Page 111 of Keepsakes and Kismet

My responding laugh betrays me despite my best efforts to punish him for that comment.

The soup is ready in exactly fifteen minutes, and we spend the next hour swapping Tyler memories at the kitchen table. Between bites of bread and butter, Tammy and Jeff tell me all about the way they’ve grown the northwest chapter to be the most active in all of Ohio. A dull ache of regret echoes in my chest—I wish I could’ve helped sooner.

Just as Jeff starts to persuade us that maybe his moustache does make him look younger, my phone alarm dings.

“Time to head to my inspection. I wish I didn’t have to go. This has been…”

“Needed,” Tammy fills in.

I shoot her a grateful look. “Needed.”

We all slowly stand and collectively sigh. I don’t want to leave, but work calls. I drag my feet to the sink, rinsing my soup bowl, before reluctantly shrugging on my coat.

“Let us walk you to the porch,” Tammy says.

When we reach the threshold, Jeff pulls me into his arms, anchoring me against him. “Don’t be a stranger, son.” His voice sounds husky, emotional. “You don’t be a stranger,” he repeats into my shoulder. “Never again, Cal.”

“I won’t,” I mumble into his sweater. “I promise.”

We break the hug, and Tammy swaps in for Jeff, squeezing me tightly. “Give Peyton our best, okay? We love that girl.”

Me too.

I need to fix things with her. Even though I’m in a better place after my conversation with the Sheldons, I can’t say the same about my relationship with Peyton. After pushing her away, I don’t know how I can reassure her that it won’t happen again.

I don’t say any of that to Tammy, though.

Instead, I give her a wave. “I’m on it.”

Chapter 25

Callum

Unplayed Voicemails: (0)

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 & Cielo, a Mexican restaurant about twenty minutes south of Waterton. I climb into my truck and hit the road.

After a car ride full of jazz songs and overthinking, I arrive at the restaurant. Twinkle lights line the windows and the roof, along with an orange neon sign out front. It takes me a few minutes to find a space in the crowded parking lot.

When I hop out of my truck, leaves crunch beneath my feet. With my “metal box” in hand, I walk toward the front with a smile on my face, remembering how Peyton called my inspector gear “accessories.”

Lively strumming and brassy notes travel through the door, but as I cross the threshold, the music stops abruptly, and diners clap. My eyes wander to the stage where a few men in suits and sombreros walk through a curtain.

A low thrum of guitars plays over the speakers now, and I find the hostess desk, where a middle-aged woman stands behind a monitor.

I flash the ID on top of my clipboard. “Hello, I’m Callum Galvin, a Health Inspector from the Toledo-Lucas County Health Department.”

The hostess nods sullenly. “Let me get the manager.”

Three minutes later, the manager comes, his face looking exactly as excited as I expected.

“Hello, I’m Nico. How long will this take?”