Page 64 of Long Time Gone

Over the next two weeks, Calum works overtime, goes to the bar, then goes home alone. It’s a lot like what happened when he was eighteen and served with papers. He hardly remembers now what those days involved. He only recalls the pain that he drank to numbness. At least this time, he’s not holding onto a hope of a snowball’s chance.

A box sits outside his door when he returns home late one evening, almost three weeks after that family dinner. He didn’t go to the bar tonight; he doesn’t feel the need to. There’s no overwhelming hurt today. He can smile, breathe,live. It’s a process, taking it day by day, but today… Today’s a good one.

After unlocking the door, Calum scoops up the lightweight box. He whistles a jaunty tune as he carries it to the dining table. He goes through the routine of hanging his keys up, taking off his boots, and rifling through the envelopes he retrieved from the mailbox on his way in. Nothing but junk and an internet bill. He tosses them onto the kitchen counter before returning to the box.

His heart races beneath his ribs at the name on the label. Calum rips the tape from the box and lifts the flaps with trembling hands. Inside are a familiar maroon hoodie and a piece of paper folded in half. His name is written on the front in large rounded letters and I’s dotted with circles. He traces the letters with a finger, his lips quirking. He never thought he’d see his name written like this again. Taped to the paper is the ring, blue gem sparkling in the lamplight.

You were right, the note says.Oak Creek IS my home, and you and I could’ve had something great. I’m sorry, Cal. I wish you well in life and love. You deserve it.

Calum reads and rereads the note over and over. What does it mean, Oak Creek is her home? Does this mean—?

2 Cherry Lane, Oak Creek, Tennessee.

He clutches the note and the hoodie in his hands, breathes in the scent clinging to the fabric. Coconut. She’s worn it recently. A sharpness smooths out in his chest, and he shoves the ring into his pocket. He hurries to pulls his boots on once more, tying the strings with jerky movements. He yanks his keys from the hook, locks the door behind him, and forgoes the elevator in favor of taking the stairs two at a time.

Calum makes the drive in just under twenty-seven hours. The engine shuts off with a rattle, and he leaves the keys in the ignition as he barrels out of the cab. The screen door quakes under his knuckles, but he doesn’t stop knocking. Lights come on behind the living room curtains. He knocks again. He needs—

“Calum? It’s nine-thirty at night.”

“Hey, Miss Eliza. Is—is she here?”

Eliza Cox blinks sleepily at him then shakes her head. “No, honey, she ain’t here.”

Calum nods then turns on his heel. Eliza doesn’t have to tell him where her daughter is. He knows—the woman would tell him if Rett left town again. Tugging the keys from his ignition, he grabs the flashlight from beneath the seat and shuts the door. He draws in a breath, waves at Eliza, and points himself toward the woods.

The beam of light barely breaks up the dark as Calum traipses through the woods. Roots trip him up, and he falls onto his knees three times on his trek. But finally,finally, he comes to a stop at the edge of the clearing. Moonlight glints off the windows, though no light comes from within.

He clenches his hands into fists then bursts forward. The hinges squeak slightly as he pulls the door open. He hears a lout curse, an even louder bark, from the bedroom as he steps inside, Rett tiptoes out of the hallway seconds later with a baseball batin hand; a dark-furred dog stands at her side. The room fills with a low growl. The bat clatters to the floor when she jerks to a stop.

“Cal…” She shakes her head. “Orpheus, stand down.”

Despite the dog being so near, Calum approaches her in four long strides, then his hands cradle her cheeks. She relaxes into his touch, presses closer, when he kisses her. Her hands come up to wrap around his wrists, as if to hold him in place, as if to beg him to never let her go.

“I’m so sorry, Calum,” she whispers when they part. “Ilied. I felt somethin’ that day.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

She takes a step back, then another, and Calum follows her like a shadow. He needs to memorize everything about her—learn all she is now and the differences in the two versions of her that he knows.

“Marry me,” Rett murmurs almost two hours later as she rests her head on his bare chest. “Wait, Cal, where you goin’?”

He doesn’t answer, just pads to where he left his jeans. His fingers find the cold metal band easily, and he clambers back into bed and holds the ring up in front of her.

“You take this ring again, Loretta Cox, and you’re promising to love me ’til death. For real, this time.”

“Until we’re six feet deep and even past that,” she vows.

The ring doesn’t fit quite so perfectly this time; it stops at her second knuckle. Neither of them mind, though. It can be resized. She only places the ring on the bedside table. Calum stretches out beside her, arms opening as she nestles in against him.

“What happened to him?” he asks quietly.

Rett rises onto one elbow to frown at him. Pale moonlight casts her face into sharp relief, and he finds himself lost in the silver of her eyes. “Who?”

“Your fiancé.”

“Oh. Him.” She sighs and traces his jaw with her index finger. “He knew I was still in love with you before I did. Said he was giving me what I want.”

Anything Calum means to say gets lost in the ether when she leans down to kiss him. He tastes mint, cherry, and every ounce of love they’ve ever shared. He knows they need to talk, they need to lay all the cards on the table, but that can wait.

For now, Calum gives himself permission to relish the feeling of her in his arms.

Oak Creek may be her home, but Loretta Cox-Wilson will always be his.