Page 106 of Keepsakes and Kismet

“And you didn’t tell me?” His voice cracks on the last part, a sheen already coating his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You let me tell you about the most horrifying day in my life. You let me cry, be pathetically vulnerable, and you didn’t say anything?”

I walk toward him with an aching heart, leaving a few feet of space between us. “It was already a tough day. I didn’t want to bring up my own thing. It seemed selfish to tell you. Like it would make your grief about me. I, uh, didn’t think you should know when you were already…” I sigh. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t think last night was the right time.”

Callum rears his head back. “You didn’t think I should know that the woman I’m in—that my girlfriend has the same thing that killed my best friend? You didn’t think I should know that I’m setting myself up for heartbreak? That I’m repeating history? You didn’t think I should know?”

“Callum. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I wear a medical necklace.” I reach in my shirt and pull out my chain. Holding the pendant closer to his face, I flip it over to show him the rod with the snake looped around it. “See?”

He averts his gaze, his eyes darting around the room. “They’re usually bracelets.”

I shove my necklace back in my shirt. “I checked ‘yes’ to ‘history of seizures’ on your brother’s gym waiver.”

His jaw ticks. “I respect your privacy. I’d never ask to see shit like that.”

I breathe out a long exhale. “I said I don’t drink on my meds. I said I’m not a rollercoaster person.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “That could mean anything.”

“Your entire family knows, Callum. I told them at dinner.”

His mouth presses into a thin line as he stares me down. “My entire family, Peyton, but not me.”

I wrap my arms around my waist. “We were working through my touch aversion, and I had no idea my medical history would be an issue for you. I’m sorry for not telling you last night, but it’s not the same. My seizures are controlled.”

“So were his. And yet. And yet, he still fucking died in my arms,” he strangles out. “I can’t… if you…”

“Callum. I’m an adult. I take my medicine religiously. I’ve never missed a dose. You don’t have to worry about me. I’d tell you if you did.”

“You already delayed a dose because of me!”

The elevated volume causes me to step back. My calm boyfriend, the one with the gentle tone and the imploring eyes, is nowhere to be found. In his place is a panicked Callum—his expression wrought with anguish. It takes me a minute to recall it, but he must be remembering the moment at his townhouse before we went to the gym.

Alarm floods his expression as a tear slides down his cheek. “I can’t go through this again. The thought of you… I don’t want to picture you lifeless when I go to sleep each night, Peyton. I can’t fucking see that⁠—”

“You won’t. I’m right here. I’m fine. You can see I’m standing right in front of you, Callum!” My composure gives way, tears clinging to my lashes.

“You’re fine until I… until I distract you again, and you forget to take your medicine, and I spend the rest of my fucking life wishing my own was over!”

“I understand why you’re feeling this way. But what you’re telling yourself… what you’re picturing, it’s not true! You know it’s not true,” I cry.

I reach for him, but he takes a step back. To be on the receiving end of a touch aversion, no matter how small, shatters me.

“Callum?” I whisper.

His breath stutters. Zebra comes out of hiding and winds through his legs, nuzzling his shins.

Swiping a tear off my cheek, I say softly, “She was his, wasn’t she? Zebra was his cat.”

He reaches down to pick her up. “She never wanted to be mine. Her heart still belongs to Tyler. And that’s the thing, Peyton. Rarely does someone ever want to be mine. And for good reason.”

“I want to be yours. I do.”

I pause and pull in a long breath, trying to get my emotions under control for what I need to tell him next. After his reaction to my epilepsy, I’m scared that finding out about my connection to Tammy and Jeff will push him past his limit.

“There’s something else I have to tell you, Callum.”

Callum doesn’t even acknowledge my words, focusing on Zebra instead. He brings her closer to his face, nuzzling his chin on her head and murmuring, “I’m okay, Zeebs. We’re okay.”

But he’s not okay at all. His breaths are uneven as a few tears disappear into her black fur. And when he looks up, the raw sadness in his eyes devastates me. “I think you should go.”