(Adrian’s POV)

The café alarm starts screaming outside.

Blake reacts instantly.

“What now   ”

He pushes off the counter and rushes out of the break room before I can answer, the door swinging shut behind him.

And just like that, I’m alone again.

I stare at the floor for a second.

Then another.

And then my brain catches up.

Your idiot.

My entire body heats up with embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” I mutter, dragging both hands down my face carefully so I don’t touch the bruise. “Why did I let him say that?”

Because I didn’t argue.

That’s the problem.

Normally I would’ve immediately said something back. Called him annoying. Told him to shut up. Anything.

Instead I just sat there looking at him like an idiot while he basically   

No.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

“He is not my idiot,” I whisper harshly to myself.

The second the words leave my mouth, I groan and lean forward onto the table.

Because saying it out loud somehow sounds worse.

The break room door opens again before I can spiral any further.

Jenna walks in holding her motorcycle helmet under one arm.

“There you are.”

I sit up straighter immediately. “Hey, boss.”

She gives me a look.

“Really? After I threatened a man for you?”

I sigh. “Hey, Mom.”

“Better.”

She sets the helmet down on the counter and walks over to me, her expression softening the closer she gets.

Unlike Blake’s anger earlier, Jenna’s concern is quieter. He burns hot. She simmers.

But somehow it feels just as intense.

“Lemme see your face.”

“I’m okay.”

“That wasn’t the request.”

I roll my eyes but let her tilt my chin toward the light anyway.

Jenna winces immediately. “Oh, honey.”

“It looks worse than it feels.”

“That’s usually how bruises work.”

She grabs the ice pack from the table and presses it gently against my cheek herself.

“You dizzy?”

“No.”

“Nauseous?”

“No.”

“Headache?”

“…Maybe a little.”

Her eyes narrow instantly.

“Adrian.”

“It’s not bad.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

I already know that tone.

The mom tone.

Not angry. Not loud. Just the tone that means she’s already decided she’s right.

Which she usually is.

“I’m fine,” I say again, weaker this time.

Jenna snorts softly. “You kids say that like it’s legally required.”

“You call everyone a kid.”

“That’s because all of you act like unsupervised disasters.”

I laugh quietly at that.

“There’s the smile,” she says. “I was wondering where it went.”

I shrug awkwardly.

Jenna pulls a chair over and sits across from me. “Blake looked about two seconds away from committing assault.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“He scared the customer more than I did.”

“That’s not hard. You threatened him like a movie villain.”

She smiles proudly. “Thank you.”

I shake my head.

For a few seconds, the room settles into something calmer.

Outside, I can hear muffled voices and the distant hiss of steam wands again. The alarm stopped, thankfully. Probably just someone opening the back door wrong again.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Jenna watches me carefully for a moment before speaking again.

“You got overwhelmed before he hit you.”

It isn’t a question.

I look down at the table.

“A little.”

“A little,” she repeats skeptically.

“I had it handled.”

“Mhm.”

“I did.”

“Adrian, sweetheart, you were one rude customer away from mentally leaving your body.”

I groan. “Can everybody stop reading me so easily?”

“No.”

“Great.”

“It’s what happens when I’ve practically raised you people.”

That earns another small laugh from me because she’s not wrong.

Jenna’s been running this café since before any of us worked here. Blake started first, then dragged me into it later. Jay and Lia joined after.

Somewhere along the way, Jenna stopped being just our boss.

Now she nags us about eating enough, threatens customers for us, forces Jay to sleep occasionally, and once drove across town at midnight because Lia’s car broke down in the rain.

None of us actually remember when we started calling her Mom.

It just… happened.

“You know,” Jenna says casually, “when Blake heard you got hit, I genuinely thought he was going to throw that man through the pastry display.”

I immediately feel heat crawl up my neck again.

“Can we not talk about Blake right now?”

That makes her pause.

Then slowly smile.

“Oh?” she says.

I already regret speaking.

“There is no ‘oh,’” I say quickly.

“Mhm.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“The thing where you act like you know something.”

“I do know something.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you still visit my café every day.”

“I work here.”

“Debatable. Half the time you and Blake just stare at each other dramatically.”

I nearly choke on air.

“We do not   ”

“You absolutely do.”

“No we don’t.”

“Adrian,” she says flatly, “you two have been in love with each other since middle school.”

I freeze.

Completely.

Jenna blinks.

Then immediately softens. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t know.”

“I   ” My voice cracks slightly. “What?”

She leans back slowly like she’s realizing she may have stepped on a landmine.

“Well,” she says carefully, “that explains a lot.”

My brain feels like it short-circuited.

“No,” I say immediately. “No, Blake flirts with everybody.”

“Yes.”

“And he acts like that with everyone.”

“No,” Jenna says. “He really doesn’t.”

I stare at her.

She stares back.

And somehow that’s worse.

“He literally called a girl pretty ten minutes ago.”

“And then immediately let you drag him to the register by the wrist without complaining.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means he likes when you do it.”

I open my mouth.

Close it.

Open it again.

Nothing comes out.

Jenna watches me spiral with the kind of expression parents get when they’re trying not to laugh at their kid.

“Oh my god,” I mumble, leaning back in my chair. “This is humiliating.”

“For you maybe. For me it’s adorable.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Nope.”

I cover my face with one hand.

My cheek instantly hurts.

“Ow   ”

“That’s what you get for being dramatic.”

“You literally threatened a customer.”

“And I’d do it again.”

Before I can respond, the break room door bursts open.

Jay points dramatically into the café. “Boss   Mom   whatever   we have a situation.”

Jenna sighs deeply. “Why are you like this?”

“There’s a child throwing cake pops.” He pauses. “Aggressively.”

Lia appears behind him. “And Blake told a customer to stop ‘talking spicy’ to Adrian.”

Jenna closes her eyes.

I immediately groan.

“Oh my god.”