Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tom
Tom’s muscles felt like jelly by the time he jogged the last few steps to his front door. He was out of practice. He rested his hands on his knees, breathing roughly. He couldn’t remember the last time a run had felt like this. But now that he was back to his usual routine, all he needed was a couple of weeks and he would be back to his former strength. Maybe he would even do a little extra training in the evenings. After everything he had been through lately, the thought of pushing himself through a few difficult runs sounded downright restful.
He stepped inside just in time to see Callum stumble out of the bedroom, eyes half-closed, hair hanging across his face. He blinked blearily up at Tom. “I was wondering where you were.”
Tom held up his running shoes in response.
Callum wrinkled his nose and waved the shoes away. “You haven’t gone running since I moved in. I thought maybe you had realized how silly it was to get up and make yourself sweat at the ungodly hour of…” He squinted up at the clock. “How long have you been up?”
“About two hours.”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
Tom set the shoes down in their place by the door. “For a while I thought I might be done with running. But I found myself missing it, so I decided to start again.” And despite how out of shape it had made him feel, it had also reminded him of how much he enjoyed it. Just like he enjoyed the perspective he got from daily meditation, and the healthy food Callum still scoffed at, and the clarity of mind that came with not drinking. And he could appreciate those things all the more now that he was enjoying them for their own sake and not using them as a way of keeping his thoughts and emotions locked down. The one part of his old routine he had given up was the minimalistic calm of his house, and that was more out of necessity than anything else—clutter had a way of growing when you lived with two other people, especially when one was used to living on his own and the other was twelve years old. But it bothered him less than he had thought it would; seeing a pile of Leila’s books on the couch ready to topple over, or Callum’s week-old dirty mug sitting on the coffee table, didn’t feel like a disruption of order so much as a reminder of Callum and Leila’s presence. And that was something that made him smile every time.
“That makes perfect sense,” said Callum. “There’s nothing like a peaceful morning of sleeping late and snuggling under the covers to make you miss dragging yourself out of bed when it’s still dark out.”
“Come out with me tomorrow morning,” Tom offered. “I’ll show you.”
“Just like you’ll convince me those weird alien grains you like are actually food?” Callum grimaced. “Maybe I’ll try it when I’m an old man like you.”
Tom playfully swatted at him; he darted away just in time. “I’ll convince you one of these days,” Tom vowed.
“Until then, I’ll stick with coffee to wake myself up. Much less pain involved.” He shuffled to the kitchen.
Tom checked the clock. He should wake Leila. They had a big day ahead of them, and a difficult one. The more time they had to get ready, the better.
When he eased open the door to the spare room—no, it was Leila’s room now, so he should probably start thinking of it that way—she was already sitting up, propped up by a pillow. She had a book open in front of her, but as Tom watched, she didn’t turn the page. Either she was reading a lot more slowly than usual, or she wasn’t actually reading at all.
Tom stepped into the room as quietly as he could. “Leila?” he said softly.
Apparently not softly enough—Leila jumped, tightening her grip on the book.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He kept trying his hardest not to scare her, even in the smallest ways. After what they had been through, he could see how on edge she was all the time, even though she tried to hide it. “You should probably start getting ready to go. We have to leave in a couple of hours.”
Leila set the book down on the table beside her, biting her lip. She looked up at him like there was something she wanted to say, but it took her a moment to get the words out. “Would it be okay if I stayed home?”
Tom sat down on the bed next to her. “If that’s what you need to do, I’m sure your mom would understand. But I think you’ll regret it if you don’t come along.”
“I don’t want to see her. Not yet.”
Leila hadn’t seen Carrie since the disastrous night she had gone back home. Tom had hoped she might be ready by now, but maybe she wasn’t there yet. “It’s understandable if you blame her for what happened, you know. And she does bear a lot of responsibility for it. But you should know that she didn’t just hand you over to them. She tried to keep them from taking you.” At least that was what Carrie had told him, and while she had done more than her share of lying to him, he knew her well enough to see that when she had finally told him the real story that night, she had been telling him the truth.
Leila nodded. “I remember her screaming, before they knocked me out. I remember her trying to fight them. I thought they were going to kill her.” She curled in on herself, shivering.
Tom wanted to hug her, but he had learned that she usually needed her space when she was remembering difficult things. He settled for placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“You should have said something,” said Tom, making sure to keep his voice gentle enough that it wouldn’t sound like a criticism. “I would have made sure you didn’t go back there.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I wanted to go home.” Leila paused. “Will they find me again if I’m with her? Is that why I can’t go back?”
Tom shook his head. “They’re gone for good. They won’t find you again no matter what we do. You know that.” But she still had trouble believing it, and for good reason. He had told her she was safe before, after all, and look what had happened. Only time would prove it to her; luckily, they had all the time in the world.
“If I see her, it will just make me miss her more,” Leila confessed. “But I also never want to go near her or talk to her again. Is that weird?”
“Not at all,” Tom assured her. “It’s completely normal.”
Leila looked down at her lap. “I don’t want her not to be my mother anymore.”
“That’s not what’s going to happen. All we’re going to do is sign some papers saying I’m the one responsible for taking care of you right now. And then we’re going to take your mom someplace where she can figure out how to take care of herself better—”
“I know what rehab is,” Leila interrupted, rolling her eyes.
“Right,” said Tom. Sometimes he forgot that she was old enough to understand these things. He would start figuring out out quickly, he was sure. Leila would make sure of it. “And after she comes back, we’ll all talk together and figure out what our next steps should be. We’re not cutting her out of your family—we’re just making me a part of it. Is that something you can accept?”
As soon as he said those last words, he regretted it. What would he do if she said no?
But she nodded. She didn’t say anything, but she reached up to where his hand still rested on her shoulder, and squeezed it.
There was something else Tom had been meaning to talk to her about, and he doubted he was going to get a better opportunity than this. “That means Callum is going to be a part of your life too.” The words felt clumsy and awkward in his mouth, like they so often did when he was talking to Leila. “Because he’s going to be a big part of my life from now on. I won’t ask you to see him as a parent, but he’s going to be around, and I want to make sure you’re okay with—”
Another eyeroll. “I know that.”
Tom let his breath out. “Okay. Good. I just… I know this is already a lot of change for you, and—”
“Just don’t be an idiot and let him get away, okay? He’s a good guy.” Leila paused. Another slight shiver ran through her. “He saved me,” she said quietly.
Tom tightened his hand on her shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I think he saved me too.”
Leila shifted away from Tom’s grip. She straightened, visibly trying to smooth her face into a lighter expression and erase the vulnerability he had seen there. “So you’re going to marry him, right?”
“Um.” Tom swallowed. “It’s still a little early for that. And it will depend on what Callum wants.” Early or not, though, he already knew what he himself wanted. He became more certain of it with each passing day. “But… yes. When the time comes, if Callum feels the same, then yes, I’m going to marry him.” He had to stop a silly grin from spreading across his face at the words.
“If?” Callum stepped into the room—how long had he been listening? He placed a hand to his heart, mock-wounded. “Do you have so little faith in me? I guess I’m going to have to work harder to show you how I feel.” Circling around to the other side of the room, he wrapped his arms around Tom from behind and planted a light kiss on his temple.
“Gross!” Leila squealed, not sounding at all unhappy about it.
Callum released Tom. “Come on,” he urged, a hint of sleepiness lingering in his voice. “Let’s get ready. Today is a big day.”