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Erin wasn’t smiling now. “I am focusing, Dame. Malcolm’s right in front of me.” The tall blonde strode forward, thrusting her phone toward Malcolm, who had to fumble to turn off the beer tap to take it.
“What are you doing, Erin?” he asked, shaking off a wet hand.
Erin put her empty hands on her hips. “Damon wants to talk to you. Pick up your damn phone next time. My brother’s been trying to get ahold of you all day.”
Malcolm put the phone to his ear. “Damon? Is everything all right?”
Celia moved around the bar to finish pulling the drafts. Malcolm had started teaching her some of the bar stuff, though she could still only make basic drinks. She glanced at him, worried.
“Wait, slow down. What about Trent?” Malcolm asked.
Celia set the mug down, her scalp tingling.
Blake shifted on his bar seat, looking at Erin. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Erin shook her head. “Dame wouldn’t tell me. I assumed it was a guy thing.”
“Of course I checked in about the anniversary,” Malcolm frowned as he spoke into the phone. “When I did, he said he didn’t want company. I tried to call earlier this morning, but it went straight to voicemail. I just figured he was at work.”
Blake turned his beer glass in his hands. “Trent is always like that on the anniversary of his wife’s death. He likes to be alone.”
“What?” The sudden drop in Malcolm’s voice had them all staring at him. “No, I heard you, I just—” He broke off, listening to something on the other side. “No… Yeah… Thanks for calling, Damon. I’ll head over there.” He hung up, sliding Erin’s phone back to her. “Thanks, Erin. I’m sorry about the trouble.” He lifted his own phone, frowning at the screen. “Fifteen missed calls. Damn it.”
“From Trenton?” Celia asked. Her heartbeat pulsed in her neck.
“No, not from Trent. Damon was trying to call. Said Trent hung up on him this morning, and he hasn’t been able to call back.” Malcolm took off his apron, tossing it on the counter as he ran his hands through his loose hair. “Can you handle things here, Celia? I want to go check on him.”
Blake scrambled off his bar chair. “I’ll go with you.”
Malcolm hesitated. “I don’t think—”
“Trent wouldn’t hang up on anyone. I mean, I would, but not Trent.” Blake frowned at his friend. “Did Damon know why?”
Malcolm glanced at Celia, then away. “He forgot.”
Blake huffed out a breath. “How the hell would Damon have already forgotten?”
“Not him, Trent.” Malcolm did another side-eye toward her. “You know, yesterday.”
Blake’s eyes widened. “Oh man. Let’s go check on him.”
Malcolm nodded, lifting the pass-through and then stopping. “Celia, are you certain you’re okay here? We can wait, close up things so that—”
Celia shook her head, moving toward him to push on his arm. “Just go. I’ve got it.” She watched as the two friends ran out of the tavern.
Erin moved closer to the bar, leaning on it. “Are you sure about this?”
Celia frowned at her. “I can pour a few drinks while I wait on the tables. Monday night is never that busy.”
Erin stared steadily at her, ignoring the snap in her voice. “No, I mean, are you sure you don’t want to go with them? It’s Trent. You care about him, don’t you?”
A churning filled Celia’s stomach. “It’s better if the guys go.”
Erin lifted an eyebrow. “You mean easier on you.”
“I’ve never had things easy,” Celia said. Katie’s friend always made her want to hide or hit something.
“True,” Erin agreed, taking some of the frustration away. “But I don’t know, chick. If it was the guy I loved, I’d want to be there for him.” She continued to meet Celia’s gaze. “Even if I didn’t think he loved me back.”
