CHAPTER NINETEEN

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Fallon prepared herself for the worst. For a minute, she actually debated running out the backdoor to find Embry and simultaneously avoid her father, but she dismissed that half-assed idea quickly. Not only would Embry be long gone by now due to his freakishly fast werewolf running skills, but her father wouldn't have let her gone two feet without stopping her, as well. Resisting would be futile, so with a small sigh she plopped herself down on the couch and patiently waited.

Mahalo pinched the bridge of his nose and began pacing back and forth, his preferred style of calming himself, while Paul sat down on the chair across from her with his head in his hands. They were acting like someone had just died. So dramatic, thought Fallon resignedly. This is going to be a long night.

To her utmost surprise, her father didn't start off the argument by yelling. Very quietly, he asked, "Why can't you just listen to me for once? Rabbit, I'm only doing what's best for you. You're my kid, for crissake!"

"How would you know what's best for me? You don't even know the first thing about me," Fallon replied just as equally quiet. She surprised herself by being so calm. "You call me 'rabbit' like it means we have a connection or something, as if it means something to me. It doesn't, Dad. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't. I was six-years-old—ten years ago. You'd think by now you would have learned something else about your own daughter. Did you know that I love to paint, just like Mom did? Well, do you?"

Mahalo stopped pacing and turned to look at her. "Of course I do," he murmured. "I—I feel the same way, actually. Your mother's the one that taught me how to paint. I never did while she was still alive, but I started to after her death. It's a type of therapy for me. I'm not saying I'm any good at it, though. Every year I paint a portrait of you both—" He paused, as though he were deciding whether or not to continue telling his story. He ran his fingers through his hair, and with a sigh he continued, "Every year after I finish the portraits I bring them to the top of the Landing and burn them. It's stupid, I know, but I believe by burning them—well, maybe the smoke tendrils will reach your mother somehow." He turned away, embarrassed, and muttered again, "It's stupid."

Fallon's mouth was wide open in shock; she didn't even bother to try and hide it. Paul looked as equally surprised, his bright brown eyes widening. She had never seen this side of her father before. He looked so vulnerable and broken. He'd finally stripped away the hardened shell he'd spent Fallon's entire life building and let them get a peak inside at the real him. Suddenly realizing something, she blurted, "Was it you that painted that portrait of me I found in my art classroom?"

Mahalo looked confused, but then he said, "I did lose your portrait, or so I thought I did. I haven't burned Paul's yet because I started a new one for you. It didn't seem right to burn one but not the other. But who would have gone to the trouble to steal something so invaluable and then just leave it in a high school?"

Fallon knew at once it had been Embry. He'd been in the house a handful of times before and had every opportunity to take it. She knew why he'd done it, too. She now understood how much he cared for her, so he must've known even before they'd become friends all about how she felt towards her father. It would be so like Embry to do something like this, too. He'd made sure she would see the painting, believing that seeing something so beautifully drawn by her own father would have a profound impact on her, and maybe, just maybe, bring them closer together. He was trying to help repair their broken relationship, even though he knew her father was trying to keep Embry away from her. Embry was selfless, plain and simple. There was just one thing that didn't make sense. "Did you sign your name or something on it?" she asked bemusedly. How had Embry expected her to know it was from her father?

For the very first time in her entire life, Fallon saw her father blush. "On the back, I write a little something for—for your mother, and sign the bottom," he muttered. "It's stupid, but I'd try anything that might let me communicate with your mom in some way."

Fallon hadn't even thought about looking on the back, not that her teacher had given her much time to anyways. The longing she now felt to have gotten the chance to read his letter surprised her. Realizing both her brother and father's gazes were upon her, she cleared her throat and shrugged. They wouldn't understand why Embry had done what he did, so she wasn't going to waste her breath trying to explain it to them. Although, she did wonder where the portrait was now and what had happened to it. Aloud, she said awkwardly, "It was beautiful."

She'd never given her father a compliment before.

He seemed just as embarrassed to be accepting one, because he simply shrugged. He then suddenly started his pacing again, pushing his shoulders back and standing up a bit straighter. Fallon knew at once the lovely little sharing time they'd just had was over. He had his back-to-business face on. "I'm tired of arguing about this, Fallon," he sighed. "So, I'm sorry, but I'm putting you on house arrest until all of this vampire shit blows over. I don't want you seeing this boy again, not ever."

Fallon's mouth fell open in shock as her father started to leave the room. Snapping back to reality, she yelled, "You can't just say that and walk away!" She stood and immediately grabbed his arm. "Dad, I'm talking to you!"

"This is just the way it's going to have to be, Fallon. You refuse to listen to me, so you've left me with no alternative. You're lucky I decided against sending you to Port Townsend to stay with your aunt for the remainder of the year. It would've been too dangerous to have you so far away from the protection La Push offers. I would have done it otherwise, young lady," Mahalo said sternly, prying her fingers off his arm.

Fallon immediately grasped his arm again. "'Young lady?' Seriously, Dad, do you get all of your parenting skills from shitty television shows? That's an empty threat anyways, because your sister can't even stand you," she snapped furiously.

Mahalo raised his eyebrows. "That's true," he admitted, "but what does that have to do with you? You're not me. She loves the two of you dearly. She already told me that she would be delighted to have you come visit for a while."

"Fine," Fallon grumbled, "but what makes you think I'll even listen to you? What's to stop me from walking right out that door and never coming back?"

Mahalo gave her the don't-be-stupid look and said dryly, "Really, Fallon? Two werewolves will stop you, that's what would happen."

Fallon's white-hot anger had reached its boiling point. Mahalo was halfway out of the room when Fallon exploded, screaming, "All you are is a drunk-ass, worthless deadbeat dad that doesn't give a flying fuck about anyone but yourself. I hate you!"

Mahalo's back was to the living room; he'd paused to hear Fallon speak, but a few moments after she'd finished he wordlessly left the room. Fallon still stood in the living room with her chest heaving, staring at the spot her father had just vacated. When she collapsed to her knees and began to softly cry, Paul came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, slowly rocking her back and forth.

Just an hour ago she'd been the happiest girl alive, but her happiness had gone the moment Embry had walked out that door.

EN: Please review! It means the world to me, not to mention motivation for me to keep me writing and updating! Haha. And I also enjoy reading you all's thoughts on the story and how it's progressing. Until next time! :)