Sometimes the F-word is necessary.

Floating dance floor.

Peyton rubbed out the penciled design of the floating dance floor. It wasn’t a stupid idea; it just wasn’t very smart. There was a lot to consider: whether the dock would be bracketed onto a pier or if it would freely float. There was also insurance; no doubt someone would fall off, so clauses and waivers would have to be drawn. It involved a lot of risk management, and in the end, Peyton decided against the idea. Instead, she’d figure out another ‘wow’ that was cemented to the ground, avoiding the possibility of drowning her guests.

Letting out a sigh, she screwed up her grade-three kind of diagram of the lake and placed it at arm’s length from her. While she was rummaging through piles of paper to her left, she spotted the wedding menu Marissa had emailed her that morning. Once she’d gotten into her office, she’d printed the menu and the groom’s guest list and walked to the pub. She’d been tired of the silence that engulfed The Spencer-Dayle. She’d needed to hear more than just her own voice. And when she’d noticed Callum’s name on the groom’s guest list, Peyton had wanted to throw the glass vase that was to her right.

She didn’t want him back in her town. He had run off and made the city his home. It had been two days since he’d asked for her forgiveness, and during those two nights, Peyton had stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, wishing that God hadn’t put him back on her path. He had already taken so much. She didn’t want anything more than to live a simple life.

Shaking her mind to clear the thoughts of him, she picked up the menu.

You don’t owe Callum Reid anything, Peyton.

“What did I tell you, Peyton? Can you help me out here? Just once, I want to see your beautiful face in this establishment without some kind of paperwork in your hands. I run a pub.”

Peyton looked up from the wedding menu and rolled her eyes at Jay.

“Darling, I’m pretty sure that hotel of yours has an office,” Jay stated as he picked up her empty glass.

“It does,” Peyton confirmed and placed the sheet of paper on the table.

“Then what are you doing bringing work in here?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Fine. It gets lonely.” Peyton deeply sighed and leant back into her chair, her eyes avoiding Jay’s.

When his silence reached an uncomfortable level, she peeked to see a frown on his face. Jay’s shoulders sagged before he walked over to the bar counter and placed her empty glass on it. Moments later, he took the seat next to her.

“I like to hear everyone’s voices, Jay. That’s why I like being here. It reminds me that this town had my back when I lost everything. I know I can be annoying and I take up too much room in your pub, but sometimes…it’s all I need,” Peyton explained before he spoke first.

Before she could even react, Jay took her hands and leant forward, his eyes staring into hers.

“Peyton, my pub doors are always open for you. Every time I see you, you have papers in your hands. I say these little remarks hoping that you’ll tell me that you’re either getting them done early so you can hit a party or go to the next town or something. Anything other than the hotel. I keep waiting for you to tell me that you’re about to live your life.”

Peyton sighed. He was right. It was always work. She never went to the pub to just drink or hang out. She went to hear the voices of others who were living.

“Maybe one day when you ask me what I’m up to, I’ll have a more entertaining answer for you, Jay. One day, I’ll have one.” Peyton smiled before taking her hands back from his.

He gave her an honest—yet concerned—smile before he stood up and returned to his position behind the bar.

Peyton listened until Jay’s familiar laugh rang high and then she breathed out. His laugh was a form of remedy for her. Though he was so much like Peyton and Graham, he was far different from them. Jay was comfortable with his life. For Peyton, she was just managing.

Shaking her head, Peyton looked down at the papers sprawled on the table. The sound of a chair scratching caught her attention. When she lifted her gaze, she was irritated to see none other than Callum Reid sitting in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.

Peyton closed her eyes tight and sat properly in her chair. It was a talk Callum wanted, and Peyton had thoroughly avoided it since his return.

“Peyton,” Callum acknowledged in a dull tone.

“Callum,” she said, mimicking the lifeless pitch in his voice.

His lips pursed and he eyed her. Silence was exchanged between them, suffocating her. When it reached an unbearable quota, Peyton started to collect her work.

“Why does everyone in this town love you so much but hate me? I grew up here, too.”

His question startled her, causing Peyton to lift her head and glance at him. His eyes swept over the pub, filled with disbelief.

He really doesn’t get it.

“Because you left, Callum,” Peyton stated.

He slowly turned his head until his eyes met hers. Callum’s jaw locked as if he were attempting to control his emotions around her.

“So did everyone else,” he pointed out.

“Everyone had their reasons.”

Callum’s eyes flashed and he abruptly leant forward. “And I didn’t, Peyton?”

“Yes, you did. But you didn’t give me a reason. They all left because they gave a reason. They told the town. They let people know. But you? You just up and left, Callum. You didn’t tell me.”

Callum flinched like her words had hurt him, which Peyton found ridiculous. “I had my reasons, Peyton,” he said through clenched teeth. “But that doesn’t explain why these people I’ve grown up with can’t even look at me.”

This time, it was Peyton who flinched. Her eyes burned. He still didn’t get it.

“Because you didn’t come back!” she shouted, tears running down her cheeks. That façade she hid behind crumbled. She no longer used a fake smile. For Peyton, this was as raw and as naked as it got for her.

His eyes grew sadder, but she didn’t care. Around them, the voices had started to hush until the pub had silenced around them.

“Look around you, Peyton. Nobody else came back!” Callum raised his voice.

Her heart clenched at the truth he spoke.

“But they did,” she sobbed.

Callum shook his head. “No, they didn’t.”

“But they did when I needed them the most!” Peyton cried before she wiped the tears from her cheeks, hating the weakness she was showing.

“What?” he breathed.

“They all came back—every single one of them. The town hates you because you didn’t come back. Everyone came back, Callum. My parents’ funeral—they were all there…except for you!” Her lips trembled as the heat burned through her chest.

“Peyton,” he said almost apologetically.

“No! That one day. Their funeral. That was the day you could have redeemed yourself, Callum. I don’t care if you couldn’t love me. I needed you then. I lost them and you didn’t show. It was their funeral, Callum. They died. My parents, they loved you. Don’t you get that? They loved you! They wanted me to forgive you, but I couldn’t, and when they died, I knew that I could never forgive you. You didn’t have to be there for me. You could have been there to pay your respects or to say goodbye, but you didn’t. The moment that I buried them, I also buried any hope of you redeeming yourself.”

“I’m—”

Peyton shook her head. “Save it. If you had just come back, I would have forgiven you for breaking my heart. I don’t care if you couldn’t love me back. I just needed your support and for you to acknowledge their deaths. They all came back. The only person who didn’t show was you.” Peyton sniffed and tucked her hair behind her ear.