When they came to a stop, it was outside of a gas station at the edge of campus. He raised a brow, glancing at Rett from the corner of his eye. She let out a soft huff of laughter and gestured toward the door.
“They got the best pizza I ever had.”
Calum figured he’d be the judge of that. But he stepped into the cool air of the gas station and let Rett lead the way to the back. The heated case held slices of pizza and hot dogs on a roller. The clerk ambled over and chuckled. Rett’s cheeks turned a pretty pink.
“No judgin’, Devon.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Pepperoni?”
“Yes, please. What do you want, Cal?”
“Pepperoni’s fine,” he said, but his mind was elsewhere.
Why had Rett reacted like that to Devon’s presence? What was it about him that caused her to blush so fiercely? She hadn’t done that for Calum in months, not since his birthday. What did it mean?
But then her hand was in his, and he accepted his pizza from Devon before turning away. He hoped the clerk saw that Rett was Calum’s, his and no one else’s—she’d promised she wouldn’t kiss anyone but him. Ever. She would forever be the love of Calum’s life, and he’d be damned if anyone got in the way of that.
She was right, Calum found moments later as he took a tentative bite from the slice. It was good, definitely better than anything he’d found in Oak Creek. Rett beamed when he tore another hunk off with his teeth. She didn’t gloat, not like she would have done before; instead, she only began eating her own pizza.
Meeting Manny was anticlimactic, though Calum could see why she and Rett got along so well. Why Rett considered her roommate as close as a sister. The two seemed to have their own language, and Calum sat on Rett’s bed and listened as they complained about classes and fabrics and sewing techniques. Then Manny grabbed up a small bundle of clothes and a mesh bag full of bottles, warned Rett to not defile the room, and left, presumably to take a shower. Rett’s cheeks were aflame.
Calum frowned.
The bed was hardly big enough for the two of them, but he welcomed the closeness. It felt a lot like back in Oak Creek, whenever she would climb into his bed and sleep pressed against him. Calum held her tight and breathed in time with her breaths until he fell asleep holding the girl he would love until the day he died.
Unfortunately, real life had a way of winning. Calum stood at the bus stop with his wife early Sunday morning, holding hands and wishing he could stay longer. They’d spent all of Saturdayat the zoo and the drive-in theater, walking around downtown, and generally enjoying each other’s company. Manny and her girlfriend Allison had tagged along, which gave Calum time to better know Rett’s roommate and friend. She was nearly Rett with a northern accent—kind, funny, sarcastic, welcoming. Despite the warning the night before, Manny didn’t seem to mind that Calum had shown up for a surprise visit.
But the visit was over, no matter how Calum wished it weren’t so. He sighed when the bus came into view, squeezed Rett’s hand, and gave her a soft kiss. She smiled, though her gray eyes glimmered with tears, and pulled him in for a hug that hurt his ribs. He huffed out a laugh and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. His lips found her hair, and he breathed in the scent of her shampoo for the last time. They parted as the bus rolled to a stop, and he scooped up his bag.
“Don’t go kissing anybody but me,” he said, wanting to hear her laugh just one more time.
She giggled and ran her fingers under her eyes. “Never. No one else.”
He climbed aboard the bus and found a seat. Rett waved and kept waving until he could no longer see her, and he swallowed thickly. He hated leaving her. Making a mental note to ask Georgie for more time off, Calum settled in for the ride to the bus depot.
Time marched on. Calum worked hard on the trailer, worked hard at Mitchell’s, and worked hard at Georgie’s. He spent one weekend a month in Columbus with Rett, seeing more of the city that had become her temporary home. He brought home souvenirs for his family and a hoodie that smelled like Rett. Sundays were still spent on the phone, and more than once, the mailbox had a letter full of photographs that Rett had taken with a disposable camera.
The more days that passed, the harder it became to pretend things weren’t changing. The calls grew sporadic. The letters stopped coming, and his visits came to a close. Rett blamed her studies, and Calum blamed work. There was just too much on their plates to juggle.
It was no surprise, not really, when he answered the phone on a cold January afternoon to hear, “I don’t think this is working.”
“Rett—”
“We were foolish to think we could survive the distance,” she said quietly. “We tried, Cal, but… I think it’s the end.”
“We can—we can make it,” he pleaded.
It was only a little while longer, then she would be home. She would be where she belonged for a glorious two and a half months, so they could do all that they hadn’t been able to do with her in Columbus. He could prove that their love was as strong as it ever was, even if a bit strained.
“Rett,please.”
“I’m sorry, Calum. I’m so sorry.”
She ended the call, but not before he heard the crack in her voice. The shaking of her breaths. He stared at the receiver in his hand for a long minute. How could it be happening? How could she be ending what they had? They were so good. They wereright. She couldn’t see that. For some reason, she was blind to the truth, and she was making a huge mistake.
“Calum?”
He lifted his gaze to meet Georgie’s. His aunt frowned, stepping closer, and her hand was gentle as she pulled the phone from his grip. The clack of the receiver settling into place on its hook spurred him from his stupor. He stumbled backward, one step, two, then turned on his heel. Georgie called after him as he sprinted out of the house. He didn’t stop. Hecouldn’tstop.
