“We were happy together, Callum. We could have had this, but you decided to walk away instead of fighting dragons with me. You turned your back on me and a future together. We were going to leave this town, go to Deakin, and live together. You went and did that all without me. Do you know how much it hurt me to hear that you went to Deakin while I was stuck here, grieving my parents?”
He sifted through the Polaroids of their time together and swallowed hard. She hadn’t touched them since the day after her parents’ funeral. She had been stupid to believe that he’d attend. Never answering her call should have been a clear indicator. But she’d been hopeful.
“You think it was easy going to Deakin without you? Going to classes and thinking maybe you had applied, too? That maybe I’d see you walking to class and we’d bump into each other? It didn’t happen. I waited for you, hoping you’d show up. That you didn’t let what I had done to you stand in the way of your dream school.” There was an it’s-not-my-fault stance in his voice.
Peyton sat back on her bed, rubbing her forehead. It was too early to be arguing with him. But there was so much that had gone unexplained between them. They were imploding.
“How do we move on from this? You’re adamant that you won’t leave until after the wedding. How do we coexist in this town?” she asked, defeated.
Callum sighed and crouched in front of her. She noticed his sleeve still pushed up and was able to see that her name had visibly branded him. He placed the photographs on her unmade bed and then rested his palms on her knees.
“I’m not saying that you should forgive me so easily, because I don’t want that. Just let me in your life, Peyton, even if it’s only for a little while. We keep taking too many steps back. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, but I won’t stop trying to get you to. Can we just have a start fresh? Actually become friends or at least something along those lines?”
Peyton blinked once.
She turned her head and looked at the Polaroid picture of them sitting on the pier together. It had been a good memory of them—one she had reflected on throughout the years. He might have not loved her, but he cared—his tattoo proved it.
“Okay,” she said, her eyes still on the picture. Her mother would be proud about that one word. She turned and met his stare. “But can I ask you a favour?”
“Anything.”
While staring at his tattooed arm, Peyton smiled at the way the letters of her name joined together perfectly. For whatever reason, it was sentimental to him. And the thought had her breathing out as she kept her eyes on his hands across her knees.
He can’t keep my name tattooed on his wrist… I don’t want to be a reminder.
“When you leave, can you get my name removed? That reason behind it isn’t necessary anymore. I shouldn’t be a reminder for you.”
His hands left her for a moment before he placed a finger under her chin, lifting her head to meet his. Then he gave her sorrowful smile and nodded.
“Okay. It’ll be the first thing I do when I leave town. I promise, Peyton.” His voice was wrapped in a delicate and painfully beautiful whisper.
Her heart ripped wide open. Callum Reid would wind up breaking her heart all over again. And for some reason, Peyton was willing to once again feel the pain he’d inflict once goodbye had left his lips.
Callum didn’t say anything else. Instead, he kept his eyes planted on various parts of her face. First, it was her eyes, then her nose, and then finally her mouth. That’s when her breathing decided—in that very moment—that it was an unnecessary function. Peyton wished her lungs would work. Just enough to say that his gaze didn’t leave her breathless…and hopeless…and desperate.
Air. Shit. I need air.
“Can I ask you a favour, Peyton?” he asked, his eyes still locked on her mouth. She couldn’t deny the fact that she, too, was staring.
Afraid of the possible shakiness and betrayal in her voice, Peyton nodded.
Callum’s fingers slowly trailed from under her chin to her cheek, lightly brushing against her skin and almost giving her a heart attack. The sigh he had exhaled echoed in the air before he cupped her face firmly in his palms, his actions requiring her attention. It was then that her lips instantly parted as she took in the features of his face.
She used to stare at his chin dimple when he smiled. She thought back to the days he’d sat next to her in class. When he’d brush his chin as he worked on his questions and she’d stare until he’d look over at her with a raised eyebrow. She’d laugh in the middle of the lesson and the rest of the class would gawk at them. In this moment with him, she wished they were back there, in that classroom. Back to simple times.
“Peyton,” he breathed, and she quickly met those grey pools of conflicted and frustrating emotions.
She swallowed hard, trying to regain some form of composure. “What’s your favour?”