Page 49 of My Best Years

“What do you mean? This is where I live.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a step toward me.

“Don’t get fuckin’ smart with me,” he grits out. “What are you doing at home? You’re supposed to be with your mom in Charleston.”

“No, I’m not,” I shake my head. “Mom said she was going to visit Sharon, but she didn’t ask me to go with her.”

He narrows his eyes into angry slits before running a hand through his greasy hair.

“Fucking hell,” he slurs under his breath.

God forbid his own son be at home on a Saturday morning.

“Mom said you wouldn't be back until Monday?”

“I had a work emergency that I needed to come home and take care of,” he grumbles.

I feel my body temperature rise as my blood starts to boil. I know I should control my temper around my father, especially when he’s belligerent. But he’s standing here—completely unapologetic—like I didn’t just catch him cheating on my mom.His wife.

“I thought the whole reason you went out of town was for work?”

He cocks his head to the side, dawning an evil glare while continuing to stalk toward me. I stand my ground because I’m not about to cower to this motherfucker. I’m done playing his game of intimidation.

“Are you questioning me, boy?”

Boy.

I’m sick of him calling me that. I’m not a fucking boy. I’m eighteen years old, big enough to kick his ass now.

“Hmm?” he pushes, halting his steps when he’s a few inches away from me.

“Yeah, I am,” I clip. “Because Mom could barely get out of bed on Friday after you left for yourwork trip. You’re cheatingon her, and you’re doing a shit job of hiding it. As a matter of fact, you're dangling it right in front of her damn face.”

His face turns the shade of a blood orange.

Before I can blink, my father’s palms connect with my shoulders, violently shoving me back against the wall. All the air knocks from my lungs at the impact. A choking noise catches in my throat as I try to reel in a breath.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” he seethes, the tip of his nose almost touching mine. “You’re lucky that I have company with me, or you would be paying for that smartass remark.”

I scoff right back in his face.

“And who’s your company? I’m guessing not a work colleague because she looks young enough to be in high school.”

His jaw flexes.

“It’s none of your damn business,” he says through clenched teeth. “And if you're smart, you’ll stop running your fuckin’ mouth and get the hell out of my house.”

His house?

HIS house?

As if I haven't lived here for eighteen years.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to take Sara out to lunch. She’s staying here for the remainder of the weekend,” he replies. “That will give you enough time to pack a bag and leave. I don’t want to see you until Monday.”

Is he fucking kidding me right now?

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