Page 67 of Keepsakes and Kismet

I blink. Caribbean reef squid? Peyton was right. This family is weird.

“Sorry.” He laughs softly. “It’s something Gracie and I do. Sharing facts like this can help distract you from… Well, from whatever this is. What is it, by the way? I had panic attacks for half my life, but I’m not familiar with tapping.”

“It’s PTSD. The tapping is a technique I use to calm down from a trigger. I… Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m embarrassed you had to see me like that.”

He blows right past my apology. “And the festival’s a trigger for you?”

“I haven’t been to one since I was a teenager,” I mumble.

DT hums. “If you don’t mind me asking, why’d you come then?”

Heat rises up my neck, and I avert my gaze.

“Ah. Peyton.” He gives me a knowing look.

“She wanted me to meet all of you, and I didn’t want to disappoint her… which is laughable, now, seeing that this happened.”

“Hey. We’re not gonna do that. Get down on ourselves. This shit’s hard enough without adding pressure from yourself. We all have something we’re dealing with.” His voice sounds firm, definitive. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I hesitate. I haven’t shared anything with Peyton yet, and it feels wrong to give details to someone else before her. “Not right now. I need to work on some stuff first, then talk to Peyton.”

He searches my face for a moment, maybe to check I meant what I said. “Okay. But this is nothing to be ashamed of, Cal.”

I exhale slowly. “I know.”

“If you’re good, we should grab the donuts and head back to the group. They’re probably wondering where we’ve been.”

“I’m good,” I say, grabbing his coat from under me.

We both stand, and he starts walking back to the donut and cider line.

“DT?”

He swivels around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He pauses. “And I think we’re past ‘DT.’ You can call me Daniel now.”

If I wasn’t already feeling a little better, getting permission to call him by his real name might do it. For the first time today, I forget about his fame and see him as my friend. My lips curve into a genuine smile, and as we start walking again, Daniel returns it with one of his own.

When we approach the donut counter, I lower my voice. “One more thing. I’d… I’d appreciate it if you kept what happened today between us.”

He rears his head back. “Why?”

My shoulders tense as I launch into an explanation, one that I know isn’t good enough. “Peyton’s having the time of her life today, and I don’t want to bring her down.”

Also, there’s the small, lingering detail that I haven’t shared my PTSD with her yet.

But I don’t want to get into all that.

Daniel nods. “Listen, man. It isn’t mine to tell. But a word of warning from someone who’s been there: keeping this kind of shit from someone you care about rarely ends well.”

My cheeks heat with guilt. “I know. I’m going to tell her really soon. Tomorrow, even. Just… not today.”

* * *

We come back to the group with warm donuts in hand.