All Chapters of My Bestfriend’s Father: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

BrittanyFor the rest of the night, I couldn't sleep.I just kept tossing and turning on the sheets, only to wake up suddenly, drenched in sweat from a recurring nightmare.Every time I shut my eyes, an image of the pier flashed…. the shadows, the faceless figure, the blinding headlights.And always, always, the memory of Andre’s arms around me, the way his warmth seeped into my body when I was trembling too hard to breathe sat at the forefront.By the time morning light shone brightly through the curtains, my body was stiff from all the tossing and turning.When my lashes fluttered open, I blinked at the ceiling for a long while, trying to shove away the memory of his lips grazing mine.God help me, I hadn’t wanted him to stop. I could still taste him, still feel the weight of his hand cupping my cheek like I was something precious.And I hated myself for craving it.With a groan, I pushed myself upright. Samantha's soft snores drifted from down the hall, a reminder that I couldn’t a

BrittneyThe silence that followed Andre’s footsteps felt heavier than his presence.I stood rooted in place, fingers curled at my sides, pushing my feet towards the bed so I could rest.I could still smell his cologne the woodsy and warm scent stirring something reckless in me.I should have been relieved that he left.I should have been angry… furious even… that he dared to press close, to kiss me like he wasn't the one keeping secrets for me.Instead, my heart was still racing, betraying me with every beat.“Get a grip, Brittany!” I whispered to myself, pressing trembling hands to my face.But no amount of scolding could erase the image of him…. his eyes dark and full of unspoken need. Or the words that had cut deeper than they should have: I’ve never seen you like that before.Neither have I.But then again, it's not every day that I would get chased by a masked figure down a pier.I sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, forcing slow breaths.It was wrong.It was d

BrittneyI zipped up my black leather jacket and stared at myself in the mirror, trying to ignore how anxious my reflection looked.The dark jeans I had pulled on felt stiff against my legs, while the Converse sneakers I wore were light yet ready for quick steps if I needed to run.My hands hovered over the small kitchen drawer before pulling out the pocketknife Hilda usually used to cut up fruit.It wasn’t much, but I slid it into my back pocket anyway.Just in case.You can never be too careful.I wasn’t usually the girl who carried knives. I wasn’t usually the girl who lied about migraines just so she could sneak off in the morning while Andre was gone and Claire stepped out to run a quick errand.But after last night, after those messages… I didn’t know who I was anymore.The knife’s weight pressed against my spine as if reminding me of the choice I’d already made.Last night was a blur of shadows and lit-up screens.I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the messages flas

BrittneyStaring at the box, I took one look at her before I reached for it.The sound of the lock snapping open echoed too loudly in the small, dim room.My heart raced, half-hoping that what I would find wasn't as Earth's shattering as she made it seem.My wrists strained against the cuffs as I reached forward.For one breathless second, I imagined something grotesque inside…. bones, blood, or proof of whatever twisted point she wanted to make.But when I lifted the lid, the sight inside was nothing I could’ve prepared for.Inside were photographs.Dozens of them, scattered and overlapping like broken memories pieced together.My mother’s face leapt out at me first… her younger, brighter smile captured in faded Polaroids.Her arm was slung around the very woman standing across from me.She looked away different but then…. younger, brighter and full of life but there was no mistaking her identity.They looked inseparable, almost like sisters. In one photo, they wore identical sundres

BrittneyMy chest heaved, every breath I inhaled felt shallow and ragged, as I spun between Grace Miller behind me and the shadowed figure blocking the door ahead.Sweat ran down my arms, my pulse beating like a frantic drum in my ears.I was caught, like an animal in a trap, and the air was too thick to breathe.“Where do you think you’re going?” Grace’s voice lashed out, sharp, cutting through the tension.She stepped forward, her eyes glinting with intent, too focused on me to see the veiled figure ahead.Her lips twisted into that cruel little smile that said she thought she’d already won.The masked figure didn’t move, just stood there, shoulders squared, blocking any chance of escape.My gaze darted past him, searching to the left where the kitchen had an open window that was too high, and too far to get into.Balancing on the balls of my feet, I weighed my options.I could go backwards to Grace, but the scary look in her eyes made me pause, and then there was the veiled figure