“Like defeat and broken dreams.” Barnaby’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned against my counter, utterly lost. “Like someone ground up rocks and mixed them with sadness and the tears of disappointed trainers.”
“He requires intervention.” Nana pulled out her phone, already scrolling through her contacts. “Medical or psychiatric, I’m not certain which. Hunter, make a note. We need to research appropriate facilities.”
“I’m fine!” Barnaby yelped. “I just need to hide until I grow a spine!”
“Barnaby, you can’t hide here forever. Why didn’t you just tell him you didn’t like it?” I kept my voice low, steady, trying to be the calm in his storm. “He’s your brother. He’d understand.”
“I can’t! What if he thinks I don’t respect him?” Barnaby pressed both palms against his face, his breathing ragged. “What if he thinks I’m wasting his time?”
“Barnaby—”
“Maybe if I do some jumping jacks!” He scrambled to his feet, using my counter for leverage, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hoodie was askew, his eyes wide with increasing panic. “If I put in enough effort, he won’t notice I haven’t been drinking liquid rocks!”
Barnaby didn’t get the chance to go through his genius plan. The door chimed again, and Brok walked in. I forgot how to breathe.
He filled the doorway completely, his shoulders nearly brushing both sides of the frame. The compression shirt he wore had given up on being modest and was now simply documenting every muscle in his chest and arms like a very dedicated cartographer.
His eyes swept the shop with the same systematic precision I’d come to know so well. He looked past Nana in her Chanel armor, past Hunter and his shopping bags, landing briefly on me with an intensity that made my stomach flip. Then, his gaze found Barnaby, still hidingbehind my counter like a fugitive who had just realized the safe house was actually a police station.
My heart did something that would have violated several laws of physics.
“Barnaby,” Brok drawled. “Why are you hiding?”
Oh God. This was happening. This was actually happening. My grandmother was here. Barnaby was having a breakdown behind my macarons. And Brok had just walked in looking like someone had carved him from granite and then decided to dress him in athletic wear as a joke.
“I’m not hiding!” Barnaby straightened his back with almost uncharacteristic determination. “I’m… I’m inspecting Hazel’s display case! For structural integrity! It’s very well-built! You can barely see the seams!”
Brok set down his gym bag with the same excruciating care he’d used to rescue Barnaby the night he’d choked. This time, the caution made no difference. The floor still groaned under the weight. It accepted its fate with dignified resignation.
As he walked toward the counter, each step made my café furniture look like it was reconsidering its life choices. My entire shop felt suddenly smaller, warmer.
But this wasn’t the first time I’d faced him, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Brok, hi. Barnaby was just… visiting. Isn’t that nice?”
“Nice,” Brok repeated. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it. But we still have training to do today.”
“I know, I know.” Barnaby’s hands shook, but he somehow managed to force a smile. If the situation hadn’t been so absurd, I’d have been impressed. “I just needed a minute to prepare for the… Err…”
He trailed off, clearly not ready to break the news to Brok. But his brother had never been a stupid man. “Barnaby. We will discuss the Kharak’dur later. Right now, we do check-in. Yes?”
Barnaby’s entire body sagged like a soufflé that had been poked too hard. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”
“Good.” Brok reached for one of my chairs.
I already knew where this was going. I’d seen their check-in sessions countless times before, and each was more insane than the last.
Nana was still there, watching Brok and Barnaby with unconcealed horror. I had to do some kind of damage control before this turned into an even bigger disaster than it already was. “Okay,” I said, the word coming out more tired than I’d intended. “I’ll come.”
She perked up immediately, dismissing Brok and Barnaby as irrelevant footnotes in her victory. “Truly? Wonderful, Hazel. I knew you’d come around.”
She probably had. Nana always won. The only real question was how long it took for her to wear us down. But I wasn’t about to point that out now. She was alreadylaunching into another tirade. “Wear something nice. And don’t forget about the bake-off.”
“Nana, you know me better than that. If there are sweets involved, I certainly won’t forget about them.”
“Of course.” She patted my cheek, and for a moment there, it felt like she was a real grandma. Not a wealthy socialite who would’ve given the Black Widow a run for her money. Then, she blinked, and the impression faded. “Come along, Hunter. We’re late for our next appointment.”
“Bye, Hazel!” Hunter waved with both hands, nearly dropping his shopping bags in his enthusiasm. “Bye, Floor Spy! Bye, Super Big Muscle Trainer Man!”
From the café table, Brok’s pen stopped moving for exactly half a second.
