Page 30 of Ho Ho Mafioso

I ignored that and went to stack the firewood. The ax leaned against the fireplace; I grabbed it, but before I could head out, she stood and crossed the room.

“You’re not going out there,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “We need more firewood.”

“You’ll freeze before you reach the trees.”

I scoffed. “You always this dramatic?”

“Only when people think they’re indestructible.”

That made me pause. She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow at me.

“Fine,” I conceded, setting down the ax. “You win.”

“Didn’t know we were competing.”

I smirked. “We always are.”

Her smile tugged at the corner of her mouth — small, victorious.

Instead of going out to chop more wood, I started fixing the leg on the table. It had been wobbling since we got there. A few screws, a steady grip, something simple that would keep my hands busy.

Gianina crouched beside me before I was finished. “You know, you don’t have to fix everything.”

“I don’t like things falling apart.”

“Even when they already have?”

I glanced at her. Her hair brushed her cheek; her voice was soft but sharper than it sounded.

“Especially then,” I replied.

She studied me for a moment, eyes searching my face. “Do you ever relax?”

I tightened the last screw, tested the leg, then stood. “Relaxing gets you soft.”

“Maybe soft isn’t so bad,” she stated softly.

I looked down at her, then away. “Soft gets you dead.”

The silence that followed was heavy; the kind that filled the space between words neither of us was ready to say.

She stood, brushing the dust off her hands. “You always talk like you’re waiting for a bullet.”

“Because I am.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “That’s no way to live.”

“Well, it’s the only way I know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to keep proving you’re made of stone, you know.”

“And you don’t have to pretend you’re not afraid,” I shot back.

She smiled — not mockingly, not even defensive; just tired. “Guess we’re both bad at pretending, then.”

The floor creaked under her step as she passed me, heading to her room. I watched her go, every instinct screaming to stay detached, stay professional, even though I wanted to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.