Sea Lion Shores the preacher in a t-shirt told me i could be a leader

Her chosen place of refuge was quiet. Peaceful; no voices, no crying except for the quiet but violent waves of her own, no strange man. She let her tears dry on their own and the streams of snot and spit simmer to quiet hiccups.
By the time she had gathered herself, the thump of paws could be heard just outside her little boulder-hut and a face appeared, reaching for her; John, she thought his name was, that man who was on the shore that day, and her emotions burst once again in the form of blistering resentment.
He reaches to pull her into an embrace and her response is a show of pearl-white teeth, eyes wide and scared and lips tight in their curl, body cowered and pressed rigid against the seastones. You can't make me, she seethes, ears pulled back; you're not my daddy. I want him!
But did she? She didn't know. She thought she did, but now her eyes stung with more tears, and her voice felt gravelly and her face was hot at the mere mention of his return, and she didn't even know why.
She didn't want him. He didn't need her problems; she'd made him sad enough before, and she remembered it, that night on the beach as thunder licked at their backs and she clung to his shoulders. She knew the hurt in his eyes from that night, and it made her feel as if her world was crashing down all over again as she thought of it.
And Ava; oh—
Dinah cried for everything and yet nothing at the same time. She decided then and there that she would come back on her own terms.
Leave me alone.