Page 50 of What Hurts Us

A hay bale maze had been set up for kids to run through, and a local orchard had a pop-up tent where caramel apples and cups of hot cider were flying out. Judges examined rows of pumpkins decorated by elementary school kids.

We said polite hellos as we crossed the street, heading for the little park across from The Copper Mule. String lights glowed overhead, draped from the top of the gazebo.

“It’s pretty, all lit up like this,” I said as I hooked my arm around Cal’s, stealing some of his warmth.

“You should see it during the holidays. My Gran sits on the town committee that oversees the Christmas decorations. It looks like it belongs on a postcard.”

Christmas was still a few months away, but it seemed like it was coming way too fast. I had been stuck in a constant cycle of waiting for the next thing. The next step in my education. In my career. The next certification that would get me where I wanted to go. The next shift. The next call.

But for the first time, I wanted to stop the clock, or at least slow it down. The present—it wasn’t so bad.

The gazebo’s old wooden stairs creaked underfoot as we made our way up. Twinkling lights edged the underside of the roof, bathing us in a warm glow. Callum’s palms cupped my cheeks with the gentlest touch, and he kissed me.

It wasn’t heated and fervent like when he pushed me up against his living room wall. It was sweet and soft. “I think it’s funny that we both spent time here as kids and never met,” I said against his lips.

“I think I would have been in college by the time you moved from New Jersey,” he said.

“What about the summers?” I asked as I slid my palms down his shoulders to rest squarely on his chest. “I spent a lot of time at the bed-and-breakfast with my Aunt. Do you think we ever saw each other, even from a distance?”

Cal’s brow furrowed, a deep groove settling just above the bridge of his nose. “No.” There was conviction behind it. An intensity that I didn’t understand as a response to such a simple question. He shook his head. “If I had seen you, I would have remembered you. Someone doesn’t watch a shooting star then forget what it looked like.”

He slowly lowered to one knee. “Honey, trust doesn’t come easy for me. But I trust you. It’s one of the highest compliments I can give a person. You have literally pieced me back together. Being in the presence of your soul is healing. Every moment I spend with you, I find a hundred new reasons to be grateful that I met you. And I hope to spend an infinite number of moments by your side.” He reached into his pocket and produced the ring box. “Layla Mousavi, will you marry me?”

I didn’t have to fake the tears. My eyes were damp as he slid the ruby ring onto my finger. Quiet gasps echoed from all around as witnesses watched eternal bachelor Callum Fletcher ask me to marry him.

I draped my arms around his neck and planted one on him just because I could.

17

CALLUM

Ijogged down the stairs, fastening my belt as I went. I was already running late for work, and I blamed the woman who slept across the hall from me. When we had gotten home after I proposed two nights ago, we danced around each other for a moment before retiring to our separate rooms. I didn’t know what would happen if my Gran stopped by, snooped around upstairs, and questioned why we were sleeping in separate beds. Maybe I’d just say she got exposed to a patient with a wildly contagious virus at work and was isolating as a precaution. That was believable, right?

But that was a problem for another day.

I had been tossing and turning for two nights straight, staring at the ceiling fan, wondering if she was doing the same thing.

I kept one ear on dispatch while I was on shift, working through mountain after mountain of paperwork. Layla and the AirCare team responded to more jurisdictions than just Falls Creek. I didn’t tell her, but I had downloaded a handy little app that let me track aircrafts in real-time just so I could see where she was heading. The bags under my eyes were compliments of lying awake in bed, watching a tiny blip on the flight radar bounce from Virginia back to North Carolina and make a few loops from Greensboro to Raleigh to Greenville.

When my feet hit the landing, I found Layla asleep on the couch. She hadn’t even bothered with cereal this morning. Her flight boots were still on, odd since she usually changed into flip-flops or furry boots. She was still in her navy-blue flight suit, too. Their crew must have been running non-stop during the twenty-four-hour shift.

If I skipped swinging by the Mule for a to-go breakfast and scrounged up a day-old Krispy Kreme at the station, I’d have a few minutes to spare.

My leg sported only a dull ache today as I bent at the knees and scooped Layla into my arms. It had hurt like hell the first few times I carried her up, but not so much anymore. A roll of medical tape, a pair of trauma shears, and a permanent marker fell out of one of the pockets.

Layla groaned and raised her sleep-laden eyelids. Black hair spilled out of the reckless braid she had tied it in. “Cal?”

“Yeah, honey?”

Her eyelids closed again. “Why’re you doing this?”

For the life of me, I didn’t know. She had stuck her neck out for me. Making sure she made it into an actual bed seemed like the least I could do.

“You need sleep.”

“You shouldn’t be lifting me. Not with your leg.” Her protest didn’t carry much weight when she tucked further into my chest. It couldn’t have been comfortable for her. Not with my radio pressing into her temple and the thirty pounds of equipment on my belt pressing into her side.

I thought back to the first time I had carried her up the stairs. The radiating pain in my leg had hurt like a motherfucker. Still, every time I found her asleep on the couch, not having made it up the stairs after her shift, I carried her. It got a little easier each time—knowing how to anticipate the discomfort and ache. But lately, it hadn’t hurt at all.

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