Sometimes Moments (12 page)

She listened to his footsteps as he made his way farther from their spot.

Peyton quickly turned around, her tears skimming her face. “Why am I a mistake to you?” she cried.

Stupid question, Peyton. You should have left it.

Callum stopped for a moment before he turned around. Pain filled his face, and his eyes were shiny with unshed tears. The sight was a first for her.

“Why am I a mistake to you?” he roared, startling her.

“I asked you first!” she cried.

He rushed back to her, his body close to Peyton’s. The absolute grief in his eyes made her regret her decision to ask.

“My mistake was walking away, leaving this town. But it was a mistake I got right. You stayed here, Peyton. You didn’t… You… You were saved from me!”

Peyton silently gasped. Anger and resentment boiled through her. She took a step forward and inhaled a deep breath before drawing her palm back and slapping his cheek. Instantaneously, she felt the sting in her hand.

“Saved from you?” she asked unbelievably.

Callum placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed her assault. He wasn’t angry. He seemed relieved as his features softened.

“Yes.”

“That is the biggest pile of bullshit I have ever heard. Saved from you? How in God’s name does that even make sense? I loved you, Callum. In that exact spot, I gave you everything. What did you keep from me? Why did you walk away?” she cried.

Four years of bottled emotions had exploded and tarnished the one place in the world that meant everything to her.

“You wouldn’t understand. But what I did saved you. I stand by that. I will never regret what I did to us. You were happy here,” he said with as much emotion as he did when he had once asked her to be his.

“Happy?” She shook her head. “My parents died and I buried them! Staying in this town, I’ve been far from happy. Everything here is a constant reminder of my parents and of you! You did a great job saving me, then, Callum.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, she turned around and walked up the steep slope. When she reached flat ground, she quickened her steps. She hoped they could just get back to the hotel in peace. And if she were lucky enough, he’d go home.

“Peyton. Peyton, wait!” The desperation could be heard in his shouts.

She stopped and looked up at the sky through the gaps in the branches. Taking a deep breath in, Peyton spun around.

“No! No more waiting. I’ve waited four years and I’m done. I’m over you. You should have never returned. You should have begged your friend for a new venue, because I can’t do this. I don’t want you here. When Oscar’s wedding is over, just leave, Callum. Just leave! Do what you’re so good at and walk away. I didn’t need this in my life. I called you, for God’s sakes. I shouldn’t have. But I needed you then. I don’t want or need you in my life—not when you proved that you didn’t want or need me.”

Silence. The best form of goodbye.

Aunt Brenda
: A lovely young woman taught me how to message you. I hope you’re doing well, Peyton. You call me if you need anything and we’ll come straight away. Don’t forget everyone comes back from leave on Monday. I love you and don’t forget your breakfast.

Peyton laughed at the text message her aunt had left her. Aunt Brenda wasn’t one for anything tech-savvy. As long as it called, she was good. Her uncle was one who could do it all with technology. After giving her aunty a quick reply, Peyton placed her phone back on her desk and picked up the piece of paper with her design on it. Once the first dance of the Reynolds’ wedding was done, the guests would move from the hill to the lake, where the dance floor would expand out on the water almost like a jetty.

It wasn’t much of an idea, but she needed to get a plan on paper to show Callum and then Marissa. It had been just over a day since she’d last seen him. Now, she sat in the hotel’s office, still pissed off that the universe had brought him back to Daylesford.

A crack of thunder had Peyton almost jumping out of her skin. Pushing the leather chair back, she got up and walked to the window. She looked at the grey sky and sighed. She hoped it was only thunder, but in this part of the state, she knew a storm was to be expected.

One winter, the sky had been clear, and then, a few hours later, snow had fallen. Most of the town had stood on top of Wombat hill and looked at the town blanketed with white. It had been beautiful and it was a moment that made her appreciate the town she called home.

Another loud crash of thunder and lightning confirmed her suspicion. Upon walking back to the desk, Peyton placed all her work and her laptop into her bag. Then she grabbed her keys and started to lock up the hotel. As she took a step outside, she prayed that the storm wasn’t like the one in ’06. Windows had been broken and a tree had fallen on top of one of the outer guest cabins. If Peyton was left with the same kind of aftermath, she knew she couldn’t afford to rebuild another cabin—not if she wanted to expand and redesign the hotel to her liking.

After taking a few steps down the path, she turned around and looked at the old Victorian hotel. She noticed that the worn hotel sign needed repainting; the flaking paint wasn’t particularly flattering to the eye.

“You better be standing when I get back. We’ve been through a lot more than a storm. You’re all I have left, so don’t go falling over,” Peyton warned the building, knowing she was being ridiculous. But in truth, she felt a connection to the hotel. She had grown up in it and around it.

The hotel was the keeper of her memories.

A strong gust of wind hit her, almost making her stumble back. As she turned to walk the path back home, the local pub caught her attention through the trees. Not wanting to go home anytime soon, Peyton made her way up the hill and to town.

“Peyton!” the pub cheered as she took a step inside.

She was used to it. It was how the town treated people. And if they didn’t know your name, they’d scream “Stranger!” and welcome you to Daylesford.

She smiled and nodded as she walked past all the patrons and towards the counter. Placing her bag on top of the oak, Peyton took a seat on a barstool. She looked over at Mr Preston, who came over to her.

“Coke, Miss Peyton?” he asked as he reached for a glass.

“That’d be nice. You don’t normally work the counter, Mr Preston,” Peyton said, rubbing her hands together. The temperature had dropped on her walk to town.

“Jay’s gone down to the Wilcox farm to help them get ready for the storm. Have you checked on your house? Do you need me to go down there to help you tie down anything?” he asked as he placed her beverage in front of her.

Wilcox farm… Daisy Wilcox.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll just move what I can into the shed.” She took a sip of Coke as she looked up at Jay’s father. “Jay isn’t mad at me for walking out of the pub with Callum, is he?”

Mr Preston gave her a tight smile. “No, darling. He realised that you were doing it to prevent the coppers from being called in. He isn’t mad.”

Peyton placed her glass down. “Is that why he went to the Wilcox farm? Because he’s
not
mad at me? Not after Daisy Wilcox called me a sook after my parents died and claimed I was after the town’s attention. She slapped me in this pub and Jay banned her.”

“She was intoxicated, Peyton,” Mr Preston tried to reason.

Peyton pulled out her phone from her pocket and brought up Jay’s contact to send him a message.

Peyton
: Traitor!

“Explains why she goes out of her way to make me trip or have something thrown at me every time she’s in town. Your son deserves better than Daisy Wilcox and you know it.” Peyton got off the barstool, put her phone in her pocket, and picked up her bag.

Mr Preston sighed. “It would take Callum and Graham hurting you before he got the girl.”

Her eyes quickly met his. “Why would you even put your son third on that ridiculous list?”

“Because we all know he’s third on
your
list, Peyton. My son is a good kid, but he’d never measure up to Callum or Graham. The town saw how you looked at Callum as a teenager. You were completely in love with that boy. And Graham you’ve already promised to marry. Jay knows all of this, yet he’s still at your beck and call.”

There was no anger in his tone or hint of humour on Mr Preston’s face.

Peyton stood there, astonished. She had no comeback. The pub had gone quiet around them, and she cursed her need to mention Daisy Wilcox. Instead of saying another word, Peyton turned around and walked towards the exit. When she opened the door, cold air and rain hit her.

“Peyton, let me get you an umbrella. Or you could stay here until it passes,” Mr Preston said behind her.

It was typical small-town-folk behaviour. Insult a person then offer them shelter from the rain. The buzz of her phone against her thigh had her pulling it out. She had a new message.

Jay
: I could say the same thing about you, traitor.

Pulling her wavy, light-brown hair through the elastic band, Peyton tied it up into a high ponytail. She walked to the kitchen window to see the trees branches in the backyard start to sway violently. In the middle of the garden, the rotary clothesline spun and the pegs flew out of the small plastic basket, landing on the wet grass. The rain fell heavily, and she let out a sigh as she fed her arms through her rain jacket.

As Peyton zipped it, the sound of her phone echoed through the kitchen. Looking around, she spotted it on the small buffet that leaned against the wall. She walked over and answered it the moment she saw a picture of a blonde with bright red lipstick on the screen.