Page 40 of Blood

Samantha’s driving isn’t the only thing I’m responsible for. How we left things is too.

I shouldn’t have left. I should have confronted this thing head-on. Then again, my girl ignored every single one of my texts and calls while I was gone.

That ends today.

No more ignoring me, ignoring this.

The way things happened was unfortunate, but it did happen. I just need her to stop fighting that fact.

My mind flicks to our family. Michael and Daniel will be okay . . . I think. Michael hinted last year that he would be okay with Sam and me. My throat tightens. I want Sam, but I won’t risk losing my family.

Even if our brothers understand and accept my relationship with Sam, our parents will be another story.

Samantha may be Helen and Christopher’s only biological child, but I’ve lived with them since I was eleven. They’re the only family I’ve ever known. Daniel and Michael had been with the Cromwells for a while. They were adopted years before I arrived, but they welcomed me with open arms.

Sam was only six, a brat even then. My lips spread into a grin. We may have shared a childhood home for a portion of our upbringing, but I never bonded with her like I did with the boys. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to. Perhaps we were always meant to grow into the relationship we’re about to have.

Or maybe my birth mother fucked me up too much.

Who knows? Who the fuck cares?

You do,a small voice whispers. I love Helen and Christopher, so it’ll kill me to lose them, but Samantha Cromwell is mine, whether she likes it or not.

I’ll make sure she talks to them every day and is at the cabin for lunch every Sunday. Although they’re not having her all weekend. Maybe she can travel with me in my truck when I leave for work if I still have a job.

My heart lurches at the possibility of no longer being a Cromwell. One problem at a time.

First, I need to talk to Samantha, and since she’s ignoring me, I’m going to get one of the few people she won’t ignore.

Shelby.

Pulling into the truck yard, I wave to Marcus as he points me to the spot he wants me to go.

Throwing the truck into park, I reach for my cell.

“Hi, sis. I need a favor . . .”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kaleb

Turning the front door handle, I silently curse Sam’s best friend for not locking the door. Did we not just survive a break-in?

I mean, the woman lives alone now. She should know better.

Shaking my head, I walk through the one-story property until I find Shelby in her bedroom.

Her back to me, she’s packing a bag on her bed, completely oblivious that I’m standing in the doorway.

“You and I need to have a word.” I tut.

“Ahhh!” she screams. Whipping around, her left hand clutches at her heart while her right lifts the bedside lamp.

“Really?” I ask with a raised brow. “I could be a serial killer, and your plan is to defend yourself with a lamp?”

“No.” She shakes her head, wide-eyed. “The plan is to have a heart attack before I can be murdered. You’ll be happy to know we’re on schedule.”

Shelby tilts her head back and huffs a harsh breath, her cheeks puffing out. She looks like a startled little hamster.