Friday the 14th

Part 8: Daddy Issues

Red. Jake. Bakery girl. Mrs. Larson. Dad.

It was too much. Learning that Red and Jake were brothers and Red had lived next door to me all this time was one thing, one I could deal with. But Dad?

Nope. Not happening.

So I did the only logical thing I could do in that particular situation: I turned tail and walked straight out of the house and up my front walkway. To my house. Where I would go watch Grey's Anatomy and stare into McDreamy's eyes and forget about what had just happened. Because honestly, I couldn't deal with it and I didn't want to know what he was doing here in Santa Cruz.

"Mia, wait!"

I could hear him. He was following me. But I didn't care, I didn't want to see him, because I hadn't seen him in years, since that disaster on my eleventh birthday, and I wasn't about to let him worm his way back under my skin ever again.

I slammed the front door behind me, ran for my bedroom, crumpled to the floor, and slammed my bedroom door closed too, just for good measure. After a few minutes, I crawled to my dresser and changed out of my sandy clothes from yesterday and into denim shorts, a tank top, and my white Converse and slipped out the back door.

I walked aimlessly for what felt like ages, through the suburban streets, the sun shining sickeningly bright overhead. My feet seemed to know exactly where I was going, which was useful, since my brain was still replaying that moment when I saw my father over and over again. And why was he there in the first place? Why was he at our neighbor's house instead of visiting Mom and me? Why in hell would he come back to Santa Cruz and not visit us first?

Somehow I found myself at the water. It smelled terrible, like fish, but I slowly made my way out towards the ocean, onto the wooden planks of the pier. It was mostly deserted, and at last I reached the very end and sat down, hanging my feet over the edge. The cool sea breeze that usually calmed my mind this time made it worse--because the entire freaking school thought I had slept with freaking Jake Larson.

Jake Larson, whose house my dad had showed up at.

Jake Larson, whose brother was Red.

Red, the mysterious hot guy golden boy who paid for my food twice but also broke into Sydney's house to steal her secrets.

Sydney, who was besties with Jenna and Camryn.

Jenna, Sydney, and Cam who now apparently wanted ME to be besties with them.

Instead of my besties, Quinn and Sylvie, who had barely talked to me all day.

The ocean was a sparkling blue, but I could see the fog rolling in. Dad seems to have that effect on everything, though. Turns a decent day into a gray one.

I hadn't actually seen him in person since my eleventh birthday, the birthday that almost made me grateful for Mom, who never settled down. But the part I remember isn't him showing up to make his little girl happy--nope, I didn't even realize he was in town till after Quinn had helped me pick out the dress I was going to wear to my birthday beach picnic with Sylvie and Josh and had braided my hair while we listened to Taylor Swift--country at the time.

I remember running down the stairs in all my sixth grader glory and seeing my parents standing in the corner, whispering quickly. But at the time, I was too excited to see my dad again, after a year of almost no contact. He was there, and I was young and naive, and I didn't know that sometimes when people walk out on you, you should slam the door behind them and probably lock it, too.

But Thomas Rose is good at picking locks.

His face broke into that goofy smile when he saw me, the smile that I missed so much. Maybe it would have been easier to let him go if he was the bad guy, if I had bad memories about him. And then I wouldn't hate myself for missing him, because I would have already wanted him gone.