“I’d hate to think I was shoving more things into the tangle that goes on up there.” He meant to poke at Matti’s forehead, but somehow the gesture gentled itself. Luca found himself with his fingertips soft at Matti’s temple, his hand barely hovering above the side of Matti’s face. Matti leaned into it. After a moment his eyes fell closed: not a flutter, a definitive fall, just as he’d fallen to sit down on that bench when they’d left the Vane house. It had the same exhausted air to it. Matti’s cheek was wet. Luca’s throat felt tight. “You are. You do,” Matti said, very soft. “You tangle me
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