Keeley's POV

Beep Beep Beep

I groan to myself as I hesitantly turn over and shut off my alarm. The sun isn't even up yet as I push Gus off my legs and stand up onto the hardwood floor. Today is Monday, and it's also my first day back to school since the beginning of December. Today would be the day I get Aubrey back.

I shuffle my way to my closet and throw on some workout shorts and an old t-shirt, already dreading my morning routine as I tie up my shoes. I redo my hair and tie it into some sort of bun, if it actually qualifies as one considering it quickly falls into a ponytail.

Gus is still snoring softly as I walk out of my room and through the house. It's still really early, no doubt my brothers are all sleeping comfortably in bed. The house is dark and cold this early in the morning making it feel eerie and like something is just waiting to pop out at you from behind the corner. This is how I use to prefer the house because it meant I was alone. But since being home, the absolute worst thing is having being surrounded by silence. It means the people that I love the most aren't here, and that's not a life I want to live anymore.

I step off the last stair into the basement with surprise as the lights are already turned on, normally I'm the only one down here in the mornings. I walk through the basement till I get to the window in the game room that looks into the gym. I'm taken back at the person who looks up and smiles at me.

I open the door warily and am greeted with my father standing up off the mats and walking towards me. He's in sweats and a ratty old t-shirt, which is vastly different than what I'm used to seeing him in.

"What's up?" I ask him as he stops in front of me. His silver-gray hair hasn't been gelled back yet and if I didn't know better, I would think he's just an ordinary guy.

"Well," he began with hopeful eyes, "I was hoping we could train together this morning. I know you normally like this time to yourself, but I just wanted to see what your routine was and how you prepare yourself for the day."

I didn't realize I was giving him a look until my father cleared his throat.

"Oh, yeah, sure," I said kind of confused. It's not that I didn't like training with my father and it's not like we had a bad relationship anymore, it's just strange. "Well, I normally start out with cardio and then go to weights. And then I finish with tactical stuff, so like punching bags, knives, things like that."

"Alright, then let's do it," he said enthusiastically. I gave him a doubtful look. I know that he's been a lifelong mafia man and can handle practically anything, but my morning routine normally leaves the best of the best tired and worn, including me. It's meant to push and try your body to the point of absolute exhaustion. I'm definitely skeptical.

He must have seen my doubt as he continued to stare at me. He motioned towards the gym equipment to urge me forward and start.

"You sure?" I ask for a final time.

He lets out a heavy breath. "Jeez, I know I'm old but I have trained my whole life."

I shook my head as an amused smile formed on my face. This should be entertaining.

"Okay then, let's do it."

***

"Fucking hell, Keeley," my father heaved as he collapsed onto the sparring mats. The two of us lay on the ground covered from head to toe in sweat. I may have amped up the workout just a smidge to see if I could get him to quit, but he didn't. The old man stuck with it the whole time. From the running and ab circuits to the weights, he didn't stop. Normally I would do a lot of punching and practice combos on the bag, but we decided to spar instead.

I had never actually fought my father in hand-to-hand combat. Hell, I don't think I've actually ever seen him fight, but he was good and surprisingly fast for a man of his age and stature. For every hit I delivered, he would retaliate with some combination of kicks and blocks. I tackled him, he tackled me. The old man had actually gotten a pretty good kick to the side of my leg and I could begin to see a dark bruise forming, of course, he didn't leave unscathed either. I had been messing around with him towards the end and thought it would be funny to karate chop his neck. It was funny, to me, but he found it less comical as bruises formed on his collar bone and neck.

"Not bad, old man. You still got it in ya," I laughed as I wiped the sweat from my forehead off with the bottom of my t-shirt.

My father turned towards me and gave me a smile. He looked worn out but still happy, and maybe even a bit proud as his eyes softened. "You, Munch, are quite the fighter. Better than your brothers by far."

I let out a small laugh and rolled my eyes. "It doesn't take much to be better than them, Dad. Did you see Finn the other day when he tried to take down that guy during training? I've met little girls who can hit harder than that."

"Well, I guess you're right," he said while pushing himself off the ground and offering a hand to me. I kindly accepted his offer and yanked myself off the ground. "But I am proud of you, Keeley. You've made a lot of progress since being back, both in your training and in your life."

I shuffled awkwardly in my place as my father complimented me. I knew that I had improved and grown quite a bit in the past months, but knowing that he actually noticed my hard work made me feel kind of happy.

I looked at him and gave a small smile. "Thanks, Dad. I've been trying."

"I know you have, Keeley. I know." The corner of his mouth tilted up as he wiped some sweat from his forehead. He looked proud of me in the way he stood tall and a fatherly look took over his face.

We both began to head towards the door, but I stopped. Today was also about getting Aubrey back, and I knew that I would have to tell her bits and pieces of our lives. I needed to make sure he knew what I was going to do.

"Um, Dad?" I asked. He stopped walking and turned to face me. With his hands in his pockets and his shoulders not so tense, he looked like any regular guy. It was strange to me to see him so different than how he normally appeared.

"What's up?" His eyebrows scrunched together in the middle as I stepped closer to him and tilted my head up to accommodate for his height.

"The day I got hurt, you know, with Brady and everything," I began, but I could tell he didn't like where this was going already. He still held what had happened against Brady even though it was now over a month ago. "That day my friend, Aubrey, stopped by. She was that red-headed girl?"

"What about her?" His shoulders straightened out a little bit as did his posture. This wasn't so much about a family thing, but now it involved the mafia, and I think he could tell that.

"She asked me what had happened, and when I told her about me and Brady sparring, she didn't believe that was the whole story because it's not. There have been days I don't show up to school and when I come back, I'm hurt or just different. She wanted an explanation and I couldn't give her one."

I trailed off at the end, looking straight at my father. He knew what I was asking: asking if it would be okay to tell her. But I also knew that what I would be doing would be incredibly risky. Aubrey isn't fit for any part of this life, and even knowing about some parts of it can be dangerous.

"You want to tell her about the mafia?" The harshness in his voice wasn't a stranger to me, yet it still caught me off guard.

"Not all of it, just bits and-"

"You know the mafia is no place for civilians, Keeley. She could be killed, kidnapped, or even tortured for just knowing you right now much less knowing what you do."

"I understand that but she is one of my only friends and no one else is talking to me right now because I hurt them!" I realized that I was suddenly breathing heavy and I was throwing my hands around in the air. My father was not impressed with my loss of composure, but I think he could tell how physically desperate I was to have them back.

Now don't get me wrong, being with Brady, my brothers, and the Moretti's and Luca was great. I loved them all whole-heartedly and enjoyed all the time I spent with them. But Aubrey and the guys, I missed them. I missed being a normal teenage girl with normal teenage friends. I didn't have to be tough or serious with them, I could let loose and just laugh. I loved that, I needed that, and I was ready to do whatever needed to be done to get back to that.

My father stared at me for a long time, his icy blue eyes drilling holes in me, waiting for me to crack and give up. I knew this had to be hard for him. It wasn't just me this was would affect, it would impact everybody. If one of them got hurt, it would be my father's problem. Other leaders would frown upon him because he let innocent teenagers get in the crossfire. My friendship would cost more than just an "I'm sorry" from me. It would cost a lot of trust and protection from the mafia.

"This girl is important to you?" he asked. I could not tell what he was thinking, I rarely ever could. His eyes gave no hint and neither did his posture. I think this is one of the main reasons he's such a great leader and negotiator: he doesn't have any tells, besides the ticking of his jaw when he's angry or frustrated, that shows you how he feels. He asks the important questions and lets you do the talking.

"She is. She's the only true friend I've made." My father stares at me for a moment and after what seems like forever, he lets out a sigh and the tension in his shoulders lessens.

"Just bits and pieces," he begins and my face immediately lights up in a smile. "She doesn't need to know about the number of people you or I have killed, she doesn't need to know that some part of you enjoys it, and she doesn't need to know what we actually do. If she has any questions pertaining to those points or something similar, they are not to be answered. Do you understand?"

Against my better judgment, I gave him a huge smile and threw my arms around my father, giving him a tight hug. A small chuckle escaped him as he hugged me back.

"Careful there, Munch. People might think you're going soft." he snickered. I immediately pushed him away and shot him a sour look, which he ultimately just found more humorous than anything.

"C'mon. We both smell and need to get cleaned up before, what Stefano is calling, his "luxury, Italian breakfast." Lord knows if we're late we will probably get a lecture," my father told me.

"I thought Stefano is a terrible cook?" I asked as we began to walk through the basement and towards the stairs.

"He is, but he claims he's a better baker and most of it is pastries," he explained as we headed up the stairs. The faint smell of baked goods began to make its way throughout the house.

"For my health, I hope so. I don't think I can survive another food poisoning incident," I reference back to the time he made me boxed mac and cheese. I was sick for two days after he used mayo instead of milk and lard instead of butter.

My father and I part ways at the bottom of the stairs, him going down the hallway to his office and me going up to my room. You could hear all the boys getting ready and moving around their rooms as the house slowly woke up. This was by far one of my favorite parts of the day.

I walked to the very end of mine and Luca's hallway before entering my bedroom. Gus greets me with the sweetest bark as I coo to him and scratch his ears. My smile turns from him to the painting above my bed. I had finally convinced my brothers to help hang the painting they got from the museum on my birthday above my bed. The angel was still glowing in her beautiful aura, and considering my room and all of its furnishings were either black or dark colors, it was the only color in here.

I gave Gus a kiss on the head before heading to the bathroom and looking at myself in the mirror. I was excited for today: I'd be back at school, I'm getting Aubrey back, it all just seems like today would work out.

Today would be a good day.

***

Less than an hour later, I'm finally showered, dressed, and ready to go. I was feeling good and considering I hadn't been to school in a while, I thought I might as well dress cute.

I had thrown together a dark red bralette and a cream-colored sweater paired with my favorite pair of light-washed jeans and worn Doc Martens. Luca's bracelet was clasped around my wrist, and the rings my brothers had bought me for Christmas decorated my hands. There were five rings, one for each of my brothers, and I thought they were absolutely gorgeous.

I had actually put a little effort into my hair this morning and used a hairdryer so my hair would lay straight and flat down to my waist. I gave myself a final look in the mirror before walking out of my room with my backpack and towards the staircase. But the moment I had shut my door, I saw Luca walk out of his room, and good Lord, he looked good.

It was clear he was working today as his black dress shirt was neatly tucked into his light gray dress pants. Polished black dress shoes were on his feet and on his wrist I could see the bracelet I had bought him for Christmas. He had recently taken to keeping a bit of dark stubble across his jaw and upper lip, defining his chin that much more. Luca's hair was gelled back, and even from here, I was consumed by him.

I don't know how long I was staring, but when Luca turned around with an eyebrow raised, I couldn't even deny the fact that I had been ogling him.

"See something you like, my love?" he speaks slowly with a hint of mischief laced in his voice. I quickly hide my flustered state and turn my confidence on. I straighten my shoulders and walk towards him with just an extra little sway in my steps. My tactic works as I notice his eyes travel down my body and only meet my eyes when I'm no less than a foot in front of him. I trail my hand gently up his chest while keeping my stare on him.

"Yes, I do, very much in fact," I whisper. I physically feel his heartbeat quicken where I had laid my hand on his chest. His breathing got heavy as one of his hands snaked around my back and under my sweater to rest on the small of my back. The warmth of his palm radiated throughout my body. "Do you?"

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down and used his free hand to gently tilt my head up. "I do, Tesoro, especially when you are wearing that. You look even more angelic than you normally do when you wear white."

He leaned down and placed a slow, deep kiss on my lips. I leaned further into him as I wrapped my arms around his neck and both of his hands grabbed my waist. There was nothing rushed or hurried about this kiss. It was just us together.

Luca pulled back after a moment and looked at me softly with those dark ocean blues of his, a small smile gracing his perfect face. I gently ran my hand down his sharp jaw and over his cheek, to the slight bump on his nose and over his forehead and across his hair. It's so easy to lose yourself in him when you look. He's everything I could ever ask for in a guy, but he wasn't just some normal guy. To me, Luca was extraordinary. Extraordinary in the way he talked, in the way he presented himself, in the way he looked at me. Luca was one of a kind.

"Sei così bella, Tesoro," he whispered while brushing a hair from my face. "Ti amo."
(You are so beautiful, Sweetheart. I love you.)

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Ti amo anch'io."
(I love you too.)

We pulled apart after that and I held his hand as we walked the rest of the way down the hall and down the stairs. Shouts and chatter could already be heard from the dining room when we reach the bottom of the stairs. The two of us share a knowing look as we walk together towards the chatter.

We find everyone talking loudly around the table that is filled with pastries, cakes, fruits, and so much more. I guess Stefano wasn't joking about a luxury Italian breakfast. We greeted our families as we rounded the table and to our normal seats.

Everyone eventually settled down and turned their attention at Stefano who looked extremely proud of himself and the buffet of food in front of us.

"Keeley and gentlemen, may I present to you: breakfast!"

***

I stood outside my first hour, AP Calculus, a while later debating on whether or not to go in. Breakfast was great and everything, Stefano was definitely a better baker than he was a cook, but I couldn't stop thinking about Aubrey. I needed to make things right, I just didn't know how.

The warning bell rang throughout the school as I took a final breath and walked into class and to my normal seat, which was right next to Aubrey. She wasn't paying attention to me as all her focus was on the textbook in front of her. Her red hair was in a messy braid running over her shoulder and onto the black hoodie she was wearing.

When I finally got to the table, she looked up and her face was blank, but in her eyes, I could tell there was something else. I gave her a tight-lipped smile as I pulled out my chair, sat down, and got out my things. The bell had finally rung, but Mr. Monroe wasn't here yet. I turned to Aubrey.

"Aubrey?" I asked quietly. To my surprise, she turned to me and looked at me expectantly. "Can I give you a ride home? I'd, um, I'd like to give you an explanation. A real one, this time."

She just stared at me for a moment, and I could tell she was thinking about it; and after only a few moments, she gave me a soft smile.

"I'd really like that, Keeley." I smile back at her. I'm that much closer to having her back.

***

"Hey, Angel," I hear an oddly smooth voice call as they approach the art table. When I look up, I see Ryder walking up to our table and plopping down in the seat beside me. He's wearing a long-sleeve football t-shirt and dark jeans. As normal, his hair is perfectly in place and the piercings across his ears and face sparkle.

"Hi, Ryder," I laugh as I look over at him. He goes to respond, but before he can get a word out, Ms. Loren bounces into the room with her paint-splattered overalls and a torn t-shirt. Her brown curls are all over the place and I think her glasses may actually be upside down.

"Good morning, class! Oh, I do hope all of you just had a wonderful, wonderful break, but alas, it is time to get back to the magical world of art!"

Ryder and I look at each other at the same time and roll our eyes.

"We are going to be hopping into a new unit called "Wants, Hopes, and Dreams!" This is the unit we will be working on for the rest of the year, and it's about paintings of all the things we do not have, the things we wish we were, and all of that we hope to attain! There will be a total of five assignments due, and the first one will be a painting of childhood dreams. I want you to paint what you either wanted or wanted to be as a child. This canvas is due in three weeks, so let's get to