On Loverose Lane (Return to Dublin Street #1)

18. Callan

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CALLAN

Nine years ago

F or a brief moment, I’d been happy. It was my last day at Drimwhinnie. Two days ago, just before Christmas break, Caledonia United FC had offered me a spot in their U18 club. I had a scholarship with them for the next year. The gaffer had even offered me housing as he perceptively worked out things weren’t great for me at home.

I was on my way to playing professional football, and I was getting out from under my dad.

It was almost perfect.

But the sight of Beth Carmichael talking with her friends twisted my stomach.

Grief thickened my throat as I looked away.

Losing her … that’s what it felt like. Like grief.

And I hated her for it.

Guess I was the fucking idiot for falling for her so quickly, when the truth was I hadn’t really known her.

I thought I had.

She’d … she’d made me feel like I was something special. She’d made me feel less alone. Until suddenly she wouldn’t return my texts, avoided me in the corridors, and started sitting at another table in our shared classes. People noticed. The lads on the team gave me shit about it. I’d acted like I didn’t care. Even though it felt like my guts were ripped out when I saw Ryan Preston kissing her only a few weeks later.

Beth had dumped me for that bawbag and didn’t even have the courtesy to do it to my face.

Looking back at her, I saw her glance my way and then pretend like she hadn’t. My eyes narrowed.

In a few minutes, I would walk out of this school and never see her again.

I had nothing left to lose and a million questions festering inside me.

Fuck it.

I strode down the corridor toward her, and her friends grew quiet as I approached. Beth’s pretty eyes widened.

“Can we talk?” I bit out.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Rachel Lang sneered.

I ignored her and noted the flick of annoyance Beth shot her way. That slight betrayal of the old Beth made me press, “Beth, can we talk?”

She licked her lips nervously but nodded. “I’ll see you guys later. Have a nice Christmas.”

Her friends murmured the same as Beth started toward the school exit and I fell into step beside her.

“I heard you’re leaving. Congratulations, Callan,” she offered quietly. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks.” I was happy too. Well, I would be, if it didn’t feel like a herd of fucking elephants was sitting on my chest at the thought of not seeing her again. I abruptly stopped and Beth halted, too, frowning. “Why?” I blurted out. “Why the silent treatment? Why Ryan Preston?”

Beth blanched and looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. It was so unlike her. At least who I thought she was.

“Beth?”

She turned back, swallowing hard, her gaze darting around but never resting on me. “I realized … you and I … we’re too different, that’s all.” She shrugged unhappily. “And you’re going away, anyway.”

“Aye, fifteen minutes from here.”

“I’m sorry.” Her lips trembled, like she was about to cry. “We’re just too different,” she repeated.

Too different.

Also known as “not good enough for a Carmichael.”

I wouldn’t beg. Never. A memory I’d long buried, of me running after my dad’s car as he left us when I was six years old, popped into my head. I’d screamed “Daddy” over and over again, my mum chasing after me sobbing, as I tried to catch up with him.

He never looked back.

It was the first time someone broke my heart.

My mum and stepdad were the second and third, though they never meant to.

And I’d promised myself there would never be another.

I hadn’t meant to break that promise.

But I vowed to myself that Beth would be the last.

“Right then.” I stalked off, my long strides tearing me away from her.

And this time it was me who never looked back.