Page 1 of Chasing Shelter

PROLOGUE

ELLIE

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

Everything wasverypink.No, that wasn’t right. I might’ve liked it then. It would feel like strawberry starbursts or those bright flowers I saw everywhere when Dad took us to the Mediterranean. But this was one step above nothing at all.

“Do you like it?” my mom asked, wringing her hands like she was squeezing water from a dishrag. Not that she did that often—or ever.

I looked around the room, taking in every detail: the thick curtains with swoopy edges the designer said werescalloped, which just made me think of potatoes, and the plush duvet with its delicate, pale pink flowers. That pink was everywhere. But it was the only color I got. One step above nothing.

“It’s pretty,” I said softly. It just wasn’t…me.

Mom’s shoulders slumped, and I felt like the world’s biggest jerk. She moved into my space and wrapped an arm around me. “I tried,” she whispered.

My lips pressed together in a hard line. I was getting good at it.Tightening my mouth so all the truths I held inside didn’t break free. Wouldn’t spill out like oil polluting the sea. “It’s okay.”

When the designer asked what I wanted for my new room, I’d said rainbows. Dad had squashed that faster than I could blink.

“I’m not having that sort of ridiculousness in our home. That isn’t the kind of thing someone of station uses in décor.”

Home.That was the only ridiculousness. Nothing about this penthouse apartment with its views of Central Park was homey. I knew that much.

I’d been in places that felt like a home. My friend Kate’s apartment in Brooklyn was full of chaos and light. Her artist mom let herdrawon her bedroom walls. I wasn’t even allowed to have a poster.

“I really like the window seat.” That much was true. I broke out of her grasp, unable to hold my disappointment and her hurt at the same time. I crossed to the cushioned bench upholstered in the same pale pink flowers as my bed.

I’d wanted huge splashes of color in my room. The brighter, the better. But at least I still had my window.

When I leaned against the pillows and rested my head against the glass, I could see into the park—Linc’s and my escape. Not that he needed it much anymore. He was a senior now, ready to escape and find his freedom. And I’d be here. Alone.

Mom followed me over to the window, staring out into the park as if she could find her freedom there, too. But she didn’t venture out much anymore. As if it hurt too much to go.

Sometimes, it felt like she was fading in front of my eyes, turning into a ghost I could only see at certain moments.

Her hand sifted through my hair, strands that seemed to change color depending on the light. It was mostly light brown with hints of blond, but the light hit strands of red every so often. Mom called itmagic hair.

“It’s boring, huh?” she asked.

My brows rose in surprise as I looked up at her.

Mom’s lips twitched the barest amount. “You can be honest. There isn’t a speck of real color anywhere. And my girl is rainbows.”

Pressure built in my chest, and the sudden urge to cry hit me. Not because I was sad but because I remembered what it was like to feel like my momsawme. Know she was on my side.

“I’m gonna spill something, and Dad’s gonna get mad,” I mumbled.

Mom’s mouth pursed. “You know what? I think we need to mix it up a bit. I saw a rainbow comforter at a store a few blocks over. We’ll get that and some rainbow pillows. I think it’ll look great with the flower curtains and window seat.”

“Really?” I asked, hope bleeding into the word. Momneverwent against Dad’s wishes.

Her pale green eyes, so similar to mine, sparked with a little more life, a hint of fight. “I think we should paint a mural on the wall. A rainbow over your bed.”

My jaw went slack. “Paint a rainbow on thewall?”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “What? Afraid to get your hands dirty?”

I thrust my chin up. “Never.” I wasn’t like Dad, afraid to do things myself.

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