Page 64 of But For You

We always talked as though our conversations were on a continual loop.

“I thought Sam was missing, but he’s not,” I said, pointing to where he was standing. “But he wants us to go home, where we’re safe. There was a man in our room last night.”

His grunt was very soft.

“So, we’ll go home with you.”

“Of course you will.”

Like there would have been a choice.

“You know I’m thirty-two, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Where are your things?”

I tipped my head at the pile of bags in pink, lime green, and black. There were blankets and toys and a little pink ribbon-yarn poncho.

“Call Sam over. We’re leaving.”

“Kola, go get Daddy,” I directed my son.

He ran over, stood beside Sam, put his hand in his, and waited until Sam acknowledged him. When Sam looked up and saw Dane, he excused himself and walked back toward us, hand in hand with his son.

Regina was upset, and so was Thomas. Sam’s sisters and Michael were all, I could tell, a little annoyed with me. They were talking over each other to assure me that the kids and I could stay. But the thing was, as soon as I thought Sam was in trouble, I had called Dane to come pick up my children so I’d know they were safe while I looked for him. It had been ingrained in me to go to my brother. After Sam, it was Dane. And everyone wanted to know why I didn’t have any faith in them.

Why did I need Dane when Sam’s whole family was there? Didn’t I trust them?

It was hard to explain. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust them, and it wasn’t that I didn’t think they cared as much about my kids as any of the others, but these were my kids, and my brother and his wife were who they were going to if anything ever happened to me and Sam. And now, because Sam couldn’t be there, he wanted Dane to take us home and help watch over us. It was how we were—we both believed in my brother.

Into the many raised voices stepped Sam, who only got loud because he had never been one to have a discussion when someone questioned a decision he had made. He wanted me and the kids to go home with Dane. His parents, his sisters, and his brother were questioning if that was best.

Sam’s temper could easily get the better of him since he was on edge to begin with. He didn’t want to deal with questions; he had to find a witness, and that witness was either trying to kill Sam himself or the man who had hidden the witness was trying to kill Sam to keep him from said witness. Either way, it was out in the open now, and there were several agencies ready to work together to figure out what the hell was going on. Sam wanted to be doing that, wanted to be concentrating on that. He needed me and the kids gone so he could focus all his energy there and be in hunter and not protector mode.

His family was only pissing him off.

I saw his jaw clench and would have said something, but at that point, Dane quietly lifted his hands to get everyone’s attention. I usually had to jump up and down or stand on my head to get the silence that was his in only moments.

It was one of Dane’s many strengths—the ability to spread calm, to be a rock in any kind of crisis. He explained gently, calmly, employing the voice he used in contract disputes with builders, how Sam was concerned for everyone’s safety. He told them that Sam was worried about putting any more of his family in danger, and that this way, everyone else could stay and enjoy the rest of the reunion and maybe have some semblance of normalcy. They all looked at Sam, who was glowering at that point.

“Get them out of here, Dane.”

And Dane passed Hannah to her father so the goodbyes could commence.

Hannah cried because she wasn’t at home. In her own house, Hannah said goodbye to her daddy every morning. The idea of getting on a plane without him was not appealing, and she clung and howled, which I could tell, just from looking at him, tore Sam up.

I took her, and she sobbed into my shoulder, her being overly tired not helping one little bit.

Sam went down on one knee, and Kola stepped close and fiddled with Sam’s collar and the buttons on his dress shirt.

“Do you have your gun, Dad?”

Dad was newly shortened from Daddy when he was being serious.

“Yes, I do.”