Page 22 of Run Home

Smiling, I say, “Man, I don’t even know what that word means, but I know you’re pretty sensational.”

He grins and says, “I’ll be watching for my home run tonight.”

After repeating our handshake, I leave the school and walk out to my truck unnoticed. I wish that Sam was coming to the game tonight along with Griffin and Jason, but she has no reason to attend every home game.

Yet.

Chapter nine

Sam

After a long day at school, I get in my car and contemplate what to eat for dinner. I got spoiled living with Griffin and having his private chef constantly stocking the fridge with healthy-yet-delicious meals. As far as I know, Griffin is also on a cooking learning curve now, although Danae is over at his house utilizing his high-end kitchen half the week.

I know I need to get into a better rhythm of making meals for myself, but for tonight, I place a pickup order at one of my favorite Mediterranean restaurants. What I’d really like to do is go back to the sushi place Adrian introduced me to, but it’s not on my way home. And it’s a little out of my everyday price range if I’m going to be financially responsible as I start up my own business.

Every instructor at the cosmetology school has emphasized that it takes time to build up loyal clientele. But once you have enough women committed to regular hair treatments, your calendar and bank account can both stay full. I’m trying not to freak out about how long it might take to reach that point.

In the meantime, less sushi. More cooking at home . . . starting tomorrow.

As I drive to the restaurant, I call my mom through the car Bluetooth.

“Hey there, Sammi!” her cheerful voice answers. “How was school today?”

I have a flashback to the hundreds of times my mom asked me that exact question at the end of the day. Most days the answer wasn’t positive—although I was rarely forthcoming about that. Child Samantha didn’t want to worry her new foster mom if school wasn’t going well and risk getting moved to a different house.

I’ve learned to hide less from Mom over the years, though, so I answer honestly now. “It was all right. I’m starting to get anxious about what it’s going to look like out on my own.”

“You’re going to be fine,” my mom assures me. “You’re so talented.”

“You haven’t even seen any of my work in real life yet, Mom,” I remind her. “But what’s new in Tulsa?” My parents still live in the same house north of Tulsa, Oklahoma. I haven’t been back to visit since Christmas, and I’m itching to make a trip soon.

“Ian got home yesterday,” my mom answers. “He has a week here before he has to go back to continue the summer research.”

A too-familiar pang of inadequacy slices through my chest at the reminder of Ian’s advanced education track. He graduated from college a semester early this past December and immediately started grad school at Columbia University. He was granted a highly competitive research position because he’s positively brilliant. Where I had more bad than good days at school, every day was good for Ian. School was as much his sanctuary as it was the thorn in my side.

Swallowing the feelings of insufficiency, I chirp, “That’s awesome! Can I say hi? Is he around?”

“I think he’s out back with your dad,” Mom says, and I hear the sliding patio door open. Her voice calls, “Ian, honey, Sammi wants to say hi!”

“I’m next in line!” my dad yells, making me smile. It took several years for me to feel comfortable enough with him to truly bond—lots longer than it took with my mom. But now, I wholeheartedly accept his princess treatment.

“Hey, Sammi,” Ian says.

“Hi, baby brother,” I croon. He grunts his annoyance with me continuing to call him that, but I can’t help it. I don’t do it to annoy him—I do it for my own sake, to remind my heart that he’s still my little brother, regardless of how old we might be. Being his protective big sister is coded into my DNA.

“How’s the research going?” I ask, turning off my car and switching the call to my phone so I can pick up my food inside the restaurant.

“Do you want the master’s defense answer or the synopsis answer?” he asks.

“Synopsis, please.”

“It’s going well. We found a flaw in the reasoning behind our thesis and are making adjustments for the second round that starts next week. I’m optimistic about the results,” Ian says. His smart brain just can’t help itself, and he continues on for a couple minutes explaining his research with a lot of big words I don’t try to comprehend. Finally, he takes a breath and asks, “Are you going to come down to visit this weekend?”

“I totally should,” I say. “I have clinical hours scheduled on Friday, but I could drive down Saturday morning and at least spend the night there. Clear your calendar for me.”

“You know I will. How’s cosmetology school? You’re almost done, right?” Ian asks.

I’ve arrived home by the time I update Ian on life and talk with my dad. Mom chats with me as I eat dinner, not minding that I’m chewing while we catch up. When we finally hang up, I scroll my messages to find Griffin’s name. He would try to change it if he knew I still have him as “Griffie” in my contacts, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.