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“I don’t kn—”

“I have to go.” I interrupt Ethan. “We’ll talk later.”

I hang up the phone and get up from my stool.

Amelia

Blake puts down his phone and stands up when he sees me walking in.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, looking shocked to see me, and I’m wondering if it was a mistake to come here. I didn’t know where else to go. The Den was closer than the Grove Grind Cafe. And Blake is the only one I told about Ethan wanting the house.

I raise my hands out to the side. “Nothing. Just looking for coffee.” In the end, I didn’t get more than a couple sips of mine.

Blake nods and goes behind the bar. “Sit.”

I sit down on the stool next to his as he makes my coffee. “I talked to Ethan.”

He places a cup of coffee in front of me. “I know.”

Ethan told him.

That’s probably who he was talking to on the phone. Ethan must have called him right after I left.

Suddenly, I feel very awkward and stupid for being here. He’s Ethan’s best friend, of course he’s going to be on his side. It’s just that I was walking down the street not knowing where to go, and I kept thinking about Charlotte saying that Blake fired her, and I needed someone to talk to. Blake mentioned last night that he had the morning shift…

“Right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this—”

Bryce enters from the storage room.

“Hey Amelia! How are you feeling today?” He smiles broadly and winks.

“The headache went away after the fourth aspirin,” I joke. “You?”

“I wish I could be in bed all day, but Blake made me fill in for him.”

“You can go home now if you want.” Blake goes back around the bar to sit on his stool.

“No. No. You said you’re covering my shift Saturday night. Don’t back out of it now.”

A young couple who just walked in wave Bryce over, and he leaves us to take their order.

“Couldn’t get up this morning?” I tease Blake.

He was the most sober of all of us last night.

“No. I had something to do.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I get the sense that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Bryce comes back to make the couple’s drinks. I can see them in the mirror over the bar, the girl practically sitting on the guy’s lap.

They don’t even notice when Bryce brings them their drinks. Their faces are interlaced, their mouths locked.

I smile.

“I guess there’s no better place to make out than the Den on a Thursday morning,” Bryce comments when he gets back to us.

“Come on, which one of us hasn’t done the exact same thing here?” I ask.