Page 26 of My Best Years
My eyes flick between hers as my chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths. She holds my gaze, patiently waiting for my response.
Grow some balls, Callum. You’re fifteen now. You’re in high school. Stop being a damn chicken.
Just say it.
“Because you’re my girl, Birdie,” I confess. “You have been since we were little kids. No matter where life takes us, you’llalways be my girl. My Birdie Wren. And I’ll always be here for you. I hope you know that.”
Her chin quivers, and I don’t think it’s from the cold this time.
“You promise?” she asks, her voice as light as a feather. “That you’ll always be here? No matter what?”
I nod before leaning down and pressing my forehead to hers.
“I promise, Birdie,” I whisper. Our lips feel too close for two best friends.
“Because I don’t know what I would do without you, Cal,” she adds, pain evident in her tone. “I would be lost without you. You’re like the other half of me.”
You’re like the other half of me.
How do I begin to tell her that she’sallof me?
“I promise,” I assure her before taking her face between my palms, the glitter from her cheeks spreading along my fingers. “I will always be here for you, Birdie.Always.”
She stands on her tiptoes, tightens her arms around my neck, and buries her face in the space between my head and shoulders.
I never want her to let go.
I really meant it, what I said earlier… I love Birdie Wren with all of my heart.
I will love her until the day I die.
ELEVEN
Callum
Present Day
“I fucking hate you, Callum Pierce! ”
Birdie’s words play on a loop in my mind as my running shoes thud against the hard sand. After she sped off in the parking lot, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew I needed to relieve some tension, or I would've gone out of my mind, fearing that she might never talk to me again.
I got home an hour ago, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, laced up my shoes, and headed outside with Ollie. I prefer running in the morning rather than at night, but I need this right now. Having the beach as my backyard is hands down my favorite thing about my oceanside bungalow.
Ollie pants heavily beside me, his ears sticking straight up and his tail wagging from side to side. I’ve been running daily for the past ten years, and I swear, Ollie could still outrun me. There’s nothing he loves more than going for a jog with me.
Right as I’m about to pivot and head back in the directionof my house, a sharp pain shoots down my right leg, stopping me in my tracks.
“Fuck!”I shout, reaching for my leg. I hop up and down on one foot before dropping my ass in the sand.
Ollie darts next to me, whimpering and licking my face in worry.
“I’m okay, Ollie,” I exhale while clutching my calf. “I’m okay.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on riding out the pain. When this happens, I feel helpless. My leg feels stiff, but my muscles are spasming with pain. This has been happening for months and not just when I work out. Along with sporadic hand tremors, my muscles randomly cramp up, feeling rigid and throbbing with a dull ache.
If this only occurred when I exercise, I would chalk it up to an injury. But it happens at work, when I’m driving, and even in the middle of the night, waking me from a deep sleep. Recently, the episodes have become more frequent, so I finally went to see Dr. Martin. He quickly dismissed my symptoms as stress and anxiety, but as each day passes, I feel like he’s missing something.
Because something feels seriously wrong.