Page 112 of What Hurts Us

When Callum told me he wanted to come clean to his Gran, this wasn’t exactly the reaction I had expected. I assumed Gran would be a little perturbed. Perhaps she would scold us for the shenanigans. But the coldness in her voice…

“Gran, we uh… I need to tell you something.”

Then the word vomit happened.

Callum relieved himself of the whole charade—telling Gran everything from what happened with Brandie Jean at the last date auction. He worked through the tale of radioactive casseroles, the cow-induced car crash, and the most ridiculous thing that happened in this insane little town: the moment he asked me to pretend to be his fiancé.

He expelled every detail. The engagement pictures we endured. The midnight motorcycle ride.Sans outdoor sex.He opened up about the wounds from his adolescent years that had recently begun to heal.

When Callum had finished purging, he sat back and wrapped his arm around my waist.

Gran looked utterly flummoxed. With a judgmental exhale, she clasped her hands on top of the quilt covering her lap. “Well, I never…”

But Callum didn’t cower. His fingers grazed my arm.Back and forth. Back and forth.He leaned down and pressed his lips to my temple.

“But there’s something else, Gran,” he said, keeping me close. “Regardless of how this thing started, it’s real now. I love her.” He clasped our hands together. “And I need something from you.”

Gran raised a curious eyebrow. “And what on Dolly Parton’s green earth is that?”

“I need your blessing.”

She scoffed, but Cal wasn’t deterred. “Hear me out. I asked Layla’s family for their blessing because it was tradition. But now I need yours. I need you to know that Layla is everything to me. I know what that ring means to you. And I’m coming clean because I need you to know that, although we didn’t start things out in the most conventional of ways, she and I fell in love anyway.”

“You lied to me, Callum,” she clipped with the neutral tone of a battle-tested general. “You lied to this town. After everything they’ve done for you—”

“No.” Cal straightened his posture. “I didn’t ask Layla to fake it because I don’t care about the town. You know better than most how much I love these people. I did this because I didn’t want to take away something that meant so much to you and to them. And maybe I went about it all wrong, but—”

“Hush your mouth,” she clipped.

My spine turned ramrod straight. It felt like being scolded by my own grandmother.

Gran sat up straight in her recliner. “All wrong?” She laughed. “There’s no wrong way to fall in love. The only wrong way is if you don’t leave a place for love in your life.” She sighed. “And that’s what I told Layla when I smashed my hip like a plate in a rage room.”

I had so many questions. The first being that Gran apparently frequented rage rooms.

But she persisted. “We started the date auction for you. To try and get you to get out of the house and do something for yourself once in a while. You care more about this town than just about anyone. There’s no question about that.” Her tone softened. “But I don’t ever want to hear you say that you fell in love the wrong way. Because you didn’t.” Her eyes cut to me. “And you’re alright in my book, Layla. Just do your best to keep this one in line. He can be a handful.”

I laughed nervously. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gran’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “And make sure to shine that ring once a week. I think I have a spare bottle of cleaner around here somewhere.”

37

CALLUM

Layla’s prone body went rigid. She whimpered, beginning to thrash in the twisted sheets.

“Honey, wake up,” I grunted as I tried to shake her out of the nightmare.

She grimaced, eyebrows drawing together as a heartbreaking cry slipped from her lips. We had been sharing the same nightmare for a week.

Rather than waiting for her to rouse, I slid my arm beneath her and pulled her into my chest. I stilled her head, cradling the back of it in my palm, pressing her cheek against my skin. “I’ve got you,” I murmured into her mussed hair.

Finally, she stirred. Her thick lashes rose, and torment filled her eyes. It was still dark outside. One look at the clock told me that we hadn’t even been asleep for an hour. Heat pooled against my chest from the damp warmth of her tears.

There were good days and bad days following the fateful call. I had been cleared to return to duty by Internal Affairs, but Chief Byrne threatened me with traffic duty if I didn’t take my entire leave. I had a few days left, but Layla went back to full-time work tomorrow. Layla had been picking up a few hours here and there at the base but had yet to fly any calls. The anxiety surrounding her return was what, I assumed, had caused her nightmares to get worse.

Sometimes we spent the days together, going out for a leisurely drive or grabbing a bite out. On other days we barely got out of bed.

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