“Excuse me, sir, but your coffee is terrible.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I’m already apologizing before I’ve fully turned around, away from the sink at the back counter.

The laughter draws me up short. What the hell?

“Man, this place has done a number on you.” My brother grins at me from the other side of the counter. It’s a minute before closing time, and I didn’t hear the door open. I haven’t been listening. It doesn’t matter as long as I hear them by the time they’re at the counter. I’ve had my hands in the sink, rinsing off some mugs from people who didn’t want to carry out. 

“You’re a dick,” I tell him while I load them into the sanitizer. Then I go out and give him a brotherly hug, complete with slaps on the back.

“I had a day off,” he tells me, dropping into a chair to watch me turn off the signs and lock the door.

“Good for you.”

“You said to come visit.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, looks at it, and puts it away again. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, casual shit, but it looks expensive. He’s doing well for himself. “So I did.”

“Well, you picked a great day,” I tell him absently, going for the broom. I sweep. I put the chairs back in their places. The one person I’ve been able to hire has been Martin, who has a cleaning person on staff. She comes in after hours to mop the floors and do the bathrooms. “Hasn’t been too terrible.”

“Where’s your staff?” Chris says to my back while I’m walking into the side room to check the furniture there.

“I don’t have any.”

“Wait.” I hear the chair’s legs scrape against the floor when he gets up. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame. I think of Ellie up against that frame, kissing me for all she was worth. Screw the tension in my balls just thinking about it. “You haven’t hired anyone to work for you?”

“I’ve made some calls.” I’m hedging and it’s obnoxious as hell.

Chris crosses his arms over his chest. “Beer.”

“What?”

“You need a beer. This is the most pathetic I’ve ever seen you.”

“Pathetic?”

“You should see your face.” He waves his hand over his own face for the effect. “My heart is almost wrenched.”

I laugh out loud. “Get out of here. Go back to your fancy job.”

“I will,” says Chris. “After dinner. And beer.”

* * *

We go two towns over to a massive sports bar that’s loud and full of televisions all showing different games. I don’t give a shit about any of them. I blink at the menu while Chris orders flights of beer.

“So,” he says after the waitress has scampered away to bring us popcorn, “when are you going to sell?”

I must have misheard him. “What did you say?”

“When are you selling that shop?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not selling. It hasn’t been open a month.”

Chris laughs and leans forward to brace his elbows against the table. “You hate that place.”

I shake my head. “You’ve got it wrong.”

“You’re telling me that when you love something you go around making a face like—” He drops all emotions from his face and stares blankly, with dead eyes. “You look like that? It’s fucking creepy, Dash. You smile, but it never touches your eyes.”

I rub my hands over my face. Nothing on the menu looks appealing, but when the waitress comes back, I’ll order a burger to get Chris off my back. “I’m tired. That’s all. I’m single-handedly running the only coffee shop in town.”

“There was another one right across the street.”

“They closed.”

Chris’s eyes sparkle. “Permanently? You’re that good?”

“I don’t know.”

The waitress brings the beers, and I take a swig of the first one. It’s tasteless, but I’m not going to let on. “I know a good realtor,” Chris says casually. “I could have him move that store. You’ve put a lot into it, I can tell, but you’ll still make a profit.”

I stare at his stupid, grinning face across the table. “I just opened.” He nods, taking a dainty sip of his beer. “This was what I was supposed to do when I inherited the property. Jesus, have you forgotten about that already?”

“Listen.” Chris drums his fingertips on the surface of the table. “I loved Grandma and Grandpa as much as everybody else. But they’re gone, Dash. You did it. You opened the shop. Their dream came true.”

“Damn right it did.” There’s a low-key anger bubbling under the surface of my heart but it’s caught there, held back by a numbness that’s crept in little by little every single day I don’t see Ellie.

“What about your dream?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Chris stabs a finger at me. “I came into your shop today and you’re a zombie, Dash. Don’t bullshit me. I saw you before you saw me. You don’t love that place. You don’t even like it. You came here to get over Serena and instead you’re moping about her, doing some job you don’t care about.”

“It’s not Serena,” I growl. I can feel it boiling over, the numbness falling away under a heated pissed-off feeling that only my younger brother can inspire. I hate how he’s always right about this shit.

“The shop, then? Sell it. You did what you came to do. Sell it and do something else. Come back to the city if you want. I can find you a place by next weekend.”

“Jesus,” I say. Gulp some more beer. Look back at him. “I need to finish this.”

“You don’t.”

“I’m not talking about the shop.”

“What, then?” Chris gives me a level gaze across the table. “Or is it a who?”

I drain the rest of the first beer and reach for the second. Is there a point in lying to him? He saw me before I saw him. He already knows. The rest is details. “It’s a who.”

The waitress is on her way back. Chris turns and sees her coming, then looks back at me. “I don’t need her name, but I’ll say this—do whatever it takes.”

“You don’t know—”

“Do whatever it takes. You look dead inside. If you want to run that coffee shop, which I don’t think you do, you can’t do it looking like a sad puppy all the time. Are you having a burger?”