"My daughter?" My Dad finally asked after an eternity of silence, I looked up finally, my eyes widening.

Dean Ambrose?!?

My Dad was Dean Ambrose?!

I glanced down at my unstable pendent before I looked back up at him. Making eye contact with him, I froze.

Jonathan was Dean, Dean was Jonathan, Jonathan was my dad. My favorite WWE wrestler was my Dad.

That was some creepy shit.

"Um, Blake? Are you sure this isn't a mistake?" I finally ask quietly, not taking my eyes off the well toned man in front of me. He was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and his light brown hair was dry, which looked weird because I was used to it being wet and plastered to his forehead. His gray/blue eyes bore down into me, taking me in, which made me feel uncomfortable. I shifted, showing my discomfort and he finally looked up at the officer.

Jon's P.O.V

When the girl looked up at me, making eye contact, I took a good look at her.

She had dirty blonde hair and dull gray/blue eyes that showed all her emotions, and the fact that there was a lot shown caught me off guard. So much hurt and loss, nervousness, and discomfort.

When she spoke her voice was soft and gentle, sounding uncertain and sad. "Um, Blake? Are you sure this isn't a mistake?"

Blake must of been the cop, but I was agreeing with this girl. There must be a mistake.

She shifted uncomfortably and I averted my gaze up to the man.

"Jon, I can explain this, let us in so we can sit."

I stepped back, giving them room to enter, the girl hesitantly walked past me, she reached to the middle of my chest, but her head was down, she might of came up to the base of my neck when she stood up straight. I watched her as the police officer came in, I closed the door behind him, following him to the couch.

Drew's P.O.V

I sat at the counter in the kitchen, watching the two men talk, once and awhile looking over at me, but I couldn't hear them, I was listening to music through my blue Bluetooth headset. Dean, or Jon looked at me for the second time and stared, I looked up and stared back at him.

I still couldn't digest the fact that Dean Ambrose was my sperm donor. I mean did my body somehow know he was related to me in way, was it why he was my favorite wrestler from the beginning? Who knows.

I looked down, playing with my pendant, rubbing my thumb across the words, U-N-S-T-A-B-L-E. I looked up again, finding Jon leaning in on the counter on his arms, staring at me. I jumped back.

He smiled.

I slowly pulled my blue headset off my ears, still staring at him.

"So," he said finally, "you're my daughter?"

"It what the paper says." I answered bluntly. "But I don't know why Mom never told me about you, she left some very important information out about you."

"She never told you about me?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. I shook my head.

"I've asked, but it was the same answer every time, and it was very little info, like 'oh you have his hair, his eyes, and you definitely get your temper from your Dad.' Yeah nothing helpful. Except knowing I'm a mini you."

He chuckled. "So you didn't know, either?"

"I didn't know, the only real info I ever gotten was in the letter the receptionist gave me when I ran into the hospital to visit her after school today."

"She was in the hospital?"

I nodded, feeling the hot tears come to my eyes, making Jon all blurry. "She had brain cancer."

"When . . .?"

"This morning."

He fell silent, watching me, his eyes clouded in sympathy. "I'm sorry, do you still have the note?"

I nodded, pulling it out, handing it to him, wiping my tears away.

After a minute or so he folded it back up and handed it to me, looking sad, running his hand down his face, his hand hung off his top lip and he looked down at my neck. I slowly followed his gaze, at first I thought he was staring at my headphones because they were still on, playing It Has Begun by Starset, and I knew he could hear it, it was a loud bass when not on my head, but then I realized his eyes weren't on the set around my neck, it was on the pendent.

He slowly reached over to grab it, studying it. "Are you a fan?"

I nodded faintly.

"Yeah, but I'm not asking for any autographs, not in the mood, not after finding out my mom died this morning while I was at school . . ." I felt the tears fill up to the brim as I continued, trying to keep my voice under control, but had to soften my voice as every word came out as it threatened to crack. "She was the only thing I had, and I was the only thing she had. When she got cancer we were there for each other. Everyday after school I'd run to the hospital to see her, I would usually be there right now in her room, telling her about my day . . . now . . . now she gone." My voice finally cracked.

I slid off the stool, the pendent slipping from Jon's hands.

Officer Gates was gone and I was alone with my dad, I sat on the couch, finally it dawn on me that my mom was dead and I was alone with a man that I didn't know. A whimper escaped my lips as I leaned forward, burring my hands in my hair.

"My life sucks."

"C'mon, don't say that, I don't know you, but I bet you had some great times with your mom."

I looked over at Jon. "Not to be mean, or embarrass you, but do you even remember my name?"

"Drew."

"Drew what?"

"Drew something, I remember it started with an A I know that 'cause it reminds me of Dean Ambrose."

I gave him a unimpressed look. "Of course it does."

He smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Sorry."

"It's Anderson." I frowned as something came to me. "If Mom's dead and I'm living with you does this mean my new last name will be Good? Please say no, Good is not me, I'm a bad a girl, Drew Good does not have a great ring to it, it sounds like a compliment to someone, like, "oh you drew good, nice job drawing that picture!" yeaaaah no."

He chuckled. "Could change it to Ambrose."

"Dean Ambrose isn't real though, you make him real, Jonathan."

"Drew, " he said sternly, for once sounding like an actual parent. "Call me Jon, I prefer you do."

"Oh, so Mom was right, you are distant at first, can't even call you Dad, but don't stress it feels kinda weird calling Dean Ambrose, my favorite WWE wrestler, dad." I looked around. "So, if I'm staying with you, am I sleeping on the couch?"

"Most likely."

I nodded, giving him a thumbs up, quickly throwing on my headset. "Now, excuse me, I'm going to listen to my depressing music."

"It can't be that depressing."

I turned my Bluetooth off and let my music play, looking at Jon with a raised brow, daring him to disagree with me.

"Okay, its depressing."

"Thought so." I giggled, reconnecting the Bluetooth.

"Don't you have any non depressing songs?" He asked, sitting in a chair across from me.

I shrugged my shoulder, quirking my lip. "Maybe . . ." I scrolled through the songs on my phone.

I look up at him when Animal I Have Become. "I think this is the most non depressing."

He quirked an eyebrow.

I sighed, skipping the song to the next. His other eyebrow raised to become even with the first one. "What the hell?"

I burst out laughing, falling onto my back as Middle Finger Up by Attila filled the silence. "Oh my god! That was too good! Don't worry, my mom had the same reaction."

I changed it to Fall Out Boy's Immortals.

"So you do have a non depressing song!" Jon cheered teasingly, causing me to rolled my eyes, I then smirked when it ended and a depressing song played, once again, It Has Begun.

"Sure, non depressing." I slid the headphones other my ears. "I'll leave you alone now, Jon, pretend I'm not here." I stretched out onto the couch, folding my arms back behind my head, It's Not Over filling the silence I had heard.

I sighed, closing my eyes.