Page 176 of Mafia and Scars

My chest aches. “It wouldn’t work.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Avelina…never made me feel broken,” I tell him even though he must already know this. “She just met me where I was.”

“She wanted you,” he says simply.

I say nothing. Because deep down, I know I’m not enough.

“Maybe if you stop tearing yourself apart for five seconds, you’d see what she saw. What your brothers see.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “You know where to find her if you want to.”

He passes by me on the stairs. Leaving me alone.

I hold my head in my hands.

Grigory is right. Logically, I understand that. But what I don’t understand is theemotions. They’re too much and don’t make sense. I feel lost. Unanchored.

But maybe Grigory’s not wrong. Maybe I’m not as hopeless as I thought.

I push from the stairs, rubbing a hand over my jaw. The scratch of stubble makes me pause. First things first, shave and shower.

I can continue to spiral out of control after I’ve done what I need to do.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

AVELINA

The sound of my alarm blares through the hush of my apartment, dragging me from a restless sleep. I slap at my phone until the buzzing stops.

And when I open my eyes, I forget for that first half a second that Viktor isn’t occupying the bed beside me. That I walked away from him.

I lie there, blinking at the ceiling. The apartment feels familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Two weeks. We’ve been back here for two weeks, and it still doesn’t feel like home.

It feels like a waiting room for a life I no longer get to live.

Because there’s no Viktor.

And mornings like these? They’re the worst.

I sit up, rubbing at my eyes, and force myself through the motions. Shower. Clothes. Coffee. Sofia clings to the book Viktor bought her. It never goes anywhere she doesn’t. I try not to look at it as I pack herbag and lunch. It’s just another reminder—and I’ve got so many of those already.

Another one of the workers, Janet, is already at her desk when I arrive, peering into a cup of coffee like it holds all the answers to her day. She’s been a saving grace around here. A friend when I didn’t have any. “Eric’s in a mood this morning,” she warns.

“What else would be new?” I say with a small smile of greeting. My desk is a small cubby-like space. The little calendar with some school dates and a drawing Sofia did of us hangs on the gray fabric wall. A tiny potted succulent sits in a little wooden planter, and next to it is a photo of Sofia and Leon beaming at me.

The job is decent. It’s administrative support in a marketing firm. It has a couple of small sportswear brands as clients and thought my sporting background would be useful. But the way Eric, our boss, looks at me sometimes…like he’s watching something more than my work. It sets my teeth on edge. I chalk it up to paranoia. Ever since that car chase, I’ve been hypervigilant.

My hands type on autopilot while my mind wanders.Viktor. I keep thinking about him. Some days, I even think I catch a glimpse of him as I walk home or think that I’ll turn the corner to find him leaning against his SUV, arms crossed, that impossibly attractive scowl on his face.

But he’s never there. It’s just wishful thinking. He doesn’t call. And I don’t reach out even if I itch to. What would I even say? Because if I can’t accept his life—and the danger that goes with it—then I don’t deserve to say I love him. Right? But I miss him. I won’t deny that.

Janet slides a donut with sprinkles toward me. “Here.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“You’ve been looking like a ghost all week. Figured a little sugar would bring that sunshine personality back to the living.” She studies me for a moment. “Is this about that guy?”

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t.