Sometimes Moments (Sometimes Moments, #1)(23)

“Peyton. Peyton, wait!” The desperation could be heard in his shouts.

She stopped and looked up at the sky through the gaps in the branches. Taking a deep breath in, Peyton spun around.

“No! No more waiting. I’ve waited four years and I’m done. I’m over you. You should have never returned. You should have begged your friend for a new venue, because I can’t do this. I don’t want you here. When Oscar’s wedding is over, just leave, Callum. Just leave! Do what you’re so good at and walk away. I didn’t need this in my life. I called you, for God’s sakes. I shouldn’t have. But I needed you then. I don’t want or need you in my life—not when you proved that you didn’t want or need me.”

Silence. The best form of goodbye.





Aunt Brenda: A lovely young woman taught me how to message you. I hope you’re doing well, Peyton. You call me if you need anything and we’ll come straight away. Don’t forget everyone comes back from leave on Monday. I love you and don’t forget your breakfast.



Peyton laughed at the text message her aunt had left her. Aunt Brenda wasn’t one for anything tech-savvy. As long as it called, she was good. Her uncle was one who could do it all with technology. After giving her aunty a quick reply, Peyton placed her phone back on her desk and picked up the piece of paper with her design on it. Once the first dance of the Reynolds’ wedding was done, the guests would move from the hill to the lake, where the dance floor would expand out on the water almost like a jetty.

It wasn’t much of an idea, but she needed to get a plan on paper to show Callum and then Marissa. It had been just over a day since she’d last seen him. Now, she sat in the hotel’s office, still pissed off that the universe had brought him back to Daylesford.

A crack of thunder had Peyton almost jumping out of her skin. Pushing the leather chair back, she got up and walked to the window. She looked at the grey sky and sighed. She hoped it was only thunder, but in this part of the state, she knew a storm was to be expected.

One winter, the sky had been clear, and then, a few hours later, snow had fallen. Most of the town had stood on top of Wombat hill and looked at the town blanketed with white. It had been beautiful and it was a moment that made her appreciate the town she called home.

Another loud crash of thunder and lightning confirmed her suspicion. Upon walking back to the desk, Peyton placed all her work and her laptop into her bag. Then she grabbed her keys and started to lock up the hotel. As she took a step outside, she prayed that the storm wasn’t like the one in ’06. Windows had been broken and a tree had fallen on top of one of the outer guest cabins. If Peyton was left with the same kind of aftermath, she knew she couldn’t afford to rebuild another cabin—not if she wanted to expand and redesign the hotel to her liking.

After taking a few steps down the path, she turned around and looked at the old Victorian hotel. She noticed that the worn hotel sign needed repainting; the flaking paint wasn’t particularly flattering to the eye.

“You better be standing when I get back. We’ve been through a lot more than a storm. You’re all I have left, so don’t go falling over,” Peyton warned the building, knowing she was being ridiculous. But in truth, she felt a connection to the hotel. She had grown up in it and around it.

The hotel was the keeper of her memories.

A strong gust of wind hit her, almost making her stumble back. As she turned to walk the path back home, the local pub caught her attention through the trees. Not wanting to go home anytime soon, Peyton made her way up the hill and to town.



“Peyton!” the pub cheered as she took a step inside.

She was used to it. It was how the town treated people. And if they didn’t know your name, they’d scream “Stranger!” and welcome you to Daylesford.

She smiled and nodded as she walked past all the patrons and towards the counter. Placing her bag on top of the oak, Peyton took a seat on a barstool. She looked over at Mr Preston, who came over to her.

“Coke, Miss Peyton?” he asked as he reached for a glass.

“That’d be nice. You don’t normally work the counter, Mr Preston,” Peyton said, rubbing her hands together. The temperature had dropped on her walk to town.

“Jay’s gone down to the Wilcox farm to help them get ready for the storm. Have you checked on your house? Do you need me to go down there to help you tie down anything?” he asked as he placed her beverage in front of her.

Wilcox farm… Daisy Wilcox.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll just move what I can into the shed.” She took a sip of Coke as she looked up at Jay’s father. “Jay isn’t mad at me for walking out of the pub with Callum, is he?”

Mr Preston gave her a tight smile. “No, darling. He realised that you were doing it to prevent the coppers from being called in. He isn’t mad.”

Peyton placed her glass down. “Is that why he went to the Wilcox farm? Because he’s not mad at me? Not after Daisy Wilcox called me a sook after my parents died and claimed I was after the town’s attention. She slapped me in this pub and Jay banned her.”

“She was intoxicated, Peyton,” Mr Preston tried to reason.

Peyton pulled out her phone from her pocket and brought up Jay’s contact to send him a message.



Peyton: Traitor!