Luke unlocks the door and pulls it open. "You're early."
"Couldn't sleep." Ethan's voice is low and quiet, the way it always is. He doesn't look at me. "Figured I'd grab coffee before the rush."
"We're not open," Luke says, but he's already stepping aside to let him in.
Ethan crosses the threshold, and suddenly the front room feels smaller. He's wearing a dark henley and jeans, and his hair is still damp from the shower. I notice this in the same detached way I notice the weather. Information. Nothing more.
"Callie." He nods at me once.
"Ethan."
Luke glances between us, and I watch his shoulders tense. He does this every time. Every single time Ethan shows up, Luke goes on alert like he's expecting something to happen.
Nothing ever happens.
"I'll get you coffee," I say, and retreat to the kitchen.
My hands are steady as I pour. French roast, black, no sugar. I've made Ethan's coffee enough times to have it memorized. This fact irritates me more than it should.
When I return, Luke and Ethan are talking in low voices near the door. They stop when I approach.
"Here." I hand Ethan the cup, careful not to let our fingers touch.
"Thanks." He takes a sip, and I see the slight relaxation in his jaw. He likes my coffee. I know this because Luke told me once, years ago, back when it didn't matter.
"What are you doing up this early anyway?" Luke asks him.
"Work call with the London office." Ethan shrugs. "Easier to take it from home."
Luke nods like this makes perfect sense. Maybe it does. I don't know the details of Ethan's tech job, just that he works remotely and makes enough money to live alone on five acres outside town. Luke talks about the cabin that Ethan built sometimes. He talks about the garden he started, and the quiet life he's carved out since leaving the military.
I don't ask Luke for details. It's better not to know.
"You sticking around for a donut?" Luke asks.
"No." Ethan's eyes flick to me for half a second, then away. "I should get back."
"Suit yourself."
Ethan heads for the door, coffee in hand. I should feel relieved. Instead, I feel the opposite of relieved, which is a problem I don't have time to examine.
"Wait." The word is out before I can stop it.
Both men turn to look at me.
I grab a bag from under the counter and fill it with two glazed donuts. "National Donut Day," I explain, holding it out. "On the house."
Ethan stares at the bag like it might bite him. Then he crosses the room and takes it from my hand. His fingers brush mine. It lasts less than a second, but I feel it in my wrist, my elbow, my chest.
"Thanks," he says quietly.
"No problem."
He leaves without another word. The door swings shut behind him, and I'm left standing there with Luke's eyes boring into the side of my head.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing."
