by Amy Andrews
Callum arrived home to a darkened house at nearly nine o’clock. He carried a bag of Chinese take-aways. He wasn’t sure if Hailey had eaten already or even if she was allergic to MSG, but the least he could do was feed her for helping him out of a tight spot.
‘I’m home,’ he called as he shut the door. There wasn’t an answer and Hailey wasn’t in the lounge room. He frowned, feeling a needle of unease prick at him. He dumped the bags of food in the kitchen and wandered towards his son’s room, urging himself to stay calm.
He pulled up short when he discovered a sleeping Hailey curled up in Tom’s bed, her arm around his son’s waist. He felt his heart flop in his chest and his breath stutter to a halt. They looked like they belonged together. A stranger could be forgiven for pegging them as mother and son.
His chest hurt and he realised he hadn’t taken a breath. He ordered himself to do so and allowed fresh air to fill his lungs. It felt weird to be looking down at something that should be a natural sight. Tom, curled up with his mother. But apart from those precious first few months of Tom’s life, Callum had no memories like this. And Hailey wasn’t his mother.
Callum turned on his heel, hightailing it out of Tom’s room, his mind spinning. He unpacked the take-aways, trying to wrap his head around the twists of his life. He’d been so certain the move from Melbourne had been exactly what they’d both needed. A change of pace. Putting the past and all its tragedies behind and forging a new future in a new town together. The job at the Brisbane General had been perfect. And Annie had always wanted to move to sunnier climes.
He’d known too that her parents had always hankered to retire in Queensland. But he’d also known they’d never move so far away from Tom. So far away from their one tangible connection to their daughter. So the decision, in the end, had been an easy one.
But he hadn’t expected this. A girl called Hailey coming into his life, kissing him on a balcony and cuddling Tom, getting under his skin, making him want things he hadn’t thought about in for ever. Tonight she looked as if she belonged here in his apartment.
He missed being part of a couple. He hadn’t realised it until now. All those intimacies of living together. The gentle touches, the secret smiles, the knowing looks, the innate synchronicity that happened when one person knew the other so completely. He hadn’t hadn’t had time to think about it since Annie had died. He certainly hadn’t had time to want it. But looking at Hailey asleep with Tom, it was all he could think about.
Maybe this had been Annie’s grand plan for him? He used to talk to her. A lot. In the beginning. But then Tom had fallen ill and existing had been all he could manage. Annie and his grief had faded even further as everything to do with Tom had taken over.
He gave himself a mental shake and left the kitchen, sitting himself down in the chair where Hailey and Tom had been earlier. He sat forward, his elbows bent on his knees, his face cradled in his palms. This was insane. He barely knew her. And he certainly didn’t know how to date and do the daddy thing.
All presuming that she’d want to. Which, given her reticence to babysit, didn’t seem likely. Hailey had significant baggage, he’d heard as much tonight. And Tom and he had enough of their own. Above all else he had to think of Tom first. And as much as Tom adored Hailey, it didn’t mean it was reciprocated.
His gaze fell on the book that Hailey had brought with her to read. It was a memoir and he flipped through it absently while his thoughts chased each other into a giant jumble. A slip of paper fell out from between two of the pages and he picked it up off the floor.
He frowned. It wasn’t paper. It was a photograph. Hailey was cuddling a little boy who was laughing up at her. The boy looked about Tom’s age and the spitting image of the man who was also laughing, his arm draped possessively around her shoulder.
Callum’s heartbeat pounded through his veins, his curiosity piqued. He knew this was none of his business but the image was captivating. Who were those people in the photo with Hailey? Was the man a lover? Her husband? Had she been married? Was the little boy hers? What had happened to him? Was she grieving too? Was this what she’d alluded to with Tom earlier? What had Hailey been through?
So many questions. So many reasons to run a mile. And yet he still felt drawn to her. Why? He replaced the photo in the book and wandered back into Tom’s room, looking for answers. He stood at the end of the bed, observing a sleeping Hailey.
Man! She was seriously gorgeous. In sleep all her defences had been stripped away. The frown he saw on her face a little too frequently was gone, her delectable mouth, too often pulled tight, was slack and inviting. He had a feeling he was seeing the real Hailey.
But who was the real Hailey? The efficient nurse? The younger sister? The reluctant babysitter? The laughing woman in the photo with the mystery man and child? And what the hell did it matter? He didn’t need a woman in his life. He’d already had one, found happiness with one. It was greedy to expect more, surely?
He glanced at his sleeping son, grateful to still have him. Losing his wife had been heart-breaking. To have lost Tom too…that would have been soul-destroying. He usually daren’t wish for anything more. Except right now, with Hailey asleep in Tom’s bed, he wished he had a crystal ball or a magic wand. He wished he could go back and make everything right. For both of them.
Hailey murmured as if his wish had disturbed her as it had passed by. He mentally tossed up whether to wake her or not. His heart told him to let her sleep. But his gut doubted whether she’d appreciate the gesture. Yes, she got on with Tom. If he had to bet the apartment on it, he’d even say she liked him. But he’d be blind and stupid to not realise she was there only through sibling pressure.
He wondered for a moment, though, what it would be like to be allowed the liberty of kissing her awake. To feel her mouth curve into a smile beneath his, her arms creep up around his neck.
He shut his eyes against the vision and gripped the end of the bed. ‘Hailey?’ he called.
She didn’t stir so he moved closer, crouching beside the bed and giving her shoulder a shake. Hailey stirred again, muttering to herself, turning in the bed so she now faced him, his eyes level with her cleavage. He shut them and prayed for restraint. When he opened them he noticed how the T-shirt pulled across her chest, causing the three little buttons to gape and show a glimpse of purple satin. ‘Hailey,’ he said again.
It took a few seconds for Callum’s voice to penetrate the fog of sleep clinging to her. But then she was instantly awake. She sat up as if she’d been hit by an electric cattle prod.
‘Whoa!’ Callum chuckled, startled by her sudden motion and her wide-eyed demeanour. ‘Shh. Don’t wake Tom. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
Hailey felt disorientation fuddle her senses for a moment before clarity hit her. She’d fallen asleep in Tom’s bed? What must Callum think? It was too…too intimate. ‘Oh, God. I’m so sorry,’ she gasped, trying to ignore her gut reaction to Callum in the darkened room.
‘It’s OK.’ He smiled and moved so she could get off the bed. ‘I do it all the time. You must have been tired.’
‘Mmm.’ She yawned her head still foggy. She stood in the doorway and watched while Callum pulled the sheets up over Tom and stroked his cheek. It was such a simple gesture but the love behind it clawed at her heart.
He came and stood in the doorway with her and they both watched Tom sleep for a few more moments.
‘Oh, man, what smells so good?’ Hailey asked, turning to look up at Callum. He smiled at her and in the half-light his mouth looked plain wicked.
‘Chinese. I bought enough for two. I thought you might not have eaten yet. Come on, I’ll serve up.’
Hailey blinked at his retreating back. Well, she hadn’t eaten and she was starving, but she must have been more disorientated than she’d thought to be even considering sharing a meal with a man whose lips looked like pure sin in the subdued lighting.
She heard the clinking dishes and the spicy aroma of C
hinese food wafted towards her.
‘Hailey?’
Her stomach growled. She shut her eyes and went to join him in the kitchen.
CHAPTER FIVE
CALLUM PUSHED a plate at her. ‘Here you go. What do you want to drink?’
‘Oh,’ she said, taking the proffered plate, knowing it would be churlish to refuse when he’d already dished up. ‘Water’s fine, thank you.’
He poured her a tall glass and cracked the lid on a long-necked beer for himself. ‘Let’s eat in the lounge. Ladies first.’ He gestured.
They made small talk while they ate. She sat in the middle of the three-seater sofa and he sat in the chair where she had read to Tom.
‘So how was the lecture?’ she asked when a gap in the conversation had gone beyond companionable and watching him eat was sensual torture.
Callum swallowed and hesitated for a moment, trying to sound professional. ‘Clinically? Fascinating.’
Hailey looked at him sharply. By the tone of his voice it seemed there was a lot missing in that statement.
‘Sounds like there’s a “but” there,’ she prodded, putting her almost clean plate on the coffee-table that separated them.
Callum sighed, putting his plate down too. ‘No. Not really. As a doctor, Remi’s lecture was full of information about the latest studies and advances in chemo and promising new treatments. The use of stem cells has so much potential. Remi called them the new frontier.’
Hailey could still hear the distinct lack of enthusiasm in his voice. ‘But?’
‘From a personal viewpoint, it was as depressing as hell.’
‘Oh.’ Hailey hadn’t thought of that. As a father who had watched his child endure the rigours of chemotherapy, it must have been a hard subject to warm to.
‘I mean, I wanted to go, to be informed. More for Tom than for any professional reasons. But it just reminded me, despite all the advances and the successes, what a horrible illness leukaemia is. And what his chances are if he relapses. It bought back…memories.’
Hailey swallowed. Callum was staring into the distance, his grey gaze stormy. ‘It was bad?’
Callum turned and looked at her directly. ‘It felt like my heart was being ripped out.’ Again.
‘I’m sorry.’
Callum went back to staring at the far wall. ‘He developed a lot of complications, picked up every infection going and ended up in ICU for a while.’
He stopped and looked up at her. ‘He looked so small and still. He didn’t even look like Tom. His hair fell out and he lost weight and he just looked like this haggard bag of bones.’
Hailey, her fingers trailing restlessly along the frosty sides of her glass, stayed silent even though she didn’t want to. She wanted to stop him. To tell him she didn’t want to know any of this stuff. She had enough fodder for her nightmares without adding mental pictures of a bald, skeletal Tom.
Callum noted her shuttered gaze and gave a sharp half-laugh, his lips twisting as he rolled his cold bottle of beer against his forehead. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this.’
Hailey shrugged, resigned to her fate. Compelled to listen almost as strongly as she was repulsed. ‘No. It’s OK. It sounds like you need to talk. I think sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.’
What would she give to be able to unburden some of her deepest, darkest thoughts when the weight of them got too much to bear?
‘But you’re not a stranger, are you?’
His midnight kiss whispered its treachery into her ear. ‘As good as.’
Callum didn’t think for a moment that she believed that. He was pretty certain she was as aware of the tension between them as him. But she had a valid point. Why was he unburdening himself to her? He hadn’t spoken to anyone about the emotional roller-coaster of the last couple of years.
People had been so concerned that he was going to fall apart after the death of Annie that he’d been working double time to prove to everyone that he was OK. Even when the leukaemia whammy had been served up to him he’d soldiered on, pretending he was fine. Being strong for Tom. For Annie’s parents.
They’d been devastated. They were elderly and he knew that life had thrown them one too many curve balls when Tom had become ill. He’d made sure he’d kept himself together for them especially. Between them and Tom and well-meaning friends, he hadn’t had any time to dwell on the unfairness of the hand life had dealt him.
Maybe it was because Hailey wasn’t going to fall all over him and shower him with pity. Maybe her reluctance to get involved with him and Tom made her a perfect sounding board. Maybe she was right, and the stranger factor removed any need to mentally edit his words. Or maybe he was just over burying it inside and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
‘I used to watch him during the night. Watching his little chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. He’s such a shallow breather. I was terrified he’d just stop.’
‘You couldn’t have got much sleep.’
Callum laughed and took a pull of his beer. ‘No. I don’t think I’ve slept a full night in six years.’
‘You didn’t sleep well after…after your wife…I’m sorry, I don’t know her name.’
‘Annie.’
‘After Annie died?’
Callum looked at her. ‘You know, you’re about the only person who’s spoken her name to me in years. They usually just fade off or say er and um a lot while they look at their feet.’
Hailey gave a ghost of a smile. ‘I suppose people don’t want to upset you.’
‘I suppose.’
They were silent for a few moments. ‘What was she like? Your Annie?’
He looked down at his hands. He hadn’t spoken about her in such a long time to anyone. ‘Incredible. Vital. Funny. Strong. She fought. She fought hard. Even right at the end she was positive. Cracking jokes and telling everyone it was going to be OK. Trying to make it easier for me and Tom.’
He was silent for a while and Hailey felt humbled by the ghost of Annie. She hadn’t fought. She’d run away. She hadn’t been strong. She’d been weak. Maybe she should have fought harder? ‘How did you meet?’
‘At uni.’ He smiled, remembering. ‘She was a philosophy major. She thought all med students were egomaniacs.’
Hailey laughed. ‘She was wise, too.’
Callum smiled as memories tripped through his head. ‘She certainly put me through my paces.’
‘She sounds amazing.’
‘Yeah. She was. I just wish…’
Hailey didn’t need to hear his wish. He was still in love with his wife, that much was obvious. Just like Paul had still been in love with his.
‘By the time we discovered her cancer it was already in her bones and liver. In fact, jaundice was her first symptom. It was so futile. But she was determined to soldier on, to do things for herself, to not let me see how scared she was. Still, there were times when she didn’t know I was watching that she would hold Tom and look at him with this expression…knowing…knowing she was dying and she wouldn’t be around for him.’
Hailey watched him, his head downcast. She could only imagine how awful it must have been for Annie to know she was never going to see her son grow up. ‘It must have been a very invasive carcinoma,’ she said quietly.
‘It was.’
‘Her pregnancy hormones must have had an impact on its growth.’
‘Yep. Accelerated it tenfold. She was dead four months after diagnosis.’
‘Callum.’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Callum nodded. There wasn’t much else to say. Life sucked sometimes. He knew that better than most.
‘So,’ Hailey said, rousing them both from their thoughts. ‘You haven’t slept much since Annie died?’
Callum rubbed his hands over his scalp and laughed at her abrupt change of conversation. ‘Tom had reflux. And colic. And was a night owl. I walked a lot of floorboards and bought a lot of useless, unnecessary late-night infomerci
al rubbish.’
Hailey laughed. Maybe she shouldn’t. He was talking about Annie and Tom’s illness and being a single father, but just imagining him pacing late at night, Tom in one arm, his credit card in the other, was exceedingly comic.
Callum laughed too. It felt good to laugh in the midst of the memories that even if they’d been happy were now for ever tinged with grief. ‘Good sympathetic ear you are,’ he mocked.
Hailey tried to model her face into instant contrition and failed. ‘I’m sorry.’
Callum chuckled. ‘It’s OK. Really. People have tiptoed around me for six years. It’s nice to be with someone who doesn’t say the right thing.’
‘Thank you.’ She frowned. ‘I think.’
He laughed again. ‘So what about you, Hailey Winters? What’s your story? Do you have anything you wish to unburden?’ He glanced at the book sitting on the coffee-table, the photo inside.
Hailey sobered. Did he have all night? But her history paled in comparison to his. A dead wife and a son with a potentially fatal disease beat a broken heart and the death of a non-related child.
‘Come on, Hailey. I heard you telling Tom tonight you were nearly a mother and then I was flipping through this book earlier.’ He picked it up. ‘And this photo fell out.’ He located it and passed it to her.
Hailey stared at the picture. She’d forgotten the photo was even there. She’d bought the book while she’d been living in England and had never managed to finish it. She’d brought it home with her when she had fled. She looked at Callum and felt strangely compelled to tell him. He had opened up to her. Maybe it would help to talk about it with someone who knew the meaning of grief.
Callum noted her hesitation, the emotion clouding her soft brown gaze. ‘Is that your husband? Your son?’
