She let out a breath of air as she hovered her thumbs over the touchscreen. She knew she shouldn’t do it, but she was fighting an internal battle of want and need. The same battle between protecting her heart and freeing it. But the fight with herself didn’t take long as her thumbs began to type for her.

Peyton: Are you awake?

She pressed send and immediately regretted it, wishing she could recall it back. She prayed that she had the wrong number. A second after pressing send, though, she got a reply.

Callum: Peyton?

She looked at his message. She knew she shouldn’t reply, but she wanted to speak to him in any form she could get. To say she was confused hardly described what and how she felt.

Peyton: It’s me.

Callum: How’d you know I still have this number?

Pure luck and hope.

Peyton: I thought I’d tempt Fate.

Callum: To answer your earlier question: Wide awake.

What am I doing?

Peyton placed her phone on the pillow next to her. Then, almost immediately, it lit up with every message he sent her, the vibrations alerting her. Realising her error in messaging him, Peyton reached over and powered the phone screen down. With a deep breath in, she closed her eyes before she exhaled. The uncomfortable thumps of her heart were relentless. Limits were needed. And they needed to be established quickly.

Three vibration alerts occurred before they stopped. She opened her eyes and rested her hands on her stomach, twiddling her thumbs. Her heart didn’t calm, which annoyed her further. She was breaking—and at a more rapid rate than she believed possible. She chalked it up to loneliness, but she knew there was more. She wanted to be loved, enough to make her escape into some alternate reality of the current—and sad—life that she lived.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Peyton quickly sat up. Three. She looked at the window to see a silhouette and held her breath for what came next.

Tap. Tap.

Pause.

Tap.

That was it. She swallowed hard, purely to give herself a second. Then she reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. Not taking her eyes off the curtains, she removed the blanket and got out of bed. Slowly—to buy more time—she walked to the window. Once she reached it, she heard and felt her heart pick up. Excited and anxious. Her stomach clenched as a million different emotions filled her, making her head spin. She drew back the sheer curtains to see Callum’s hands on the glass. With the light from the moon and the lamp, she was able to see his eyes. His lips curved up before his eyes looked up at the lock and then back at her.

If she let him in, that wall was gone. Any stance was over and any hate she held would slowly fizzle out until he left in due course.

Callum moved closer, his eyes never leaving her as he breathed against the window, creating condensation on it. Then he placed a finger on the glass and began to slide it, creating a message for her. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight. When he removed his finger, Peyton stared at it. It was a symbol.

?

She stared at the question mark as it slowly faded away. Without even giving it another thought, Peyton reached up and unlatched the window. Callum was the one who lifted it open until it locked into place. Then he put his hand on the windowsill and smiled.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, hating the nervousness in her voice.

“Making sure that you’re okay. You didn’t answer my messages,” he replied smoothly—unlike herself.

Peyton shrugged, not knowing what to say.

He tilted his head at her before asking, “Are you okay?”

She shrugged again.

“Can’t sleep?”

Peyton shook her head and said, “No,” at the same time.

“Me, either.” He paused. “Can I come in?”

She leant forward, staring him down. “You know, some people use the front door.”

He let out a low laugh. “When have I ever used the front door?”

Peyton’s shoulders loosened, not having realised just how tense she really was. “You have a point. Come in.” She took a step back, giving him room to get inside. He made it look easy, as he had when he was seventeen, too.

When he stood in her bedroom, Callum turned around and closed the window. The second his eyes met hers, he took her hand and her heart quickened its pace. Her breathing wasn’t quite cooperating, but it was manageable. Just.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a little breathless.

Damn.

“You can’t sleep,” he said before he pulled her close enough to wrap his arms around her waist. “And honestly, I can’t either.”

Peyton looked up at him, intrigued at the way he gazed at her. “I’m not going to get any sleep if you stay here.”

“Right here?” he asked.

Peyton nodded.

Callum’s hands made their way up her arms and then back down until he threaded his fingers with hers. She told herself all the reasons why she should take a step back and put distance between them, but before she could really debate, Callum led her towards the bed, the back of her legs hitting the mattress. Her breathing became shallow and an inconvenience as she looked to his eyes for answers to the question she hadn’t asked.

He guided her down until she sat on top of the blanket. Then he crouched down and held her hands more firmly.

“Peyton, do you remember when I said that I couldn’t give you forever?” he asked. The sadness in his voice broke her heart. An impossible thing was happening.

She gave him a sad smile. “I remember. I was there.”

“I stand by that. And the reason why I can’t sleep is because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Oh, God.

He squeezed her hand. “I shouldn’t, but I can’t. And frankly, it’s not something that’s just happened since I came back. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the last four and a half years, Peyton.”

Words that should have made her heart rejoice actually pierced her deeper than before. The fragments broke away, hoping to be found someday. It wasn’t satisfying at all for her.

“What I’m saying is that I stand by what I said about saying goodbye to you after Oliver’s wedding. I can’t give you marriage or any of that. That’s not my intention, and well, I’m not capable of it. I know that I sound harsh, but I don’t want to mislead you. The only thing I can offer you is now, for as long as I can,” he said.

And there it was—a now, not a forever. It was what she had asked of him and it pained her that it was all she’d really get.

“What does ‘now’ consist of?” she asked in a little voice.

Callum let go of her hands and stood up, wrapping his arms around her head and pressing her ear to his chest. She listened to his heartbeat. The uneven and erratic beats filled her with sadness and even more confusion.

“Enough to let me hold you like this,” he stated.

And then those broken walls turned into ashes. She was officially a goner. A tear ran down her cheek, which was followed by another one. No forevers. It was agreed upon the moment Peyton wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tighter, afraid of their impending goodbye.

“I should hate you,” she whispered as she closed her eyes tight, memorising the sequence of his heartbeat.

“You should and you will.”

“I’m tired of hating you. What good would it do when it won’t bring my parents back? I can’t tell them how right they were when it came to you. I don’t even think I hate you anymore, Callum. I’m just angry that I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”