"How's Grace doing?" My mother asks. I continue walking back and forth in the hallway.
"She's good," I say, sparing her the details of the love triangle she is currently in, "She's out right now with her parents. They went to lunch."
"That's nice. I spoke to Mrs. Macs a few days ago, she is very happy seeing you and Grace doing so well. We are all so proud of you girls."
"Thanks mom," I smile, "I'm really happy here."
"When do you start classes?"
"Three weeks or so," I say, feeling neutral about going to classes. I like being in college and going to courses. I'm excited to start at this new campus.
"That's good," she says, "And how is Ashton doing? When does he go back to LA?"
"He's great. He's been at the rink a lot," I look down, "He leaves in two weeks."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, actually meaning it, "Times are different from when I moved from Seattle to New York. We both have grown up a lot. I also know that I can go down there if need be."
"Alright, that's good," she says, "I'm happy for you. It seems like you got things figured out for now."
"For now," I confirm, "I guess we will just have to wait and see."
We talk for a little while longer, before hanging up. I try and call my mom everyday. It's hard living across the country from your whole family, so I like to talk to them as much as I possibly can.
When I hang up, I take a deep breath. I put my phone in my back pocket and rub my face, before running my hands through my hair.
I drop my hands to my sides, letting out a big sigh.
I turn around, opening the door to Calum's room, seeing him sitting up in his bed, scrolling through his phone.
"How's your mom?" he asks, putting his phone down.
"Swell," I say, "Did you do your laps today?"
"Yep," he says, bored, "Walked from one side of my apartment to the other. Fifteen fucking times."
I sigh, sitting on his bed next to him. I take his hand, making him look up at me, "Calum, I know-"
"Kitten, please," he interrupts me, "I know what you're going to say, and if I'm going to be completely honest, I don't give a shit. I'm tired of being treated like I'll break any second, I'm tired of the pity, and I'm really fucking tired of not being able to use my leg."
I shake my head, looking away.
"I don't know what you're going through, Cal. I couldn't even imagine," I squeeze his hand, looking back at him, "But you're not fragile. You're not pitied. I want you to get stronger, so you can use your leg again."
He continues to look at me, "You'll get there, Cal. I know you will."
"I know I will, too," he says squeezing my hand back, "Thank you, Kitten. I'm not sure I could if it wasn't for you."
*
"Babe?!" Ashton calls me from downstairs. I leave my room and go to the top of the loft, looking down at him, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," He shakes his head, and I walk down the stairs, "Well, actually-" he stops, "Did Grace talk to you about her and Michael?"
I furrow my eyebrows, "The last I heard was the argument they got into, why, did you hear something?"
