11. The Boy Before the Fighter #3
"Riley, good. I had a cancellation tomorrow. I want you shadowing me at the donor preview. Not serving—shadowing. Can you make it work?"
My heart jumped. I glanced at Luca first, searching his face for permission before answering. "Yes. Absolutely."
"Good. Also, I spoke to someone in Palm Beach about you."
"About me?"
"A boutique firm. Private events for people who think ice sculptures count as personality. They may need an assistant coordinator this fall."
Fall slipped into the car like weather.
"That's amazing," I said, thinner than I meant.
"It would mean relocating. Or splitting time. Is that something you'd consider?"
I felt Luca go still beside me.
Six weeks.
"Yes," I said carefully. "For the right opportunity."
"Perfect. I'll text details."
When the call ended, the silence came back sharper.
He didn't ask.
"It's not definite," I said.
Luca changed lanes. "Sounds promising."
"It is."
"Good."
Polite. Controlled. Empty.
"You don't sound like you mean that."
His eyes stayed on the road. "Your future should be promising, Riley."
There was nothing wrong with it. That was the problem.
Ava's voice floated from the back. "Riley?"
"Yeah, sweet girl?"
"If you go to Palm Beach, will you bring back shells? The smooth kind."
My chest tightened.
"Of course. I'll bring you the best ones."
Luca's hands tightened on the wheel, and for the rest of the drive, he didn't look at me once.
By the time we got back to the house, Luca had rebuilt himself into silence.
Not the easy kind that sometimes settled between us when Ava was reading or lining up shells on the patio table.
This silence had locks on it.
Ava came in with her puzzle box tucked under one arm and announced she needed exactly twelve minutes alone because "Nonna's community has too many hallway smells." Luca softened enough to crouch in front of her.
"Twelve minutes," he said. "Headphones?"
"Yes. And the blue blanket. Not the green one."
"I know."
He did know. That was the dangerous part. Watching him love her in all those quiet, specific ways made it harder to pretend I was just passing through.
I waited until Ava disappeared upstairs before following him into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. Closed it again. Then braced his hands on the counter like the marble might steady him.
"Are we going to do this all day?" I asked.
His shoulders went still. "Do what?"
"This. The polite, dead-eyed employer routine."
He turned slowly. "You want me to apologize for wanting you to have opportunities?"
"No. I want you to stop acting like my having opportunities means you get to turn into a wall."
His eyes sharpened. "Careful."
"I'm tired of careful." My voice shook, but I didn't let it shrink. "Careful is what you use when you don't want to say the honest thing."
"The honest thing is that you should take the job if it comes."
"I didn't say I wouldn't."
"Good."
"Stop saying good like it costs you teeth."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. The kitchen hummed around us—refrigerator, air conditioner, distant pipes. Ordinary sounds that made this feel less like a job and more like a life I'd accidentally stepped into.
Luca looked away first. "You fit here too easily."
My breath caught.
"With Ava," he added, rougher. "With my mother. With all of it. You walk into places you have no reason to care about and suddenly they're warmer."
"That sounds like a compliment."
"It's a problem."
Pain flickered through me. "For who?"
"For me." His voice dropped. "For Ava. For you, if you start believing this house can give you something I never promised."
I stepped closer before I could think better of it. "And what am I asking for?"
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and the air shifted.
"Riley."
There it was again—my name as a warning.
"No," I whispered. "Don't use that voice and then tell me there's nothing here."
He moved closer, close enough that I could still smell salt on his skin beneath soap and coffee. "I never said there was nothing."
The words took a moment to absorb.
"But I can't give you a promise just because I want you," he said. "I won't lie to keep you near me."
"And pushing me away is more honest?"
"It's safer."
"For you."
His eyes flashed. "For everyone."
I almost laughed, but it came out thin. "You really believe that? That distance keeps people from getting hurt?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. Luca lifted his hand, hesitated, then touched two fingers to the underside of my chin.
It was barely anything. It undid me anyway.
"You should go upstairs," he said.
"You should let go."
He didn't.
For one suspended second, I thought he would kiss me. I saw the decision hit him, saw the hunger break through the discipline?—
Then a soft thump sounded upstairs. Ava.
Luca stepped back like the sound had pulled him away. I stood there with my chin still tingling and my chest cracked open.
"I'll check on her," I said.
"Riley."
I stopped with one hand on the stair rail. For one reckless second, I waited for him to ask me to stay.
He didn't.
Luca might finally have admitted he wanted me. But when wanting something scared him, he still let it walk away.