“Adam?” I called, my voice bouncing off the concrete walls.

He flinched, his shoulders jerking up toward his ears, and instantly flipped the phone face down against the leg of his trousers.

“What are you doing down here in the dark?” I asked, taking two slow steps down until I reached the cold floor at the bottom.

“Just answering an urgent email from the shift manager,” he said.

His voice was clipped and sharp, with none of the warm gentleness he’d used in the kitchen twenty minutes earlier.

“We’re short-staffed on the night run.”