Page 54 of My Best Years

“It was a no-brainer for me, Birdie,” he confesses. “Looking back, I still would have made the same decision if it meant keeping him away from you. Later that evening, we had to file a police report. I told the cops that I had been in a fight but refused to give up the name of the other person. My father stood in the corner and watched the whole time, manipulating me and the officers like he does an entire courtroom.”

With one hand still on my leg, Callum reaches up and thumbs away the fresh tears leaking from my eyes. I never knew it was possible to feel this broken. If I feel like this, I can only imagine the pain that he suffered through.

“I hate him,” I croak, trying to catch my breath between sobs. “I hate that he used me against you like that. I hate him for hurting you, Callum. I hate what he took from us. I fucking hate that piece of shit. I swear to God, if he were here right now, I would kill that motherfucker with my bare hands.”

I’m angry crying now, my teeth chattering together as my nervous system runs wild.

“I know, Birdie,” Callum soothes, pressing his forehead to mine. “I know. I hate him, too. But I refuse to let him control me any longer. That’s why I needed to see you and explain what happened.”

Even under such somber circumstances, it feels so good tobe this close to Callum again. To feel his skin against mine and hear the sound of his breathing.

“Why didn’t you come back to me?” I breathe, my lips close enough to brush his. “Why didn’t you at least call?”

Needing to touch him, I reach up and run my fingertips against his stubbled jaw. He groans before removing his hand from my thigh and wrapping his fingers around my hand. My cheeks flush when he presses a featherlight kiss to my palm.

Just from that faint kiss, I feel him everywhere. My body comes alive. His lips feel the same as when we were eighteen, just a little rougher. My blood dances in my veins at his familiar touch, my body craving more.

“That was the hardest part,” he mutters before intertwining our fingers together. Callum’s always been this way, even when we were just friends. Always needing to touch me.

“Trust me when I say that leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Birdie.”

“But why?” I push, my eyes searching his for answers. “How? How did you just disappear?”

Callum clears his throat, sitting up straight while keeping his fingers locked with mine.

“For years, my father wanted to open a law firm in Florida. He wanted to move there for as long as I can remember,” he starts. “He got licensed to practice in Florida and had bought a plot of land years before we moved. His ultimate goal was to move to Destin, but after he beat the shit out of me, we pretty much fled South Carolina the next day. I think he was paranoid that the hospital staff was suspicious or that Sara would sell him out. So, he pulled me out of school, and we moved the next week. Other than me, Sara, and my father, my mom was the only person who knew the truth about what happened. She agreed to move, probably because she had no other options. If my father almost killed me, imagine what he woulddo to her. My father traveled back to South Carolina several times after the move to wrap up open cases he was working on, but I never returned. Our life was uprooted to cover up my father’s abuse.”

He pauses, and I tighten my fingers around his in support.

“Because I was still in high school,” he continues, “the police department treated my case as if I were a minor. They protected my identity and the details of the case, which is how no one in Myrtle Beach found out. I needed to finish school; a diploma was my only way out. If I didn’t want to sleep on the streets, I had to stay with my parents in Florida until graduation. So I quit tennis, got a job at a tire shop, and picked up as many shifts as I could when I wasn't in class. It helped me save up a decent amount of cash for college and kept me out of the house—away from my parents. The day after graduation, I took what little money I had and booked the cheapest flight I could to New York. I could have stayed in Florida, but I needed to get the hell away from my father. I lived in a shitty apartment the size of a closet, survived off of ramen and PB&J sandwiches, worked full-time, and studied my ass off in undergrad to get into law school.”

Law school.

My brows furrow at that revelation.

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he nods.

“I don’t understand,” I shake my head. “What made you want to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

“I’m a child neglect and abuse lawyer,” he replies. “I help put people like my father in prison. I’ve made it my life’s mission to make sure scumbags like him never see the light of day.”

My lips curve up in a proud smile as a glimmer of light flashes in his sapphireeyes.

“Callum…” I breathe, at a loss for words. “That’s amazing. I…I hope you know how incredible that is.”

I brush my thumb along the backs of his knuckles, meaning every word. I’m so fucking proud of him for turning such a shitty home life into a fulfilling career.

“Thank you,” he half smiles. “But that doesn't change the fact that I at least owed you a phone call.”

He pauses, scrubbing his free hand against his jaw before continuing.

“I was so scared, Birdie,” he admits. “I’m still scared. My father is still out there, and I know what he’s capable of. I know he’s still practicing law and has lots of connections in high places. All I’ve wanted since the day I left is to keep you off his radar. But I need you to know that not a single day has gone by where I haven’t thought about you. Where I haven’t wished I could just hear your voice again. My happy moments have been few and far between, but for the most part, I’ve been fucking miserable. Constantly fighting the battle of wanting to reach out to you but wanting to keep you far away from my family line. So when I saw you in the middle of the grocery store in Gulf Shores, Alabama, I knew I couldn't live like this any longer. The second you made eye contact with me was the most alive I had felt in eleven years, and I don’t want to give that up, Birdie. Irefuse togive up a chance to have you in my life again. I’m done letting my father dictate my life.”

I gaze into his cerulean eyes and swear I see a flash of pride in them. My eyes track the faint lines etched across his face before lowering to the sun-kissed freckles dusting along his nose and cheeks. My eyes stop roaming when they land on his full lips… Lips that never fail to make my heart stop.

God, he’s such a beautiful man.

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