Page 42 of Old-Fashioned

Lowering my tone so that it was no more than a whisper I said, “Baker is grabbing your medicine. Think you can make it to the bar, so we can get you something to drink?”

Looking at me through tired eyes she barely nodded her head and then brought her hand to her forehead and groaned.

Bending down, I wrapped my arms around her, one going under the back of her knees, and the other going around her waist and then I lifted her up, cradling her in my arms.

Now wasn’t the time to comment on how good she felt in my arms.

How right her body felt close to mine.

But I would be thinking about it later, much later when I wasn’t feeling like a fool for not realizing she was in pain earlier.

Walking out of the bathroom, I let out a sigh when the music was off, thank you, Isla.

Heading to the bar with Birdie’s face pressed into the side of my neck, I prayed to all that was holy that the patrons would keep their mouths fucking shut.

At the sight of us, Isla rushed over and shouted, “What’s wrong?”

At Isla’s worried loud tone, Birdie curled even further into me while groaning.

Using the same tone of voice, I had with Birdie I whispered, “She’s got a bad migraine. Baker is on the way with some medicine for her.”

She nodded then smiled a small smile at Birdie and she too lowered her tone, “What else can I do?”

“Grab one of the sodas from her fridge?” she nodded without giving me any shit.

Thank fuck.

It had happened the first week Birdie started working here.

I had taken a special interest in her.

Unlike anything I’ve ever done before.

And I noticed that every day, she would come into the bar with a grocery bag full of sodas.

The brand was one we didn’t have.

I didn’t have any excuses for why before her next shift, I went and bought a mini fridge and placed it behind the bar and had her drink of choice stocked up for her.

And the smile she shot my way… it had been worth it.

Totally worth the knowing looks I got from Frank, and Isla.

Isla opened the red-colored drink before she sat it on the bar.

Climbing on one of the barstools, Birdie cuddled into my lap even deeper if that were at all possible.

With my free hand, I tagged the drink, whispering softly, “Here’s some drink, Baby girl. Do you have the strength to hold it, or do you need my help?”

And when she lifted her hand, and I saw how shaky it was, I carefully helped Birdie take slow slips of her drink.

“If you’re coming over here to start shit, you just turn on your heel and walk away,” Frank growled low.

I looked up to see he was telling that to Jewell. Fucking figures.

When Birdie leaned her head back into the side of my neck, I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.

Five minutes later Baker came racing into the bar, and seeing Birdie curled up in my lap I saw his face softening. He wasn’t as close to her as I was, and yes, Caelan for that matter, but he knew she was important to me.