11. The Boy Before the Fighter
THE BOY BEFORE THE FIGHTER
RILEY
Luca was trying to murder the ocean when I found him.
That was the only reasonable explanation for the way he drove his fists into the morning air, bare feet planted in wet sand, shoulders gleaming under the first spill of sunrise. Each strike landed against the pads Donny held for him. Jab. Cross. Hook.
A few early runners slowed to watch. Luca noticed none of them. His whole body belonged to the rhythm, controlled and precise and unfairly beautiful before seven in the morning.
Ava was spending the morning with Luca's mother, or as Ava called her, Nonna. It was a once-in-a-while routine he guarded like it mattered more than he admitted.
So with Ava happily occupied and the house briefly too quiet, I'd bought Luca coffee and told myself tracking him down on the beach counted as checking in—not seeking him out.
Donny saw me first. His grin flashed over Luca's shoulder.
"Careful, Brooks," he called. "He bites before coffee."
Luca's next punch stopped an inch from the pad.
He turned, chest rising, hair damp at his temples, eyes narrowing on the paper cup in my hand like I had brought contraband onto government property.
"You stalking me now?" he asked.
"I prefer supportive workplace initiative."
"At dawn?"
"I'm committed to professional development."
Donny lowered the pads. "She brought coffee. That's more commitment than you deserve."
Luca ignored him, but the corner of his mouth did something dangerously close to a smile.
I held out the cup. "LOOK UP" had been scrawled across the side in thick black marker.
His brows lifted. "Look Up?"
"Apparently, that's what the barista heard when I said Luca." I shrugged. "Good advice, honestly."
He took the cup, our fingers brushing for half a second too long. It should not have mattered. Paper cup. Damp sand. His brother standing right there. But heat moved through me anyway, quick and inconvenient.
Luca's gaze dropped to my bare feet. "You came down here without shoes?"
"I'm on a beach."
"You're on wet sand with broken shells."
"I survived."
"Barely, from the look of it."
I glanced at my pink-polished toes. "Are you insulting my survival skills?"
"I'm questioning them."
"Bold, considering I brought caffeine to a man attempting to intimidate the Atlantic Ocean."
Donny laughed. "She's not wrong."
Luca shot him a look, then took a sip of coffee, watching me over the lid.
The intensity that usually made everyone around him give up a little space eased.
The hard line of his mouth loosened into something younger.
Almost boyish. Like the man beneath all that discipline had surfaced before Luca could stop him.
My chest did something inconvenient and entirely his fault.
A gust of wind blew hair across my mouth. Before I could catch it, Luca reached out. His hand hovered for one careful second, giving me time to move away.
I didn't.
He brushed the strand back from my lips, his thumb grazing the corner of my mouth so lightly it felt imagined. The world narrowed to waves, salt air, and his eyes on my mouth.
"Riley," he said, low.
My name in his voice sounded like a warning he did not want to give.
I should have stepped back. I should have made a joke, put a responsible nanny-shaped mile between us. Instead, I looked at his mouth, too.
His jaw tightened. Then he dropped his hand.
"I need to finish," he said.
"Right." My voice came out too soft. I lifted my coffee. "Wouldn't want the ocean getting away with anything."
That almost-smile flickered again, but it didn't stay. He turned back to Donny, shoulders locking into place, fighter armor sliding over whatever I'd seen.
I walked away with sand clinging to my feet and coffee burning sweet on my tongue. Behind me, the first hit landed. Jab. Cross. Hook.
This time, every sharp exhale sounded like restraint. By the time I reached the boardwalk, I'd almost convinced myself I'd imagined his thumb against my mouth.
Almost.
I was rinsing sand from my ankles near the public shower when Donny's voice cut through the morning behind me, lower now. Not joking. Not loud enough for the runners or tourists to hear.
"Luca."
One word, but Luca heard whatever lived under it.
I turned before I could pretend I wasn't listening. Donny stood a few yards away with his phone in his hand, the pads tucked under one arm. Luca had gone still in front of him, coffee forgotten at his side.
"What happened?" Luca asked.
"The community called. Ma tried me three times before one of the nurses took the phone."
Luca's face changed so fast it hurt to watch. The fighter vanished. The teasing man vanished. In their place was someone sharper and much younger, braced for impact.
"Is Ava okay?"
"Yeah. She's fine. She's doing the puzzle with Ma in the activity room. One of the staff is keeping an eye on them." Donny rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not Ava."
Luca waited.
"She wanted to know what time the podiatry appointment was. Then she asked again ten minutes later. Then she tried calling to tell me she couldn't find her pill organizer."
"Did she check the kitchen drawer?" Luca asked.
"Yeah."
"The basket by the microwave?"
"Luc."
"The bathroom cabinet? Sometimes she moves it when Ava's there because she doesn't want her touching the bottles."
Donny's mouth tightened. "The nurse found it in the refrigerator."
The ocean kept moving behind us, bright and indifferent.
Luca looked toward the parking lot. "I'll go."
"I already told her you were coming after your workout."
"You told her?"
"She was getting upset."
"I could've been there already."
Donny's expression softened, but he didn't back down. "You were ten minutes away, not across the country."
Luca dragged a hand over his jaw, leaving a faint streak of sand near his cheekbone. Practical Luca. Controlled Luca. A man who owned buildings, handled investors, and raised Ava with more patience than most people gave themselves.
And still, fear had found the seam.
"I should come with you," I said.
Both brothers looked at me.
I lifted my palms a little. "Ava's there. If she sees both of you worried, she'll know something's wrong. I can keep things normal."
"There's no normal with my family," Donny said.
"That's lucky. Normal is wildly overrated."
A quiet breath left Luca, not quite a laugh. Not relief, either.
"This isn't part of your job," he said.
"No," I said, softer. "But Ava is."
His eyes searched mine as if looking for the polite excuse hidden under the offer. Then he gave one tight nod.
"Go get your shoes."
I should have felt relieved that he'd allowed it. Instead, as I walked toward the car with sand still clinging between my toes, I felt the shift for what it was.
Not a boundary. A door.
The active senior community didn't look like any nursing facility I'd imagined.
It looked like a resort that had put on sensible shoes.
Palm trees lined the drive. Golf carts hummed along paved paths.
Two women in visors power-walked past a fountain like they had brunch reservations and no patience for mortality.
Luca pulled into a visitor space beside Donny's truck but didn't immediately get out.
"She hates when we fuss," he said.
"Then don't fuss."
His mouth flattened. "That's your professional advice?"
"My professional advice is to let her think she's in charge while quietly making sure nothing catches on fire."
Donny snorted. "She might survive Ma."
Inside, the lobby smelled like lemon polish, coffee, and expensive sunscreen. A board listed water aerobics, bridge, and Gentle Combat Fitness.
"Your mother takes Gentle Combat Fitness?" I asked.
"She was banned," Donny said.
Luca sighed. "She argued with the instructor about footwork."
Before I could laugh, Ava appeared, puzzle pieces clutched to her chest.
"Riley." Her gaze dropped to my ankles. "You have sand."
"I do."
"Inside."
"Yes."
"That is not where sand goes."
"I'm learning so much today."
Her mouth twitched. Behind her, a silver-haired woman in red lipstick and a turquoise cardigan sat like she owned the room.
"Don't start," she said.
Luca kissed her cheek. "Good morning to you too, Ma."
"I'm alive. That's usually how mornings work." Her eyes slid to me. "And who is this pretty girl who looks like she survived a shipwreck?"
"Riley Brooks," I said before Luca could formalize me. "Ava's nanny. Occasional coffee courier. Poor sand manager."
His mother warmed. "Nanny, huh?"
"Ma," Luca warned.
"What? I said one word. Donatello, write that down. Your brother has become the police."
"I've been filing reports for years," Donny said, pulling out a chair.
Ava placed puzzle pieces on the table. "Nonna, the corner piece is missing."
"Then it's hiding because it knows we're smarter." She tapped the table. "Come here, topolina."
Ava climbed beside her without hesitation. No forced affection. No corrections. Luca's mother simply leaned in, matching Ava's rhythm like it was second nature.
Something in my chest tightened.
"You found your pill box?" Luca asked.
Her fingers paused. "Of course."
"The nurse said?—"
"The nurse thinks refrigerators are shocking places. I was keeping them cool."
Donny coughed.
"They don't need to be cool, Ma."
"Well, they're not complaining."
"It was three calls," Luca said, quieter.
Her gaze slid away—not surrender, just irritation at being caught.
Ava looked up. "Nonna called because she needed the appointment time."
His mother softened instantly. "Exactly. Ava understands efficiency."
"What time is the appointment?" Ava asked.
Luca looked at Donny. Donny looked at Luca. His mother opened her mouth, then closed it. The silence lasted maybe three seconds. Long enough to shift something.
"Eleven-thirty," Luca said gently.
"Eleven-thirty," she repeated, brisk again. She pushed a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. "I knew that."
Ava tilted her head. "That piece does not belong there."
"Maybe it wants adventure."
"Pieces cannot want adventure."