I frowned at the loss of his hand in mine but said nothing, until I realized we were heading away from the bakery and the printing press. We were leaving the slice of town I was most familiar with and moving into what looked like an older section.
I glanced around at the older buildings, many of which had fallen into disrepair. Our footsteps echoed on the now empty streets, snow crunching underfoot, and my breath came out in front of me. Good thing Callum had made me dress warmer. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. With a heavy denim and wool lined coat, thick beanie and sturdy boots on, Callum looked at home in the snowy setting.
“Where are we going?” I asked him, when I decided my staring had begun to border on pathetic fixation. I looked away from his profile and fixed my eyes ahead.
“There, just up the way,” Callum said. I frowned, not seeing much of note, only a collection of shuttered shops and what looked like an abandoned church at the end of the street.
“But there’s nothing there,” I said as we continued toward the church. It had once been a small brick and wood affair with peeling white paint. Boards covered the windows and what looked like metal grating had been bolted over the front door.
Why would Callum be bringing me here?
“Not the church,” he said, leading us around and to the back of it. “Here.”
We stood at the iron gate of an old cemetary. I swallowed hard. Agnes had said she’d raised him, but she hadn’t mentioned what had happened to Callum’s parents…
“Lead on,” I whispered.
Whatever he was about to tell me meant something to him. He was nervous; I could tell from the set of his shoulders, and from the way he fiddled with the beanie on his head.
Callum opened the gate for us, its rusted hinges screeching in the quiet. We walked together in silence, our footfalls dampened by the fresh fall of snow now coming down around us.
“I used to come here as a child,” Callum said. “My parents are buried here.”
I said nothing, opting to touch his hand before I intertwined our fingers and gave him a gentle squeeze. Callum let out a deep breath and smiled, his gaze resting on our clasped hands for a moment before he lifted his eyes to meet mine.
I felt my heart squeeze.
Nothing else existed right now. I could see it in his face: I mattered to him, which was good news because Callum MacDougall mattered a whole damn lot to me.
