Page 48 of My Best Years

A moment of silence passes before Callum draws in a shaky breath and begins.

I could have never prepared myself for the horrifying truth that came next.

SIXTEEN

Callum

Eighteen Years Old

I’m in the kitchen, pouring myself a cup of coffee, when I hear the front door creak open.

I freeze in place, listening closely to make sure I’m not just imagining things. That’s when I hear voices.

My parents are out of town, so I know it’s not them. Birdie left first thing this morning to work a shift at the coffee shop. And even if it were her, she couldn't get in without a key or the door code. I also know I locked the door after I kissed her goodbye.

I furrow my brows and leave my mug on the counter before walking out of the kitchen and into the foyer. Maybe it’s one of Mom’s weekly deliveries. She always has people coming in and out of our house to deliver furniture, art, or God knows what. The door code constantly changes due to the number of people in and out of the house.

My heart rate accelerates, and my steps come to a haltwhen I see my father’s long fingers wrapped around the doorknob. His dark head of hair comes into view as he stumbles into the house.

My eyes flick to the strange woman standing beside him, who looks like she’s closer to my age than his. He shuts the door while keeping a possessive hand wrapped around her lower back. He dips his head to kiss her but stops midway when he notices her staring straight ahead.

Staring directly at me.

Her eyes widen in fear as a spine-chilling silence takes over the room.

I look down at the pair of boxers that I threw on to come downstairs. Birdie and I slept skin-to-skin last night, rotating between dozing off for short periods of time and waking up to get lost in one another. I lost track of how many times I slipped inside of her last night, in complete awe of how incredible it felt to finally be as close to her as physically and emotionally possible.

God, I’m so thankful she left early to help out at her parents’ coffee shop. My gut churns at how bad this could have been if she were still here. As unforgettable as last night was, I should have never invited her to my house in the first place. I make a promise to myself to never bring her here again. It’s too risky.

I would die if my father ever got his hands on Birdie. I don’t even want him laying an eye on her. Especially now that I see the woman he’s having an affair with looks to be around Birdie’s age.

“Sara,” my father says to the young woman beside him. “Can you go outside for a minute? I need to speak with my son. You can wait in the car.”

He hands her his keys before flashing her achallenging stare. A demanding look that communicates,do what I say, or we’re going to have a problem.

She nods, panic and embarrassment filling her hollow eyes. Her gaze darts back to me one last time as her brows pinch together with emotion.

“I’m so sorry,” she mouths before opening the door. I swear I hear a whimper of despair slip past her throat as she closes the door behind her and disappears outside.

Christ, she looks so young…

I doubt that my father told her about me and my mom. For I all know, this could be the first time she’s learning that he has a family to come home to.

“What are you doing home, Callum?” My father’s tone is stern as he crosses his arms over his chest.

It’s obvious what he came here to do by the way the top buttons of his dress shirt are ripped open. And by the furious look on his face, he’s fucking pissed that I interrupted his little affair.

He doesn't have an ounce of remorse that his son just caught him cheating. He’s just riled up because he’s not about to get his dick wet.

To make this situation worse, he’s standing a good ten feet away from me, and I can still smell the reek of alcohol.

When my dad is sober, he scares the shit out of me. But when he’s shit-faced like he is now, he fucking terrifies me. It’s as if his brain shuts off all sense of logic, and he no longer has control of his emotions. He becomes animalistic.

When things would get really bad, I thought he was going to kill me before my mom could somehow get him off of me. He’s a scary motherfucker when he’s like this.

“Answer me,” he demands, pulling me from my thoughts.

A knot forms in my throat as my pulse pounds in my ears.