High School Sweethearts (wlw)

• Chapter 21 •

(Emily POV)

I paced through my living room. "Safe. What does that word even mean? How would I ever know if she's actually safe?" I said to myself, frustrated.

My mother looked at me worriedly. "Emily, dear, I'm sure Rose is just fine."

"You don't know that, mum!" I turned to her with tears in my eyes. "She could be dead right now and none of us would know!"

My mother turned to my father, who just sighed. "Where would she most likely be?" He asked, seemingly annoyed.

"That's just it! I don't know!" I cried out.

My father looked at me, confused. "Aren't you two in a relationship?"

"I don't know, maybe, maybe not! But the only reason we wouldn't be is because you just had to make a big deal out of it!"

I probably should have stopped, but I didn't. I didn't care what he thought of me, I only cared about Rose.

"It's not normal, Emily."

"No! Nothing is normal for you! For you, being normal is being a white, perverted old man who doesn't give a shit about anyone around him! Not everyone meets your standards, but that's completely fine!"

"Emily, we've talked about this." "Yes, we have. But by us talking about it, you mean me sitting there and you giving me speeches about what you think. I don't care about your opinion any more. If you don't want me in your house because I have a girlfriend, then I'll leave. You won't ever have to speak to me again."

"Emily. Where would Rose most likely be?"

"With her father in Utah. But we already checked there."

"Emily, what if you missed her? What if she was slower?"

I stopped crying and considered it.

"I guess that could be an option." I finally said.

"Would you like us to check?" Dad asked.

I thought about it, and nodded.

"But isn't it about 1000 miles from here?"

Dad sighed. "Not if we go to a friend of mine who has a private jet."

I looked confused. Where did dad know someone with a private jet from?

"Fine." I said and dad motioned for me to follow him.

We drove across the city, to a much wealthier part of our town.

The house had a blue door.

A bright blue.

It reminded me of an old sweater I had thrown away years ago.

And of the bright blue post-it.

Dad's hand was shaking as he knocked on the door.

I could hear children laughing inside, and a man in a red hoodie opened the door.

He had a bright smile on his lips, but it faded when he saw my father.

"Harold... what brings you here?"

My father's lip was quivering.

Then the man's gaze fell onto me.

His expressions softened, and he smiled at me.

"You must be Emily. I've heard a lot about you." He informed me and gave my father a sour look.

"Anthony, I only ask one thing of you, and then you can hate me forever." My father said, looking down at the floor.

"And what would that be, Harold?" The guy asked.