𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐮𝐧, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 (𝟐)

02 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘛 𝘌𝘚𝘊𝘈𝘗𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘙𝘈𝘐𝘕

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

i walked out of the airport, and rushed into the cab my dad had sent for me. even though i still had a week left here, i wanted to at least feel like i was rushing things along. i sighed as i brushed off the rain water on my legs.

susannah always loved the rain. i never really got to figure out why, i shouldve asked. but while the boys would complain about a day inside, she would rejoice at the fact. she'd sit on the window seat, facing the ocean, and watch the storm clouds roll in. the rain falling on the ocean. the puddles ruin the perfect sand, turning it into one hard rock of mud.

then, when the rain stopped, she'd run to the front porch.

dont you smell it, she said one day i chased her out there, the rain coming off the warm pavement. im not sure i had ever seen her smile bigger, its the best smell in the world.

that was one thing i had always loved about susannah. give her a rainy day, and she'd be able to find the sun. maybe, she would just be the sun for you.

again, it hadnt stopped raining since her funeral. and now, we had no sun.

"just cant escape the rain today." the driver, bill, joked with me.

"tell me about it." i groaned, leaning my head on the window, and looked at the storm clouds rolling into my small hometown.

oh ohio, how i didnt miss you.

the drive was long, and dark. i had landed just around dinner time, and my stomach begged for food.

i said thank you to bill, tipping him plenty, and walked up to my townhome.

i walked in, and surprised myself with a sigh. the smell of my home was sweet and familiar. calming.

"how was the flight macee?" my dad asked from the kitchen, his voice echoing. i closed my eyes, and let the smile grow on my lips.

i felt guilty, really. the relief of being out of that house, that place, that state, it was terrible. but refreshing. suddenly, i didnt wish for the week to go by so fast.

the feeling of conrad shaking in my arms this morning made me take that back.

"it was fine." i yelled back, rolling my suitcase closer to the stairs, "whatcha doing?"

before i could turn the corner of the kitchen, my dad ran out from around it, engulfing me in a hug, "how are the fishers doing?"

"as can be expected." i sighed, hugging him back.

"and you?" he asked, and i smiled. no one had asked me that in a long time.

"im okay." i looked around, "glad to be home."

"i am too." he gleamed, and hugged me again.

"ugh, dad im sweaty and wet and all airport-germy..." i cringed as i shook him off, walking briskly towards the kitchen, "and im starving-"

"macee-" i barely heard my dad's panicked plea before i turned the corner and saw the unimaginable.

one, my father was cooking. there were two pans on the stove and the oven had just beeped. he never had done such a thing.

and two, there was a woman sitting at the dining room table. such a thing has also never happened. not for a long time, anyway.

"oh, hi." i stuttered, trying to look back at my dad more than the stranger, "um."

"macee," my dad said again, his voice much calmer than the last time, and paced quickly towards me.

"yes?" i said when he just stared at me, so did the woman.