Page 65 of Keepsakes and Kismet

“After you’re done getting the goods, why don’t you meet us over by the hay bales? A few finally freed up, and pumpkin-painting is on my bucket list before we leave,” Tessa adds.

The boys nod and head for the line. The rest of us start walking toward the paint-a-pumpkin area. Gracie and Gio walk ahead of me and Tessa, talking about a family trip to Italy next year.

I’m dying for Tessa’s opinion on Callum, and I know she sent him with Daniel so we could chat. I link my arm with hers. “Callum’s so wholesome, right?”

Tessa puts her arm around my shoulder. “As wholesome as an adorable Waterton duckling. Perfect for you.”

I nod slowly, happily. “Not to get serious, but I just… I never thought I’d find someone like Callum. He likes everything about me—loudly. And, sadly, being with him has made me realize… I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone who genuinely likes me.”

She drops her arm to fully face me, her eyes wide. “Peyton…”

“No, it’s fine, and, I don’t want to cry, but…” I tilt my head back to look at the sky, trying to prevent any tears from forming. “It’s a sobering thought, you know? I’ve spent my entire life being with men who never even tried. Looking back, it’s glaringly obvious. Especially now that I know how it feels to be liked by Callum. It’s him asking me to hang out every day. Telling me I’m funny, that I’m impressive. Going at my pace. Being open with me. It’s… Well, it’s every single thing about him.”

My pre-tears feel under control, so I drop my chin and focus on Tessa. Her eyes are watery, and she whispers, “I’m so happy for you. And it’s from the bottom of my heart.”

I let out a teary laugh and give her a hug.

After a minute, she pats me on the back and pushes out of my arms. “I love you, but I see a family of eight eyeing the bales, and they just started heading our way. If you fuck this up for me, I’ll summon the rats of New York to your doorstep.” She swings her bag over her shoulder and starts power walking toward the pumpkin painting area with abandon, only to pause and call over her shoulder, “We need to move!”

I give one last glance at the cider and donuts line, where Callum waits with Danny. I’d wave, but my man’s attention is completely focused on his idol. I chuckle to myself. A real Fan Boy.

“Peyton!” Tessa shouts from her hay bale, setting her purse down on the empty one beside her.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming.”

Those pumpkins aren’t going to poorly paint themselves.

Chapter 15

Callum

Unplayed Voicemails: (5)

Hi, Cal, it’s Tammy… and Jeff! We were eager to see you around town during fall break, but your mom mentioned you chose to stay at school. It feels safer to heal alone, sometimes, doesn’t it? For years, we only left the house in November for work and essentials. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, things do get better. In fact, we just got back from the Harvest Festival. We thought we might never go again, but we went, and it wasn’t as scary as we thought it’d be. Don’t get me wrong—it was hard. But not harder than our worst day. And if we can survive that, we can survive anything.

Today, when we visited him, we saw two butterflies. One was blue, nearly identical to the color of his eyes, and one was brown with deep orange undertones—almost a perfect match for your hair color. I… Sorry. Just needed a minute. Anyway, the butterflies, they wouldn’t leave each other alone. It almost looked like they were playing. I took it as a sign that he’s doing okay. It’s funny, isn’t it? How everything seems like a sign after tragedy. Maybe I look for them, or maybe they look for me.

We miss you, Cal. Do you think we can go to the festival together next year?

* * *

What was said in the locker room during halftime when the Mustangs were down 27 and came back to win the championship? Why did you choose to retire two years earlier than anyone expected?

Did you really grow longer hair from the shampoo company you worked with, or was that just for money?

These are the questions I’m burning to ask DT. In another life, one where I’m just a fan and not in a relationship with his little sister’s best friend, I might ask them. But I’m trying to make a good impression for Peyton. I really need this to go well.

Even though I’ve been on high alert most of the day, Peyton hasn’t been able to tell. She’s so preoccupied with her friends, she hasn’t noticed that my hands are a little clammier than normal, my skin a little paler. I’m grateful. I don’t want to pull focus away from her reunion.

DT keeps the conversation going as we wait in the long line at the donut and cider stand, asking me where I’m from (Waterton), where I went to college (Toledo), and what I like to do for fun (hang out with Peyton). None of my answers have been remotely captivating.

“So, when do you⁠—”

Brassy sounds blare out of the speakers surrounding the gazebo, cutting him off. Two kids come marching out with fake plastic trumpets.

DT laughs. “Oh, hell yeah. Gracie loves small-town stuff like this. Do you think she can see them all the way from the pumpkin-painting area, or no?” He pulls out his phone. “I should take a video just in case.”

When they reach the center of the gazebo, one kid pulls out a long, scroll-like paper and reads into the microphone. “Here ye! Here ye! We’d like to present…”