Page 6 of Broken Hearts

“Yes, Mitch Harris is my dad,” I finally reply, getting up enough courage to not sound like I’m lying, even though I feel like I am.

“I didn’t even know he had a daughter until like ten minutes ago,” he mutters, and his attitude is beginning to piss me off.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know about you either,” I shoot back, not even sure what I mean. Of course, I didn’t know about this guy. I don’t even know his connection to my dad in the first place. All I know is he’s standing outside of The Pipe Dream, which looks exactly the same as when I was last here nearly ten years ago. The yellow paint is weathered, and every nail holding the building together is saltwater-rusted, but there’s something about it that feels soothing, like home. I know this building, unlike this guy who is being a total shithead.

“Good comeback,” the guy hisses, rolling his eyes as he grabs a towel from a hook outside the shower, drying his hair and pulling on a T-shirt with a worn-out logo for The Pipe Dream. “I gotta go to work. Do you need something?”

He begins walking around to the back of the building, and I follow him, pissed off that he’s blown me off. He could have at least introduced himself, but that is clearly too much effort for him.

“Go ahead and walk away from me. I don’t even know your name!” I shout, my words loud even over the sound of the waves across the street.

He tosses a hand above his head and for a split second I think he’s about to flip me off. But thinking better of it, he just goes inside the building, letting the door close behind him.

“Great,” I mutter to myself, letting out an annoyed huff. I stomp my way over, following the path the guy took and I begin banging on the door I saw him go in.

Waiting for him to answer is the longest ten seconds of my life, my heart racing, my palms sweaty given I have no idea what I’m supposed to say.

When he whips open the door, his head tilts to the side, waiting for me to say something, and all I can think of is, “What crawled up your ass? I’m here to see Alana, so if you can tell me where I can find her, I’ll leave you alone.”

A thick layer of white fluffy clouds fills the sky; the sun is beating down on me as the smell of ocean water permeates the space between me and this unpleasant asshole.

He props himself in the doorway, his toned arm stretched up high, like he’s trying to block my way in. I would like to see the place my father called home for all these years, but not like this.

Suddenly I hear a voice let out a high-pitched shriek. “Oh my god, you’re here! You must be Sage Harris. Aloha!”

This tiny dark-haired beauty about my age comes rushing over, throwing her arms around me, pulling me tightly against her. She smells of coconuts and sea salt, and her tan is a deep shade of bronze. She’s stunning, and I can only assume this is Alana.

Strangely I let out a sigh of relief, worried that I was going to come face to face with my dad’s wife or his girlfriend, but Alana is far too young, at least I hope she is too young for my dad.

And again, I remind myself that he’s not here. It doesn’t matter if Alana is his girlfriend or his wife or whatever. I silently chastise myself for selfishly wanting her to be a horrible person based on her association with my dad. I can’t believe how immature and childish my thoughts have been since finding out my father passed away, and not just that, but this horrid sense of jealousy I have that these people had a relationship with him when I didn’t.

I could have tried harder. I could have been a better daughter. But I wasn’t, and now I need to figure out how I fit into his life now that he’s gone.

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Alana says, pulling back. She holds me at arm’s length. “Obviously, I’m Alana. We talked on the phone. You’re early.” She drops her arms, her eyes scanning my face. “You have Mitch’s eyes,” she now says, her excitement like fireworks blasting in the sky. “Oh, you’re just beautiful, but I knew you would be.”

Again, she pauses, but only for a heartbeat before she’s rambling again, her eyes now filled with tears. “You look like Mitch, and holy shit, that’s hard to see.” Letting out a hard breath, she reaches for me again, hugging me tightly.

“I’ve been told that,” I say softly, remembering how, when I was here as a kid, people would say that to me all the time and I hated it. As a girl, who wants to be told they look like their dad?

“I guess you met Nate,” Alana now says, beaming at him as he stands in the doorway looking like he wants to kill me with his bare hands. “Nate, this is Sage Harris, Mitch’s daughter,” she says, a tone to her words that feels like she’s trying to convince him that I’m alright.

That ship has sailed. He hates me with the fire of a thousand suns.

“Come in, come in!” Alana says, blooming with enthusiasm. “You want to see the shop? I know the last time you were here was like, well, I don’t know, a while ago.”

Alana puts a hand on Nate’s chest, giving him a gentle shove out of the way, and even though he moves, that doesn’t mean he wants me coming inside.

“It’s so good to have you here.” She looks over her shoulder at me, smiling with a perfectly toothy grin. “I miss Mitch so much and having you here is like having a small piece of him back.”

Alana stops at a counter that is constructed from an old surfboard, an iPad mounted next to an ancient cash register. When she turns to look at me, her eyes are filled with tears again.

“It all just happened so quickly.” Her words have now turned quiet as she swipes a finger at the drop that escaped, running down her cheek.

Nate comes up next to her, resting a hand on the small of her back, and my eyes immediately fall there. I guess he does have some compassion, just not for me. He presses a kiss to her hair, whispering something that makes her smile, and she gives a little nod.

They’re clearly a couple, and for a split second, I’m hit with a thought that makes my jealousy return twice over.

What if Alana is his daughter? Or what if that grumpy asshole is his son? These people could be my siblings. Holy shit.

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