15. Adriano #2
“I feel a lot better, but yes, I am a little tired,” Casey replies.
It’s close enough to the truth that no one questions it. She’s a lot better, but she’s far from okay, and that’s the part she leaves out.
Letty is talking again, now explaining something about snow and marshmallows and a system that sounds suspiciously like she’s already negotiated her way into more than she should have.
Casey laughs at something she says, soft but genuine, and I feel it more than I expect to.
Not the sound.
The ease of it. The fact that she’s here and a part of us.
She handles the room well.
Better than most people would be walking into this kind of noise, but then she’s used to us. But it’s hard to reconcile that Casey with the one with us now. The other Casey was loud, confident, full of fun and sass.
This new Casey is careful, reserved, and I can’t help thinking it has something to do with that asshole ex of hers. I still don’t know what the story is there or how it all adds up, but I know she isn’t to blame.
She talks when she’s spoken to, listens when she needs to, smiles easily enough that most people wouldn’t look twice.
But I can see it.
The way she edges her back into the couch, like she’s trying to anchor herself without making it obvious.
The brief press of her hand against the armrest when the conversation gets louder, her body tense, controlled but in a way that only stands out if you know what to look for.
And now I do. All her tells are there as plain as day for me to read on her face.
She’s holding it together.
But it’s costing her, and that’s not good enough.
And if I leave it, she’ll keep going until she pushes too far, because that’s clearly what she does—pushes it, works around it, makes sure no one else has to put themselves out for her.
It makes me want to hunt down every single person who ever made her feel like she’s a burden and beat them until they feel a fraction of her pain.
The thought stops me short. When did she become someone I’d go to war for? I can’t pinpoint a moment, just that it’s true.
I cross the room without announcing it, picking up a glass of water on the way, and stop directly in front of her instead of beside her, close enough that she has to look up, before I drop to my haunches in front of her.
“Relax back properly,” I say quietly, already shifting the cushion behind her before she can argue, my hand briefly on her elbow to guide her back into it.
“I am relaxed,” she murmurs, but there’s no real resistance behind it, as she lets me move her.
“Not comfortably,” I reply, adjusting the throw at her side so she doesn’t have to reach for it.
She exhales softly, something caught between a sigh and a reluctant acceptance and lets it happen. “You don’t need to do this, Adi.”
Adi. That’s the first time she’s called me that, and I find I want to hear it again.
I soften my tone. “I know, but I want to. Please let me.”
Her nod is small and hesitant.
That alone tells me enough.
I set the glass within her reach, then glance toward the kitchen. “Tea or something stronger?”
Her brow lifts slightly. “Are those my only options?”
“For now.”
There’s the faintest hint of a smile. “Tea’s fine But later I want one of these famous hot chocolates.”
I give her a wink. “Play your cards right, and I’ll even add marshmallows.”
Her mouth opens in shock as I move away.
By the time I’m back with her tea, the room has shifted.
Isabella is beside her now.
Her body is angled toward Casey in a way that is protective, caring. Her hand rests briefly against Casey’s arm as she says something low, her voice quiet enough that I don’t catch the words.
Casey leans in slightly to answer.
There’s a pause.
Isabella’s expression softens, something more serious slipping through for a second before she nods, her thumb brushing once over Casey’s sleeve in a small, reassuring gesture.
Then it’s gone.
Isabella turns toward Elena, who’s settled in the chair adjacent to the couch. She picks up the conversation seamlessly, like the deep moment I just witnessed didn’t happen.
It’s well done.
Subtle enough that most people wouldn’t register it for what it is.
I do. It makes me change my mind about Isabella being ignorant of her friend’s struggle. There’s a dynamic between them that I’m not party to, but it works for them, and I respect that.
Across the room, Nico is on the phone, pacing slowly near the windows, his voice low and focused. Matteo has shifted toward Rossi, the two of them already halfway into an argument neither of them intends to lose.
Casey stays where she is on the couch, talking with Isabella and Elena, even as my daughter climbs up on the couch beside her and snuggles into her.
She doesn’t move further into the room, doesn’t try to reinsert herself into the center of it, just settles slightly deeper into the corner of the couch. Again, I’m struck by the difference in her from Thanksgiving. I always hated that loudness from her but now I find myself missing it.
I step back into place beside her without comment. “Your tea.”
Her smile is warm as she wraps her hands around the mug. “Thank you.”
I don’t move away immediately. Not because there’s a reason to stay, but because it feels right.
She shifts slightly, settling deeper into the cushions, Letty leaning into her without hesitation, already halfway through telling her something that doesn’t require a response so much as an audience.
Casey listens anyway.
Not distracted, not waiting for her to finish—just there, present in a way that most people aren’t when a child talks.
I find myself watching that too.
She glances up at some point, catching me looking before I think to stop it.
There’s a flicker of something in her expression—brief, unguarded, like she’s about to say something and then thinks better of it.
Or maybe I imagine that part.
Either way, she holds my gaze for a second longer than she used to.
Then she looks away, lifting the mug to her lips, her attention returning to Letty like nothing had happened.
“Isabella, help me start dinner. I want to make that lamb that Nico likes so much.” Elena stands and pulls Isabella away. “Adriano, sit. You make the place look untidy.”
I sit in the chair Elena vacated, stretching my legs in front of me.
The room carries on around us. Familiar noises, movements, voices overlapping.
But for a moment, everything feels exactly as it should be.
I point to the mug. “Drink,” I say.
“Yes, boss,” she replies under her breath.
I ignore that but can’t stop the twitch of my lips. Her attitude is returning, finally. “How you doing?” I ask instead, lower now, so it doesn’t carry.
She hesitates.
Not because she doesn’t understand the question but because she’s deciding how much to give me. “It’s manageable,” she says finally.
That isn’t an answer. She’s deflecting again. I hadn’t realized how much she did it until now. As a lawyer, I’m trained to spot deflection, which proves just how good she is at it. I hold her gaze for a second longer. “That’s not what I asked.”
Something flickers in her expression—annoyance, maybe, or just the fact that I’m not letting it go. “It’s better than it was,” she says, quieter now. “Just… tired.”
That, at least, is honest. “You should lie down,” I say.
Her head tilts slightly. “In the middle of your entire family? That feels rude.”
“They’ll survive.”
“I’ll be fine here.”
I look at her for a moment, weighing it. She’s not wrong. But she’s also not entirely right. “Then you stay here,” I say finally, shifting slightly so I’m still between her and the worst of the movement in the room. “And you tell me if it changes.”
She studies me for a second, something softer threading through the look now. “Yes, sir,” she says lightly.
There’s a beat. My blood heats at the sound of those words on her lips. Visions of her saying them in very different circumstances spring to my mind. I swallow past the thought of her taking my cock with those words on her lips.
Then, quieter—
“I’ll tell you if I get worse.”
I nod once, accepting it, and settle into the chair.
I want to stay close, just enough that I’m not crowding her.
Not far enough that I’m not aware of every small shift.
Across the room, Matteo glances over, something like amusement flickering across his face before he says something to Nico that pulls his attention away again.
No one comments.
They don’t need to.
The space has already adjusted.
And she stays exactly where she is.
Close enough that if she leans, she’ll feel me there.
“Something’s changed,” Matteo says quietly, appearing at my side like he always does when he’s about to be irritating.
“What are you talking about, Matty?”
He hums, unconvinced. “You’re hovering.”
“I’m standing.”
Dinner was a relaxed affair as it can only be with those you trust and feel comfortable around.
“Near her.”
“That’s a coincidence.”
Matteo looks at me like I’ve just said something particularly stupid. “You don’t do coincidence.”
I don’t bother responding to that.
He grins slightly anyway. “Interesting.”
“Careful,” I say, my tone even. “You’re starting to sound invested.”
“I am invested,” he replies. “This is the most interesting you’ve been in years.”
I ignore him, my eye roll saying what my lips won’t deny.
Across the room, Casey says something to Elena that I don’t quite catch, but it makes her laugh again, softer this time, less guarded.
She looks up.
Finds me watching.
For a second, neither of us looks away.
It’s not a long moment.
But it’s enough.
Enough that something settles quietly into place, something I don’t examine too closely because I don’t yet know what to do with it.
Then Letty tugs at my sleeve, demanding my attention again, and the moment breaks, the room filling back in around us.
Everything carries on as it should.
But I’m aware of her now in a way I wasn’t before.
Not because anything obvious has changed.
Because something has.
And for the first time—
I’m not entirely sure I want to ignore it.