Page 8 of One Breath After Another

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Naz shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how to tell her it’s a bad idea ... I’m also not sure that it is. The girl needs help. Real help and not just for the shit that’s happened to her in private but also her. She needs people to help her.”

“You wanna be those people?”

“Roz does,” Naz murmured. “I want what Roz wants.”

Just like that.

Simple.

Luca respected it, even. It was why he never had an issue with his best friend dating his sister because the guy was gold. Good. Naz treated Roz like a fucking queen, and everybody knew it. What more could they want?

Hell, this situation would probably uproot his friend’s entire life, but Naz just looked ... ready for it. Ready to do whatever Roz wanted.

“How can I help?” Luca asked.

It only seemed right.

Naz grinned. “With the girl? Not much. She’s like a baby deer—scared of everything. And mean sometimes, or that’s what Roz says. But you can help me.”

“Anything, man.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why you’re here. I’m going to be busy for a while to make this work and do everything to get it moving forward for Roz, so we can get Penny home and settled in with us. You could handle some things for me with la famiglia, right? Keep an eye on my guys and keep up with whatever my father has going on so nothing gets behind. Shit like that.”

“I got that, no worries,” Luca replied.

Naz sat a little straighter in the booth, his gaze less worried than before. “I figured.”

“Some people might not like it, though. Some made men from the family, I mean, but—”

“Fuck them,” Naz interrupted, his hand cutting between them to end the subject right then and there. “It’s been you and me. Always was, always is. You know?”

Luca nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Some things never changed.

He was okay with that.

2.

Penny

THE reflection in the windowpane of Penny’s therapist’s office in uptown Manhattan was far more interesting than the conversation she was trying to not engage. Not that her efforts to ignore the doctor’s questions did her any good.

“You’ve been living with Rosalynn Puzza and Nazio Donati for almost two months now, right?” her doctor asked. “How’s that going?”

“Fine.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” the therapist questioned, raising a brow behind Penny.

She could see that in the reflection of the glass, too. As clear as she could see her own, ghostly pale, heart-shaped face. The white-blonde hair that she hadn’t washed in more days than she cared to remember curtained her face more than it framed it. She didn’t mind. It was easier not to be seen.