Page 127 of Mafia and Scars

And seeing that makes my chest feel too tight.

If she won’t go back to the rink because she doesn’t feel safe, then I’ll bring the rink to her.

I type furiously on my phone, setting it all into motion.

A few days have passed. I find her in the garden, humming softly

“Hey.”

She looks up, trowel in one hand, dirt smudged across her cheek and the edge of her turquoise glasses. “Hi.”

“You busy?”

Her head tilts. “No. I’m just trying to keep these daisies alive.”

I crouch beside her. “You’re doing a good job so far.”

“What are you guys building on the north side of the property?” she asks. The demolition crew just finished clearing the space this morning.

“A new gym for the guys.” I cross my fingers behind my back at the lie. And I find myself getting excited at the surprise I have coming for her.

Later that evening, we sit in the rec room, our fingers laced. Mythumb brushes over the back of her hand. Touch—it’s something I want to do more and more when I’m with her.

After Avelina puts Leon and Sofia to bed, I make my way to the garden. The twinkling lights strung overhead greet me, and I inhale the damp smell that came after the light rain earlier.

Truthfully, I know she’s just giving me space. And I gladly take it. Not because I don’t want to be around her—I do—but poker night’s noise has me inching higher and higher on that scale.

I settle on the bench, watching the flowers sway in the soft breeze. My lips twitch at the clump of daisies to my left—her haphazard patch that’s taken over the bed without remorse. Their vibrant white petals and beaming yellow centers. It’s beautiful. A splash of color among everything.

I push a hand through my hair. Every spare thought, every drifting moment, keeps circling back to her. To her and the kids. To her beneath me in the dark sheets. To her sundress catching the sun in the garden.

The daisies draw my gaze again. The white. The yellow. Alive in a way my thoughts haven’t felt in…forever.

Usually, my mind is logical. Structured.Grayscale.

But now?

Now, it’s…color.

When I think about her, I see the soft blues from her dress. Peach tones of her skin. The bright pink of her smiling mouth.

I blink.

Is that what this is?

Is this whatlovefeels like?

Bright. Loud. Uncomfortable.

And yet…so damn right.

Avelina has done a lot of things to me. I meant what I said to Grigory—I think I’m falling in love with her.

But more than that, she’s changing how I see the world. Turning my black and white world into technicolor.

There’s something unfamiliar in my chest. Pressing against my ribs. Swelling and aching.

That feeling?