Chapter 7 #2
I pushed the thoughts aside and tried to focus on the joy of the surprise at hand. I wasn’t sure how much happiness I’d have in the coming weeks so I wanted to enjoy it.
When we both were dressed, Enzo grabbed his gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans. He also grabbed his shotgun. A knot formed in my throat, but I didn’t say anything as I followed him out the door.
The world outside looked like it had been remade overnight.
Every branch, every fence post, every rock was wrapped in white. The sky was clean and bright, the kind of blue that made you want to breathe deeper. My boots sank with each step, light crunches in the soft snow.
We got in his SUV and started to drive. The snowbanks on either side of the road glowed under the pale sun, and for the first time since I’d left the hotel, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder.
“So, where are we going?” I asked, leaning forward to adjust the vent.
He didn’t look away from the road, but I saw it — the flicker of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll see.”
“You realize this is kind of suspicious, right? Man from the criminal underworld takes woman to unknown location in a secluded mountain range.”
“You definitely listen to too many documentaries,” His lips twitched. “True crime junkie.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. “You’re so immature.”
He barked a laugh. “I’m immature? You’re the one pouting like a child over there.”
I rolled my eyes even though he had a point. “Whatever,” I grumbled, turning my attention out the window.
We turned off the main road after about twenty minutes. A weathered sign peeked out from a drift of snow: High Falls Gorge.
I sat up, excitement coursing through me. “You’re taking me to the gorge?”
He shrugged one shoulder, eyes still on the road. “Could use a change of scenery.”
“You? Or me?”
His mouth curved, barely. “Both.”
After we parked, we followed the narrow trail that wound through the trees, our boots crunching on the packed snow. The sound of rushing water grew louder, echoing through the stillness until it drowned out everything else.
When the trees opened up, I stopped breathing.
The gorge spread out before us — frozen in places, alive in others.
The sunlight hit the falls, scattering through mist in shards of gold and blue.
Every edge glittered. Sheets of ice shimmered like glass curtains while dark water thundered beneath.
The sound was deep and endless, the kind that made your chest ache just listening to it.
“Wow,” I whispered in awe, feeling like I’d been transported to another world.
Enzo didn’t say anything. He just stood there beside me, hands in his pockets, watching the falls like he’d forgotten for a second that danger even existed.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured softly.
He nodded once, our eyes meeting. “Yeah, it is.”
The tone of his voice and the way he was looking at me made me feel like he wasn’t talking about the gorge.
We made our way down the path toward the catwalks that stretched over the gorge. The metal was slick under our boots, the railing cold to the touch. I stopped halfway across, peering down where the water slammed through the ice. Mist hit my face, cool and sharp.
“Don’t lean too far,” he warned from behind me.
I smiled without turning. “I’m fine.”
“Sure,” he said, close now. “Until you’re not.”
I could feel him just behind me — his presence, solid and quiet. The kind that didn’t make you nervous, exactly, but made you aware.
“Would you dive in after me?”
His jaw tightened slightly. “Don’t test that theory.”
The air between us changed. The noise of the falls didn’t seem as loud anymore; it was just there, steady, while something heavier hung between us.
I looked back toward the gorge, breathing in the cold air. “You ever think about leaving your life behind?”
He was quiet for a long time. “Every day.”
I turned, searching his face, but his expression gave nothing away.
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because people like me don’t just walk away.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Because I understood — more than I wanted to admit. Like I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk away from what happened with Luca.
We walked the rest of the trail in stretches of silence broken by easy teasing. He pointed out an icicle taller than me, I threw a snowball that missed by a mile. When I laughed, he did too; quietly, like he didn’t mean to.
We stopped at a wooden overlook near the upper falls. I sat on the railing, letting my boots dangle over the drop while he leaned beside me, arms crossed, eyes on the water.
“You ever think about how small we are?” I asked.
“All the time.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Keeps things in perspective.”
I looked at him sideways. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes perspective.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “You’d be surprised what I like.”
I opened my mouth to push that, but something in the way he said it made me pause.
We stayed longer than we should have. Hours, maybe. He’d brought a thermos with hot cocoa, a couple of sandwiches, and some chips. We ate sitting side by side on a snow-dusted bench overlooking the gorge. The sun climbed higher, turning the ice to mirrors.
It was quiet, but not empty. The kind of quiet you only get when no one’s pretending.
“You ever been up here before?” I asked before taking a bite of my sandwich.
He nodded. “When I was a kid. My mom would make us a picnic lunch like this. We never came when it was this cold, though.”
He didn’t talk about his family much, but when he did, his voice went soft, careful. Like handling glass.
“I used to think this place was huge,” he said. “Felt like another world.”
“It still does,” I admitted softly.
He looked over, eyes meeting mine. “Yeah. Guess it does.”
The wind picked up, swirling snow around us like glitter. I tried to pull my scarf higher over my mouth, but my fingers were numb. Without a word, Enzo reached out, catching my gloved hand in his own.
“Your hands are ice,” he grumbled.
“I’m fine.” I tried pulling my hand away.
He didn’t let go, frowning at me. “You’re not fine. You’re freezing.”
“It’s worth it for this,” I replied, gesturing around with my other hand.
He gave a quiet scoff, still holding my hand for a moment longer before tucking my glove tighter around my sleeve and letting go. “You’re impossible.”
“You like that about me.”
He didn’t deny it.
“We should go before you get hypothermia,” Enzo said, standing as he popped the last piece of his sandwich in his mouth.
Rolling my eyes, I snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”
We made our way back onto one of the catwalks, slick with ice and edged in frost. The metal groaned faintly beneath our boots. The spray from the falls made everything shimmer — and treacherously slick.
“Careful,” Enzo warned from behind me.
“I am careful,” I replied, glancing back with a grin. “You’re the one who—”
My boot slid.
For a split second, the world tilted: blue sky, blur of railing, the roar of water below. My stomach dropped as my balance went out from under me …
And then an arm closed hard around my waist.
Enzo.
He hauled me against him with a single, sharp motion, spinning me until my back hit his chest. His arm locked around me, solid and unyielding. I could feel his breath against the side of my neck; short, controlled, but tight.
“Jesus, Gia,” he muttered, his voice low against my ear. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
My pulse was hammering. “I told you I was fine,” I managed, breathless.
“Yeah?” His grip didn’t ease. “Didn’t look fine from where I was standing.”
I turned slightly in his hold, just enough to meet his eyes. They were darker than usual, a mix of adrenaline and something else — something that made my chest tighten.
His fingers flexed once against my waist before he finally let go, slowly, as if making sure I was steady.
“Next time,” he said quietly, “hold the rail.”
“Next time,” I shot back, trying to sound unaffected, “don’t sneak up on me like some ninja.”
He almost smiled. Almost. “If I hadn’t, you’d be in the river.”
“Well, thank you for saving me.”
He smirked, his tone teasing, “Don’t make it a habit.”
We kept walking. The air between us felt charged now; the kind of silence that hummed instead of rested. I couldn’t stop thinking about how hard his heart was pounding against my back when he pulled me against him; how I could hear the fear in his voice that he tried to mask.
At the next overlook, we stopped again. I leaned against the railing this time, deliberately steady, and he stood close beside me. I could still feel the ghost of his arm around my waist.
“You always this protective?” I asked, arching a brow at him.
“Only when someone insists on slipping off cliffs.”
“That’s specific.”
His lips curved faintly. “You’re a specific kind of problem.”
I laughed softly, turning back toward the falls so he wouldn’t see how warm that made me feel.
As we reached the bridge near the bottom of the trail, I stopped one last time. The falls were louder here, wilder.
Enzo stood beside me again, close enough that our shoulders brushed.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Because it’s quiet.”
“That’s it?”
He looked at me then, really looked. His eyes were brighter in the sunlight, but still steady and unreadable. “Because I thought you needed some beauty and peace in all this chaos.”
Something in my throat tightened.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
He gave a small nod, and for a long moment, we just stood there; the two of us, the sound of the falls, the cold air pressing close.
When I finally turned toward him, I didn’t think — I just reached up and brushed a bit of frost from his collar. His breath caught, barely audible. For a second, neither of us moved.
Then he stepped back just enough to break the tension, clearing his throat. “We should head back before you freeze.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Right.”
We drove home in silence, but not the kind that was heavy. At one point, I caught him glancing at me in the rear-view mirror — not to check, not to measure, just to look.
He didn’t say a word, and neither did I.
For the first time since we’d met, I didn’t see the cleaner, or the job, or the danger waiting for us. Just a man who took me to see something beautiful when the world gave us a small chance to breathe.
And that was everything to me.