Page 194 of The Art of Ruin

I look at her for a moment too long. “I got distracted.”

A smile tugs slowly at her mouth. “By organized crime and legal contracts?”

“By you.”

Heat rises instantly in her cheeks.

I cross the room before I can think too hard about it and settle beside her on the couch, pulling her automatically against my side. Casey relaxes into me after only the smallest hesitation.

Progress.

The thought shouldn’t feel as precious as it does.

“You look tired,” she murmurs against my shoulder a few minutes later.

I huff out a laugh. “That’s deeply offensive.”

“It’s true, though.”

“I haven’t slept properly in days.”

Her fingers still briefly against my chest. Guilt flickers across her face immediately. I catch her hand before it can retreat. “No,” I say quietly. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Take responsibility for my inability to cope like a normal person.”

Despite herself, she laughs softly.

The sound warms something deep in my ribs.

“I missed you,” she admits after a while.

I close my eyes briefly. “Tesoro,” I murmur.

“You looked genuinely haunted.”

“I was genuinely haunted.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Adi.”

“I’m Italian.”

Casey snorts suddenly against my chest, and the startled laugh that follows feels so normal, so us, that emotion catches painfully in my throat all over again.

Because, this.

This easy warmth.

This is what I almost ruined.

And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I never do again.

34.Casey

By early May,things stop feeling fragile all the time. There are still moments when hurt catches unexpectedly between us. Small, sharp remnants of everything that happened. Sometimes Adriano tells me something with a carefulness that makes it obvious he’s still learning how not to filter the truth before handing it to me. Sometimes I still hesitate before fully leaning into him when fear whispers that trusting someone completely is dangerous.

But then there are other moments, too. Morning coffee already waiting for me because he noticed I slept badly. Late nights on the couch with my legs across his lap while he works and absently rubs circles against my ankle without thinking about it.