Page 33 of The Mafia's Second Shot

The words slip out before I can think better of them, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged. Zoey’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away.

She shifts on the couch,pulling her legs up beneath her. “What about your mom?” she asks, changing the subject. “What happened to her?”

“She died when I was eighteen,” I say quietly. “Cancer. By then, my dad was long gone, so it was just me.”

Zoey reaches out, her hand brushing against mine. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I reply, my voice rough. “She deserved better.”

Her touch lingers for a moment before she pulls back, folding her hands in her lap. “Thank you for telling me. I know it’s not easy.”

“It’s easier with you,” I admit, surprising even myself.

She smiles faintly, and for the first time in days, the tension in my chest eases.

As the night wears on,we sit together on the couch, the fire casting a warm glow over the room. Zoey leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder, and I feel her hand slide into mine. It’s a small gesture, but it carries more weight than I can put into words.

In this moment, with her beside me, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time: hope.

24

ZOEY

The soft creak of the cabin’s old wood floors stirs me from sleep, but it’s the sound of steady chopping outside that fully pulls me awake. I rub my eyes, stretching as the faint smell of pine and earth drifts through the open window. It’s early—the light filtering through the curtains is pale and fresh, hinting at a cold morning.

Throwing on a sweater, I pad barefoot to the window. My breath catches when I see him.

Cooper is outside, shirtless, his body taut with effort as he swings an axe against a thick log. The muscles in his back shift with every motion, his focus entirely on the task. The sound of the axe biting into the wood is rhythmic, almost hypnotic. The chill in the air doesn’t seem to bother him, his skin glistening faintly under the weak morning sun.

I don’t move for a long moment, my gaze locked on him. There’s something raw about seeing him like this—strong, focused, and completely in his element. It stirs something in me, a mix of longing and frustration. I’ve spent so much time trying to keepmy walls up around him, but here, in the quiet of the mountains, they’re starting to crumble.

By the timeCooper comes back inside, I’m curled up on the couch, pretending to read a book. He sets the axe by the door, brushing off his hands as he steps into the warmth of the cabin.

“Morning,” he says, his voice low and rough from the cold.

“Morning,” I reply, glancing up briefly. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Figured I’d make myself useful.”

I watch as he moves to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and leaning against the counter. His hair is still damp with sweat, sticking up in a way that’s both messy and unfairly attractive. I try to focus on the book in my lap, but my attention keeps drifting back to him.

“You should put on a shirt,” I say, my tone teasing. “It’s freezing out there.”

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago.”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks flush. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, his grin widening.

The playful bantercontinues as Cooper settles into the living room, sitting on the arm of the couch. The energy between us feels lighter, easier, but there’s a tension simmering beneath the surface, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

“You’re in a good mood today,” I say, closing the book and setting it aside.

“Maybe I am,” he replies, his eyes meeting mine. “Something about this place... it’s peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” I repeat, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Not a word I usually associate with you.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. “Maybe I’m full of surprises.”

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