A man tumbled out of the house, reeking of alcohol, sharp, sour, and thick enough to sting my throat. He was built like someone who’d spent his life throwing his weight around, broad-shouldered and heavy-footed, his clothes hanging half-unbuttoned and stained.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. My mind froze between the shock of his sudden appearance and the terrible familiarity in his face. The same jawline. The same hair.
“Taylor…” I whispered, voice catching. “Is that…?”
He didn’t answer, but the flicker in his eyes said it all.
His father.
The man’s gaze found me almost immediately, his expression twisting into something cruel. “Who the hell is this?” he slurred, pointing a thick finger at me before shifting his bleary focus back to Taylor. “Bringing girls home now? You think I don’t
