Her phone buzzed from her bag, and she went to retrieve it, shaking out her arms in an attempt to fling off the melancholy clinging to her like plastic wrap on a church potluck dish. She picked up her phone and smiled at the screen. A text from her brother Michael.
A group text after your plane lands to say you made it safe isn’t enough, sis. That was ages ago. If one of us doesn’t hear from you soon, I’m contacting the commanding officer at the army base in Stuttgart.
She rolled her eyes but opened the group text window and punched in a message.
Anyone free to chat?
She opened her laptop and pulled out the desk chair to sit. It took a minute for the computer to boot up, then she logged onto the video messaging service her family used. She glanced at the clock and did a mental calculation. Michael would already be done with work for the day, but the rest of her family might be busy.
A green phone sign showed on the screen at the same time as ringing blasted through her speakers. She smiled and clicked on her parents’ profile picture.
“Hey, Mom and Dad.”
They both smiled broadly. “It’s so good to see your face that I’m not even going to scold you about not calling us sooner.”
Dad laughed and turned his head to kiss Mom on the cheek. “I think you just did, Anita.”
Michael joined the conversation, and the screen morphed to accommodate his video feed. “Seriously, I had to threaten you before you checked in with anyone?” His hand crossed over his chest and gripped the bicep of his amputated arm. He stared into the camera, and Amber understood what it must have been like to be one of his inferiors in the navy. Not a comfortable position, to be sure.
“Don’t we still have a standing family night on Wednesday? Today’s Tuesday. In my defense, I was going to see you all tomorrow.”
“If Adam were here, he’d say your defense is weak, and I agree. You should have called days ago.”
Amber crossed her own arms and tried to match Michael’s stern expression. “It’s not like I haven’t been busy. Cut me some slack and let me get settled in before you start in on your over-protective big brother routine. Sheesh.”
The screen changed again, and Trent’s grinning face beamed across the miles. He had his shoulder-length hair pulled back into a manbun, revealing skin that had been sun-kissed. Must have recently been out on the water on a dive with his marine photographer wife, Summer. “Hey, squirt! How’s life in good ole Deutschland?” He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes squinting. “Oh wow. You don’t look so hot. Working too hard already?”
Amber threw her hands up. “Thank you! I was just trying to explain to our brother dearest that I haven’t had time to check in like a child”—she glared at Michael—“because I’ve been too busy. You know, doing the thing I actually came over here to do.”
“And how is that going, sweetie?” Dad asked.
The question kicked out all the spunk her brother’s ribbing had stirred up. “Umm, it’s good. Mostly I help out this other volunteer who heads up a soccer program, kind of like an assistant coach. The kids really seem to enjoy the sport.”
“And?” Mom prodded.
“And what?”
“I know that’s not all. As Trent not-so-delicately pointed out, you seem…worn down.”
Amber shrugged, trying to brush off the heaviness and not make her family worry. “Just a long day.”
Trent frowned. “So I take it if you’re already working too hard, it’s too much to assume you’ve done anything fun yet.”
Her lips curved of their own accord. Seeing Seth slack-jawed as she made the goal that first day and then again as she zoomed around the curves of the Autobahn at over a hundred miles an hour had been pretty fun.
“Oooo, maybe I stand corrected. Spill, my little strait-laced sister.” Trent’s grin widened.
Amber studied her nails as if going at racing speeds was an everyday occurrence instead of one that had exhilarated her, causing her heart to sprint as fast as the Porsche’s engine. “I may have taken a 911 GT3 RS for a little spin around the Autobahn.”
“No, Amber, you didn’t.” Mom clutched at her throat. If she’d been wearing pearls they would have been wrapped around her finger.
“That’s my girl.” Dad beamed. Mom smacked him on the shoulder, and he laughed. “What? She’s a Carrington. Adventure is in her blood. Did you think it would skip her because she’s a girl? Look at your sons.”
Mom sighed. “I was hoping the female part of her brain would give her some more common sense and combat that Carrington blood.”
Dad leaned into the screen. “Don’t listen to her. Someone”—he glanced back at Anita— “just got off the phone from scheduling a skydiving experience. She’s just as much of a thrill-seeker as the rest of us.”
Mom’s cheeks colored, and she shrugged sheepishly.
