Page 11 of Saints & Sailors

Upon eyeing the box of corn flakes, I noted that the option for milk wasn’t up to par.

“Almond milk? You a health nut?” I asked.

Scott shook his head. “Nah, a friend of mine recommended it. It just grew on me, but we can get regular if you like. You should try the almond though. You get used to it.”

I smirked. “Like I want to get used to this.”

“I get it, you’re on edge. You must really hate me. I’m prepared.” He said this expectantly and innocently. Like he practiced for my teen angst bullshit.

I didn’t know Scott Stanley, but I felt nothing negative toward him either. I supposed I should’ve hated him, for abandoning me and all, but instead I felt nothing.

“Can’t hate what you don’t know,” I decided to say.

He nodded. “You must have a lot of questions.”

“Why did you agree?” I demanded to know first. “You don’t know me.”

“You’re my daughter,” he stated as if it were that simple.

I wasn’t his daughter two weeks ago. “Barely.”

“There are a lot of unresolved issues here, but I’m glad I can help now. Your mother says you’re reckless, and this last episode is really concerning, Saylor.”

I held up my hand. “Do not shrink me, Scott. You don’t know me to judge me.”

He raised his hands in innocence. “I’m not judging. I’m just assessing the situation.”

Just what I needed. To be “assessed” by another person who did not know me. Wanting to push his buttons, I threw out, “I like going out at night, having wild sex in orgies, and doing drugs and drinking until it all fades away.”

Scott blinked, releasing a breath through his nose. “Well, that certainly won’t be continuing here. This is a fresh start, for the both of us.”

“So no leaving a scrunchie on the doorknob to let the other know we’ve got company?” I questioned.

Scott deadpanned, seeming to lose his patience. “Saylor.”

I groaned and shut the fridge. “Spare me the afterschool special.”

“Listen,” Scott attempted to start again, softening his tone to an almost pleading level. “This isn’t temporary. You are here now, at least until you go off to college.”

“I’m not going to college,” I told him flat-out.

This disappointed him. “No?”

“College is just this big expected cliché. I don’t like to do what’s expected of me.”

Scott made a face. “I expect you to become some uneducated loser then.”

I snorted. “Nice try.” This whole line of conversation was nauseating. “Look, can we order a pizza and save time?”

I didn’t wait for his response before leaving the room and heading for my bedroom.

As I was passing by the front door, a figure appeared behind the frosted glass and knocked a few times.

I should’ve waited for Scott’s permission, but I was hoping it was Jason Voorhees out to kill us all and end this nightmare.

No such luck.

A boy was at the door. Or maybe that was a light way of putting it. He was massive, completely filling the front doorway. Beneath his smooth tawny brown skin was nothing but muscle as I took in his toned arms and caught a glimpse of his thighs in his basketball shorts. Either he was an athlete or he worked out on the regular to achieve such a build.