Ray.

~~~

The house smelled like garlic and parsley, with a faint hint of something sweet—cherry, maybe strawberry. I walked behind Samantha as we stepped through the doorway, her new shiny hair catching the light from the hanging fixture above. We kicked off our shoes, placing them on the wooden floor, and she hung her backpack on the rack to the right of the entrance. She was quiet, her gaze flicking around as she took in the space.

The house, like my mom, was clean and bright, almost unnervingly tidy. A long corridor stretched ahead, leading to the kitchen in the back. On the left, the living room sprawled with its big windows and soft colors.

On the right were the white stairs to the second floor and the door to the garage. The whole place had a neutral palette—white, sand, and brown—all blending in that Pinterest-perfect way my mom loved.

"Relax," I murmured, squeezing her hand lightly. Her lips twitched in a small smile, but she didn't say anything.

As we moved further into the house, Logan came down the stairs. He was lean but built like he lived in the gym—muscle packed on his frame and highlighted by the tight black shirt he was wearing, always had to make an impression.

My brother was taller than Sam but shorter than me. People said we looked alike, but his face was fuller, his nose broader, and his hair—pulled back into a man bun—always made him look like he was trying a little too hard.

Logan's bright blue eyes lit up when he saw us. "Well, look who it is!" he said, his grin lopsided and mischievous. "Hi, I'm Logan," he added, even though he damn well knew she'd recognize him.

"Hi, I'm—" Sam started, but Logan cut her off before she could finish.

"Samantha," he said, his grin widening. "Yeah, we know all about you." He looked her over, head to toe, with a raised eyebrow. "And you are... different."

I shot him a warning glance, but Sam stiffened beside me, clearly uncomfortable. She was wearing ripped black jeans, her Nirvana T-shirt, and an unzipped black hoodie. I told her to dress casually—comfortable for the flight—but I could see the doubt creeping into her expression. Meanwhile, Logan stood there looking like he was ready for some exclusive event, his shirt pressed and his jeans dark and spotless, which was his usual self but she didn't know that just yet.

"Different?" Sam asked, her voice trembling just slightly.

Logan just smirked, but before I could say anything, Mom appeared from the corridor. She was tiny, barely reaching Sam's shoulder, and dressed in yoga pants and a loose shirt. Her brown hair hung loose around her face, and her bright energy filled the room as she strode right past Logan and me to Sam.

"Hello, Samantha!" Mom said warmly, her wide smile lighting up her face. She opened her arms and hugged Sam so tightly that I saw Sam wobble slightly on her feet.

"Hi," Sam gasped, clearly not expecting my mom to be so strong.

Mom pulled back, hands on Sam's shoulders, studying her like she was memorizing every detail. "You're even prettier in person," she said, then turned to Logan and me. "Boys, get the food. We're eating in the living room."

"Why?" Logan asked, frowning.

"Because we have a guest," Mom replied, giving him one of those looks that said she wouldn't argue.

"I'll grab the cake," I said, picking up the box Sam had brought. I leaned in to kiss her cheek, and she instinctively shrugged her shoulders, her shyness making her even more endearing.

"Thanks," she murmured with an awkward smile.

Logan and I headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sam with Mom. I turned back for a moment to give her an encouraging smile. She needed it. Meeting my family was a lot, especially with Logan acting like... well, Logan.

When I walked into the living room, the space felt brighter somehow. Mom had already led Sam to the couch, where they were sitting—Mom on the right, Sam tucked into the corner of the L-shaped sofa.

"So," Mom said, her tone casual but her expression anything but. She had that eyebrow raised, her no-nonsense interrogation mode fully activated. "Tell me about yourself."

Sam looked up at me as I set the cake on the dining table. Her expression was half-plea, half-panic, and I had to fight back a smile. I knew this was going to be interesting.

Samantha shifted uneasily on the couch beside my mom, her fingers brushing over her ripped jeans as if she were trying to iron out the nerves.

"Maybe I should go help them," she said suddenly, moving to stand, but Mom reached out, stopping her with a firm yet gentle touch.

"Stay," Mom said with a soft laugh. "Look, I know meeting me isn't easy. I've been in your shoes. But trust me—I don't bite."

Her words seemed to ease some of Sam's tension, her shoulders dropping a fraction. "I've never been in this kind of situation before," she admitted, rubbing her hands together. "It's... a lot to process."

Mom tilted her head slightly. "Ray's mentioned you," she said, her smile widening. "He's been so happy lately, and I wanted to know why. That's when he told me about you."

Sam's cheeks turned crimson, her gaze falling to her lap. "What do you want to know?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mom's smile turned playful. "How about I ask you some questions? That might make it easier. "Sam nodded, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile. "Okay, let's start simple. What's your favorite color?"

Sam's lips twitched upward. "Black and red. I like darker shades."

"Interesting," Mom said with an approving nod. "Next question: favorite band?"

Sam chuckled, relaxing a bit more as she leaned back against the couch. "That's tough. But I'm a huge fan of Purple Rain."

Mom's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you really?"

Sam grinned. "Why does that surprise you?"

"Well," Mom began, folding her hands on her lap. "Let's just say Ray's previous... relationships didn't exactly appreciate his taste in music. Courtney, in particular, couldn't stand it."

I winced internally at the mention of Courtney. My ex had a way of ruining even the best memories. Sam's eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity sparking in them. I could tell she wanted to ask more, but Logan entered just then, balancing trays of lasagna and side dishes.

"Finally!" Mom said, clapping her hands together as she rose to help. Sam quickly joined her, and we set the table, filling the air with the aroma of melted cheese and garlic.

Once everything was ready, we sat down. Mom and Logan took seats closer to the shelves, chatting about the logistics of packing. Sam and I sat across from them.

I leaned toward her, lowering my voice. "Are you okay?"

She raised an eyebrow, her voice sharper than she likely intended. "We'll talk later."

Logan smirked, catching her tone. "Someone's in trouble."

I kicked my leg to his under the table, making him wince. "Ouch, man!" he said, grinning.

Mom ignored us, already cutting into the cake Sam had brought. "I'm starting with dessert," she announced, reaching for a plate.

"No sweets before dinner," I teased, my tone mock-stern.

Mom scoffed, waving me off. "For you boys, maybe. I can eat whatever I want. And this cake looks amazing."

As the evening progressed, wine flowed, and conversations shifted. Sam stayed quiet, though, her eyes darting around the room as if trying to piece together parts of me she hadn't yet discovered.

After dinner, we moved back to the couch. Mom disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the three of us alone. Logan pulled out a rolling paper and began twisting it expertly, holding the finished product up like a trophy.

"You guys want some?" he asked, twirling it between his fingers.

"No," Sam said quickly, crossing her arms.

I chuckled, standing. "Go with him," I said to her. "I need to finish packing anyway."

She glanced at her watch, raising an eyebrow. "We leave in half an hour."

"Exactly. That's why I need to pack." I leaned down and kissed her temple. "Go. Keep him out of trouble."

With a reluctant sigh, she followed Logan outside. I watched them for a moment before heading upstairs, but not before catching Logan's attempt at charm.

"I think you've got the wrong impression of me," he said, lighting the joint. "When I said you're different, I meant it in a good way."

I shook my head, amused, as I climbed the stairs. Logan could charm his way out of a locked vault, but Sam wasn't someone who fell easily for words. And that was just one of the many things I loved about her.

As the last things lay in my bag, I went downstairs, hearing Logan chuckle. The door stayed ajar and I crept closer, Logan leaning casually against the wall, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. He had that signature smirk on his face—the kind that could disarm most people but only seemed to annoy Sam.

"As you probably know, Ray and I are close," he started. I stayed quiet, curious to see where this was going. Sam nodded, her arms crossed defensively, her body language daring him to say the wrong thing.

"So I know much more than Mom does," Logan continued, taking a slow drag before exhaling. The smoke curled around his head like a lazy halo. "The way he described you, though? It sounded...a bit made up." He laughed, his tight shirt barely moving with his body.

Sam frowned, a small line forming between her brows. "Why?" she asked, her voice carrying just enough edge to make him tread carefully.

"That would be an endless list," Logan replied with a grin, shrugging as if to emphasize how impossible it was to sum her up in a single answer. Then his expression softened. "I judged you before I actually met you, and I apologize for that." He placed his hand on his chest, the cigarette still dangling precariously between his fingers. "As you probably guessed, the last girl my brother brought home turned out to be a nightmare." He exhaled sharply, his words carrying a weight I wasn't prepared for.

Sam's gaze dropped to the ground. "Actually, I don't know."

Logan's brow lifted, surprised. "He didn't tell you?" When she shook her head, he tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Do you want me to?"

That asshole. I held my breath, waiting to see what Samantha would do. Part of me hoped she'd say yes, so I wouldn't have to relive the mess of Courtney through my own words. But Sam surprised me like she always did.

"No," she said firmly, meeting his gaze. "Ray will tell me eventually."

Logan grinned, impressed. "That's one of the differences I was talking about. Courtney grilled me about Ray from day one—every little detail." He shook his head as if shaking off the memory. "One thing you should know, though: my brother falls in love fast and strong. I hope you can handle that. He's been through too much shit with Courtney, and it took him a long time to recover."

Before Sam could respond, the stairs creaked and I hid behind the wall seeing my mom going to the outside door. The front door creaked open, and Mom stepped out. "Seriously? First wine and now weed?" she scolded, hands on her hips like she was still trying to parent Logan.

Logan shrugged dramatically, his shoulders rising and falling like he didn't have a care in the world. "What?"

Mom marched over, her steps quick and purposeful. "They won't let you on the plane, stupid." Her gaze darted to Sam, softening. "And you?"

"She just kept me company," Logan said, holding his hands up defensively.

"Give me that," Mom ordered, snatching the cigarette from his fingers. She took a drag herself, then crushed it into the ashtray with a satisfied huff. "Get the suitcases. We're leaving soon."

Logan muttered something under his breath as he disappeared inside. That's when I stepped out, duffel bag slung over my shoulder. I headed straight for my car to grab Sam's suitcase and reload it into Mom's vehicle. When I turned back, Logan and Mom had gone inside, leaving Sam and me alone in the cool evening air.

"Are you ready?" I asked, stepping closer to her. I placed my hand gently on her cheek, feeling the coolness of her skin against my palm.

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she finally spoke. "The awareness that I don't know you hit me after meeting them," she said, motioning toward the house.

Her words stung, but I didn't let it show. "You do know me, darling," I insisted, my voice low and steady. She shook her head, her doubt written all over her face. "You do," I said again, softer this time. I tilted her chin up with my fingers, locking eyes with her. "Everything will be fine." Then I kissed her.

The moment our lips met, the tension in her body melted away, and I felt her lean into me, letting go of whatever fear or doubt had been eating at her. It wasn't just a kiss—it was reassurance, a promise that I'd always be here for her. A loud cough from the doorway broke the moment.

"Come on, lovebirds, we have to go," Logan called out, dragging a couple of bags toward the car.

Mom followed close behind, carrying Sam's backpack. "Here's your bag, dear," she said, handing it over with a smile.

"Thank you," Sam replied, her voice warm again.

I took her hand in mine as we walked to the car. Mom got in the driver's seat, Logan claimed a shotgun, and Sam and I slid into the back.

The drive to the airport was filled with Mom's chatter about past tours and all the things Logan and I needed to remember this time. Sam stayed mostly quiet, her head resting lightly against my shoulder. I didn't press her to talk—sometimes silence said more than words ever could.

When we finally reached the airport, Mom hugged us all tightly before driving off, leaving Sam and me to face the next chapter of this whirlwind life together.