Page 69 of Craving Danger

“God only knows. Those two have the weirdest relationship I’ve ever seen.” Mom turns left at a traffic light, then says, “Matt is doing well at work, and Wendy is about to pop. Once they have the baby, I’ll probably go to Portland to help out.”

“Do they know what they’re having?”

Mom shakes her head. “They want to keep it a surprise, but her butt is so big I think it’s a boy.”

“I hope you didn’t tell her you think her butt is big,” I say, my eyes wide on my mother.

“Of course not.”

Mom steers the car up the driveway, and as I open the door, Dad steps out onto the porch and waves at me.

Being home helps ease the tension from my body, and as I hurry toward my dad and give him a hug, I push all the thoughts about Mr. Vitale and the Cosa Nostra to the back of my mind.

“Welcome home, Sammie,” Dad murmurs before he pushes me back so he can look at me. “How is the New York life treating you? You look too skinny. Are you eating enough?”

I give Dad a comforting smile. “I’ve just been busy at work. I plan on picking up a lot of weight over the next week.”

“Good. I’ve roasted some almonds for you to snack on.”

The smell of roasted almonds is synonymous with Dad. It’s something he’s done all my life.

We walk into the house, and the familiarity of my family home settles around my shoulders like a warm blanket.

This is just what I needed to catch my bearings.

“We’re just dropping off the luggage, then we’re going shopping,” Mom informs Dad of our plans.

“Ribeye steak is on sale at Joe’s. Grab three, then I’ll grill them for dinner,” Dad says as he follows us to my bedroom.

“Oh, I was going to make the pot roast Sammie loves so much.”

“Fine, I can grill them tomorrow,” Dad relents.

A smile plays around my lips, and walking into my childhood bedroom, I glance at the posters of Nirvana and the Red Hot Chili Peppers still up on the walls. My parents have kept the room exactly as I left it.

The single bed is covered in a pink bedspread, and the desk where I did my homework has a vase with daisies standing in the center.

“Let’s leave Sammie to freshen up,” Mom says as she pushes Dad out of the room, then she smiles at me, “We’ll be on the porch, sweetie.”

“Okay. I won’t take long.”

When the door shuts behind them, I slump down on the edge of my bed and fall backward on the covers.

God, I could sleep for a week.

My phone buzzes, and I let out a groan as I dig in my handbag for the device. When I look at the screen, a smile spreads over my face, and I open the message.

MMM: Your flight should’ve landed already. Are you in Seattle?

Samantha: I just got to my parents' house and was going to send you a text.

MMM: How’s the tattoo?

Samantha: It just feels like I have sunburn. Nothing I can’t handle.

MMM: I’m glad to hear that. I’ll let you go so you can spend time with your family.

Samantha: Thank you for checking in on me.

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