memories like taking her to Blissful Days and watching her concentrate so intently on that duck pond game, cheering in delight when she finally won the grand prize. And the date I planned at home, with all her favorite things, and how I think even then, I was falling for her.
I’ll never forget Winter’s expression when she saw all those signed books I got for her.
I’ll never forget her face the first time we made love.
And I won’t forget the quiet moments, like we’re having now—sitting out on the front porch together in the matching Adirondack chairs I bought, holding hands while we enjoy one of the last warm days of the season.
As I glance over at her, she gives me a soft smile, and the love that sweeps through me is so intense it steals my breath for a second.
She’s so beautiful; the sun catching the copper and bronze in her hair, a few stubborn freckles still dusting her nose, and her emerald eyes sparkling with flecks of gold and amber. But that’s not why I love her. I love Winter for her kindness and bravery and strength and intelligence and how damn cute she is when she gets all competitive and how she looks at me like I’m the most important person in the world to her.
Yeah. I really love Winter. And I can’t wait until it’s the right time to propose.
I’m still thinking Christmas. I’ve already talked to Knox about plans for a gazebo.
Still smiling, Winter says, “It’s so perfect out here, Enzo. With the trees, and the quiet, and being here with you…” She squeezes my hand. “I’m just so happy.”
Oh.
My heart.
“I’m happy, too.” Leaning over, I cup her cheek, brushing my lips across hers. “So happy, hun.” Another kiss. “And I love you so much.”
Winter’s cheeks go pink. “I love you, too.”
All at once, two chairs seem one too many. What was the point of buying these extra-large Adirondack chairs if I can’t share one with my girlfriend? So I get up and scoop Winter into my arms, then sit back down and settle her onto my lap.
“Enzo!” She laughs, a bright, happy sound. “What’s this for?”
“Because you were too far away,” I reply with a grin. I kiss her again, taking my time with it, stroking and nipping and teasing until she opens for me, inviting me in. As I plunge inside, I can taste the sweetness of the cider donuts we shared for an afternoon snack, and I’ll never think of donuts the same way again. From here on out, they’ll remind me of Winter’s sweet mouth and her wicked tongue and how perfect it feels when I kiss her.
When we finally pull apart, she licks her lips and says, “I like how you taste.”
I brush my thumb across her kiss-swollen lips. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“We should buy extra cider donuts and save them,” Winter suggests. “Put them in the freezer or something.”
“We could. Although… what about pumpkin pie? Apple pie? Eggnog? Gingerbread?”
She nods thoughtfully. “True. We don’t want to ignore all the other yummy desserts.” After a beat, she adds, “Aunt Linette asked me about Thanksgiving. She was wondering if I knew my plans yet.”
Winter’s aunt came to visit for a couple of days and just left yesterday. With Thomas and Dennis both in jail, it seemed safe for her to come back from Colorado. So Tayo and Kayla got her to the airport, complete with an offer to come back whenever she wants, and Winter and I picked her up in Albany.
We took her back to her house first, and Aunt Linette was absolutely thrilled to find everything just as it was when she left. That’s because Knox took his entire crew down there last week and fixed everything so it was good as new. Better than new, really, because he installed new energy efficient windows to replace the ones that were broken, plus a top-of-the-line security system with a direct link to the local police.
Then we drove back here and spent the next two days talking and showing her aunt around Bliss. I had Will and Ronan cover at the store so I could take the time to really get to know her, since I’m hoping she’ll be family one day and I want her to approve.
I think she approves. I hope.
“What do you want to do for Thanksgiving?” I reply. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”
Although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to have Thanksgiving here, working together to cook our first turkey together, and maybe inviting some of the guys who don’t have family nearby.
“Well…” Winter’s forehead creases in thought. “I guess I was hoping we could have it here? We could go to Albany, I guess. But I thought it might be nice to have everyone over. Aunt Linette could stay overnight, and we could invite the guys if you wanted? I’m not sure what their plans are, but if they’re going to be around?—”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Hugging her to me, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”
“Awesome.” She grins. “I can’t wait to start planning.”
“I’ve never cooked a turkey before,” I warn her. “So I might not be much help.”
“That’s okay. You can be my sous chef. I’ve cooked with Aunt Linette for years, so I’m pretty decent at it.” Pausing, her brows pull together before she adds. “Actually, I should ask Violet if she wants to come, too. She mentioned having some time off coming up. And some years she spends Thanksgiving with me if she’s not working. Her family isn’t really into the whole holiday thing.”
“The holiday thing?”
“Yeah.” Winter makes a little face. “I know. Violet’s parents are nice, but they’re?—”
My phone buzzes loudly and she jolts; one of the lingering effects of her experiences with Thomas and Dennis. I know the anxiety and jumpiness are normal, and they’ll get better eventually, but I still wish Winter didn’t have to deal with it.
“It’s fine, hun.” Holding her with one arm, I reach for my phone with the other. Glancing at the alert on the screen, I say, “That’s just the camera at the end of the driveway. It’s probably the mailman, or one of Mrs. Adamson’s friends bringing over another casserole.”
“You’re right.” She chuckles, though it sounds a bit brittle. “They have been bringing over a lot of food. Or maybe it’s those new books I ordered.”
“We’re going to need another bookcase, aren’t we?” I tap the app to access the camera—just because I think it’s nothing doesn’t mean I’m going to assume, not after everything we’ve been through.
“Maybe.” Winter smiles, looking a bit more relaxed. “I think there’s a spot open next to the couch.”
There’s a slight delay as the video loads, and I make a mental note— ask Alec about upgrading the Wi-Fi —before it finally opens to the live feed. But there’s nothing visible, just an expanse of empty driveway, so I rewind a few seconds to see who was there.
No.
My heart leaps into my throat.
Shit.
Not who was there.
Who is here.
Not a kindly retiree bearing food or Emmett, the guy who delivers our mail.
It’s so much worse.
My pulse rockets to triple speed.
I lift Winter off me and grab her hand. “We need to get inside. Now .”
She blinks in surprise. “What?”
But I’m already pulling her towards the front door. Urgency laces my tone. “Come on. Hurry.”
“Enzo?” Her voice wobbles. “What is it?”
I don’t want to tell her. Not yet. Not until we’re inside.
Instead of responding, I drag Winter the rest of the way, yank the door open and practically shove her through it. Only once I have the door shut and bolted do I answer her question.
“It’s Thomas.”
“What?” Her eyes go huge and all the color drains from her face. “How?”
“I don’t know. He’s coming up the driveway right now.”
Fuck.
I can hear the rumble of an engine approaching.
“Enzo…” She’s shaking all over, her breaths coming in quick gasps. “I don’t understand. He’s in jail. Are you… are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I could see him driving.” Grasping both her hands, I hold her gaze. Keeping my voice low, but commanding, I tell her, “I need you to get in the safe room. Right now.”
“No.” Winter shakes her head quickly. Adamantly. “No, Enzo. I’m not.”
“I need you to, hun. I’ll handle this.”
The engine is even louder now, nearly to the house. “You can’t. He’ll?—”
“Winter. Go to the safe room.” It’s an order this time. “Call 911.”
“Call them here. Now.” Her chin juts out. Her shoulders set. On a shaky exhale, she says, “He’s here for me. You know he is. I’m not hiding this time. I want to know what’s going on.”
Shit.
I don’t want to waste time arguing, so I take matters into my own hands. First, I call 911 and put it on speaker. Then I pick up Winter and carry her toward the kitchen.
“Enzo! Stop it. I won’t stay inside.”
“Please, Winter. Just do this.”
The 911 operator picks up, and I quickly rattle off my address and explain the situation. I’m nearly to the pantry with a wriggling Winter when I hear a voice bellowing from out front of the house.
“I’m here for Winter! If she doesn’t get out here right now, I’ll burn this place down!”
Winter yelps; a tiny sound filled with fear.
My heart flies into my throat. If he tries to burn the house down… there’s an escape from the safe room. But will I be able to convince Winter to leave?
A second later, she snaps, “Enzo Rossi. Put me down right now . I mean it.”
Part of me wants to ignore her command. Get her in the room. But if she’ll come out anyway…
“Fine.” I lower her to the floor. “Stay with me, then. But if I tell you to drop, to run, you do it. No question.”
From the kitchen counter, Winter’s phone buzzes insistently, and I can just make out the words Bliss Police Department on the screen. Calling to tell her Thomas has escaped?
A bit late for that, I think.
“I’m not fucking around! I know she’s in there. Winter! Get out here! Or I’ll torch this house and everyone inside!”
Winter sucks in a sharp breath. “Enzo. We have to stop him.”
“I will. The police will be here soon. I’ll go outside and handle it.”
“No. You can’t.” Her voice quivers. “He’ll set the house on fire .”
Then she rushes back into the living room.
“Winter, get back!” It’s nearly a shout as I race after her. Fear wraps around my chest, getting tighter by the second.
“We have to see .” She dashes over to the window and stands off to the side of it, craning her neck just enough to peek outside. A moment later, she curses under her breath.
The 911 operator is still talking, and I hear her say faintly, “The police are on their way. They’ll be there as soon as possible.”
But that’s not terribly comforting since we’re a good ten minutes outside Bliss, and the police station is right in the center of it.
And it’s even less comforting as I stand beside Winter—trying to shield her as best I can—and get a look at the scene outside.
It’s not good.
Thomas is standing on the lawn about thirty feet from the front of the house with a pickup truck idling behind him. He’s holding two bright red gas cans, gleaming wetly as the afternoon sun hits them, and another can sits at his feet.
He’s wearing a police uniform two-sizes too small, smeared with dirt and splattered with something dark—oil? mud? blood?—and he looks completely unhinged. His eyes are wide and wild, his hair is going in every direction, and his teeth are bared in a rictus of a grin.
“Come out now!” he screams as he waves the gas cans around, sending splashes of liquid flying. “Or I’ll do it! How fast do you think this old house will burn? Pretty fast I bet!”
Winter ducks back from the window and stares at me in horror. “He’ll do it. You know he will.”
“The police?—”
“No, Enzo. What if they don’t get here in time?”
“Winter!” Thomas yells, “you have one minute to decide! Come out or I’ll set this place on fire!”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Don’t panic. Focus. Push away the fear.
Don’t think about Thomas getting his hands on Winter again. Don’t think about her trapped in the house, burning.
“Hun.” I force a calm I’m not feeling. “Please go in the safe room. Use the trap door. Get to the woods and hide. Please .”
“No, Enzo.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it hard. “I’m not leaving you. Not this time.” She pauses. “I have an idea.”
“Wiiiinnnnteerrr!” Another glance out the window shows Thomas approaching the house, now closer to twenty feet away. “Are you coming out, or am I burning this place down?” He barks out a laugh. “Don’t think about trying to run!” Dropping one gas can, he reaches behind him and pulls out a gun. “Then you’ll really be sorry!”
Shit. I could grab Winter and shove her into the safe room. Open the trapdoor and push her through it. But if she’s not prepared, still fighting me, she might get hurt. And if she’s moving slowly, Thomas could catch her. Take her. Shoot her.
“Enzo. Can you shoot him from here?” Winter’s voice dips, low and urgent. “With one of your rifles? You can hit him. Right?”
“Yes. But if he sees me, he might make a move right away.”
“But what if I distract him? Go out on the porch? Talk to him?”
“No!” It’s almost a shout. “Never, Winter. I’m not?—”
Her words spill out in a rush. “I’ll just stand on the porch. And I’ll take one of the guns. Hide it. I’ll talk to Thomas. Tell him to put the cans down and then I’ll go to him. In the meantime, you can run upstairs and shoot him. I know you can.”
I open my mouth to argue—the last thing I want is Winter anywhere near Thomas—but I stop. She’s right. If he’s distracted, I can easily take him down with one shot from upstairs.
“Time’s almost up!” Thomas bellows. “Ten seconds and it’s bye-bye house. And bye-bye to everyone inside it!”
“ Please ,” Winter pleads. She’s pale, fear etched into every feature, but her eyes are determined. “I can do this. I can stall him. I trust you. Please trust me.”
Shit.
Please don’t let me regret this decision.
“Okay.” It hurts to say it. I press a hard and quick kiss to her lips. “But do not leave the porch. If he comes any closer, get inside. Promise me.”
“I promise.” Winter meets my gaze. “Go. Hurry.”
And then she darts toward the front door.
It’s the worst pain; watching her head toward danger instead of being shielded from it.
But I can’t think about that now.
This is a mission, and Winter’s my partner.
So I sprint to the gun cabinet and jab my finger at the biometric lock to open it while listening to Winter shout, “Thomas! Stop! I’ll come out if you stop!”
Fuck. Everything in me is screaming to grab Winter. To get her away from him. To not let her do this.
But we’re in it. There’s no going back. So I need to get my shit together and do my part of the job.
I yank out my MK 22 and grab a magazine of ammo, then bolt up the stairs just as Winter calls out loudly, “Thomas. I mean it. Stop moving and put away the gun. Put down the gas can. I don’t feel safe coming out otherwise.”
Fuck.
This is a nightmare come to life.
It takes less than ten seconds to get to the upstairs bedroom window, but it feels like an eternity.
Please let Winter be okay. I haven’t heard anything aside from Winter’s voice, but still. Without seeing her, I can’t be sure.
In position by the window, I carefully crack open the window and inspect the area below. When I spot Thomas still standing twenty feet from the house, with the gas cans now on the ground and the gun tucked back away, my legs go weak in relief.
And Winter kept her promise; she’s still talking to Thomas from the porch—I can’t see her, but judging from the direction of her voice, she hasn’t moved from the front door.
“Thomas. You don’t have to do this.” The tremble in Winter’s voice slays me.
“Yes! I do!” Thomas’s voice pitches up. “This is how it’s supposed to be! You’re supposed to be with me!”
“Where?” Winter asks. “How is this going to work? People will be looking for you.”
“We’re going to Canada. Way up north. And when we get there, I’ll teach you how to be a good girlfriend again. Not like how you are now.”
Canada? With my Winter? Over my dead body.
As I aim my rifle, I strain my ears, listening for the sound of approaching sirens. Nothing.
But I guess it’s no surprise. While it feels like this has been going on for hours, it’s only been a matter of minutes.
“Come on , Winter!” Thomas makes an impatient gesture. “I’m tired of this. We need to leave now!”
Enough.
It’s time.
I shut everything else out. It’s just me, the rifle, and my target.
The fear dissolves; replaced by confidence.
And I fire.
Once. Twice.
Not to kill, though I wouldn’t regret it. But I don’t want to traumatize Winter by killing a man in front of her, so I aim for less lethal but still effective locations. First his right arm, the one that once held the gun, and then the left, so he can’t start flinging around those gas cans again.
Thomas drops to his knees and lets out a horrible shriek of surprise and anger and pain.
I turn and race back downstairs, still holding my rifle, just in case.
At the front door, I blow past Winter—I want to hold her, but dealing with Thomas has to be the priority—and quickly say, “Zip ties. There are some in the kitchen drawer with the scissors. Grab as many as you can and bring them to me.”
When I reach Thomas, the first thing I do is flip him over and pin him to the ground. Then I take the gun from his waistband and toss it safely to the side. He’s moaning and I think he might even be crying as he whimpers, “My arms. My arms. Oh, it hurts. You asshole, it hurts. I’m going to lose my damn arms.”
“Hardly,” I snarl, and tighten my grip on him. “If I’d wanted to shoot your damn arms off, I would have.”
Winter comes running over and hands me a bundle of zip ties. In a shaky voice, she asks, “Is this enough? I can look for more.”
“It’s plenty,” I reassure her as I restrain his wrists and ankles tightly. Thomas whines, “My arms! You can’t pull them like that! Stop it!”
Winter growls—yes, growls—and she kicks him hard in the leg. “Shut up,” she hisses. “You deserve worse than this.”
Finally , the sound of sirens emerges.
Satisfied that Thomas is fully subdued, I stand and pull Winter into my arms. She starts shaking; full body tremors so violent her teeth are chattering. It’s delayed shock, and I hug her to me, crooning, “It’s okay, hun. It’s okay. He can’t do anything to you now.”
Winter just shudders against me, her arms snaked around my waist, her face pressed into my shirt.
The sirens get louder, as do Thomas’s whines and moans.
“It’s okay,” I repeat between gentle kisses to the top of her head. “It’s okay. It’s over.”
After another minute, Winter lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes are pink and glassy, but her cheeks are dry. “I know,” she replies softly. Then more firmly, “I know. We did it.”
“Ah, hun.”
My throat goes thick.
“We did it,” she repeats. “Both of us. We were a really good team.”
Oh . My heart.
My love.
“You’re right.” As police cars careen up the driveway, I lean in to capture her lips. “We are a really good team.”