“You’re the one who’s thinking up the recipes. You’re the one the customers love chatting with. Food and customer service are what’s winning it, and that’s all you. I’m proud of you.”

When Finn looks up at him, the brightness in his eyes melts. “If only Mum and Dad could be, too, right?”

“Don’t say that.” Callum’s tone takes a hard, serious turn. “They’re proud; they just don’t know how to show it. They don’t know how to do anything that’s not in the confines of a soul-sucking corporate office.”

Finn chuckles, his face light again. “Right. Thanks, mate.”

“Always.” The look in Callum’s eye says it all. Proud older brother.

Witnessing this moment of brotherly love makes me think that there really is something to what Finn told me minutes ago. Callum is capable of being soft—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And if that’s the case, maybe Finn’s right. Maybe Callum is soft enough not to hate me.

Callum says something about leaving to change the oil in their car. Finn nods and says he’s meeting a friend soon. He shoves the banana bread in his mouth, pats Callum on the back, and rejoins the bustling crowd.

Callum turns, and that familiar hazel-eyed stare captures me from just a few feet away.

He is shocked to see me. I can tell by the lift of his brow, how his hand drops to his side instead of grabbing the banana bread sample like he initially meant to.

He doesn’t move. He simply stands facing me, an unfamiliar brand of surprise written all over his face.

I can work with surprise.

I lift my hand up in a small wave. He does nothing. I let one corner of my mouth lift in a shy, uncertain smile. Still nothing.

My stomach drops to my feet, but I wait. Our history may only consist of heated arguments, one nude beach incident, and an awkward run-in at an animal clinic, but he does not hate me. Finn said so. If that’s the case, all I have to do is give this a few extra seconds.

Just then his brow makes the familiar journey downward. His eyebrows pinch together, he presses his lips tight, and it results in the harshest scowl I’ve seen him make to date. There’s no room for friendliness here, not when I’m miles deep in hostile territory.

I bite my lip in an attempt to erase my grin and force my arm back down to my side. It’s too late though. I’ve already shown my hand. I’m someone aching for any semblance of kindness, friendliness. He knows that now. And he doesn’t give a shit.