Page 67 of Of Grief And Gratitude

I swiped the water from my face and reached for my washcloth and body wash, scrubbing the residual sick feeling from my skin. When I’d finished washing my hair, I shut the water off and turned to find a tattooed hand thrusting a towel at me. “Thanks.”

Cosimo wouldn’t dare be caught acting sentimental, so he covered his kindness with sarcasm. “The faster you get your shit together, the sooner I get breakfast.”

I dried and wrapped the towel around my waist, finding my brothers had moved to my bedroom. Dante held up a suit on its hanger.

“I’m not wearing that.” I brushed past him and found something more casual, dressing in jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. It wasn’t as grungy as Cosimo’s outfit, but not stuffy like Dante's and Niccolò’s suits.

The three of them waited by the door, eyeing me like they weren’t sure I’d leave with them. I pulled my leather jacket on and slipped my phone and wallet into my pockets, locking up as we left. Three SUVs were parked at the curb outside my building, but there was no sign of Dario and Vito.

“We’re riding separately,” Dante threw over his shoulder as he climbed into the rear passenger seat of the first vehicle.

“You’re with him.” Cosimo hitched a finger toward Niccolò and took the second car.

I rolled my eyes and got into the last vehicle. “I didn’t want to ride with him, anyway.”

“You know I’m not going to approve of what you’re doing,” Niccolò stated, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. Only one of his men was up front.

“Where’s Bruno?” I asked, ignoring him.

Niccolò drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Home with Mia. Didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“I’m surprised you left her at all.”

“That’s your doing,” he said drily, side-eying me. “It catches my attention when one of my siblings tries to self-destruct. We’ve lost enough already. I’m not going through it again because you’re determined to punish yourself.”

Was that what I was doing? Punishing myself?

“I’m not asking for your help,” I protested. “You might as well go home.”

“It’s out of both our hands now,” he murmured.

I sat and tried to decipher his possible meanings until we pulled up to Angelo’s. The restaurant was closed, but Angelo met Dante at the door, holding it open until we entered, then locking it again.

“Boys. I’ve got your room ready.” His eyes were filled with sympathy, and he patted us each on the back as we passed.

Dante sat at one of the tables in the private back room, where mugs and a pot of fresh coffee awaited us. “Thanks for coming in.”

“Anything for you boys right now. I’ll have food out in no time.” Angelo nodded and rushed out of the room.

“Sit,” Dante ordered, pointing to the chair next to him. “We need to talk.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Dante waited until we’d all poured ourselves black coffee. “We need to figure out what to do with you.”

“Simple.” I scoffed and took a drink of my coffee. “You can leave me the fuck alone. I don’t need your help.”

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and listen for a change?” Cosimo leaned forward, pinning me with a glare, his tattooed fingers gripping his coffee cup like he wanted to strangle me. “You’re acting like some entitled little princess, and I’ve about had it.”

I shoved my seat back and leaned over the table. “Say it again.”

“Gladly.” He rose, sneering as he leaned close enough for me to smell the coffee on his breath. “Princess. I’m fucking tired of your little pity party.”

“You don’t know—”

He laughed in my face. “She wasn’t just your mother!”

“Enough!” Dante slammed his fist on the table. “Both of you sit your asses down!”

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