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He didn’t laugh, his expression turning solemn. “Everyone needs a little help now and then.”
She nodded, her hand gripping her bag tighter. “Thank you.”
The driver waited until she’d taken a seat to move the bus forward. Celia chose a row midway down the aisle, enough to give her a sense of privacy, but not to appear rude. The bag squelched as she lowered it to the ground between the seats. Then she returned to staring down at the phone in her hand.
Malcolm would be even angrier if she didn’t call him. They didn’t talk all the time or anything, but ever since she had gone to live with them when they were kids, he’d been there when she needed him. She had hoped those times had passed. She was an adult now, not the lost teenager she’d been.
Of course, her mother had always been an adult.
Her finger moved on its own, opening up her contacts. Malcolm was one of the two favorites she had. The other was Daniel. Pressing the screen, she brought the phone up to her ear as she listened to the first ring. Outside the bus window, the rain continued to pour down, streaking the glass.
A click sounded, and muffled background chatter floated through the phone along with his voice. “Celia? I didn’t expect a call today, with you getting settled. How was the flight?”
“Fine,” she said, pausing after the word. Multiple other words crowded her mind, but she wasn’t sure which lead-in was best.
There was a clink of glass and more muffled voices. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” She cringed at the automatic words. If she was going to ask him for help, there was no use making it seem like everything was okay.
“You’re calling me,” Malcolm said simply.
“I don’t only call when something’s wrong.” Celia struggled to think of an example. “I mean, I called to let you know I was moving back. That was a good thing. You said so.”
She could hear his sigh through the phone. “Celia, just tell me.”
Her free hand fidgeted with the rubber band on her wrist as she flipped through things to say.
Malcolm was the one to break the silence. “Why don’t you come up to my bar? It’s been a while since you’ve seen it. You can tell me whatever it is while you’re here. Oh, bring that fiancé of yours. I still haven’t met him.”
She drew in a breath. “He won’t be coming.”
“Yeah?” A muffled rumble of a voice drifted in from the background noise. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Celia said.
“Yeah,” he said again, though it wasn’t a question. “You always are. Come on up. You remember the address?”
“I can get there,” she told him.
“Okay. See you soon.”
They both hung up, and Celia studied the dark screen of her phone. She pulled it up, pressing it against her chest as she stared out the window.
Chapter 4
Trentonpushedopenthedoor to The Last Shot Tavern, shaking off his umbrella with a few flips of the mechanism and closing it as he slipped inside. The older woman at the cemetery had been wrong about the rain passing. After fastening the Velcro, he placed it in the rack near the door and then made his way across to the bar.
His friend, Malcolm, took pride in his tavern’s woodwork, and the tavern showed off the best of that, with reclaimed oaken tables and high-backed wooden chairs and barstools. The bottom floor of the tavern had a long, wooden bar that took up the far wall, and tables and chairs for those that came for the food. To the right side were metal stairs leading up to the second floor, where the clack of billiards could be heard coming down. Even for a Monday night, it was relatively busy.
A mutual childhood friend sat on one of the barstools, flirting with the new waitress by the looks of it. Trenton felt a twinge of guilt that he couldn’t remember her name as he slid into the seat next to Blake.
“I won’t be able to sleep tonight, thinking about that smile of your and how I struck out getting your number,” Blake was telling the waitress. Her smile grew even wider. With an exaggerated sigh, she reached for Blake’s hand, using her pen to write something on the back.
“There, will that give you some beauty sleep?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
Blake squeezed her hand when she tried to release him, bringing it up to his lips for a lingering kiss. “Oh, honey, I’ll sleep even less now.”
“Order up,” Malcolm said from behind the bar with a pointed look toward the drinks he’d placed on a tray.
