He filled the doorframe because the man was built like a mountain like his friend Bear, and April felt the years fall away. She was eighteen again, watching Ben lumber toward her in that bus station, carrying money she wouldn't take and an apology that wasn't his to make.
"Hey, April," Ben said, his voice that same low rumble she remembered. Even though they increasingly moved in the same circles, Ben stayed quiet and often left early.
"Hi, Ben." She gave him her brightest, most welcoming smile. "Thanks for coming on short notice."
"No problem." His eyes shown with gentle kindness. "Heard you've got an espresso machine giving you trouble."
"Giving us hell is more like it," Sonny shouted from behind the counter. True to form, it had started acting up again. "But if anyone can sweet-talk it into behaving, it's probably you."
April led Ben toward the temperamental machine.
“She’s an old beauty, isn’t she?” Ben asked as he ran a hand over the silver machine.
Sonny beamed. “She sure is. I don’t want to replace her if I can avoid it. She’s part of Riversong’s image.”
Shane joined them, and April watched the easy way he and Ben moved around each other—the shorthand of old friends, the comfortable silence of men who'd been through hell together. They started taking a panel off the machine, discussing pressurevalves and plumbing and heating elements in a language April only half understood.
She busied herself with opening prep—checking the till, filling the cream pitchers, restocking the pastry case when the local bakery made its delivery, thinking she might have to stop in and say hello at the new donut place and get some in here because they were incredible. She checked in on Kevin who sat bent over his homework, actually focusing for once.
And every few minutes, she found herself watching Shane.
The way his hands moved, confident and sure. The way he listened when Ben explained something, nodding, asking smart questions. The way he laughed at something Sonny said, his whole face transforming when he was included.
This was Shane in his element—solving problems, helping people, being useful. No flash, no performance. Just quiet competence and genuine care.
April's throat went tight.
Around nine-fifteen, Ben straightened and pulled a small notebook from his pocket. "I need to grab some measurements, check what I've got in my workshop. Give me about twenty minutes."
"Thanks again," Sonny said.
Shane glanced at his watch, then toward the office. "Kevin! Want to help me take Pete for a quick stroll?"
Kevin appeared in the doorway, pencil still in hand. "Can I?" He looked at April.
"How’s your homework coming."
"Good. I just have math left."
"Then you can go."
Kevin smiled and vanished to get Pete, and Shane caught April's eye. Something passed between them—a look that saidwe'll talk laterandI'm hereand a dozen other things she didn't have words for.
Then he was gone, Pete and Kevin at his heels, and the back door swung shut behind them.
April and Sonny were alone.
I should get back to prep work. Check inventory. Do literally anything other than stand here with my father while my thoughts tangle themselves into knots.
But Sonny was watching her with that expression—the one that said he saw right through every defense she'd ever built.
“Does Kevin know it’s his father Shane’s protecting you from?”
She flinched. “No. All he knows is that his bio-father didn’t want to be a dad and that he’s missed out on one hell of a good kid.”
“When’s the last time he asked about his father?”
April's hands clutched a dishtowel. “It’s been a while. Not since…” she trailed off.Not since he’d started idolizing Shane, she realized.
