The Reckless Collision

Chapter Thirty-One

While the guys performed in Rotterdam that night, I stayed on the bus, making calls to anyone who might know more. Nobody had real answers. The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I couldn't shake the fear that I might lose her. Losing one grandparent was hard enough—I wasn't ready to go through it again.

After weighing my options and talking it over with Ray and the others, I decided I needed to go back to New York. It wasn't just about obligations—I had to see her, to know she was okay. The best flight option was out of London, so early the next morning, we left Holland and drove to the U.K.

As much as I wanted to stay with Ray, the family came first. He understood that. And even though I hated leaving his side, I knew I'd made the right choice.

~~~

Ray.

~~~

We had time to kill before Sam's flight, so we headed to the Blue Boar for a meal. The place had a cozy, intimate vibe, with its dark wood panels and black accents. It felt like stepping into a quiet corner of the world where time moves slower. We grabbed a table by the window, the pale London light streaming through, casting soft shadows on Sam's face.

She looked beautiful, even with the exhaustion of travel and worry etched into her features. Her blue eyes had this way of catching the light, like waves of ocean dancing against deep green pools. As we waited for our food, she rested her hand on the table, and I instinctively intertwined my fingers with hers.

The waitress apologized for the delay, saying the kitchen was slammed. Neither of us cared. Honestly, food wasn't the main reason we were there—we just wanted to be together, with no distractions.

"I just don't get why they won't tell you what's going on," I said, sipping water. The taste was crisp, but the uncertainty in Sam's expression left a bitter aftertaste.

She gave me a small, tired smile. "My family isn't like yours, Ray. They've always treated me like a child, never letting me in on anything important."

Her fingers tightened around mine. I hated seeing her like this, carrying the weight of unanswered questions on her shoulders.

"For example?" I asked, raising an eyebrow to nudge her along.

"Well," she said, hesitating for a moment before meeting my gaze, "you know Alyssa's adopted, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, you mentioned that once."

"They adopted her because my mom can't have kids. Which... naturally raised some questions for me," she said, her voice trailing off.

I leaned forward, my brow furrowing. "You think they adopted you too?"

Before she could answer, the waitress returned with our drinks. I watched Sam's expression shift—a relief to pause the conversation, maybe? She thanked the server, wrapping her hands around the coffee cup like it was a lifeline.

"Well?" I pressed after the waitress left.

She took a deep breath, her eyes focusing on the swirling steam rising from her cup. "For a while, I convinced myself that I might be adopted. It would've explained a lot—why I've always felt so out of place in my own family. But then there's the fact that I look just like my grandmother when she was my age. Same build, and the same hair. And my eyes..."

I tilted my head, studying her. "Exactly like Michael's," I said softly, my voice carrying the weight of realization.

She nodded, smiling faintly. "Even the little brown freckles, very Morris gene, my dad's and uncle's eyes are just like mine."