Текст книги "Sometimes Moments"

Автор книги: Len Webster

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“Are you sure you’ll be all right, love?” Aunt Brenda asked as she handed Peyton her jacket.

“I’ll be fine. Jay fixed the dishwasher, and all I have to do is wait for Marissa’s email about her wedding and then I can concentrate on my plans for the hotel. I’ll be okay. Just have fun on the peninsula.” Peyton threaded her arms through her jacket and buttoned it before she faced her great-aunt and gave her a smile.

“But—”

“No buts. You always wanted to be on the beachside in winter. It’s my turn to take care of the hotel. It was always my responsibility, not yours,” Peyton explained.

“Who will make you breakfast each morning?”

Peyton rolled her eyes at the concern on her aunt’s face. And placed both her hands on her aunt’s shoulders. “I can make my own breakfast. How many times have I told you not to come over each morning? We talked about this. When I owned the hotel¸ you and Uncle John would go back to the peninsula. It was a deal.”

Aunt Brenda cocked a brow at her. “This eagerness of yours to get your uncle and me out of town isn’t just because of our retirement, is it? I’m guessing this is because Callum Reid is back in town?”

Peyton stilled, her mouth dropping. “How’d you know?”

A sad smile etched her aunt’s face. “It’s a small town, Peyton. You know how this town is. They would have never let this kind of news go unheard of. They won’t treat him the same. You know that.”

After walking over to the hallway table, Peyton trailed her fingers over the picture of her parents and smiled at their happy faces. It was a photo taken just before Christmas, before Callum had left, and before their accident. Peyton turned to her aunt and sighed.

“I treated him differently, Aunt Brenda. I treated him like…”

Aunt Brenda walked towards Peyton and hugged her. Peyton stood there a moment before she wrapped her arms around her aunty.

After a moment of embrace, Aunt Brenda took a step back and said, “You treated him how he expected you’d treat him, love. I’m sure that he knew what he was walking into. He broke your heart, Peyton. You treat him the way you believe he deserves.”

“I called him a self-righteous bastard after he said he came back for my forgiveness. I swear I felt Mum and Dad tossing in their graves, Aunt Brenda. You should have seen his face. I felt awful but…he wasn’t here when I needed him. He left me. I gave him everything and he left. I don’t think I could ever forgive him.”

The way his eyes had clouded and the pained expression on his face had had her almost sobbing. She hadn’t needed to see him in agony. He was the one who had delivered her such heartache. He deserved no pardon whatsoever.

Aunt Brenda picked up the house keys and placed them in Peyton’s hands. “The ones we love will always hurt us the most, Peyton. You’ve grown since him, and I’m sure he has, too. If you don’t want to forgive him, then don’t. It’s your life. You choose who deserves to be near your light. And you choose who loves or who hurts you in this world. Remember that forgiveness is always earned and never a right.”

Peyton nodded as she picked up her bag and slung it on her shoulder. “Thanks, Aunt Brenda. Just have a good time enjoying the sea air.”

“Remember to call me if you need anything!” Aunt Brenda called after her.

“Love you,” Peyton said over her shoulder as she walked out of the house.

The cool wind hit her cheeks and she shivered. It would be winter soon and snow would more than likely fall. Winter brought a good number of visitors. The fog that blanketed the lake was a tourist attraction. Even though Daylesford was small, she loved it. Everything she had ever loved had breathed in the small town she lived in.

Closing the door behind her, Peyton placed her keys in her jacket pocket and looked over at the brick house across the road. It was the first time in years that she took in that house for more than a second. Callum was back, and he lived across the road from her.

The brightness from the lanterns provided enough light to see the cold fog surrounding them. Peyton shivered, but she was held securely against Callum’s naked body.

“We can leave, Peyton. It’s getting cold,” he whispered in her ear.

Peyton turned in his hold and faced him. Callum wrapped the blanket around them tighter.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Then we’ll stay.” He smiled at her before he kissed her forehead.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect. The stars, the sound of the lake, and even the fog made this a memory worth keeping.

Lifting her arm out from under the blanket, Peyton brushed the hair out of his face. But Callum’s hand stopped her movements, and he threaded his fingers through hers, bringing their joined hands to his mouth. He kissed the skin just below their thumbs, where their hands joined, and they became one.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, his thumb caressing her knuckle.

“No,” she breathed. Though the pain was uncomfortable, it passed. She could never have imagined her first time with anyone other than Callum.

When she’d confessed that she had never had sex, he hadn’t laughed or teased her. He’d simply said, “I know,” and confessed that he already had. Though it hadn’t surprised Peyton, she had been envious that she couldn’t be his first.

Callum let go of her hand and wrapped her closer to his body, his chin resting on her head. They lay there as the night slowly turned into day, the air getting cooler.

She closed her eyes once he rubbed her back before he whispered, “I have to go to the city tomorrow, Peyton, but just know that I’ll be back on Monday.”

“Callum, just know that I love you,” she whispered back.

He’d never said it back. Three simple words that he had kept to himself. Peyton had spent years trying to figure out if he’d ever loved her. She’d always come to the conclusion that he hadn’t. He’d chosen the city over her. Taken her virginity and then left her.

Shaking her head, she cleared that ‘perfect’ night from her head. She walked down the steps and onto the path. When she reached the mailbox, she stopped and glanced at the house. Then she felt something wet against her cheek. Reaching up, she pressed her fingers to it and realised it was a tear. Though they always prickled, they had never breached her waterline over their memories. She had refused to.

Ignoring that it was because of the memory of the first and last time she’d had sex, Peyton took a step on the footpath and started to walk to the hotel, chanting to herself to stop remembering.

Tapping her pencil against her lip, Peyton observed the lake from the cliff. The hotel was built on a slope next to the lake, and the cliff overlooked the entire lake. It was a popular place for guests to watch the sunrise or sunset, and one of the main reasons that her parents had packed their bags and moved to Daylesford. When they died, Peyton’s aunt and uncle had moved from the ranges to be with her, even buying a house of their own a few streets away. Hence, breakfast being made every morning.

By the time Peyton had brought a notepad and a pencil to the cliff, it was just after eleven a.m. She sat near the edge as she thought about how to make the Reynolds’ wedding memorable. As she did a sweep of the horizon, her eyes landed on the pier, then the small feeding bridge, then the middle of the lake, and an idea sparked.

A floating dance floor!

Just as she started to draw the lake on the piece of paper, she heard the sound of leaves crunching. Turning her head, she saw Callum standing just next to the path outside of the hotel, looking at her. He didn’t say anything. His eyes were on hers as if he were waiting for the go-ahead to approach her. Without a word, Peyton turned her attention back to the lake and then continued the drawing she had started.

She didn’t hear him leave, so she assumed that he was still standing there. She fought an internal battle with herself over whether or not to invite him to sit with her. The memory of their last night together had barely left her—as much as she’d tried to forget.

You never forget the first and last time you have sex.

After drawing a rectangle to symbolise the pier, Peyton sighed and placed the notepad down.

“What do you want, Callum? I’m busy,” she said, not looking over her shoulder.

She heard nothing but the sound of the ducks quacking in the distance. But just as she started to relax, she heard his footsteps and let out a groan. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he sat down next to her. Not what she wanted.

“I want your forgiveness, Peyton. I made that clear last night before you called me a bastard and slammed the door.”

Her nostrils flared. He didn’t get it, and it made the anger rise in her throat. Peyton took a deep breath and said, “Self-righteous bastard,” correcting him.

Turning her head, she saw him staring out at the lake in the direction of the trees just near the boathouse—the exact area where they’d spent their last night together tangled under a blanket after what she believed had been a passionate memory they shared together.

“Why can’t you give me your forgiveness, Peyton?” he asked, still staring out at the trees.

“Because you don’t deserve it,” she stated. It was no lie.

Callum looked down at his hands. “I know I don’t. But I want to earn it. I want to redeem myself,” he said before he faced her.

The vulnerability in his eyes had her wall strengthening. No. She would not break for him. He had already broken her before. She wasn’t willing to go for round two.

“Well, you can’t, Callum. Let it go. Just go back to the city already.” Peyton collected her notebook and pencil and stood up.

“But why can’t I redeem myself?”

The begging in his voice had her throat straining. Heat overtook her body. Not something she wanted either.

“The fact that you just asked me proves that you can never redeem yourself to me. Go home, Callum. Stay in the city until you have to be at your best friend’s wedding.” Her eyes never left his.

“But—”

“But nothing. Nothing you say or do will ever be redeeming in my book. Redemption is just something you don’t deserve.”

“Peyton,” he tried.

“Go fuck yourself, Callum,” Peyton snarled over her shoulder as she stormed back to the hotel.

Sometimes the F-word is necessary.

Floating dance floor.

Peyton rubbed out the penciled design of the floating dance floor. It wasn’t a stupid idea; it just wasn’t very smart. There was a lot to consider: whether the dock would be bracketed onto a pier or if it would freely float. There was also insurance; no doubt someone would fall off, so clauses and waivers would have to be drawn. It involved a lot of risk management, and in the end, Peyton decided against the idea. Instead, she’d figure out another ‘wow’ that was cemented to the ground, avoiding the possibility of drowning her guests.

Letting out a sigh, she screwed up her grade-three kind of diagram of the lake and placed it at arm’s length from her. While she was rummaging through piles of paper to her left, she spotted the wedding menu Marissa had emailed her that morning. Once she’d gotten into her office, she’d printed the menu and the groom’s guest list and walked to the pub. She’d been tired of the silence that engulfed The Spencer-Dayle. She’d needed to hear more than just her own voice. And when she’d noticed Callum’s name on the groom’s guest list, Peyton had wanted to throw the glass vase that was to her right.

She didn’t want him back in her town. He had run off and made the city his home. It had been two days since he’d asked for her forgiveness, and during those two nights, Peyton had stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, wishing that God hadn’t put him back on her path. He had already taken so much. She didn’t want anything more than to live a simple life.

Shaking her mind to clear the thoughts of him, she picked up the menu.

You don’t owe Callum Reid anything, Peyton.

“What did I tell you, Peyton? Can you help me out here? Just once, I want to see your beautiful face in this establishment without some kind of paperwork in your hands. I run a pub.”

Peyton looked up from the wedding menu and rolled her eyes at Jay.

“Darling, I’m pretty sure that hotel of yours has an office,” Jay stated as he picked up her empty glass.

“It does,” Peyton confirmed and placed the sheet of paper on the table.

“Then what are you doing bringing work in here?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Fine. It gets lonely.” Peyton deeply sighed and leant back into her chair, her eyes avoiding Jay’s.

When his silence reached an uncomfortable level, she peeked to see a frown on his face. Jay’s shoulders sagged before he walked over to the bar counter and placed her empty glass on it. Moments later, he took the seat next to her.

“I like to hear everyone’s voices, Jay. That’s why I like being here. It reminds me that this town had my back when I lost everything. I know I can be annoying and I take up too much room in your pub, but sometimes…it’s all I need,” Peyton explained before he spoke first.

Before she could even react, Jay took her hands and leant forward, his eyes staring into hers.

“Peyton, my pub doors are always open for you. Every time I see you, you have papers in your hands. I say these little remarks hoping that you’ll tell me that you’re either getting them done early so you can hit a party or go to the next town or something. Anything other than the hotel. I keep waiting for you to tell me that you’re about to live your life.”

Peyton sighed. He was right. It was always work. She never went to the pub to just drink or hang out. She went to hear the voices of others who were living.

“Maybe one day when you ask me what I’m up to, I’ll have a more entertaining answer for you, Jay. One day, I’ll have one.” Peyton smiled before taking her hands back from his.

He gave her an honest—yet concerned—smile before he stood up and returned to his position behind the bar.

Peyton listened until Jay’s familiar laugh rang high and then she breathed out. His laugh was a form of remedy for her. Though he was so much like Peyton and Graham, he was far different from them. Jay was comfortable with his life. For Peyton, she was just managing.

Shaking her head, Peyton looked down at the papers sprawled on the table. The sound of a chair scratching caught her attention. When she lifted her gaze, she was irritated to see none other than Callum Reid sitting in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.

Peyton closed her eyes tight and sat properly in her chair. It was a talk Callum wanted, and Peyton had thoroughly avoided it since his return.

“Peyton,” Callum acknowledged in a dull tone.

“Callum,” she said, mimicking the lifeless pitch in his voice.

His lips pursed and he eyed her. Silence was exchanged between them, suffocating her. When it reached an unbearable quota, Peyton started to collect her work.

“Why does everyone in this town love you so much but hate me? I grew up here, too.”

His question startled her, causing Peyton to lift her head and glance at him. His eyes swept over the pub, filled with disbelief.

He really doesn’t get it.

“Because you left, Callum,” Peyton stated.

He slowly turned his head until his eyes met hers. Callum’s jaw locked as if he were attempting to control his emotions around her.

“So did everyone else,” he pointed out.

“Everyone had their reasons.”

Callum’s eyes flashed and he abruptly leant forward. “And I didn’t, Peyton?”

“Yes, you did. But you didn’t give me a reason. They all left because they gave a reason. They told the town. They let people know. But you? You just up and left, Callum. You didn’t tell me.”

Callum flinched like her words had hurt him, which Peyton found ridiculous. “I had my reasons, Peyton,” he said through clenched teeth. “But that doesn’t explain why these people I’ve grown up with can’t even look at me.”

This time, it was Peyton who flinched. Her eyes burned. He still didn’t get it.

“Because you didn’t come back!” she shouted, tears running down her cheeks. That façade she hid behind crumbled. She no longer used a fake smile. For Peyton, this was as raw and as naked as it got for her.

His eyes grew sadder, but she didn’t care. Around them, the voices had started to hush until the pub had silenced around them.

“Look around you, Peyton. Nobody else came back!” Callum raised his voice.

Her heart clenched at the truth he spoke.

“But they did,” she sobbed.

Callum shook his head. “No, they didn’t.”

“But they did when I needed them the most!” Peyton cried before she wiped the tears from her cheeks, hating the weakness she was showing.

“What?” he breathed.

“They all came back—every single one of them. The town hates you because you didn’t come back. Everyone came back, Callum. My parents’ funeral—they were all there…except for you!” Her lips trembled as the heat burned through her chest.

“Peyton,” he said almost apologetically.

“No! That one day. Their funeral. That was the day you could have redeemed yourself, Callum. I don’t care if you couldn’t love me. I needed you then. I lost them and you didn’t show. It was their funeral, Callum. They died. My parents, they loved you. Don’t you get that? They loved you! They wanted me to forgive you, but I couldn’t, and when they died, I knew that I could never forgive you. You didn’t have to be there for me. You could have been there to pay your respects or to say goodbye, but you didn’t. The moment that I buried them, I also buried any hope of you redeeming yourself.”

“I’m—”

Peyton shook her head. “Save it. If you had just come back, I would have forgiven you for breaking my heart. I don’t care if you couldn’t love me back. I just needed your support and for you to acknowledge their deaths. They all came back. The only person who didn’t show was you.” Peyton sniffed and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She had vowed that day never to let him back into her life. The last glint of hope had died with the very last breath her parents had breathed that day all those years ago.

“Get the fuck out of my pub, Reid.” Jay’s growl had Peyton lifting her eyes to meet his. The vein on his neck protruded as he balled his fist.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” Callum said.

From the corner of her eye, Peyton could see him holding his hands up.

“Well, you chose the wrong town to return to…and the wrong pub. Get your sorry ass up and leave. If I see you ever make Peyton that upset again, I’ll have my fist to your jaw. Got it?” Jay took a step forward.

Peyton shot up from her chair and stepped between them. “Enough, Jay,” Peyton said, but he kept his eyes on Callum.

“You tell Graham that he’s back in town?”

“No,” she replied.

Jay’s eyes met hers. Disbelief took hold of his face. His eyes darkened and his face tensed. “Then you better tell him before he finds out from someone else, Peyton.”

“What are you, Jay, her protector?” Mr Preston asked and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder.

Mr Preston was just like Jay—chocolate eyes and a strong jaw. She imagined he was what Jay would look like once he aged. The way his lips curved tightly indicated that he would calm down his son.

“I’m more than what that little fucker ever did. I’m her friend. He couldn’t even—”

“Jay, it’s not your place to have a say. This is between Peyton and Callum. For far too long, this town has had an opinion on what happened. We don’t get a say,” Mr Preston said before holding his hand out to Callum. “It’s good to have you home, Callum.”

Callum stepped around Peyton and shook hands with Jay’s father. “Thanks, Mr Preston.”

Jay snorted. “This ain’t your home, Reid. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

Peyton kept quiet, staring among the three of them. No one in the pub spoke. It seemed like they were all holding their breaths.

“He’s a boy from Daylesford. Just like you, Jay. He’s one of us.” Mr Preston’s fingers dug into Jay’s shoulder, but Jay didn’t flinch.

“Then he should have been there when she buried Cindy and Stuart,” Jay growled and shrugged his father’s hand off his shoulder. He took a step and put his face as close to Callum’s as possible—to the point where their foreheads were almost touching. “You hurt her or even make her cry, you answer to me. Don’t think that I’m afraid to hurt a city boy like you. Don’t think for a minute that you’re one of us. You spoilt son of a bitch left behind something special. You weren’t there to see her cry. You weren’t there when she found out they’d died.”

Peyton winced. She had never seen Jay so forceful or terrifying. But she knew that he was protecting her. He had been there when she’d found out that her parents had died. They had been walking down Main Street when Sergeant Downs parked his police car next to them and told her the news. Hit and run. Her parents had died instantly an hour outside of the town’s limits.

“Stop it, Jay,” Peyton said sternly.

His eyes locked on hers and she shook her head at him—a warning to lay it to bed. It was the single worst moment in her life and he was digging it back up for the whole pub to hear. Peyton hadn’t just lost her parents. The town had lost their friends.

Peyton stepped towards her table and collected her work. She was stacking the files when she heard Jay say her name. That’s when she stuck her hand up at him to stop him from saying any more.

“You’ve said enough, Jay. I don’t need your protection or for you to make a statement on my behalf. Leave it. And you, Callum, are leaving with me before Jay does something that I’m going to hate him for.” Peyton reached over and took Callum’s wrist in her hand.

He tensed under her touch, but she ignored him, dragging him away.

As she walked towards the pub doors, she heard Jay say, “Don’t you fall in love with him, Peyton. Don’t you do that to me.”