Pros & Cons (17 page)

“You’re exhausted. Please try one of my sleeping pills. It’s just an over-the-counter bottle I keep in the first aid kit.”

“I don’t like taking medicine, Jenna. I’ll be okay.”

She sighs softly. “Then at least close your eyes.”

Her warm touch, her sweet voice, and the soothing rain make it hard to resist, and my eyes grow heavy. I
am
exhausted—mentally and physically drained—but I’m afraid to try. If I close my eyes, I’ll see
them
, and I don’t want to see them.

“I’ll try.”

I wrap the blanket around us, and Jenna quickly falls back to sleep. My eyes, however, remain open until the early light of dawn.

The next day we take a walk along the property. Thanks to last night’s storm, the backyard is fairly muddy, but that doesn’t seem to bother her. Jenna’s mesmerized by the glistening trees and the Smoky Mountain air—a scent even more potent after a rainstorm. Jenna might have grown up in the country, but even she’s fascinated by the mountain mist that’s settled over the Smokies after a long night of rain.

“I’d stay here forever if I could,” she says softly.

You can.

It’s on the tip of my tongue, but then she spots some wildflowers in the distance, and she runs off. She’s the picture of innocence as she pulls a daisy from the soggy ground and places it behind her ear. Then she turns and smiles at me—her first real smile in days. It’s impossible not to smile back, and suddenly I feel it. That crazy connection the two of us have always shared but never really understood.

 I understand it now.

“You look so serious,” Jenna says when she joins me once again. She slips her hand into mine as we continue to walk. “What are you thinking about?”

She’s not ready to hear the things I want to say, and in all honesty, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to say them. Not now. Not like this.

But soon. Very soon.

“I was actually thinking about our parents.”

“Me, too.”

It’s not a complete lie. I’ve had the urge to call them since we’d arrived in Tennessee. By now they’ve surely heard the news, and I don’t want them thinking we’re dead. Contacting them is a risk, but we both agree it’s a necessary one.

We head back to the cabin to make our calls. Mine is much shorter than Jenna’s. The conversation with my folks was loud and consisted of a lot of ‘Yes, Mom. I’m fine’ and ‘No, Dad, I’m not coming home.’ Jenna’s talk with her father was a little quieter. At one point, I offer to give her some privacy, but she refuses to let me leave the room, holding my hand firmly while we sit on the couch. I try to follow their conversation, but I give up completely when I hear her promise for the hundredth time that she’s nowhere near the Grand Canyon.

 I have no idea what that means, and I’m too exhausted to decipher it.

The days pass. Minnie and Joe arrive each night for dinner, and each evening, Jenna eats a little more. It’s progress. She’s still quiet, but at least she’s calm and sleeping through the night.

I’m glad one of us can.

While Jenna keeps her mind occupied with reading books or picking wildflowers, my head is becoming increasingly consumed with thoughts of revenge. I can only assume Stavros wanted to kill us all—all of us except for the Wonder Twins. I still don’t have a plan in mind, but I have several scenarios running through my head, and all of them end with his very violent death.

I don’t share these thoughts with Jenna. She’s not ready.

It’s at night, when the house is quiet and Jenna’s sound asleep in my arms, that my mind conjures images of our best friends’ bodies in the stairwell. During these moments, my grief and guilt consume me. Sleep comes sometimes, but it’s fitful and brief. Brief is probably a good thing. The memories are bad enough when I’m awake. I’m not ready to endure the same nightmares when my eyes are closed.

Each morning, Jenna asks if I slept, and I always say
a little
. She doesn’t need to know how little, but I have a feeling I won’t be able to fool her much longer.

It’s been four days since we arrived at the cabin, and I know Ethan hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since we arrived. He tries to pretend he’s not exhausted, but I know better. His fatigue has apparently made him forget how well we know each other and how easily we can interpret each other’s moods. Even if I couldn’t read him like a book, the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly slurred speech totally gives him away. Minnie and Joe notice it, too, but they pretend otherwise. They’re probably used to not asking questions by now, and that’s a good thing. We’ve put enough people in danger.

I thought the cabin was the perfect solution. We could hide here while we came to grips with our grief. My heart is heavy and sad, but thanks to my over-the-counter sleeping pills, I’m able to sleep at night. I’ve always had trouble sleeping—with our life, who wouldn’t?—but I’m careful and only use them when I absolutely need them.

I’ve needed them this week.

Ethan won’t even try to sleep, and it’s beginning to scare me. So much so that I’ve considered slipping one of my sleeping pills into his glass at dinner. I can only imagine how devastating his nightmares must be if he’s too afraid to close his eyes. Still, I know something has to be done.

I’m not surprised when Minnie finally speaks up.

“He’s not eating,” she says, nodding toward his untouched plate.

Ethan and Joe have already excused themselves and headed out to the porch, leaving us with the dishes. Not that I mind. I need the girl talk.

“Or sleeping.”

“What’s happened?”

I sigh and cover his plate, placing it in the fridge. Minnie places the empty glasses in the dishwasher while I try to come up with a vague but honest answer.

“Minnie, it’s so complicated. The less you know, the bett—”

“Do you think we don’t watch the news? Do you think we don’t know exactly the kind of lives you live?”

I’m actually relieved. “So you know.”

“We know enough. We don’t understand it, but we love him, no matter what. Ethan’s been good to us. Joe and I worry so much when he’s gone. At least when he’s here, we know he’s not out there threatening to get himself killed.” Minnie smiles softly at me. “You can’t imagine how happy we are that he’s found you.”

“Minnie, it’s not really like that.”

“Oh, please,” she says, chuckling. “It’s exactly like that. Maybe you don’t see the way he looks at you, but I do. And I see the way you look at him. And he brought you
here
—not once, but twice.”

“It was actually my idea to come here this time.”

“And he brought you straight here, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants to keep me safe.”

“Which brings me back to my original question. What’s happened?”

“Minnie, I can’t tell you that. It’s just too dangerous.”

She nods in understanding. “I’ve never seen him like this. He loves my chicken parmesan. The boy barely touched his plate.”

“I know.”

“What about you? Are
you
sleeping?”

“Yeah, but I take a sleeping pill. He refuses.”

Minnie shakes her head. “I’m not surprised. He won’t even take an aspirin.”

She starts the dishwasher, and I head back to the table. Collapsing in a chair, I bury my face in my hands.

“It’s really no wonder he can’t sleep. I didn’t see the things he saw that night. He says that every single time he closes his eyes . . .” I choke back a sob. I know I’m saying too much. “I don’t know how to help him, Minnie. He’s concentrating so hard on taking care of me, but I know he’s about to lose it.”

She sits by my side, gently patting my hand.

“Have you asked him to try?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean, have you
really
asked him to try. I think he’d do just about anything for you, Jenna.”

I blink away my tears.
She wants me to guilt him into eating?

“I . . . don’t know if it’s that simple.”

“Maybe not, but isn’t it worth a shot?”

My tears become uncontrollable then, and the sweet woman tenderly brushes my hair away from my tear-stained face.

I hear the screen door slam.

“What’s wrong with her?”

In a flash, Ethan’s by my side.

“Jenna, what is it?”

I sniffle. “I’m fine.”

“She is not fine,” Minnie says. “She’s worried about you.”

Ethan’s weary eyes dart from her and back to me. The circles that surround his eyes are even darker tonight, and his face looks gaunt and pained. Very gently, I trace the shadowy skin beneath his eyes, and I hear him sigh.

Our eyes don’t leave each other’s faces as Minnie and Joe excuse themselves, promising to be back for breakfast.

“You’re worried about me?” he asks once they’re gone.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I try to keep my voice soft and even. “Because you aren’t eating or sleeping, and it scares me.”

“Sweetheart, I’m fine.”

I expected this.

“Okay,” I reply, nodding. “So tonight, I’m staying up, too.”

His forehead creases with confusion.

“And tomorrow, I’ll tell Minnie not to bother with breakfast because neither of us is hungry.”

“You’re eating breakfast, Jenna.”

“Not without you.”

“God, you’re stubborn,” he whispers tiredly. His eyes flicker down to our joined hands, and I squeeze his fingers softly.

“You’re taking such good care of me. Please let me take care of you. Would you try? I could heat up some chicken parm?”

Ethan carefully searches my face. “Would that make you happy?”

“You have no idea how much.”

“Then, yeah, I’ll try.”

Excitedly, I leap out of my chair and grab his plate from the fridge. After nuking it, I pour him a glass of milk and bring it all to the table. I smile at him and climb into his lap. Ethan chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist. I take the fork and cut off a small piece of chicken before lifting it to his lips. It’s just a small bite, but he swallows it.

Progress.

His eyes remain on my face as I continue to feed him, and I can’t stop the giggle that escapes my lips when I look down to find the plate nearly empty.

“More?” I ask, hopefully.

“I don’t think so, baby. But thank you.”

I lower my head and kiss him softly.

“Thank you, Ethan.”

Now if I can just get him to sleep.

“I have one more favor.”

His arm tightens around me. “Name it.”

Maybe Minnie’s right. Maybe he’ll try, for me.

“Please take a sleeping pill? Just for tonight?”

His face falls. “Jenna . . .”

I go for guilt.

“You’re no good to me like this. You can’t take care of me if you’re hospitalized for exhaustion.”

His tired eyes flicker to life, and I know I’ve got him.

“Okay,” he whispers.