He slid off the bed and stood in the middle of the room, staring around at the walls. His lips quirked at the photograph of her riding a pony as a child. Finally, he met her gaze. “Sorry, I just…”
“Oh, sit down,” she said, rolling her eyes. He did. She raised a brow at that, having expected more of a fight. He didn’t smell like he normally did, all spiced earth. “What’s goin’ on?”
He let out a quiet giggle—a genuine, if quiet, giggle—and waved a hand in the air. “You sound funny, you know that?”
“No more’n you do, Wilson.”
“I like how you say my name. You see me.”
“You’re pretty solid, so I’d say yeah, I see you.”
He shook his head vehemently, rocking with the motion. “No, no. I mean, youseeme. I’m not just a trouble-making outsider to you.”
Rett sighed, not rolling her eyes but just barely, and nudged him with her socked toes. His eyes moved slowly until his gaze landed on her face. “Cal, why are you comin’ to my house in the middle of the night?”
“I miss my home,” he whispered.
All of Rett’s protests vanished from her throat. How could she continue to pester him about coming over so late when he was being so honest? For once, she felt like she really was seeing him like he said she did. Seeing him for who he was, instead of the front he put on. She had an inkling that weakness was a huge no-no for him. The confession given in an undertone was only proof of that.
She didn’t speak, and he took the silence as permission to continue. He told her of his home, the place he ached to be, and his siblings. He spoke slowly, haltingly, as he said his father left when he was only eleven. Rett hated the wistfulness—the subtle anger—in his voice as he explained how he often had to take care of his sisters and brother because his mother worked too long of hours so she could keep a roof over their heads.
“I thought I hated it,” he admitted, voice pitched low and eyes trained on the ceiling. “But now, I want that more than anything.”
“You’re homesick.”
“I guess.”
“Calum?” She waited until he turned his head. “Why were you even sent here in the first place? Sounds like your mama could really use your help.”
“’Cause I was an idiot. You were right, Rett. I wanted to be seen, for someone to know me as me. Thought I had it with myfriends. I, uh, I nearly burned my school down. My mom tried, y’know? Wasn’t much she could do.”
His lashes fluttered against sharp cheekbones when Rett reached for his hand. She squeezed gently, heart racing and a buzzing flitting along her skin. It was just a touch, the smallest point of contact. He didn’t stop her from leaning forward to wrap him in a tight embrace. He melted into it, and she recognized the stench clinging to him. It wasn’t just cigarette smoke.
“Well, as long as you’re in Oak Creek, you got me, okay?”
“Why?”
“’Cause no one should be alone like that.”
“So what are you reading?” he asked after clearing his throat. He shifted away but held her hand once more.
Rett let him cling to the comfort she silently offered. She allowed him to change the subject. He listened while she described the novel, a mystery-thriller she wasn’t too fond of but couldn’t leave unfinished. Calum’s gaze lingered on her lips as she spoke, and he smiled when she told stories of the townspeople, the people she grew up with and would know for the rest of her life.
Miss Reynolds’s father accidentally caught Mister Jameson’s pants with a fishing hook and hadn’t realized it until it was too late: Barry Jameson stood in the middle of the river with his underwear showing for the world to see. Miss Hannah Young came to town only four years ago, but everyone knew she’d only moved from New York to get away from her ex-husband.
“Messy divorce,” Miss Maudie had said, nodding knowingly. “He kept the house.”
It wasn’t bad in Oak Creek, Rett assured Calum, just different. One day, he would look back on his year spent in the town and realize it wasn’t as awful as he’d feared. And who knew, maybeit would turn out to be one of the best times he’d ever had somewhere that wasn’t Las Vegas.
Calum fell out of the window an hour later, but he didn’t walk away for a long minute. Instead, he helped push the screen into place then stared at the billions of stars in the sky. Pointing to one, he asked Rett if she knew what it was. She did, after a moment: Segin, in the Cassiopeia constellation. She’d studied the stars for too long to not know. His lips quirked up in the corner, and he looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
“It almost feels like I could be home,” he whispered before turning on his heel.
Rett watched him disappear into the night, saying a silent prayer he didn’t fall off the footbridge or get lost.He’ll be all right. As long as he stayed on the streets, he would be fine.
She fell asleep to the conversation—his voice—echoing in her ears.
six
