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Her hand remained stubbornly on the tray as well. “I’m fine, Malcolm. I can handle taking a couple of beers to my table.”
The skin around her eyes had that bruised look, the one he hadn’t seen in over a month. “No one said you weren’t fine. I just offered you a break.” He pulled the tray away from her, relieved when she sighed and let her hand drop. “Don’t act like I’m the type of boss that will work you to the bone.”
“Maybe I need to work today,” Celia said, but she sank into the bar seat.
Her giving in made his worry escalate. Malcolm took care of the customers, providing her the minute he knew she needed. Walking his tavern never failed to settle him. His friends often teased him about his thing for woodwork, though Blake had redone the upstairs to show it off even more. The tables were reclaimed oak, and the matching chairs and barstools had high backs to show off the gleam. The long, wooden bar that took up most of the back space had a red tinge that drew the eye.
He tried not to make his repeated glances toward Celia obvious as he finished her rounds. His cousin had always hated when his worry was warranted. When the customers had all that they needed, he didn’t disappear around the bar, but sat on the stool beside her.
“It’s not that, Malcolm. I mean, I had a dream and all, but I got up like normal today.” She stared across the bar at the line of shot glasses Malcolm had collected. Her brows drew together as she took in the one she’d gotten for him with a baleful eye. “I would have called if it was bad.”
Malcolm didn’t refute the words. “You’ve gotten much stronger.”
“It helps that Trenton wakes me from them. I told him all about it, and I didn’t feel like I usually do.” She played with the rubber band she always wore on her wrist. “We even laughed when we woke up again this morning and were making smoothies together.”
“Hopefully you’ve added more flavor to them now,” Malcolm said. His friend Trenton had taken up making smoothies back when his wife, Emily, now gone, had first gotten sick. The single time Malcolm had tried one had been more than enough.
“I like them,” Celia said, her hand stilling as she smiled. It didn’t take away the dark circles under her eyes, but a part of him relaxed as he saw her steady happiness. The past wouldn’t ever completely go away, but his cousin had found her future.
He moved a hand to her forehead. “I was more wondering if you’d caught a bug.”
She turned, her smile holding. “You know I’ve rarely gotten sick. Besides, no cough or stuffiness at all.” Her hand moved to her stomach. “Though my stomach has been more swirly lately, and I haven’t been very hungry.”
Malcolm pulled away with a frown. “For someone that barely eats as it is, that’s a problem. Was the smoothie all you had today?”
Celia rolled her eyes as he stood. “I knew you’d make me eat here.”
“And I will. I added salads just for you.” He winked at her as he went to call the order in to Reggie. The cook had been with him since the beginning. He stayed hidden in the back, where the more prim customers wouldn’t be put off by the tattoos that covered his bulging biceps. Malcolm had given Reggie one uppercut too many during their sessions at the local gym, and had offered him a job to keep his sparring partner. Too many others had thrown in the towel over the years.
Reggie’s nod was accompanied by a scowl. “I’ll add some chicken. Your itty-bitty cousin needs more meat in her life.” He wriggled his eyebrows as he turned away from the window.
Malcolm laughed. “I’ll be sure to mention that to Trent.”
“Not scared of that skinny lawyer,” Reggie muttered, already tossing some chicken on the grill.
“He’s tougher than he looks.” Malcolm still regretted taking a swing at his friend, one that had proven what a hard jaw Trenton had.
Celia was frowning at Malcolm when he turned back. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
Malcolm patted her hand as he passed. “I don’t have to tell him a thing. Trent sees everything, especially when it comes to you.” His friend was the only person he would have trusted with his cousin. They were perfect for each other.
That fact had been making Malcolm feel a little lonely. Freed from all the worry he’d carried for Celia for years, he’d almost had too much time to think. Especially since his sister, Katie, seemed to be settling into her marriage as well.
It felt odd not to have his other friend, Blake, constantly under foot, but the construction upstairs was complete. Blake had made his spare room in the back nicer than Malcolm’s actual home, so much so that Malcolm had begun crashing there instead of returning to the sprawling, empty house.
Malcolm nodded to the customers who were wrapping up at the far table and moved to the register for their ticket. He needed to either bring some personal items to the bar or force himself to go home. The guys might rag on him for his long hair, but it took special product to keep the wavy curls tamed.
He set a glass of water in front of Celia as he passed. “Drink up.” She might just be a little dehydrated. She’d begun running with Trenton in the morning, or at least had been the last he had heard.
Malcolm wondered if she even remembered the superstition she’d told him back when he’d started growing his hair out. It had become more of a habit now, but she’d been doing so well that he had considered cutting his long locks off. He hadn’t worn it short since high school.
The customers handed him a credit card, and Malcolm turned back toward the bar.
Celia lay crumpled on the floor.
Later, Malcolm couldn’t be sure if he had shouted or not as he ran to her side. He lowered himself to the floor beside her, his hands gentle as he rolled her onto her back. “Celia?” Her eyes were closed, and her cheek was a little clammy to the touch.
“Is she all right?” a customer behind him asked.
