Chapter Twenty-Three
Tom
When Tom woke from his restless sleep, the sky was still dark, with not even a hint of light on the horizon. He could barely make out the dim outlines of the trees outside. But he could already tell that even if he turned back over and closed his eyes, he wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep.
They had decided to get one last night of good rest in before they ran—they didn’t know when their next opportunity would be. Running, they had decided, was their only choice. They would get out of Callum’s father’s reach, and worry about everything else later. It wasn’t a good option, but it was what they had. So they had packed up all their things last night, Leila quiet and distant again despite Tom’s attempts to get through to her, and then they had gone to bed early. Tom and Callum hadn’t even done anything in bed except sleep, because they knew they needed the rest.
But apparently this was all the rest Tom’s body was going to let him get.
He turned to face Callum, trying to see if the other man was still asleep without waking him—and found an empty bed. The mattress next to Tom was still warm, but Callum was gone. He had to have gotten up only minutes ago, if that. That must have been what had woken Tom, and not his worries about what the rest of the day would bring.
Callum had probably just gotten up to use the bathroom. But some instinct sent Tom out of bed and into the hallway. The bathroom door was open—Callum wasn’t in there. Tom paused to listen. The house was silent… except for a slight squeak of the floorboards in the direction of the living room.
Tom followed the noise—just in time to see Callum open the door, a bag thrown over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Tom pitched his voice low enough not to wake Leila.
Callum jerked. He spun around, wearing a guilty expression. “I left you a note. It’s by the bed.”
In his haste to find Callum, Tom hadn’t spared a minute to look around the room. It was just as well—if he had, Callum might have been gone before Tom had a chance to stop him. And Tom had a terrible suspicion about where Callum was going. “I don’t want to read a note. I want to hear it from you.”
“You already know, don’t you?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Fine.” Callum squared his shoulders. “I’m going back.”
“No,” said Tom, striding across the room to him, pushing the door closed. “You’re not.”
Callum didn’t budge from his place in front of the door. “It could work. You know it could. And it’s the best chance we have. If we run, we won’t have any options except to keep on running. You’ll be kidnapping your child, Leila might not get to see her mother again for years, and I know you’re worried about how it would hurt Carrie not to know what had happened to the two of you.”
Tom had never told Callum he was worried about Carrie. This evidence of how well Callum knew him only made him angrier at what Callum had almost done—what Tom had almost lost. When he spoke again, his voice didn’t sound like his own. “Look me in the eye and tell me you know your father won’t kill you if you go back.”
Callum didn’t speak. He looked down at the ground.
Tom pushed himself between Callum and the door. If Callum wanted to leave, if he wanted to throw his life away so easily, he would have to get through Tom first. “What were you thinking?” he demanded.
Callum turned to face him, a hint of anger showing on his normally-gentle face. “I was thinking that I have the best chance of fixing this. Yes, it puts me in danger, but that doesn’t make it a bad plan. I told you, I don’t need to be protected all the time.”
“It’s not about protecting you,” said Tom, although maybe it was. And was that so wrong? Shouldn’t he get a say in whether someone put their own life at risk for him while he lay safe and oblivious in bed? “After all we’ve been through, after everything that’s happened between us, you would have left while I was sleeping, and let me find out about it when it was too late for me to stop you. We’ve been in this together from the beginning, and you didn’t give me anything more than a note.”
“If I had talked to you about it before I left, would you have let me go?” asked Callum quietly.
“Of course not. It’s a terrible plan.”
“Is it a bad plan, or do you just not like it because it puts me in danger?”
Tom couldn’t answer. He pressed himself tighter against the door, even though Callum hadn’t taken another step toward it.
Callum nodded, as if Tom’s silence was an answer in itself. “And that’s why I tried to leave without saying goodbye.”
“We’ll find another way.” They would have to, because he wasn’t letting Callum walk out that door without him. He wouldn’t let this happen again, wouldn’t stand by helplessly while someone he lo— while someone he cared about got hurt.
“My father’s people will be here today,” said Callum. “When we run, where will we go? What will we do about Carrie? We don’t have any solutions—but I do. This is my solution.”
In his mind, Tom could see the snake coiling around him, cutting off his breath at the thought of Callum lying dead at his father’s hands. “Does your life mean that little to you?”
Callum’s face was serious; his bright eyes had gone dark. “Your life means that much to me. Yours and Leila’s.” His voice grew a shade lighter. “Besides, I fooled him once. I can fool him again. He underestimates me—I can use that.”
“Even if he doesn’t kill you, he’ll probably send you away.”
“I can live with that.”
Tom crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I can’t.”
“Do you remember what we were talking about last night?” asked Callum. “Maybe the reason I can’t figure out what to do with my life is that I was always supposed to go back.”
“And die?” Tom shook his head. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. I’ll accept the consequences of running, whatever they are, as long as we’re both alive and free at the end of it.”
“Maybe you can accept the consequences for yourself. But what about Leila? Moving to a new place will be hard enough, but that’s something a kid can handle. Going on the run for years, after everything she’s already been through? That’s going to change her.”
Callum was playing dirty now, using his concern for his daughter against him. And the worst part was that everything Callum was saying was true.
“The longer you keep me here, the less time I have to get back to my father,” said Callum. “So you might as well let me go. Because unless you plan on tying me to a tree, you’re not going to stop me.”
No. He wouldn’t let Callum do this. He would stand in front of this door all day if he had to.
And then what? Would they keep up this standoff until the Syndicate arrived and made their argument moot?
The thought of tying Callum up like he had suggested, bundling him into the car, and not letting him loose until they were a safe distance away actually crossed Tom’s mind for a second. And that, in the end, was what made him stand aside.
Callum had gotten little enough opportunity in his life to make his own choices. Tom owed it to him to let him make this one.
But that didn’t mean he would let Callum die, or be sent beyond his reach. He would find a way to save him. Somehow, he would do it.
And for now, at least, there was one thing he knew he could do.
“Is there anything I can say or do to convince you to change your mind?” Tom asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
Callum shook his head.
“Then before you go, we’re going to do what you talked about yesterday.” Tom struggled to keep his voice level. “We’re going to give your father some proof that I’m dead.”