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

16. Brendon

I woke up at seven-thirty, got dressed, and went downstairs to brew some coffee. Sam was going to want it. She was probably going to need it. But she was not going to be a happy camper, and I'd help her navigate what I assumed was going to be her first hangover. I was also going to ensure she never wanted to experience this again. I was not going to be very nice today. Not mean; I'm not that type of person, but she was definitely going to regret last night. She probably would even if I didn't wake her up early.

"Don't be too harsh, Brendon," Sarah said, rolling over.

I opened Samantha's bedroom door and saw her sprawled out on her bed. She was still wearing her leg, which I knew was probably not great for her but also probably fine for one night. Hopefully, she hadn't gotten sand in her sock or caused any more damage to her leg.

"Wake up, Samantha," I said, standing over her.

She mumbled something and rolled over.

"Nope, get up," I said, loudly, pulling the covers away from her and opening the blinds to let in the sunlight.

"Noooooo," she whined. "Too bright. And too loud!"

She tried to pull her pillow over her head, but I grabbed that from her, too. She rolled over so her face was pressed into the mattress.

"Nope," I said and literally picked her up out of bed. I carried her into her bathroom and deposited her in her shower. I would have turned it on her as well, but I wasn't sure about her prosthetic leg and water.

"Take a shower, get dressed and be downstairs in fifteen minutes," I said, tersely.

"Why? It's Saturday. Why can't you let me sleep in? I have a headache," she whined.

"I bet you do. Fifteen minutes. I will be back if you're not downstairs in fifteen."

I left the bathroom, and Samantha, who was looking up at me through squinty eyes, seeming confused as to how I was talking to her.

I went downstairs and pulled my phone out of my pocket while I made myself a cup of coffee and hit the contact in FaceTime.

"Hey, B," Tyler said jovially when he answered.

"Tyler," I said.

"Uh oh. I don't like the tone of your voice. What's the matter?" He frowned.

"We have a bit of a situation," I said. "Samantha is safe and healthy and fine before you worry about that but it's pretty serious. At least, I think it is."

"What happened?" Tyler asked. I heard Jenna in the background ask the same.

"Your daughter went to a party last night. She had our permission. We knew most of the kids who would be there, and we had no problem with her going."

"Did something happen to her there? Not another Tristan situation, please tell me that."

"No, nothing like that. God, no. Thankfully, no," I said, wanting to assuage his fears that Samantha had been assaulted again.

"So what happened then?"

"Well, for starters, she broke our agreed-upon curfew. By an hour."

"That doesn't sound like Samantha. Did she have a ride? Did they bring her home late?"

"She had a ride, and yes, her ride brought her home late, but not because the driver was late. And I tried calling and texting her. She didn't answer. She told me they'd lost track of time."

"Well, that's not a huge deal. Just give her an earlier curfew next time," Tyler said. "Maybe be her ride if you can be so that she knows that you'll be waiting at whatever time. What curfew did you give her?"