My Best Years

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Callum

Present Day

“ I fucking hate you, Callum Pierce! ”

Birdie’s words play on a loop in my mind as my running shoes thud against the hard sand. After she sped off in the parking lot, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew I needed to relieve some tension, or I would've gone out of my mind, fearing that she might never talk to me again.

I got home an hour ago, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, laced up my shoes, and headed outside with Ollie. I prefer running in the morning rather than at night, but I need this right now. Having the beach as my backyard is hands down my favorite thing about my oceanside bungalow.

Ollie pants heavily beside me, his ears sticking straight up and his tail wagging from side to side. I’ve been running daily for the past ten years, and I swear, Ollie could still outrun me. There’s nothing he loves more than going for a jog with me.

Right as I’m about to pivot and head back in the direction of my house, a sharp pain shoots down my right leg, stopping me in my tracks.

“Fuck!” I shout, reaching for my leg. I hop up and down on one foot before dropping my ass in the sand.

Ollie darts next to me, whimpering and licking my face in worry.

“I’m okay, Ollie,” I exhale while clutching my calf. “I’m okay.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on riding out the pain. When this happens, I feel helpless. My leg feels stiff, but my muscles are spasming with pain. This has been happening for months and not just when I work out. Along with sporadic hand tremors, my muscles randomly cramp up, feeling rigid and throbbing with a dull ache.

If this only occurred when I exercise, I would chalk it up to an injury. But it happens at work, when I’m driving, and even in the middle of the night, waking me from a deep sleep. Recently, the episodes have become more frequent, so I finally went to see Dr. Martin. He quickly dismissed my symptoms as stress and anxiety, but as each day passes, I feel like he’s missing something.

Because something feels seriously wrong.

Woooof!

Woof! Woof! Woof!

I’m distracted from my thoughts by Ollie’s frenzied barking. He’s frantically digging his paws in the sand, searching for the crab that just burrowed itself down in a hole. This is another reason I avoid night runs; Ollie wants to eat all of the sand crabs for dessert.

“Ollie, no,” I chuckle, gently tugging him back by his collar. “Come here, boy.”

He whimpers, staring down at the hole in the sand before spinning around and sitting beside me .

“Good boy, Ollie,” I praise, scratching the top of his head.

A smile curves my lips as I stare at my dog—my pride and joy—and think about how much Birdie would love him. She’s always had the biggest heart for animals.

I’ve often wondered if Birdie has any pets of her own. Selfishly, I would rather her have a dog or a cat than children. I know that makes me sound like a massive dick, but the thought of Birdie having a child with another man makes my gut burn with jealousy. She would be a phenomenal mother. And imagining another man getting to hold her hand through her most vulnerable moments, experiencing her nurturing side, fucking kills me.

I thought a lot about my exchange with Birdie tonight during my run. She’s furious with me, and she has every right to be. Bile threatened to spill from my stomach when she mentioned going through a deep depression.

I fucking loathe myself for leaving her like that. She was only eighteen…so young, impressionable, and in love. Birdie so selflessly gave me every last piece of herself. She never held anything back.

But I was just a kid, too.

The day I unwillingly left Birdie Wren, I was quite literally fighting for my life. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again, much less see another day.

After waking up beaten and bruised in the hospital and realizing that I was going to pull through, I had to make the most gut-wrenching decision of my life at just eighteen years old.

The decision to leave Birdie for good.

I was so fucking scared of putting her in the crosshairs of my father’s fury. He made it abundantly clear that he hated me and would ruin anything I loved. And I didn’t just love Birdie…I worshiped her .

She was, and still is, everything to me. So, I did what I had to do to keep her safe. I was young, immature, and didn’t see any other options. As an adult, I know I should have communicated with her. At the very least, I should have reached out to let her know that I was okay.

But I didn’t, and that’s a regret I’ll have to live with until the day I die.

There’s nothing I can do to change the past, but I refuse to live with future regrets if I can avoid them. Which is why I’m not going to give up on Birdie. Hell, I’ll keep trying until she puts a restraining order on me. And even then, I’ll let the police tear me away in handcuffs if that’s what it takes to get her attention.

I just need a chance to talk to her. To explain what happened and why I left.

I don’t expect Birdie to forgive me or even understand. But I need her to know that it had nothing to do with me not wanting her.

Everything I did was for her. The one person on the planet that ever truly owned my heart.

Two days after showing up at Birdie’s work, I’m back again.

Well…I was also here yesterday, but Birdie must have been off because she never came outside after eight hours of waiting for her. I drove around the parking lot several times, hoping to find her car, but I never saw it. Even though I knew she wasn't there, I stayed put in case she parked in a different area to avoid me.

Thank God I can work remotely as a lawyer, or spending my days and nights chasing after Birdie wouldn't be possible. Recently, I’ve had a lot of paperwork to handle, and court dates have slowed down a bit. I sat in my car all day yesterday, shifting between responding to emails and lifting my gaze to search the parking lot for Birdie every few minutes.

My breath hitched each time a woman with blonde hair would stroll out of the hospital. Then my heart would sink when I realized that they weren't Birdie.

So here I am again, hanging on to hope that I’ll see her tonight. I know she’s here because her car is here in the lot. I decided to arrive at the hospital later today since she seems to get off in the evenings. I’ve been here for nearly three hours, and I’ll stay until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. The sun has already set, leaving me in my dimly lit car, looking like a damn creeper.

My phone pings with an email, and simultaneously, the hospital doors slide open. I drop my phone into the passenger seat, wrap my fingers around the steering wheel in anticipation, and wait to see who walks out.

This is a game I play with myself each time those glass doors open. I’m surprised someone hasn't reported me by now.

A wave of adrenaline floods my brain, and nausea coils in my stomach as Birdie Wren walks out into the dark parking lot.

Unknowingly walking straight to me.

She definitely doesn't notice that I’m parked in the front, near the entrance. Instead, she’s looking down, checking her phone while walking to her car.

She’s wearing a pair of light pink scrubs, her sandy hair hanging over her shoulder in a loose braid. Never in my life would I have thought I’d be attracted to scrubs, but I would happily pay to see Birdie in a pair of every color.

She’s so fucking stunning, and she doesn't even know it. She has no idea how effortlessly beautiful she is.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking completely exhausted. From what I read online, most nurses work ten to twelve hours a day. Twelve hours on their feet with minimal breaks. That has to be miserable.

It takes a special person to work in healthcare, which is how I know Birdie is the best at her job. She’s the most selfless person I know.

I’m so distracted and in awe by the mere sight of her that I almost forget to step out of my car when Birdie walks by. She strolls past, only a few steps behind my bumper, before I throw my door open and rush to her.

“Birdie,” I call out, loud enough for her to hear me but low enough not to startle her.

Birdie’s back is to me, and the second her name leaves my lips, her entire body goes eerily still. It’s clear she instantly knows it's me from the sound of my voice alone.

Or maybe she can feel my presence like I felt hers in the grocery store. Even after eleven years, I knew that she was near.

My pulse skyrockets as she slowly turns around, squaring her shoulders to face me and narrowing her steel gray eyes to angry slits.

I anxiously prepare for her words, like waiting for the loud boom of a gunshot.

“What the hell are you doing here, Callum?” she fumes in a low, furious tone.

I carefully hold an arm out to her like someone trying to calm a scared puppy, staring at her through wide eyes.

“Birdie,” I plead. “I just need two minutes. I need to talk to you.”

When I confronted her a couple of days ago, she tried to keep herself calm and collected before she lost her shit on me. However, that’s not going to be the case tonight. From the furious look on her face, she’s about ready to fucking kill me.

I swallow thickly, steeling myself for her onslaught .

Before I can blink, she drops her bag to the asphalt and stomps up to me until her face is only inches away.

Her nostrils flare as her eyes dart between mine.

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” she shouts at the top of her lungs while tossing her arms up in the air. “Your goddamn therapist? Find someone else to unpack your guilt with because it’s not going to be me, Callum! I’m not talking to you about shit. I don’t know how to make it more clear—I have nothing to say to you!”

Like a dull knife, every word cuts deeper and deeper. But instead of putting me out of my misery, the wound never quite reaches the bone. The pain just keeps coming without end.

I knew if I ever saw Birdie again, she would be upset with me. But I didn’t think she could get this angry. I didn’t know she had it in her. She’s always been so soft-spoken and gentle. But finally, she’s giving me the lashing that’s well overdue.

Even though I don’t deserve a second of her time, I have to push back. If I don’t, I risk losing her forever. This might be my only chance to explain what happened. I straighten my shoulders and try to mask the hurt in my eyes.

“Well, I have something to say to you,” I retort, not backing down. “I need to explain something to you,” I clarify when she arches a threatening brow.

Too astonished to speak, Birdie shakes her head and huffs out a loud breath. I take her pause as an opportunity to begin telling her what I should have said years ago.

“That night…” I trail off. “Birdie, our last night together was the most special and memorable night of my life. Me leaving had nothing to do with you–”

“ No ,” she cuts me off through clenched teeth as her eyes brim with unshed tears. “Don’t you dare tell me that it wasn't about me. You were my best friend, the only person—besides my sister—who knew me to my core. You were my first love. I gave you all of me. All my firsts. And the next day, you fucking abandoned me. You didn’t even have the decency to call or send me a single text. You left me behind like a toy you got bored of. Do you know what that does to a person? Do you understand how bad that hurt when you were my entire world? You leaving me was the most excruciating experience of my life. So you don’t get to tell me it wasn’t about me.”

A tear drips from her lashes as she lets out the breath she was holding in, and I so badly want to swipe it away with my thumb. I wish I could take it all away. If only I knew what I know now. But I was eighteen and scared, terrified of putting the only person I loved in danger.

“You don’t understand,” I shake my head. “You were everything to me. That’s why I stayed away from you. Still, to this day, I have never loved anyone the way I loved you, Birdie. Never.”

Her brows shoot up, her mouth hanging open in shock before she chuckles sarcastically.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Callum,” she scoffs.

“I’m not bullshitting you,” I counter, trying not to raise my voice but failing. “You have no idea what kind of hell I went through. Whatever thoughts you’ve made up in your mind, I promise you, are far from the truth.”

Faster than I can blink, her hand flies out and connects with my cheek, whipping my head to the side from the force of her strike.

Even though I probably deserved that, it still fucking hurts. It hurts deep in my bones.

Not physically, but mentally and emotionally…it’s devastating.

I slowly turn my head back to her and meet her horrified stare. Without saying it, I can tell that she feels terrible for hitting me. Her bottom lip shakes as a tear rolls down her flushed cheek.

It kills me. It makes me want to cry along with her.

To go from having someone so completely and then pushing them away to the point of no return is the lowest feeling in the world. It’s like meeting two people living in the same body in one lifetime.

I can’t believe that this is how we ended up. I can’t believe that I did this to her…to us. I let go of the one person I thought I would spend my entire life with. I thought I would grow old with Birdie. Watch a thousand sunsets with her beside me.

But now, we’re no more than strangers.

“How dare you,” she breathes, her words shaky and filled with grief. “When someone you love leaves without saying a word for eleven years, you earn the right to make shit up in your head. As far I’m concerned, the narrative that lives in my mind for you is set in stone. You’re a coward, Callum. A fucking coward. And I want nothing to do with you.”

I flinch at the truth in her words.

Before I can respond, an older man in a security uniform walks into view. He steps between us and holds his arms out, carefully putting distance between me and Birdie. Once I get a good look at his face, I immediately recognize that he’s one of the hospital’s security guards. I’ve seen him standing by the door through the glass.

“Birdie,” he pants, completely out of breath from running out here. “Are you okay? Is this man bothering you?”

This man.

I want to tell him to fuck off because I’m not just a man to Birdie. I’m way more than that. She wouldn't be having this kind of reaction if I wasn’t.

“I’m fine,” she replies, still staring daggers at me. “But yes, this man is bothering me. He’s been stalking me. Showing up here after my shifts and acting like he knows me. I’ve asked him to stop, but he refuses.”

I narrow my gaze, zeroing in on her before shaking my head. She really wants to go there? Act like I’m a complete fucking stranger?

“Oh really?” I cut in. “I don’t know you, Birdie Wren Ambrose? Because I know that you broke your arm in the fourth grade while trying to ride my skateboard. I know your favorite board game is Battleship, and your favorite show is The Office . I know your first dog was named Bingo until you decided you hated that name and changed it to Bear. I know that you like anything that smells like coconut. I know that your eyes change colors with your mood. And even though it’s been eleven years, I still know exactly how your lips taste.”

A beat of silence passes as we both forget that the security guard is between us.

Then, I think I hear a whimper slip past Birdie’s lips as she lets another tear fall.

“You want to know how I know all of that?” I continue, flicking my gaze to the security guard. “Because I was there. I was with her, by her side, through all of it. So no, I’m not a fucking stranger to Birdie Wren.”

“Sir–” the guard jumps in before Birdie abruptly cuts him off.

“He’s lying,” she interjects. “I don’t know this man. He’s a stalker who’s been following me all around town. I don’t know who he is, and I never want to see him again.”

Her eyes dart back to me.

“I never want you coming here—to my place of work—again.”

I understand that she’s angry…but this, denying my existence to my face, is fucking ridiculous.

“Unbelievable,” I sneer, running a hand through my hair .

“I see there’s a long story here,” the officer interjects, trying to keep the peace. He steps in front of Birdie, completely blocking my view of her.

“But she is an employee here,” he continues. “No matter what you say, I will take her word over yours. I need you to leave the premises and not come back unless it is a medical emergency.”

I try to step around him, but he grabs my shoulder and holds me back. I elongate my neck, just far enough to catch a glimpse of Birdie standing behind him. My limbs are shaking with the need to throw his motherfucker off of me.

“Are you serious, Birdie?” I shout. “You’re going to let him treat me like a criminal?”

I don’t miss the pain that flashes in her eyes before the guard shoves me back, using more strength than before.

“You’re done speaking to her,” he grits out, pointing a meaty finger at me. “Birdie, go home,” he bellows over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of this. You just go home.”

After a few seconds of silence, I hear her voice. Small and sad, like a little bird.

“Thank you, Andy,” she rasps before the sound of her footsteps disappears.

And just like that, she’s gone again.

“Here’s the deal,” the guard says firmly, lowering his voice and shooting me a serious stare. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know a criminal when I see one, and you aren’t one. So, I’m going to give you two options. One: You can get in your car, leave right now, and not come back unless you’re on your deathbed. Or two: You can keep standing here, and I’ll ask you for your ID and treat you like a criminal. Take your pick.”

I glare at him while flexing my jaw.

“You really believe that I don’t know her?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” he shakes his head. “ What matters is that I keep the employees of this hospital safe.”

He knows that she’s lying about me. I can see it in his eyes.

“This is bullshit,” I mutter under my breath.

“This is your last chance,” he threatens. “Leave now, or you’re going with me. You decide.”

Me and the old man have a stare-off before I let out a curse and take a step back.

I don’t say anything as I turn my back and walk straight to my car, already mustering up my next plan.

Birdie might have given up on me, but I refuse to give up on her.

I’m just going to have to find another way. Because this is far from over.