"Your father?!" he crowed, like this was the best news he'd ever heard. "Hello there! Cheers mate!"

"Niall...." I hissed, reaching out to grab him away. But my father was already stumbling towards us.

He looked... Well the word was awful, there was no other way to describe him. His sallow, yellowing skin hung off his face, as thin as paper. But I still could see the rage in his eyes. That much had not changed. "Niall, no," I said firmly. "Let's go."

But my father was already there, peering around Niall to glare at me. "Nice of you to show up," he slurred.

I folded my arms protectively across my chest, subconsciously balling up my fists. "Well it wasn't my idea," I said, keeping my voice as even as I possibly could.

"So you're Reese's father?" Niall seems to be catching on pretty quickly. His voice had gone all wary, and his green eyes darted over to me, slow dawning horror in them. I had to look away, my cheeks flaming with rage and old embarrassment.

"So," my father said, his drunken, mocking voice far too familiar. "Strutting around town, not even good enough to say hi to your father anymore? What are you, fancy now or somethin'?" He looked at Niall, who could not look more out of place in this washed up, dusty town. "I bet you think you're better than me," my father said to him.

"Yeah, dad," I interjected before Niall could say anything wrong, and somehow insult his already bruised ego. "Yeah, he's a hell of a lot better than you."

My dad rounded on me, the way it should be. I'd drawn his attention away from Niall like a bullfighter waving his cape. "Apparently," he sneered "I raised a snotty bitch. Is that what I did?"

I squared off, turning my hips to the side, ready for the fight.

But Niall was too quick. He reached out, placing his hand on my father's shoulder. And I winced when I heard him say, "Sir, you can't talk to her that way."

My father whirled around. "She's my daughter," he said "I'm gonna talk to her like how I want." He turned back to me. "You know, you owe some money, Teresa Ann."

"What the hell do I owe you money for?" I said, backing away from him and closing my fingers around the handle of the truck. Keeping him talking with the best way to do it. If we could just get back into the truck....

"Stealing from me," my father asserted.

I felt that rage boil up. My hand dropped from the handle and I stabbed a finger towards him. Poking the bear in spite of knowing better. "I never fucking stole anything from you, what are you talking about?"

"Clothes," he slurred.

I laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. I don't want your ugly, raggedy-ass clothes."

"No, not mine."

I suddenly followed his stupid, evil logic. "Are you talking about my clothes?" I asked incredulously.

"When you walked outta the house I raised you in, you were wearing clothes I bought for you with my money." He lurched up into my face and I could smell the noxious fumes on his breath. The scent made me want to vomit in terror.

"Sir," Niall said, pulling him back away from me. I gasped in a deep, clean breath.

"Get off me you bastard," my dad yelled. Lurching around, he swung his fist out in a wild blow.

Niall ducked, dodging his punch easily. Backing up, he grabbed my father by the shirt collar and swung him around flat onto the hood of the truck. "Niall, stop it! Dad, no!" I cried as my father slipped out and swung, catching Niall across the face.

Niall grunted, wincing a little, and then with a mighty swing, tossed my father back onto the curb where he staggered and then fell to the ground.

I ran around to the side of the truck. "Get in!" I yelled, yanking the driver's side door open.

For once, he actually listened to me, hopping into the passenger seat with his hand pressed against his cheek bone. A small seep of blood trickled out from underneath his hand. I threw the truck into reverse and backed away before my father could regain his footing.

I gunned it, too fast, streaking out of town thirty miles over the speed limit or more. I was asking for the bored Claybrook cops to come catch me. Most likely I'd know them. Most likely they'd arrested my dad more times than I could count, and they saw me as nothing better than Vern Bailey's brat.

I had to get out of here. I couldn't believe I was here in the first place. I'd spent so much of my life trying to get away from here... "I fucking told you I didn't want to come here," I exploded at Niall.

He sat up straighter, peering over at me. "No," he said, coldly. "You never told me anything."

I slammed my palm down on the steering wheel. "I never asked you for this!" I exploded. My rage was blinding me. I was going to drive us off the road. Hurriedly I tried to tamp it back down again, and looked over at him with concern. "Are you okay?" I demanded. "You want me to stop or something?"

He shook his head. "I'm fucking fine," he said tiredly. "He barely got me." He blinked a little. "Tried to scratch my fucking eyes out," he complained.

I breathed outward. Trying to let it go. Claybrook was receding in the rearview mirror as fast as I could legally drive away from it. "Hey," I said, trying hard to keep from exploding. I took a breath and knew I needed to calm down. I slowed onto the gravelly shoulder and came to a stop. Dust swirled in the air around us. "Hey, it's okay," I said to Niall. "You didn't know."

He was rigid as I reached over and tried to kiss him. "No, I didn't, did I?" he said slowly.

I looked up at him. An uncomfortable feeling stretched out inside of me. "Yeah," I said not really knowing what else to say.

Niall looked down at me. Was that disappointment in his green eyes? Was he actually disappointed in me? I wasn't sure I could handle that. Anger, lashing out, those I understood, but for him to be looking at me with this mixture of pity and disappointment?

No. I didn't like that at all.

Hot rage boiled up like lava in my stomach.

"How could I know?" Niall said, speaking slowly as if to a child. "You didn't tell me."

I leaned back. "What? You want me to just bare my fucking soul to you?"

"Yes!" he exploded. "Yes, I want exactly that!"

"I have my own private life you know."

He shook his head. "Not from me you don't."

"Why? What makes you special?"

He rounded on me, eyes widening. Then they narrowed and I realized what I had just said.

But I was too angry to take it back.