Present
Oliver inhaled deeply, standing on the porch of his father's house. The scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the cool morning air, mingling with the distant hum of crickets. The yard looked the same as always, neat and well-kept, but it felt smaller than he remembered. Everything did.
He exhaled slowly, steeling himself. It was time. Time to tell James everything. He knew the conversation wouldn't be easy—it would be heavy, ugly, and full of things neither of them wanted to hear. He unzipped his black hoodie, suddenly aware of the shift in temperature, and knocked on the front door.
James answered almost immediately, his expression lifting. "Oliver," he greeted, his voice chipper. "Why are you knocking? It's still your home, son."
Oliver let out a humorless chuckle, lowering his head. "Too many places to call home at the moment."
James furrowed his brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Can I come in, or are we doing this in the doorway?"
James stepped aside, shaking his head. "Sure, sure. Sorry, you just came a tad early."
Oliver stepped inside, taking off his shoes as the door shut behind him. The rich aroma of garlic and parsley filled the house, making his stomach twist with an unexpected hunger. He hadn't eaten much today, too caught up in the weight of what needed to be said.
"Sit, son." James motioned to the chair on the right side of the dining table. "Kathy's making us dinner."
Oliver nodded and sank into the chair, the wood creaking faintly beneath him. James took his usual spot at the end of the table, his posture relaxed, but there was something different about him. More at ease. His tone, the way he carried himself—Oliver had seen it before.
Kathy.
His father was always lighter when she was around, always wearing that almost-forgotten ease, like a man who had something good to come home to.
"Did you get a cat?" Oliver asked, shrugging off his hoodie.
"It's Kathy's," James answered, his gaze flicking toward the windowsill where a ginger cat lay curled up, basking in the dim light. "We need to talk, son."
Oliver leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, we do."
James hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you have some news?"
"I do, but my story—my talk—is long." He cleared his throat. "So you go first."
James nodded, his cheeks tinged pink. "Alright. Kathy and I... we're not just friends."
Oliver laughed before he could stop himself. James' face stiffened. "It's not a joke—"
"I know, Dad," Oliver smirked. "It's just stupid that you thought Leah and I didn't know. You two have been dating for a while now."
James blinked. "You knew?"
Oliver nodded, amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "So she moved in this week? Hence the cat?"
"Yeah." James motioned to the feline. "I figured it was time."
"Good." Oliver exhaled, some of his tension easing. "You seem better. Which is why... I don't know where to start with what I need to tell you. It might stir up bad feelings again."
James' eyes darkened. "You saw her."
Oliver swallowed hard. "Yes. And the story is long and confusing."
James straightened in his chair. "Well, hurry then. We've got about fifteen minutes before dinner's ready."
Oliver dragged a hand through his hair. "As we suspected, Leah wasn't using drugs by choice, nor was she into 'kinky sex' like Rodriguez suggested." James shut his eyes for a brief moment, his jaw tightening. "Cassie sold her and her friend Lily to human traffickers."
YOU ARE READING
Talk To Me
ParanormalOliver Brown holds the gift of seeing spirits. After losing his grandmother, he neglected the purpose of his ability, and soon after, lived a ghostless life. But when Oliver's younger sister is discovered murdered in the woods, he desperately wanted...