Sometimes Moments (15 page)

In that one moment, she saw it. A flash of the first night he’d kissed her, the same unsure and afraid eyes. Somehow, she was stuck between the past and present, and it completely terrified her.

“Do you want my forgiveness or not?” she asked, tired.

Callum sighed and he shook his head. “Not like this, Peyton.”

“Then how?” she asked desperately.

“Spend some time together. Have moments together… I don’t know, Peyton. I just need to be around you. I need to make it all up to you,” Callum revealed.

Before she could tell him how absurd it sounded, a loud crash of thunder violently thrashed and the hallway light flickered once before the house darkened. The moment she couldn’t see Callum’s face, she let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll find candles,” he said.

She felt him walk past her, his arm grazing hers. “They’re—”

“Last drawer in the kitchen,” he said, cutting her off.

“How’d you know that?” she asked, turning around.

“Your house hasn’t changed, Peyton. Everything is in the same spot. It’s like you preserved this house to be the exactly how your parents left it. Get dressed and I’ll make you something to eat,” Callum said. His footsteps could be heard in the kitchen.

“Let it contain rat poison, please,” she softly begged.

Peyton pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it. The almost black room made it difficult for her to find anything. After raking around, she pulled out a pair of lacy underwear. Peyton held them up to the small amount of light coming from the window and the sight confirmed what she held.

Lace.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to find something in the grandmother department—especially with that pervert in the kitchen.”

With a reassuring nod to herself, Peyton put the lace back in the drawer and felt around until cotton hit her fingertips. It was a comforting feeling. Cotton wasn’t as daring as lace. Why she had that sort of underwear, she didn’t know. But she never wore it. Lingerie was not her expertise. She wasn’t even sure when she’d last worn a matching set. She’d always felt it was a symbol for her life. Nothing ever matched and different pieces never fit. Instead, they always had to adjust.

Realising the extent of thought she had put into underwear, Peyton quickly slipped the pair on and rummaged in the next drawer until she found flannelette pyjama bottoms. Then she silently dressed herself. Once she was satisfied with the articles of clothing on her body, she began to towel-dry her hair. After a few minutes, she placed the damp towel over the railing of her bed and walked out of her room.

Each step that she took she ensured was long and slow. Taking time away from being with Callum was better than actually spending those minutes with him. She had offered him forgiveness. She had given him an out, and he still hadn’t taken it. He was stubborn as ever, much to her displeasure.

The flicking of ember flames caught her eye as she stepped into the darkened kitchen. The entire room was filled with lit candles. For a moment, she let herself enjoy the thoughtfulness of the extravagant use of wax. And as quickly as she enjoyed it, she forced herself to hate it. She walked towards the kitchen table and was just able to see the length of it—with the help of two lit vanilla candles.

Peyton pulled out a chair and sat down, ensuring that he heard the groan she let out. She blamed the storm, but she knew it was higher than that. She had to direct her hatred for such circumstances to Fate. And Fate was a sinister bitch when it came to Peyton. Let’s not forget Divine Intervention; she was even worse. Or he. Whatever gender, Peyton hated Divine Intervention as much as she hated Fate…and Death, too. All those bastards were working hand-in-hand against her.

A plate was placed in front of her and she looked at it. A sandwich. Perfectly cut into triangles with the crusts removed. Her heart was the first to react, becoming heavy and uncomfortable. And then her mouth formed a frown. Memory Lane was becoming an allying bastard, too.

“I’m hoping you still like Vegemite and cheese sandwiches. You had it all there, so I assumed,” Callum said as he sat in the chair in front of Peyton.

He gave her a faint smile before he stared at the candle; the flame reflected in his eyes. Not liking the circumstances she was in and the pressure on her chest, Peyton leant forward and blew out the flame that he was looking at intently.

“What was that for?” he asked. The light from the other candle on the table made his cheek visible.

Peyton sat back and gave him a shrug. “I’m not one for romance, and these candles are a red alert for me. I’d rather we eat in the dark since my first request of you to leave my house isn’t happening.”

“Fine,” Callum said before he moved closer to the last candle on the table and blew it out. Only the light from the candles behind him made some things visible. “I’m not trying to romance you, Peyton. I don’t want that.”

She rolled her eyes, not caring if he could see or not. “Me, either.”

“You don’t?”

She smirked at the curiosity in his voice. She didn’t want him to seduce her, purely because she knew her heart couldn’t withstand him for much longer.

“No, Callum Reid. You are the last man who I want
romancing
me.”

She was just able to see a smile on his face. And that didn’t make her feel satisfied with her response at all. She couldn’t figure him out. She had given him what he wanted, yet he wouldn’t take it. He was far too much of a mystery. A challenge her heart wanted to conquer and claim.

A tremble coursed through her. She blamed it on those feelings the seventeen-year-old she had been had harboured for him. Not the twenty-one-year-old. No, that Peyton hated the man who sat in front of her.

“Glad we can agree on something. You know you can be pretty stubborn, Peyton. Always have been. Guess with time it’s gone from pretty stubborn to definitely and proudly stubborn,” Callum pointed out.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “I’m not stubborn. You’re a challenge not worth my time. Been there, done that. I’m over you.”

There was no quick reply like she had expected. Instead, she heard the sound of a matchstick. Then the candle to her right was lit and then the one to her left. Callum blew the matchstick out and placed it on the table.

Peyton missed the darkness that had consumed him. The light provided a detailed look of anguish on his face. Her breathing became shallow, hardly reaching her lungs.

“How’d you get over me, Peyton?”

She heard the break in his voice. He hadn’t seemed to notice it, but she had. That vulnerability made her heart leap, filling it with useless hope.

“It was easy.”

“How easy?” he asked.

Peyton sensed the hurt in his question. “It was a completely and utterly simple task,” she stated as she sat up and uncrossed her arms. Then she picked up the sandwich and took a large bite, internally cursing him for having remembered one of her favourite foods.

“Do tell,” he said with a raised brow.

“What’s to tell, Callum? It’s simple. You ripped out my heart, crushed it in your hands, and forced it back in my chest. You left me with a gripping ache for four years. That’s how I got over you—because I had to. Because life made me.”

Her throat tightened and she found it difficult to hold back a sob, but she’d be damned if he saw her like he had in the forest. Never again.

“How did life
make
you get over me?”

Peyton put the sandwich back on the plate and stood up, looking down at him. He had grown since they were together. He’d experienced more and seen things she hadn’t. She closed her eyes for a moment before she stared at him. The regret in his eyes was something she winced at.

“Because life…God…the universe…any higher power out there killed my parents and broke me more than you could have. Grieving their deaths made it easier to forget you. I didn’t just get over you. I forgot you. I had to.”

Lie. Death made me remember you more.

“Can we stop this?” he asked softly.

“Stop what?”

“This back and forth. I know that I hurt you and betrayed your trust. It’s not like I forgot, Peyton. I had to live with it for the last four and a half years. I wasn’t there when I needed to be. But I am
now
. I came here seeking your
true
forgiveness. So that when you’re old and married, you don’t think back and hate me for the rest of your life. Can we just be friends…or at least something along those lines?”

He didn’t turn away and his voice rang with certainty. Hope was also recognisable. And Hope was a close friend to Fate and her arsenal of bastards—probably more like sick lovers.

For once, she appreciated the darkness around her. The hurt inside would no doubt be plastered on her face. The lack of light gave her a comforting veil to hide behind.

“We can be whatever you want, Callum. Frankly, I don’t really care or understand. Since you have my whole life figured out for me, you should know that I would say get the hell out of my house… But I’m not. Stay until morning. The storm will be finished by then. Blankets are where you think they are. I’m going to bed. The couch is yours, ‘friend or at least something along those lines,’” Peyton said.

Then she walked towards her room, not waiting for him to reply, allowing her pride to win and accept that she’d gotten the last word.

“D
on’t cry, Peyton. Just don’t cry,” she told herself.

It was pointless. Her quick blinks couldn’t stop the tears. Peyton looked up at the willow tree branches and squeezed her eyes closed. She kept them shut as she tried to compose herself. After she walked back into the house, she ran into her room and sat on her bed, unable to stop the sobs that escaped.

The moment she heard the sound of the trucks reversing, she stilled. When she couldn’t hear the engines driving away, Peyton got off her bed and walked out of the house. Unsure of where she was going, she continued to take steps until she reached the lake path. She could either turn right and go up the hill to town or continue to her parents’ hotel. Going into town wasn’t an option as the tourists and locals would fill the streets. And her mother would know something had happened the moment that she saw Peyton.

To her left, the bench under the willows caught her eye. She sat on it and looked out onto the lake. It was still early. No one would be by the lake for a while. Those who lived in Daylesford always had a routine, never changing or altering what they did on a daily basis. But now, Callum was gone. And the comfort of a routine had been taken away. Everything had changed.