I run a hand through my hair, my dad walking into the room, "Isa, I need you to--" His eyes land on Will and his expression soon changes into a sneer, "What are you doing near her?"
I swallow, "Daddy, just--"
"No, Isabel. Home. Now," He mutters.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
Someday, everything is going to go right for you, and it will be so wonderful you won't even know what to do. — Hannelore Ellicott-Chatham, Questionable Content