Page 133 of Mafia and Scars

“The nose. It’s plastic. It’s hard. It’s no good for nose boops.”

“Nose, uh, what…?”

“Nose boops!”

He gives me a blank look. Christ, does he have a death wish? Because he’s getting on every single one of my damn nerves now.

“Find me one with a velvety nose,” I snap.

But his brow crinkles in confusion. Don’t they fucking teach these kids anything in school these days?

“The nose has to be velvet,” I tell him slowly. “Comforting. Soft.Squishy.” Christ, I never thought I would be saying the word ‘squishy’ out fucking loud.

“This one?” Lawrence says, pulling another off the shelf.

It’s the same colors as Queenie—white with black and orange patches. I squeeze it in my hands. It’s fluffy and feels nice. And when I rub my thumb over the nose, it’s perfect. “I’ll take it,” I announce.

And as I follow Lawrence to pay for it, I find myself desperately hoping Sofia will like it.

But worry starts to worm through me. What if it’s not good enough? What if it doesn’t calm her?

So, I look around myself.

And when no one’s looking…

I brush my nose against the stuffed cat’s nose.

Quickly and briefly.

And then I exhale. Yeah, it feels just right. Just like Queenie.Comforting. And I imagine Sofia giving it a nose boop with her cute little button nose. It’s perfect.

Two boys rush past with toy lightsabers. This whole experience is making me feel raw.Exposed.

I sigh. I was never that kid. I didn’t have stuffed animals or bedtime stories. I had cold streets, colder fists, and brothers who taught me to fight. But here I am. Buying a stuffed cat for a girl who matters enough to make me want to give her what I never had—to make me want to give her the world.

As we walk, I see a pull-along dog that I think Leon will love, so I get that too. Then I see some plastic pink tiaras, and without a second thought, I grab one for the toy cat and put it on top of her fluffy ears.

I reach the cash desk. “Wrap it.”

“Gift wrapped?” the female cashier asks, startled at my abrupt tone.

I grit my teeth.Remember social niceties, Viktor.“Yes. Uh, please.”

“Sure thing!”

I watch as she wraps it. Then she rings me up, talking loyalty programs and some other shit I have no interest in. I pay cash. Leave fast.

The air is sharp outside.

And I take a breath like I’ve just escaped a torture chamber. I hate the noise, smells, the buzz inside stores. Today was a battle like usual.But lately…it’s been a tiny bit quieter. The anxiety is not gone. But it’s muted.

With Avelina and the kids, the sharp edges dull. I can breathe. I don’t have the words to describe it. But I feel it inside me.

Like I’m finally somewhere I don’t have to fight to exist.

But I shove the thought aside and head to the SUV. Because there’s still a sick cat at the vet—and a little girl waiting at home.

The house is quiet when I step back inside. It’s a much different quiet to what it normally is.