Far From Home

“At least you girls won’t have to leave that soon,” Mom said, busying herself with dishes that had already been washed.

“Is Brad around?” I hadn’t seen my stepdad when we walked in, but he had a habit of working on cars and other projects late into the evenings.

“You know how he is,” Mom said. “He’s currently in the garage tinkering on that old bike of yours.”

“Bike?” Sam looked at me with surprise, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she finished her food.

“This was delicious, Mrs. Martin.”

“Sue, please. Mrs. Martin sounds far too formal, so unless Taylor is flunking and you’re her professor, call me Sue.”

“Not a professor, no,” Sam said with a laugh.

“Not yet,” I said, pointing a stick of celery at her before scooping up some spinach dip. “As for the bike, it isn’t what you think. I’m not that adventurous.” Though it probably wouldn’t have surprised her if I was.

“Aww, so I don’t get to join a motorcycle gang?”

“I’m afraid not.” What would it even be called? I shook my head and pushed the thought away.

“Brad’s trying to clean up the frame so we can gift it to Sally,” Mom said without missing a beat. “I’ll leave you to it.

I’m going to check and see how the tinkering is going, then I’ll be upstairs if you need anything. Sam, there are clean linens in the guest bathroom if you need them.”

“Thank you.” Sam watched her go, keeping her voice low once my mom was out of earshot. “She’s bubbly, ain’t she?”

“My entire family is like that. It’s exhausting, really.”

“And she put out all this food for us?”

I shrugged and took a handful of veggie sticks. “Us. Her.

Brad. Maybe my sister and her two rugrats if they get here tonight. Mom tends to overspend. Most of the time when you leave here, you leave with a lot more than a doggy bag.”

“A family that likes to eat, nice. Looks like I’ll fit right in.”

“I knew you would.” Brushing my hands off on my jeans, I headed back into the living room. “Come on. The guest room’s this way.”

Chapter Three

Sam

The guest room must’ve belonged to Taylor’s sister. Either that or Taylor had gone through quite the pink phase when she was a kid.

The blush walls with their stenciled bears along the top were enough to make me smile. Taylor wouldn’t be caught dead in a room like this now.

It was cute but seriously in need of a paint job. Then again, Taylor had mentioned being an aunt, so maybe her niece and nephew stayed in here. Aside from the walls, there was a toy chest, a dresser, and a handful of knick-knacks. At least I wasn’t stuck sleeping in a child’s bed. I could see it now; small pillows, sagging mattress, with my feet hanging off the end. I smiled at that, rolling over on the mattress as I tried to get comfortable.

I’d never been good when it came to sleeping in an unfamiliar place. As close to the holidays as it was, sleeping in a bed that wasn’t mine made me even more homesick. At least with college, I had some of my own things around me. I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but I probably should’ve considered bringing a touch of home along with me instead of leaving it at the dorm.

At least Taylor’s here. Which was another reason why I couldn’t get to sleep. A very big reason. I couldn’t get her out of my head. Sure, we might’ve shared a dorm on campus, but here was different somehow. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was almost as though the temptation to see her sleep, to watch her, and be with her was stronger than before.

Creepy.

I’d never admit it and I hated the fact that I did it, but there were nights when I couldn’t sleep. Taylor was a light sleeper, so I never got up or turned anything on. Instead, I’d lay there and listen to her even breaths until I finally dozed off again.

Laying in a bed that wasn’t mine and surrounded by walls that were more girlie than I’d ever been, I had to wonder if Taylor ever did the same thing. Were there times when she couldn’t sleep and listened to me instead? Did she find comfort in just knowing someone else was there in case she needed them?

Unlikely.