Page 36 of The Mafia's Second Shot

Her words feel like a lifeline, pulling me out of the spiral of doubt and guilt. For the first time in years, I feel like I can see a way forward—not just for me, but for us.

The restof the day passes in a blur of quiet moments—Zoey reading by the fire while I check the perimeter, the two of us sharing stories over lunch. It’s not perfect, but it feels... real. Like something worth fighting for.

That night, as we sit on the couch, her head resting against my shoulder, I feel a strange sense of peace. The danger is still there, looming on the horizon, but for now, in this moment, we’re okay.

And that’s enough.

26

ZOEY

The cabin is quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the living room. I wake suddenly, the warmth of the blankets no longer enough to calm the restless energy coursing through me. The space beside me on the bed is empty, but it doesn’t take long to figure out where Cooper is.

I slip out of bed, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around my shoulders. The cool wood floor creaks beneath my feet as I make my way toward the glow coming from the living room.

There he is, sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, staring into the flickering flames. His shirt is unbuttoned, hanging loosely on his shoulders, and the shadows cast by the fire make his face look sharper, more haunted. He doesn’t notice me at first, lost in whatever thoughts have dragged him out of bed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask softly, stepping into the room.

Cooper glances up, startled for a moment before his expression softens. “Something like that.”

I walk over and sit on the couch beside him, the blanket still wrapped tightly around me. “Want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just thinking. About everything. About you.”

The way he says it—low and rough, like he’s baring a part of himself he doesn’t usually share—sends a shiver down my spine. “About me?” I echo, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leans back, running a hand through his hair. “About how lucky I am that you’re still here. That you haven’t run screaming for the hills.”

I laugh softly, though there’s an ache in my chest. “It’s crossed my mind.”

He chuckles too, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes as he looks at me. “I don’t blame you. After everything I’ve put you through...”

“Stop,” I interrupt, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve made mistakes, Cooper. So have I. But we’re here now. Together. That has to count for something.”

The firelight dancesacross the room as silence settles between us, thick but not uncomfortable. I study him out of the corner of my eye—the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scars on his hands, the tension in his shoulders that never quite goes away. He’s so different from the man I met all those years ago, yet so much the same.

“Do you remember our first date?” I ask suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Cooper smirks, his eyes glinting with something warmer than the firelight. “How could I forget? You spent the first half of it trying to convince me you hated Italian food.”

“I did,” I say, laughing. “And you still took me to that little hole-in-the-wall place downtown.”

“Best tiramisu in the city,” he counters, his grin widening. “And by the end of the night, you were stealing bites off my plate.”

I roll my eyes, but the memory makes my chest tighten in a way that’s equal parts joy and longing. “I was trying to be polite.”

“You were trying to win,” he teases. “And you did.”

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips. “What about you? What were you trying to do that night?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the fire. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, more vulnerable. “I was trying to keep you. Even then, I knew you were different. I knew I didn’t deserve you, but I wanted you anyway.”

His words hit me like a wave, and I struggle to catch my breath. “You did keep me,” I say quietly. “At least for a while.”

“And then I lost you,” he replies, his tone laced with regret. “Because I didn’t know how to hold on without breaking you.”

The room feels smaller somehow,the air between us charged with something I can’t quite name. I reach out, brushing my fingers against his hand, and he turns toward me, his eyes searching mine.

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