"You're doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The hovering thing. The big brother thing."
Luke crosses his arms. "I'm not hovering."
"You're always hovering."
"Maybe I've got reasons."
I turn to face him fully. "Say what you want to say, Luke."
He's quiet for a long moment. Outside, a truck engine starts. Ethan’s leaving. I don't watch him go.
"Just be careful," Luke says finally.
"Of what?"
"You know what."
I do know. I've always known. Luke doesn't say Ethan's name, but he doesn't have to. The warning is clear. My brother's best friend is off limits, he has been since the day Ethan moved to town six years ago. Luke made his position clear then, and he's never wavered.
"I'm making donuts," I tell him. "That's all I'm doing."
"Good."
"Is it?" The words come out sharper than I intend. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you don't trust me to make my own decisions."
Luke's expression shifts. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
We stare at each other across the counter. The radio plays on, oblivious. Finally, Luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
"I'm going to check the chairs," he mutters, and disappears into the dining area.
I return to the kitchen and throw myself back into work. The rhythm helps. Fry, glaze, fill, arrange. I lose myself in the repetition until the front door chimes and the first real customer of the day walks in.
By seven, the line is out the door. National Donut Day brings everyone out. I work the register while Luke boxes orders and keeps the display stocked. We're a good team when we're notarguing. He knows what I need before I ask for it, and I know when to stay out of his way.
The morning passes in a blur of transactions and thank-yous and "happy National Donut Day." My feet ache. My back aches. I don't care. This is what I wanted. My own place. My own business. My own terms.
At nine thirty, there's a lull. Luke takes his break, and I start wiping down the counter. That's when I notice the coffee cup on the far table.
Ethan's cup.
He left it behind. I stare at it for longer than necessary, then walk over and pick it up. It's empty except for a few drops at the bottom. I should throw it away. Instead, I stand there holding it like an idiot until the door chimes and another customer walks in.
I toss the cup in the trash and get back to work.
The day continues. More customers. More donuts. Luke watches me like I'm going to do something reckless. Maybe he's right to worry. Maybe I'm already doing something reckless just by thinking about Ethan more than I should.
At three o'clock, I'm restocking the napkin dispenser when the door opens and Ethan walks back in.
My pulse kicks up before I can stop it.
He heads straight for the counter, and I meet him there. Luke is in the back. We're alone.
