My Best Years

Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Birdie

Present Day

“Cal…” My fingers tremble as I lift them to cover my mouth.

My brows knit together as I shake my head, unable to fathom the torment he experienced at the hands of his father.

Our server dropped off our drinks ten minutes ago, but I can’t bring myself to take a sip. I’ve never felt more nauseous in my entire life. My gaze darts around the deck, searching for the nearest trash bin in case I get sick. I knew what Callum had to tell me would be bad, but I could never have prepared myself for this .

His father beat him half to death.

For years, his father physically and emotionally abused him.

“Callum,” I breathe, my voice heavy with emotion. “Oh my God…” I trail off. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

I try so hard to hold back the tears blurring my vision. Not because I don’t want him to see me cry, but because I want to stay strong for him. He’s lived with this pain for so many years with no family to lean on for support.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes are glossy, like he’s trying to hold back his own tears after reliving the memory. “It was bound to happen at some point.”

How did I not know…

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. “About the abuse? All those years, I knew something was wrong. I knew it, Callum. I remember asking you over and over again if something was going on at home.”

He shakes his head.

“I didn’t tell anyone. And if I was going to expose my father, it sure as hell wasn't going to be to you, Birdie.”

I furrow my brows.

“Why? We told each other everything.”

“Because you were my everything,” he clarifies, his voice cracking. “Because he threatened me time and time again, saying that he would take everything from me if I ever told anyone. My dad didn’t know much about me, but I think he knew that I loved you. There were so many times that I wanted to tell you, but I was so fucking scared, Birdie. At the time, my father was one of the top lawyers in South Carolina, with tons of friends in law enforcement and the legal system. He was a powerful man, and I was fucking terrified that he would come for you to get back at me if I ever exposed the abuse. You have no idea what he’s capable of. I would have done anything to protect you, Birdie. Even if that meant staying quiet.”

My heart shatters as I think about the little boy I first met on the bus. Callum Pierce, the boy with messy hair and eyes like the blue sky.

How could anyone ever hurt such a sweet soul? Let alone his own parents .

I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste a salty tear roll over my quivering lips.

“It kills me that you felt like you had to go through that alone,” I murmur. “That you felt like you had no one to run to.”

Callum reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. His lips curve up in a sad smile as he brushes his thumb along the back of my hand.

“That’s not true,” he retorts. “I had you, Birdie. There were so many days when I felt like I was on a life raft in the middle of the pitch-black ocean with no end in sight. But you were my light. My safe harbor. I would have never made it through my childhood without you. You were my happiest memories and my best days. Even though you didn’t know it then, you saved me.”

You saved me.

Those three words cause my floodgates to burst.

A whimper crawls up my throat before a sob cracks from my chest. I swallow down a lump as tears cascade down my cheeks.

I would rather endure the pain of Callum leaving me over something small and trivial than find out that he lived through pure hell for eighteen years of his life. Years that are supposed to be filled with joy.

I loathe his parents with every fiber of my being. My blood pressure skyrockets when I think of the adults who were smart enough to pick up on the abuse but ignored the signs because of who his father was. It makes me sick that so many people failed Callum when all it would have taken was one person speaking up.

I can’t help but feel like I failed him too.

Maybe I was too young to fully understand what was going on, but I should have pushed harder. I should have done everything in my power to find out what was happening in Callum’s home. I was the only person he had.

I should have known.

“I’m so…sorry,” I sob, barely able to speak.

“Birdie,” he rushes out before sliding his chair around the table. His woodsy scent surrounds me as he sits with my legs positioned between his parted thighs.

“How did I not know?” My eyes dart away in shame.

Small hiccups break up my sobs as I try to catch my breath.

“Birdie, look at me.” He slides his pointer finger beneath my chin and lifts my gaze. Instantly, his touch calms me. “I never want to hear you blame yourself for what happened to me. No one is to blame but my spineless excuse for a father. You were, and still are, the best thing that ever happened to me.”

I want to wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my face in his neck, but this isn't about me and my need for comfort. And I still have so many questions.

“What happened?” I whisper as my eyes dart between his. “Who got him to stop? How…how in the hell did your father get away with this?”

He drops his fingers from my chin and lowers his hand to my leg. His rough fingers cover the span of my thigh, giving me a light squeeze that has my lower stomach tingling.

“Sara—the woman my father was having an affair with—heard us yelling from outside,” he starts. “When she came inside, I remember her screaming bloody murder before I completely blacked out. I never had the chance to speak to her afterward, but I always assumed that my father had given her hush money because she just disappeared after that. I barely even remember what she looked like, except that she was really young.”

He inhales an uneasy breath before continuing .

“Hours after the fight, I woke up in a hospital bed. I don’t know what persuaded my dad to take me to the emergency room. Maybe it was Sara, or maybe he sobered up a little and realized that he almost fucking killed me. Even he knows that the best lawyers can’t get you out of cold-blooded murder. By the time I woke up, he told the doctor that I had gotten into a nasty fight after my tennis tournament. He said that I refused to tell him who the other kid was. He made up a lie to save his ass, claiming that me and another tennis player were in a heated argument after the tournament that turned physical once we got home. My father had no bruises or cuts on his hands, so it was easy for him to make it seem like he couldn't have been the one who fucked me up that bad.”

My jaw drops as my gut twists with disgust. What a manipulative, psychotic, piece of shit.

“What?” I gasp in disbelief as my brows shoot up to my hairline. “And the doctor just believed him?”

“I don’t know what the doctor believed,” he sighs. “I think he was just trying to piece me back together. I had six broken ribs and a concussion that turned out to be a small brain bleed. It was bad, Birdie.”

A fucking brain bleed? There’s nothing small about that.

I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath, trying to force down the bile creeping up my esophagus.

“Jesus Christ,” I exhale, shaking my head. “Why didn’t you tell the doctor what really happened?”

My face and neck feel impossibly hot when I think about Callum’s father getting away with such a blatant crime.

“I was going to,” he admits. “I had every intention of turning him in. But when the doctor and nurses left the room, my father closed the door and used the only thing against me that he knew would keep my mouth shut. ”

My heart plummets to my stomach because I already know what he’s going to say.

“What?” I rasp, holding his stare.

“You.” His tone is laced with agony. “My father remembered how I reacted when he called you a slut. It was the first time I had ever fought back. From that moment on, he knew that I would do anything in my power to protect you. So he told me that if I wanted to keep you safe, I would go along with his story.”

A sob slips past my lips as he gently squeezes my thigh.

“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 to be 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 would do 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 sapphire eyes.

“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. I refuse to give 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.

“Good,” I finally mutter, my voice a breathy whisper. “He doesn't deserve to hold that kind of power over you. ”

“He doesn't,” Callum replies without hesitation. “Not anymore.”

Silence fills the small space between us as I trace the rim of my glass with a finger. I divert my gaze, looking down at the salt coating my fingertip. After Callum’s confession, it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with him.

I feel guilt-ridden for all of the hurtful words I spewed at him.

“Callum…” I lift my eyes. “I won’t lie to you and say that I’m not still hurt by how you left. But I need you to know that I don’t hold it against you. What you went through…” I shake my head. “I can’t imagine. Honestly, I probably would have handled it the same way. I would have done anything to keep you safe.”

I hold his ocean eyes, hoping he can hear the sincerity in my tone.

“And I’m sorry,” I add weakly, “for the horrible things I said to you. I’m sorry for not listening to you sooner. I was just so angry–”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he interjects. “You had every right to be furious with me. You still do. Anyone in their right mind would have reacted the same way.”

Well…I can’t argue with him there.

I finally wrap my fingers around my drink and take a big gulp of my now watered-down margarita.

The muscles in Callum’s arms tense before he asks me a question that makes my breath hitch.

“Birdie, are you seeing anyone right now?”

His eyes flick between mine, filled with unease as he waits for my response.

“No,” I breathe. “ Are you?”

“No.”

I nod before taking another sip, unsure if it’s the tequila or his intense gaze causing my skin to tingle.

“I want to see you again,” he says in a husky tone that I feel deep in my core.

My leg bounces up with nervous jitters as I chew on my bottom lip. If my cheeks weren't red before, they’re definitely the color of a tomato now.

I don’t have to think about my response because the words fall from my lips before I can process what I’m saying.

Gotta love a good old-fashioned word vomit.

“I’d like that too,” I murmur softly.

His pillowy lips curve up in a sexy smile that causes my heart to skip.

“Give me your phone.”

I furrow my brows as he holds out a palm, waiting for me to hand him my phone.

“I’m going to put my number in it,” he clarifies, sensing my discomfort. “And when you feel ready, text me, and we’ll make plans. I promised not to follow you around like a stalker anymore,” he chuckles. “But just know that I want to see you again, Birdie. I want it to be on your terms this time. When you’re ready.”

I’m not sure if it’s the tequila coursing through my veins, but I feel like I’ve just been put through the roller coaster of a lifetime. A roller coaster called Whiplash.

Because how in the hell did I go from wanting to completely cut Callum out of my life to considering seeing him again in one evening?

Tonight was a lot to take in, so I’m thankful that Callum is willing to be patient and give me time.

I’m definitely going to need it.

“Okay,” I nod. “I appreciate that.”

I unlock my phone, place it in his palm, and watch as he starts to type his number in.

I squint my eyes, narrowing in on how his thumb shakes as he taps it against the screen.

It appears to be more of a tremor than a nervous tremble. It’s almost as if he can’t control the movements. I lean in to get a closer look when I realize his entire hand is quivering.

The longer I watch, the more that something feels off. As a nurse, I have to address it.

“Callum,” I rush out. “Your hand… It’s trembling.”

His eyes snap up to mine before he drops my phone to the table. His face goes white as a ghost, like he’s shocked that I even noticed.

He opens and closes his mouth, unable to form a response.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He blinks a few times before replying.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies hoarsely. “It’s just… I think it’s just my nerves. This happens sometimes. I went to the doctor about it, and he seemed to think it was stress and anxiety.”

Stress and anxiety can definitely cause a person to feel on edge, but this… this looks different. I try not to think about all of the conditions I learned about in nursing school related to what I’m seeing now. Sometimes, my mind is like a Google search engine regarding anything medical. I have to create distance, or my thoughts will spiral into the worst possible scenario.

Maybe his doctor is right. Perhaps he’s just been under a lot of stress lately.

“If it keeps happening, you should see another doctor,” I suggest. “Get a second opinion.”

“I will.”

“Promise?” I ask, arching a brow.

“I promise, Mom ,” he says in a sarcastic tone before letting out a chuckle .

I roll my eyes as my lips curve up in a grin. I didn’t realize how much I missed his smoky laugh until now.

I take another sip of my margarita, my eyes never leaving his over the rim of the glass. It’s so intimate, the way he never takes his eyes off me. Like I might disappear if he were to look away.

He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a long swig. Fireworks shoot off in my core as his throat bobs. Before I realize what I’m doing, my tongue peeks out to lick my bottom lip. His eyes drop to my mouth, blue fire in his gaze as he watches me closely.

Shit.

I’m going to need a freezing cold shower after that look.

“I missed you, Birdie.” His tone is guttural, full of gravel.

I watch the shape of his lips, how they pucker in the sweetest kiss as he says my name.

“I missed you too.”

I missed you so much it physically hurts.

After we finish our drinks, Callum walks me out to my car with his hand on the small of my back. Before he leaves, he places a faint kiss to my forehead, just like he would when we were teenagers.

I unlock my phone and make sure his number is saved before I drive off.

For the first time since he left, I feel like I’m eighteen again. Giddy and full of anticipation.

For the first time in years, I feel a spark of life.