Page 73 of Keepsakes and Kismet

“I’m sorry if it felt like I forced you into this. Not just into sharing, but into going to the festival. Had I known…” I trail off. “When you’re ready one day, I’d like to hear about what happened and what the triggers are, just so I can better support you. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He rubs his thumb up and down my hand as a lock of his auburn hair falls in front of his forehead. “But you didn’t force me to share or to go. I wanted to meet your friends. And I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t ready.”

I nod. “Well, for what it’s worth, all my friends have their own shit. Frankly, it’d be weird if you didn’t have things going on.”

He removes his hand. “Hey. Don’t go too hard on my man Daniel.”

We both burst out laughing, and when we settle down, I can’t help but notice the relief in his eyes. “Thanks for being so understanding, Pey.”

“Thanks for telling me.” I blow back a flyaway from my forehead. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“If it was me with you at the festival, is there anything I could’ve done to help you through it?”

He clears his throat. “There’s this coping mechanism I use—tapping. Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes. Anything you want to show me, I’d love to learn.”

Callum hums. “There’s a few different ways you can do it, but I prefer what’s called ‘a butterfly hug.’ Kind of a strange name, but the left-right rhythm of tapping just below my collarbone supposedly mimics REM sleep. It helps ground me.”

“Show me,” I say softly, not wanting to disrupt his process.

“Can I touch your hands? Get you in the right position?” he asks, waiting patiently for my answer.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Sit tight.” He gets up and stands behind me. Picking up my right hand, he flips my palm around so it’s facing my chest. Then he moves my hand over the left side of my chest, letting go when the tips of my fingers hover just below my collarbone. He does the same thing with my left hand on the other side.

“Very good,” he murmurs, delicately pinching each of my thumbs to interlock them in the middle of my chest.

“I see why they call it the butterfly.” My voice comes out quiet, and I don’t move.

“Now, I want you to think of someplace you feel safe and happy.”

With you. In your arms.

“Got it, Pey?”

I inhale deeply. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Now start tapping, alternating left and right. Take some breaths in and out. Yes, just like that. You’re a natural.”

The praise puts a small smile on my face, and I keep tapping.

“Eight taps per side. I’m going to stop talking now. You can close your eyes, if you want,” he says gently, heading back to his chair.

While I tap, I think of the first time Callum hugged me. The feel of his body against mine, the citrusy smell of his neck. I take slow, deep breaths, as though my head is nestled above his shoulder, closing my eyes to better visualize it.

After I’ve finished the full cycle of 16 taps, I pause and open my eyes.

Callum is sitting casually, elbow on the table, watching me. Every one of his features looks soft, pleased. “This can work for anxiety, too, you know. Maybe you could tap the next time you want to sock me in the face.”

My eyebrows raise to my forehead in mock offense. “Don’t tempt me.”

Callum’s responding grin sparks my own. With the juxtaposition of his gentle demeanor, the light ribbing, and his calm reactions, it’s hard to look away from him. I still don’t know everything, but this was another step to understanding him better. And I’m okay with ‘slow and steady wins the race,’ as long as we’re still us at the finish line.

Chapter 17