The streets are empty. Most of Hearts Bend is still asleep. The only light comes from Morning Star Donuts. I can see Callie moving around inside through the window.
I park in the alley and sit there for a minute. Trying to prepare myself. Trying to figure out what to say to her that won't make this worse.
Nothing comes to mind.
I get out and walk to the back door. It's unlocked. I push it open and step into the kitchen.
Callie is at the work station, boxing donuts. She looks up when I enter. Our eyes meet.
"Hi," she says.
"Hi."
The word hangs between us. Loaded with everything from Friday night. Everything we almost did. Everything we didn't say.
"Coffee's fresh," she tells me, nodding toward the pot.
"Thanks."
I pour a cup and lean against the counter. Watch her work. Her movements are efficient and practiced. Box, arrange, close, stack. She's done this a thousand times.
"How many are we loading?" I ask.
"Twenty-five dozen. Four trips should do it."
"Your car or my truck?"
"Your truck. More space."
I nod. Drink coffee. Try to think of something else to say that isn't what are we doing or I can't stop thinking about you or I'm sorry for everything.
"You didn't have to come," Callie says without looking at me.
"I said I would."
"You also said you were leaving."
"I am. Tonight."
"Right." She closes another box. Adds it to the stack. "Tonight."
The silence that follows is heavy. Uncomfortable. I hate it.
"Callie—"
"Don't." She finally looks at me. "Whatever you're about to say, just don't. Let's just load the truck and get through this. Okay?"
"Okay."
We work without speaking. I carry boxes to the truck while she keeps packing. The work is physical and mindless. Exactly what I need.
By the time we're halfway done, the sun is starting to rise. The sky turns pink and orange. Birds start their morning noise.
"That's the last from this batch," Callie says, wiping her hands on her apron. "I need to start the next round. Can you keep loading?"
"Yeah."
She disappears into the kitchen. I hear the fryer kick on. The radio playing something low and twangy.
