The group goes quiet. Everyone's eyes slide to him, as if they already know me, or talked about me. I don't know—feels weird.
Ben hesitates, caught between saying politenoandfollowing me. My throat dries.
"I need help with something," I say, kicking at the dust.
That's all it takes. He rises instantly, mutters apologies to the guys, and nudges me lightly forward with his hand. "Okay. Lead the way."
We walk in silence, the thrum of bass from a distant art car trailing us until I stop under the shade of a skeletal tower wrapped in flags, the fabric snapping faintly in the dry wind. "Can we sit here?"
He arches a brow. "Thought you needed help. Or a walk."
"This was the walk," I say, a bit sheepishly. "And I need help with my apology."
He gives me a look, but drops down against the structure.
I join him, shoulder to shoulder, watching the mood spin around us, but mostly feeling the knot between us.
"You look good in beige. You should wear it more often," I tell him, smiling.
His face flattens, unimpressed. Compliments won't melt him today.
I draw a sharp breath and blurt it out, "I'm sorry for pushing it too far. It wasn't my place to comment on your wedding. I got heated because—"
"Because?" he cuts in.
"Because it makes no sense. You told me that Nonna wanted you married in that Venetian chapel where she got married and—" My words falter when his jaw tightens.
Damn it. I'm deflecting and not making it better.
"Forget it. I just had this stupid idea, I knew what was bestfor you, which is absurd. You're allowed to do whatever you want," I say.
He exhales slowly, like I've dragged something raw out of him. Then his gaze sharpens as if something struck him. "Did Mara tell you anything?"
"No." Too fast. I force my eyes not to blink and give it away. "She's a vault when it comes to you. I don't know what you have on her. She's scared of you."
He snorts a laugh. "She has a reason. Comes with being siblings."
"I can imagine, even though I have none."
He breaks a little smile. "Actually, we made a promise as kids that we'll always be there for each other and never break each other's secrets, and she always kept it. Even when I crashed Dad's Alfa at sixteen, she didn't tell anyone. Just helped me buff out the scratches and pretended she didn't see a thing."
"Wow. She's a saint."
"Yeah. She's a good sister."
"She's incredible. I love her so much." That part is easy, true.
His smile softens, finally, just a flicker of warmth breaking through. "She loves you, too."
"Didn't you say you'd shave your scruff?" I tease, letting the tension slip sideways. Looks good on him actually.
He scrapes a hand across his jaw. "I was stuck at work these past five days. Multi-car pileup. Every trauma doctor was called in. Barely any breaks," he says, tired.
"Oh damn."
"Yeah. You'll probably read about it in the papers when you're back."
I take him in properly. He seems hollow at the edges, exhaustion pressed into his bones, and it makes me want to do something reckless I used to do back in the day—care for him.
