He walks over, tugging his gloves off with his teeth before stuffing them into his coat pocket. There’s colour in his face I haven’t seen in months.
“You’ve been glaring at that poor kid for five minutes,” he says. “He’s going to start crying.”
“He deserves it,” I reply. “His stance is an insult to physics.” Niko laughs properly at that.
“You’re in a mood.”
I look at him properly now. “And you look different.”
“Different how?” he asks, rolling his shoulders.
“Like you slept for about a year.”
“I did,” he says it simply. “It’s strange. Highly recommend it.” Something about the way he says it — easy, unguarded — pulls at me.
“How’s Cassie?” I ask, and this time it isn’t automatic. He exhales through his nose, but it’s not out of frustration. More like relief he’s been waiting to let out.
“She’s good, Ari. Properly good. She’s been up before me most mornings. She even made breakfast yesterday. Real breakfast. The kitchen looked like a war zone, but still.” His mouth lifts slightly. “She’s even been arguing with me again.”
“That is your definition of improvement?”
“Yes,” he says, dead serious. “If she’s annoyed at me for leaving boots in the hallway, she’s not lost in her head somewhere.” I nod slowly. “She’s been taking Vladimir out more too,” he continues. “Park, shops, I came home last week, and she’d reorganised half the flat. You know what that means.”
I don’t, but I don’t push it. “I’m glad she’s feeling better.”
He watches me like he’s deciding whether that response is enough. “She asked about you,” he says after a moment.
“That’s concerning.”
“She said you’ve vanished.” A small smile tugs at his mouth. “Her words, not mine.”
“I’m working a lot.”
“You disappear a lot,” he repeats. “There’s a difference.” There’s something knowing in his tone that I don’t appreciate.
“I’m not discussing my schedule on the yard,” I say evenly.
He snorts. “Relax. I’m not trying to question you.” It almost sounds like a joke. “Come over tonight,” he says finally. “Dinner. Six-ish. Cassie’s cooking. She’ll pretend it’s casual, but she’s been planning it since yesterday.”
“Why?” I ask, frowning slightly.
“Because you’re my brother,” he says. “Because she hasn’t seen you in a while, and because at this rate, Vladimir will be asking why Uncle Ari lives at work.”
“I do not live at work.”
“You practically sleep in your office.”
“That is strategic.”
“Six,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. “Don’t overthink it,” he says quietly. “It’s just dinner.”
Just dinner. “Fine.”
“Good,” he replies, his shoulders easing a little. “Try not to terrify the neighbours when you arrive.”
“I make no promises.”
“That’s what worries me.” He claps my shoulder once and heads back toward the range, already slipping back into command, and I watch him go.
