Page 129 of The Matchmaker
“Out.”
I do as I’m told, scrambling out onto the path as Jack drives off, disappearing into the night. Okay. One step at a time, I guess.
Taking a breath, I make my way over to the field. I spy Adam and Gemma standing side by side, close but not touching. Bridget is directing people to the best viewing spots, while Nush is doling out buckets of popcorn like it’s the most important task in the world. I feel a rush of affection as soon as I see them, and I know they’re waiting for me. I know I need to talk with them, but the thought of having to go over what happened, to deal with their concern, however well-meaning, sends a wave of exhaustion over me so strong I stop where I am.
And that’s when I spot him.
Callum stands at the edge of the crowd, wearing a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt, a plastic pint glass in his hand as he nods at something Frank is saying.
He looks comfortable. He looks like he belongs, and my heart pangs at the thought. It’s a new feeling, one I’m not sure what to make of yet.
The music grows louder, blaring a pop song everyone seems to know as the fireworks go off loosely in time with the beat. One particularly large one draws everyone’s attention upward and, when it goes back down again, Callum’s eyes land straight on mine, his smile fading as his easy expression morphs into one of concern.
And it’s all suddenly too much. The emotions hit me one after the other. The stress of this morning, the anxious wait at the hospital, the relief that threatens to overwhelm me as soon as our eyes lock. It has been a bad day. A bad, long day and I have never felt more vulnerable.
I choke on a breath and turn, slipping through the crowd as I leave the crowded field behind and head back up the road to the village. Jack was right. I need sleep. I need a shower and a change of clothes and a few minutes to be alone. I need—
“Katie!”
I keep walking even as I glance over my shoulder, watching Callum weave between the villagers and the remaining guests, following me.
“I know you can hear me,” he calls, when I start moving faster.
I hear him curse as I take off, running back up the path and onto the road that leads to home. Turns out, if you don’t think about it too much, you can run pretty well in heels. The thing is not to second-guess yourself. To just keep going and barely touch the ground.
It almost feels nice. Stretching my legs like this. Maybe Plankton’s onto something. Maybe I should run more often. Maybe I should be that kind of person. Maybe—
“Ow! Mother— ow!” I stumble to a stop, almost tripping as a sharp pain spikes up my calf.
Callum’s on me in a second, grabbing me by my waist, so I don’t fall. “What’s wrong?” he asks, alarmed. “What is it?”
“Cramp.”
“What?”
“Cramp,” I hiss, not caring that I’m being ridiculous. “Ow, ow, freaking ow.”
“You shouldn’t have run in these shoes.”
“I wouldn’t have run if you hadn’t chased me.”
“I’m supposed to chase you.”
“Says who!”
“Says everyone!” he snaps and leads me off the path into a small field.
“What do I do?” I moan, the pain not abating.
He guides me to the earth, first so that I’m sitting, and then presses my shoulders until I get the hint and lie down, the grass cool but dry as it cushions my body.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you, you idiot. Which leg?”
I point to my right one, and he grabs it and slowly stretches it upward.
“Is that better?”
