25. Callum
Callum
My whole body hums as I leave the Sheldon’s, buzzing with a strange kind of energy I haven’t felt in a long time.
They were right. Tyler would hate that I’ve let his death define so much of my life.
I’ll always remember that day, and I’m still healing.
But the soft resolve I felt at the beginning of the year, when I really started seeing progress, has transformed into a hard determination for my future.
And Peyton’s an important part of that future.
I tighten my scarf around my neck when a gust of cool air hits my skin.
The last thing I want is to keep her in the dark again.
Grabbing my phone out of my coat pocket, I pull up our text thread, shooting her a quick message: Hey, I’m on my way to work, but I really want to see you after, if you’re free.
I wish I could drive straight to her apartment, but I have an inspection at Sol probably because the image in my head of a gorgeous blonde woman is slowing me down. I release a heavy sigh and brush some crumbs off my khakis before meeting the manager in his office for a debrief session.
I glance at my checklist. “All right, Nico. No critical violations today. I did note a few infractions, though. You have a guy back there who needs to wear a hair restraint, and the pickled jalapenos in the refrigerator are labeled incorrectly. Both should be easy fixes.”
His shoulders relax. “Thank you, Inspector.”
“Anytime. I know how busy you are, so I’ll see myself out. Have a good night.”
As I close his office door behind me, the sounds of the mariachi band fill the space.
Each of the vocalists holds an instrument, be it a guitar, trumpet, or violin.
The group matches in their black suits and silver belt buckles.
Their harmonies are rich, and I find myself humming along to the melody.
No one is gathered too closely to the stage, except for a woman in a one-shouldered red dress near the front, clapping along to the music. She’s moving her feet to the tune, almost looking like she might start full-on dancing. Her hair is long and blonde, just like my Pey.
Hold on.
That woman is my Pey.
My heartbeat takes off, faster than the tempo of the music, as I stare at my girlfriend. The sway of her hips, her exposed shoulder, the way the disco ball light reflects off her hair, giving it a sparkle effect.
The song stops, and she turns around. As if we’re opposite in polarity, our eyes snap to one another. I wave, and she… glares at me. In an adorable way.
I try to school the grin that plays at my lips to match her serious energy, but it’s nearly impossible, since smiling is my natural reflex when I see her.
Peyton marches over, and—wow. She looks just as beautiful when she’s annoyed with me as she does when she’s pleased. Up close, I notice the gold beading on her red dress and how it gathers around her waist.
She huffs. “Hello, Inspector.”
I grin. “You stalking me, Pey?”
“Stop smiling. I’m annoyed with you.”
“I know, honey. Can I just say really quick, though—before you rightfully continue being mad at me—that I’m very sorry, and I’ve missed you? Also, I need to tell you something.”
Her eyebrows furrow in the cutest way. “What do you want to tell me, Callum? That you can’t give me what I deserve or something? Save it.” Peyton crosses her arms. “You shouldn’t have pushed me away. You should’ve let me explain.”
“I know. And I want to talk about that more. But first, I wanted to tell you that I’m in—”
A loud whistle slices through the air, and I jump like I’m being attacked. “The fuck—”
We both turn to the side, and that’s when I realize the Mariachi band has traveled directly next to Peyton and me. The trumpets start blaring, and it’s beautiful, but it’s so fucking loud, and I’m trying to tell her that I’m in love with her in the middle of this Mexican restaurant.
Peyton shouts over the music. “THAT YOU’RE WHAT?”
“THAT I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” I yell back.
“BAMBA, BAMBA! BAMBA, BAMBA! BAMBA BAM…” The vocalists are absolutely rocking “La Bamba” right now, and any other time I’d be clapping to the rhythm, but it’s just not—
“YOU’RE WHAT?” Peyton blows a piece of hair out of her eyes.
“I’M IN—” I shout, before realizing it’s pointless. “Fucking hell. I’m in fucking hell.”
I point at her, then at myself, then at the door. Then I make a “driving the car” hand motion and point to her again, just in case she missed it the first time, trying to communicate that we should go.
She shakes her head. “I AM CONTRACTED FOR ANOTHER TWENTY MINUTES!”
“AY ARRIBA Y ARRIBA!”
I release a long exhale. I can’t stay inside. There's a perceived conflict of interest if I hang out or eat anything.
Tapping on my watch, then looking at Peyton, I mouth, “Meet me outside after.”
She understands—or gives up, hard to tell—and the Mariachi band finally stops playing. Peyton walks with them back toward the stage area.
Running a hand through my hair, I walk outside and take a seat on a bench near the restaurant. The chill doesn’t feel so cold, knowing that I’ll see her soon. The words I want to say are piling up on my tongue, eager to escape my lips. I’m aching to tell her everything.
Twenty-three minutes later, Peyton walks out of the restaurant. Her long camel-colored wool coat is cinched tight around her waist. She looks to the left before spotting me on the bench. Her gaze locks onto mine, and I stand to meet her.
“Hey, Peyton.”
“Hey, Callum,” she says quietly.
“There’s a park just down the road. Do you want to talk there?”
She nods. I’m not sure how she’s feeling emotionally yet, so I keep my hands in my coat pockets instead of reaching for hers.
When we arrive at the empty park, she heads for the swings and sits.
I grab the swing next to her. “There’s a lot I want to talk about, but there’s something I need to say first.”
“What is it?”
“I’m in love with you, Pey.”
Her eyes widen, and a rosy color tints her cheeks underneath the glow of the street lamp.
“I’ve, um, always carried an unhealthy dose of doubt on my back.
And it’s left me sort of rooted in place.
Bogged down by the memories, stranded in my past, trying to find a way out.
But the doubt that I thought might immobilize me forever dissolves around you.
” My voice thickens. “As it turns out, Peyton, my soul is a compass that perpetually points to you. Always you. Only you. And I know that life is fleeting and unpredictable. But I will love you, deeply and overwhelmingly, until the very end—whenever that may be.”
Peyton doesn’t say anything, but there’s a peace about her.
Mere seconds pass before she reaches across the space between us to hold my hand.
We sit there, fingers intertwined, barely swinging.
The hooting from the owls in the trees sounds louder in the silence, and I stare at the moon like it’ll tell me if she loves me back.
When I don’t find reassurance in her expression, some nerves set in. “It’s okay if you aren’t there yet. Or if you need time to process things.”
She shakes her head softly and stands, stepping between my knees and cupping my jaw. “Callum. I love you, too. I wasn’t processing it—I was savoring it.”
I release a jagged breath of relief.
Peyton strokes my chin with her thumb. “You’re the first person to say ‘I love you’ to me since my grandparents died.”
“…your parents?”
“Not really the lovey-dovey type. Hell, once I was seizure-free for a year, they considered me healed enough to jetset off to whatever exotic location was next on their bucket list.”
She stills, and I freeze on my swing. We need to acknowledge it.
“About your epilepsy…”
“Yeah.” Her voice wavers, laced with uncertainty.
“Neither of us can dance around the fact that your history with seizures is a trigger for me.”
“I know, Callum.”
Digging my heels into the ground, I put all my cards on the table. “There are some questions I have for you, some things I need to know, to help me process it.”
She nods calmly. “Go ahead.”
“When was your last seizure?”
“When I was seventeen years old.”
I breathe a small sigh of relief—it’s been about a decade. “When do you take your medicine? How many pills are you supposed to take?”
“I take two in the morning and three in the evening. But I don’t have the metabolism of a teenager, so it’s okay if I’m a little late for a dose.”
I swallow. “I, uh, might need you to stick to a strict schedule for a while.”
“I understand.”
“I may hover.”
“No problem.”
The swing sways slightly as I lean forward. “If I’m with you when your reminder alarm goes off, I’ll probably want to watch you take your medicine. For at least the next couple of months.”
Peyton shrugs. “That’s fine.”
“I may never stop fully worrying…”
She gives me a small grin. “I’d expect nothing less from you, Inspector.”
Exhaling a long breath, I tug Peyton down on my lap and move her a little to one side so we can still see each other. A light snow starts falling, the flakes like sprinkles in her hair.
“I visited Tyler’s parents for the first time since it happened.
Seeing them again… talking to them, and finding out—in person—that they forgive me for staying away as long as I did was healing for me.
I still feel guilty, and I don’t know if that’ll change anytime soon, but I’m grateful that we talked.
We swapped Tyler stories, and it felt nice to talk about him out loud. ”
“I’m really glad you visited them. And there’s something else. Something I was trying to tell you. I—”
“Know the Sheldons. We figured it out after I spent an aggressive amount of time talking about you.”
Peyton bites her lip. “Are you upset?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. I actually… I was kind of emotional when I found out, but I think it’s really cool. I’m happy that you know them.”
She pushes my hair back, and the warmth of her touch reminds me how much I missed it.
I press my forehead into her hand. “And they invited me to play in the foundation’s upcoming game. You might’ve heard of it, since you’re involved.”
She hums. “Yes, Tammy’s mentioned the game. Are you going to play?”
I tilt my head back. “I want to. I’m going to try.”
Her eyes gloss over. “Callum, that’s great. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’d love for you to come, if you can. Do you want to ride over with me to the indoor arena?”
She gives her head a shake. “I can’t. I’ll be rushing back from a work thing right before the game. But I’ll absolutely be there. And I can’t wait to watch you play.”
I smile, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone. “Pey?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I run into you later?”
She winks at me. “My place.”