Page 178 of Bossy Hero

As I shuffle into her arms, my mind rapidly sorts my thoughts into two distinct categories. My optimistic side wants to believe she’s here simply to comfort and surround me with love, allowing me to do the same for her. My other thoughts are far darker.

Why is she crying? Could something have happened to Sawyer or Leo while they were out searching for Alan? Did they find him?

And if so, was it too late?

I fold myself around my daughter, hugging her as tightly as I can despite her pregnant belly impeding our connection. Since she’s slightly taller than me, she presses my cheek against her shoulder and lovingly caresses the side of my head.

Her prolonged silence is terrifying. The acerbic taste of crippling fear floods my mouth.

I bet you didn’t know that fear had a flavor, did you?

Take it from me, it does.

It’s bitter and rancid. A cross between spoiled milk and rotten vegetables. It coats your tongue like a paste. You can try to rinse it down with water—or, as in my case, a bottle of wine—but it still lingers.

Once I find the courage to pull out of Sammy’s embrace, I study her expression for clues to whatever must have happened to send her looking for me in a tizzy. Moving of their own accord, my hands rise to cup her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she rasps, shrugging gingerly out of my hold and wiping the tears from her face.

“Sorry for what?” I force the words out, my voice sounding foreign to my ears.

Her face blanches, and her eyes shoot wide with shock or fear. “Oh no, that isn’t what I meant.”

Wait. What?

Sammy’s typical humor returns with her next breath. She presses the inside of her palm against her forehead twice as if she’s smacking some sense into herself. “I’m sorry for crying and not telling you why I’m here, making you think I was delivering bad news.”

My face crumples in confusion, but a spark of hope flutters in my chest.

She extends her hands out in front of her. “To be clear, I amnotdoing that. It’s the opposite. Good news. But when I saw how sad and scared you looked, I got choked up again. Damn hormones.”

My lips part, allowing a tiny gasp to escape. That spark of hope begins to ignite.

“What is it? What’s the good news?”

As soon as the question leaves my lips, her face lights up with impish delight. The joke is coming in three, two, one.

Her eyes dance. “The good news, Mother, is Jesus died for our sins, and?—”

I press my index finger against her mouth to shush her. “I was going to let you finish, but I suspect it’ll be highly blasphemous.”

She winks and talks around my finger. “Oh, ittotallywould’ve been.”

I’m unable to hold my grin, especially now that it’s clear no one is hurt. Although my daughter loves to joke about inappropriate things, she wouldn’t go for a cheap laugh in the midst of something severe.

“In my defense, I only knewjustenough about that good news thing to get myself in trouble. I admit I wasn’t a great student in Sunday school.” She shrugs. “So it was probably for the best that you stopped me when you did.”

I send my eyes for a roll around my head and huff. “Enough, Samantha.Pleasetell me what the latest is with Alan and the boys. Did they find him? Are they all right?”

“Everyone is safe, Mom.”

Air whooshes out of me so quickly it leaves me a little dizzy. “They are?”

Sammy nods eagerly. “Yes. Big Al turned his comms back on as soon as he returned to his car. He was fine the whole time. I was in the lair waiting, which is how I found out so fast.”

“Where was he all this time?”

“Talking to the chief. He said he’ll explain everything when he gets back.”

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