23. Peyton
Peyton
When I wake up in Callum’s bed, my heart feels heavy, and not because of his confessions last night. His vulnerability actually made me feel lighter in a way. But this morning, guilt sits low in my stomach, and a restless, anxious feeling crowds my chest.
I’ve always been open about my epilepsy.
It’s not something I actively hide, or mean to hide.
My seizures have been controlled for ten years, and other than taking my daily meds and knowing my limits, it doesn’t consume my life.
Especially with my touch aversion taking center stage with Callum.
But now I feel like I’m keeping a secret.
I’m not sure how he’ll react when he finds out.
He’s made so much progress, and I don’t want to set him back.
But it’s not just my own epilepsy that weighs on me—it’s Tyler’s, too.
As soon as Callum said his name, I knew his Tyler was Tammy’s Tyler.
Her and Jeff’s son. And, even though Callum’s retelling adds layers to Tyler’s story, I’m already very familiar with it, having heard Tammy speak at foundation events.
But now that I’m aware of the link between Tyler’s death and Callum’s trauma…
Well, I’m basically a walking trigger for my boyfriend.
How can we move past this? Can he move past it? For the first time since we became an “us,” I’m worried about our ability to stay that way.
I carefully rise out of bed, leaving a sleeping Callum behind, and walk to his ensuite bathroom, snagging my satchel purse from the chair in his bedroom along the way.
Happy that I thought ahead yesterday, I retrieve my travel bag of toiletries, pulling out my toothbrush and medication.
The little orange bottle seems to point an accusatory finger at me.
When I shake out two blue pills and swallow them, the cup of water I got from the sink doesn’t wash them down as easily as normal.
They feel stuck, lodged in my throat, even though I know they aren’t.
Sighing, I catalog the evidence of guilt in the mirror.
Undereye bags. Frizzy hair in a messy bun.
The oversized pajama shirt I stole from Callum’s drawer in the middle of the night.
I change into my clothes from yesterday—sweats and a blue T-shirt—folded on the counter.
Reaching for the soap to wash my hands, I breathe out a laugh.
It smells like cherry blossoms. Nearly identical to the one at Minghin Kitchen.
This damn soap scent is the first thing to bring a small smile to my face since I woke up, and I’m considering it a good sign.
Feeling a bit better, I brush my teeth and head into the kitchen.
I’m going to tell him. Today. No—this morning. As soon as he wakes up.
Relief rests on my heart, now that I’ve made that vow, and I open the fridge to see what I’m working with. Better to have a full belly when sharing tough news. He’ll have time to eat, since I doubt he’ll be making it to the gym—he’s already missed his 4:30 a.m. slot.
I find eggs and bacon in the fridge and get to work. Once the eggs are fried to sunny-side-up perfection, I plate them up and grab the silverware. Everything’s so organized in Callum’s kitchen that it takes me no time at all to find what I need.
Just as I’m pulling the bacon out of the oven and setting it on the counter, a hoarse voice fractures the silence.
“What’s this?”
A rattling sound, like an object’s being shaken, fills me with dread. And that’s when I know.
I left my pills out on his bathroom counter.
My shoulders tense.
Fuck.
Tentatively, I swivel around to face him.
“What is this, Pey?” The corners of his eyes are still a little red and swollen from last night, and his hair is mussed as he stands there, wearing just his boxers and holding my pill bottle.
What do I say? What can I say? Everything that runs through my head sounds so fake, like I’m scrambling to make up excuses, even though it’s the truth.
“Because it looks like…” He takes a deep breath. “It looks identical to the pills that Ty took for his seizures. Same name, too.”
“Callum…”
He swallows. “Do you… Do you have epilepsy?”
I nod slowly.
“And you didn’t tell me?” His voice cracks on the last part, a sheen already coating his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You let me tell you about the most horrifying day in my life. You let me cry, be pathetically vulnerable, and you didn’t say anything?”
I walk toward him with an aching heart, leaving a few feet of space between us.
“It was already a tough day. I didn’t want to bring up my own thing.
It seemed selfish to tell you. Like it would make your grief about me.
I, uh, didn’t think you should know when you were already…
” I sigh. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t think last night was the right time. ”
Callum rears his head back. “You didn’t think I should know that the woman I’m in—that my girlfriend has the same thing that killed my best friend? You didn’t think I should know that I’m setting myself up for heartbreak? That I’m repeating history? You didn’t think I should know?”
“Callum. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I wear a medical necklace.” I reach in my shirt and pull out my chain. Holding the pendant closer to his face, I flip it over to show him the rod with the snake looped around it. “See?”
He averts his gaze, his eyes darting around the room. “They’re usually bracelets.”
I shove my necklace back in my shirt. “I checked ‘yes’ to ‘history of seizures’ on your brother’s gym waiver.”
His jaw ticks. “I respect your privacy. I’d never ask to see shit like that.”
I breathe out a long exhale. “I said I don’t drink on my meds. I said I’m not a rollercoaster person.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “That could mean anything.”
“Your entire family knows, Callum. I told them at dinner.”
His mouth presses into a thin line as he stares me down. “My entire family, Peyton, but not me.”
I wrap my arms around my waist. “We were working through my touch aversion, and I had no idea my medical history would be an issue for you. I’m sorry for not telling you last night, but it’s not the same. My seizures are controlled.”
“So were his. And yet. And yet, he still fucking died in my arms,” he strangles out. “I can’t… if you…”
“Callum. I’m an adult. I take my medicine religiously. I’ve never missed a dose. You don’t have to worry about me. I’d tell you if you did.”
“You already delayed a dose because of me!”
The elevated volume causes me to step back.
My calm boyfriend, the one with the gentle tone and the imploring eyes, is nowhere to be found.
In his place is a panicked Callum—his expression wrought with anguish.
It takes me a minute to recall it, but he must be remembering the moment at his townhouse before we went to the gym.
Alarm floods his expression as a tear slides down his cheek. “I can’t go through this again. The thought of you… I don’t want to picture you lifeless when I go to sleep each night, Peyton. I can’t fucking see that—”
“You won’t. I’m right here. I’m fine. You can see I’m standing right in front of you, Callum!” My composure gives way, tears clinging to my lashes.
“You’re fine until I… until I distract you again, and you forget to take your medicine, and I spend the rest of my fucking life wishing my own was over!”
“I understand why you’re feeling this way. But what you’re telling yourself… what you’re picturing, it’s not true! You know it’s not true,” I cry.
I reach for him, but he takes a step back. To be on the receiving end of a touch aversion, no matter how small, shatters me.
“Callum?” I whisper.
His breath stutters. Zebra comes out of hiding and winds through his legs, nuzzling his shins.
Swiping a tear off my cheek, I say softly, “She was his, wasn’t she? Zebra was his cat.”
He reaches down to pick her up. “She never wanted to be mine. Her heart still belongs to Tyler. And that’s the thing, Peyton. Rarely does someone ever want to be mine. And for good reason.”
“I want to be yours. I do.”
I pause and pull in a long breath, trying to get my emotions under control for what I need to tell him next. After his reaction to my epilepsy, I’m scared that finding out about my connection to Tammy and Jeff will push him past his limit.
“There’s something else I have to tell you, Callum.”
Callum doesn’t even acknowledge my words, focusing on Zebra instead. He brings her closer to his face, nuzzling his chin on her head and murmuring, “I’m okay, Zeebs. We’re okay.”
But he’s not okay at all. His breaths are uneven as a few tears disappear into her black fur. And when he looks up, the raw sadness in his eyes devastates me. “I think you should go.”
“What?” I shake my head. “No. We need to talk about this. There’s more I need to share with you, and I’m not leaving when you’re—when we’re not okay. I thought that when you’re in a relationship like ours, we talk it out.”
“I want to talk it out with you. I’m going to talk it out, I promise. But not right now.”
“Sometimes it still feels like… like you might not trust me,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “That’s not what it is. I do trust you.”
“It’s just…” A tear slides down my cheek. “You have to understand by now, Callum. When you suffer, I suffer, too.”
His voice quiets. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. It may not seem like it, but that’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.” He pauses for a moment, as if he’s deciding which thoughts he wants to speak out loud. “I want to process everything before I say anything else.”
My stomach drops. “Are we breaking up?”
Panic flashes in his eyes. “Peyton. That’s not what I—our relationship status is not what I need to process.”
Any relief I might feel at his words is overshadowed by frustration. “You’re not going to push me away, Callum. We’re going to work through this. We will.”
He slowly turns away without saying anything. The cold shoulder fires me up all over again, and my searing glare burns holes into his back as he carries Zebra to his room.
“I’ll be running into you tomorrow!” I yell, slamming the door on my way out.