Page 119 of Mafia and Scars

Sofia goes silent for a moment, her brow scrunched in concentration. Then she clambers into my lap. No warning. No preamble. And before I can react, she brushes the tip of her nose gently against mine.

My whole body tenses at the touch. “Um…” I clear my throat, trying not to sound too panicked. “What are you doing?” Sofia clearly struggles with touch sometimes, but she’s not nearly as avoidant of it as me.

“Giving you a nose boop. Because I want to show you I trust you and like you a lot.” Then she grins at me. “Wanna be besties with me?”

Besties?

The world tilts on its axis for a few long seconds and almost tips right over. She’s still looking at me, bright-eyed and waiting, like what she just asked isn’t the most mind-blowing question of my whole damn life.

My throat works, but no words come out.

She trusts me—just like that?

I clear my throat again and will my voice to stay steady. “Um…of course, I’m your friend.”

“But best friends?”

Her voice is so soft and hopeful that it guts me. “Yeah, best friends,” I echo in shock.

Her smile is instant, and she gives me a nod before scrambling off my lap and going back to her lollipop like nothing just happened.

What. The. Hell? I blink. My muscles relax, and I breathe out. She’s acting like she didn’t just completely alter my brain for a minute there. I watch her for a moment longer, my brow pinched.

I’ve never had a best friend.

Sure, I had the guys—Grigory, Matvey, and Nikolai—but they’re more brothers. Circumstances threw us together, and we ended up growing up together. We survived hell together and built something out of nothing. But this? This is something else altogether. Something gentler. Something special. Something that doesn’t come from the trenches of shared trauma.It’s freely given.

And especially when I know that Sofia doesn’t always like touch, it makes it all the more mind-blowing that she did it in the first place.

I sit in the sunshine, stunned in the best way. What is it about Avelina and her kids that just knocks me sideways and keeps me coming back for more?

Later that day, as I’m organizing supplies near the truck bay at the warehouse, Grigory walks past me with a clipboard. He pauses, brow arched.

“So, word on the street is that you’ve got a new bestie,” he smirks.

I grunt.

“I hear she’s about three feet tall, cute as a button, and her favorite color is pink.”

“People around here gossip too much,” I grit out.

“Yeah, the men tend to talk a lot.” He leans against the wall beside me. “Seriously, it’s…sweet.”

I glance at him, then look back at the crate. “I didn’t know it’d…feel like that.”

“Like what?”

I shrug. “Like it mattered. I…can’t recall ever having a best friend. Not really. Never thought anyone would want me to be theirs. You know, because I’m…different to most people.”

Grigory stills. “Viktor?—”

“No, I mean it.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “You guys are different. You’re my brothers, sure. But we got thrown together because we had to survive. But this? I guess she chose me simply because…she likes me?” My last sentence comes out like a question, like I’m still surprised that anyone would want me as their best friend.

Grigory is quiet for a long stretch before he speaks again in a quiet voice. “Even if we hadn’t gone through what we did, if I’d just met you somewhere else, I still would’ve chosen you. You’re not just a brother, Viktor. You’re one of the best friends I’ve got. Same goes for Nikolai and Matvey. And there’s no one else I’d want as a best friend than you guys.”

I swallow hard. It’s a simple thing for him to say. But it sticks. Hard. And the words wrap around me in some sort of comforting embrace. “Thanks,” I croak. Then, because I can’t leave well enough alone, I open my big, dumb mouth again. “Grigory, what’s the score for love?” My words blurt out.

“The what?” he asks, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.