Page 75 of Endless Love

32

IVAN

In the aftermath, I can’t help but wonder if I made it all worse.

When I came out to find Charlotte gone, I lost my mind a little. I followed her, determined to get her back for running off, determined to make her stop running fromeverything. And I got what I needed.

I think we both did. But I can tell that she’s still struggling to accept it.

She’s quiet when we get back to the motel. For the first time, we shower together, squeezing into the small space, and I want to joke about how much more space there would have been for this back at the Wynn. But I don’t, because I’m not sure if that kind of joke is a good idea right now.

Instead, I help her clean up, trying to show her by the way I touch her, the way I look at her, how I feel. That I meant everything I said. I don’t make up a bed on the floor—instead, I slide in next to her, resting my hand gently on her hip over the blankets. Charlotte doesn’t push it away—but she also doesn’t say anything.

She’s overwhelmed. I can empathize with that. But when we get in the cab the next morning to head to the meeting with my contact, she’s still only said a handful of words to me. And my chest feels tight, wondering if, by the end of the day, she’ll be gone.

Loving her doesn’t entitle me to have her. I know that. But I’d hoped that confession would change something. I’d hoped that what we did in the house of mirrors would be catharsis for the past, enough to open up the possibility of a future.

I’m not sure that’s going to be the case.

We meet my contact in a residential house, on the far side of the older Vegas district. We’re right on time, and I knock twice, sharply, Charlotte standing silently right behind me. I’m not sure what she expected, but I hear her quick intake of breath when the door opens, and a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, dressed very much like an accountant, opens the door.

“I go by Dave,” he says, as he steps back and lets us in. “At least right now. You can call me that.”

“I’m—” Charlotte starts to say, and Dave shakes his head, holding up a hand.

“You’re here to get new identities. Don’t tell me your old one. I know Ivan here because I’ve known him for years. But you—don’t tell me anything I don’t need to know.”

“Of course.” Charlotte blushes, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, either. Come on.”

Dave leads us back into an office, near the back of the house. He sits down at a wooden desk, pulling out two folders. “Here.” He slides them across the desk to us, one in front of each. Charlotte reaches for hers, her hands visibly trembling.

She opens it, and I see her lips press together. I glance at mine, making sure everything is in order, and then push the cashacross the desk to Dave. Charlotte glances at the rolls of bills, and her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything.

“It’s all there,” Dave says, before he takes the money. “New passports, social security, birth certificates, everything you could need to start a new life wherever. All as official as you please.”

Charlotte swallows hard, and nods, clearly speechless. I stand up, taking the documents, and slip them into my pocket, handing him back the now-empty envelope. “Thanks.” I give him a tight smile. “Probably the last you’ll hear from me for a while. If not for good.”

“Shame.” Dave stands, too, and Charlotte slowly rises as well. “It was nice knowing you. Nice to meet you too,” he adds to Charlotte. “Briefly.”

She nods, stepping away from the desk. I start to walk towards the door, and halfway there, I hear her footsteps pause, and the sound of Dave speaking quietly.

“I dunno what you two have going on, or what’s planned after this,” he murmurs. “But he’s a good guy. Or he tries to be, anyway.”

“I don’t know about that,” Charlotte says quietly, and Dave chuckles.

“Girl, only a man who wants to be better than he is now works against the Bratva for the FBI. I don’t think you know what they’d’ve done to him if they caught him, but it sure wouldn’t have been good. There’s a lot of ways to keep a man alive with very little skin on him, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t?—”

“Good. All I’m saying is—Ivan there has tried hard to make up for what they made him. If you wanna be a part of that, you shouldn’t feel bad about it. That’s all.”

I hear the creak of him settling back in his chair, and Charlotte’s footsteps quickly catching up to me. She doesn’t say anything until we’re outside and a good distance from the house,and then she glances over at me, blowing out a sharp breath between pursed lips.

“So—that’s it.” She looks uncertain, and I can tell that she has no idea what comes next.

“What name is on your new identification?” I look at her curiously, and Charlotte blinks, the uncertainty on her face growing.

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