Leave The City (Book 8 of Adopted by the Josephs)

80. Brendon

"Uncle Brendon?" Sam's voice came over the line. She was crying. "Can you come get me?"

We had said we would be there if she needed us, no questions asked. She hadn't said why, but she was upset and wanted us to pick her up. And so we would. She could tell us why when she was ready to.

"Of course. Where are you? Still at the hotel?" I asked.

"N-no," she stammered. "I'm across the road at the Denny's."

"Are you okay? I mean, physically, are you okay? Are you hurt?" I asked her.

"N-no," she said. "I-I'm okay. I, I just, please come?"

"We're on our way, Darlin'," I said as Sarah and I got into the car and sped out of the driveway and onto the street towards the hotel and the Denny's, where Samantha's prom had been. I wasn't sure how to feel at the moment. I didn't have enough information, but currently, I was somewhere between seething and concerned. I was concerned for Sam because I didn't want anything to happen to her, ever, and I was seething because if Dylan hurt her in any way, he would not be a happy camper.

"What did she say?" Sarah asked me.

"Nothing, really. She just said that she wanted us to come get her. She was crying though. She said she's okay, that she isn't hurt."

"Then, why does she want us to come get her? What did Dylan do?" Sarah asked, more rhetorically than anything.

"He had better not have done anything if he knows what's good for him," I said, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Fifteen long minutes later, we pulled up to the Denny's and parked in the lot. Sarah jumped out of the car before I could turn off the engine and get out myself. When I entered the restaurant, Sarah held Samantha in her arms.

"Hey, Darlin'," I said to her. "We're here. Are you ready to go home?"

Sam nodded, and Sarah, with her arm around Samantha,  led her out of the restaurant and into the car. Samantha wasn't saying much, and while we wanted, and needed, to know what had happened to have her call to come home, we also knew to let her tell us in her own time, whenever she was ready.

Samantha got into the car's back seat and, after doing up her seatbelt, sort of curled into herself and looked out the window. Her dress didn't look like it had been ripped or anything; her makeup was only a mess from her crying. Her hair was still in the style Kala and Sarah had done, though slightly dishevelled, no doubt from the dance.

All in all, she looked okay. But she clearly wasn't. And I would make that kid pay if he'd done anything to hurt Sam.

We drove home in silence, Sarah sitting in the back with Sam and holding her hand while Samantha leaned her head on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah murmured quietly to Sam, and while I couldn't quite hear what she was saying, I did catch a few words here and there. Sarah was just letting Sam know that we were here for her and that we would listen without judging when she was ready to tell us what happened.

I pulled into the driveway and Sarah helped Sam out of the car and up to the house. She went upstairs with Samantha and came back down a few minutes later.

"Has she told you anything?" I asked when Sarah came downstairs.

"No," she sighed. "I can't figure out what she's upset about. She said she's going to take a quick shower to take off her makeup and I asked if she should shower, or if we needed to go... get her checked. She said no. She says nothing like that happened but she wouldn't elaborate."

I sighed. Then what had happened that Sam called to be picked up instead of staying with Dylan? We knew that he knew what had happened in Ohio, and we've been around the kid enough to feel that he would never, ever hurt Sam as that little asshat in Ohio had. He also knew we knew where he lived and that we would do what it took to protect Samantha.