Page 6 of Blood

“Jesus Christ, son.” His voice shakes.

“Is anyone here?” I ask, looking around. “Were you attacked?”

Shelby drops back down, her hands clutching her chest as she lies there. Mom covers her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Are you okay?” I ask, looking between them until I settle on Samantha.

“No, dickhead. I just lost ten years. What’s the matter with you?” she demands, throwing her arms up. “Shelbs, you okay?”

A trembling hand pops up high enough for me to see it over the back of the sofa. A thumbs-up. “Lost a few years too, but I’m good.”

At least one of us is good.

I turn to my sister and ask, “What’s the matter with me?” I raise my voice. “What’s the matter with you?” I turn my attention to Dad. “You text me 911, and then no one answers their cell?”

“Is anyone injured?” Michael asks.

I look around for him again.

“He’s not here.” Dad huffs, walking away to comfort my mother. “He’s on the damn phone.” The cell lands with a thud as he tosses it onto the coffee table.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “If no one has been attacked or dying, why did you send me a 911?” I try to calm down, but my voice still quivers.

“Attacked or dying?” Dad asks, confused.

“That’s what 911 means,” I stress, throwing out my arm.

“Shit,” Michael spits. “Dad, tell me you didn’t just text him 911?” When no answer comes, Michael continues, “Oh my God, tell me you didn’t do something crazy to get home.”

My body sags as my adrenaline starts to wane. Reaching out, I hold the back of the sofa where Shelby lies. Opening my eyes, I huff a laugh when I see her cute round face smiling up at me.

“Broke a few speeding laws, might get a couple of tickets. Oh, and I almost slit our dad’s throat when I thought he was some madman holding my family hostage,” I say nonchalantly.

“Dad, are you okay?” Michael rushes.

“Fine, I’m fine. Got a few years scared out of me too, but I’m fine. Sorry, kiddo,” he adds, looking over at me. “In my defense, your brother told me to text you 911. That you’d know what it meant.”

I laugh. “It means life and death. To get home now.”

“Michael!” Dad admonishes. “He forgot to mention that.” He huffs, giving me a guilty look.

I breathe out a laugh. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, and I nearly murdered you. How about we call it even?”

He stares at me for a minute before shaking his head. “We’re not even.”

I watch as he pushes up off the armrest, and before I know it, he has me wrapped in a bear hug.

“What’s this for?” I whisper.

“For coming in here like you’re John Wayne trying to save this family.” Dad pulls back just enough to see my face, his hand wrapped around the nape of my neck. “Not many men would. I owe you for that.”

I blink quickly. “Anytime,” I promise.

“What’s happening?” Michael whispers.

“Dad and Kaleb are hugging. It’s gross,” Sam answers, earning a disapproving look from Mom.

“Didn’t John Wayne use guns?” Shelby asks. “If he came in like John Wayne, he’d have had guns,” she states confidently, nodding.