Page 3 of Chasing Shelter

“Take care of Ellie,” she whispered, heading for the door, knowing Dad would follow.

As they stepped into the hallway, I heard his angry words. Mean ones that cut her down like vicious blows. Threats that made her bow to his every wish. Sometimes, he seemed worse than any villain in my storybooks. Because he was smarter, too. And the good guys never won.

The cruelty in Dad’s voice only made me cry harder. Linc’s hand moved over my back as he sat us on the edge of my bed. “It’s okay, El Bell. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” I hiccupped, the words breaking through my sobs. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s my fault, ConCon. I should’ve lied better.”

Linc muttered a curse. “No, you shouldn’t have. You should say exactly what you think. What you feel. Fuck ‘em if they don’t like it.”

My eyes went wide as I pulled back from my brother, settling next to him on the edge of the bed. “That was a bad one.”

He grinned at me, but it was sad around the edges. “It was honest, though.”

I rocked my feet against the floor, back and forth, again and again as I mulled over his words. “I hate them sometimes.”

It was the worst kind of wrong: hate. Even hating my father, who could be so mean. But it was worse to feel that way about Mom. I wanted so badly for her to make it all stop, to take us away from the cold cruelty of this house and bring us somewhere with warmth, lightness, and air. A place I could breathe.

“I know,” Linc said quietly. He curved his hand around mine and squeezed gently. “How about we make a promise?”

I looked up at him. “What?”

“That we’ll never be like them.”

I pulled in air as if I were drawing that vow into my very being. “We’ll never be like them. Mean, or…”

“Not fighting for ourselves, for what’s right,” Linc said, his hazel eyes flashing a little more gold in the fading afternoon light.

“I wanna be strong. Like you, ConCon,” I whispered.

Linc’s expression softened. “You already are.”

A ringing clawedat my ears, making me blink against the darkness in the bedroom. By the time my eyes were fully open, I wondered if I’d imagined it. But then the knocking began, followed by muffled voices.

I pushed up in bed, throwing off the stupid, pale pink comforter and sliding my feet into my slippers. I crept toward my door as if some invisible ghost might spot me out of bed and tattle to Dad. The voices got louder as I approached the door, and a shiver worked its way down my spine as my fingers closed around the glass doorknob.

I waited, listening, trying to make out the words. But everything was too muffled. I stayed there for a moment, my heart hammering against my ribs at just thethoughtof what I wanted to do. I closed my eyes and summoned my strength as I replayed the promise I’d madewith Linc earlier today in my mind. Ever so slowly, I twisted the knob and slid into the hall just as Linc’s door opened.

His gaze cut instantly to me.“Go back to bed,”he mouthed.

I shook my head and jutted out my chin. I was finding a little of the strength he had.

He let out a frustrated breath and then reached for my hand. We carefully moved down the hall, both aware that the wood planks might give us away if we stepped wrong. We tried to stay on the antique rugs that dotted the path.

I caught a few words as we approached the entryway.Upstate New York. Bridge. Crime scene.

A sick feeling slid through me, making me feel queasy and heavy all at once. I tried to fight off the nausea, but it distracted me enough that I stepped in the wrong spot. The floor creaked, and the voices went silent.

Dad stalked around the corner. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I-I heard voices,” I stammered.

“You guys weren’t exactly quiet,” Linc defended.

Dad ran a hand through his hair, giving it an unkempt look that was very unlike him. His jaw tightened, and that telltale muscle pulsed again. “Doesn’t matter.” His gaze moved from my brother to me and back again, a coldness creeping into every part of him. “There was an accident. Your mother’s dead.”

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

I chewed the bite of pork tenderloin our chef had probably spent hours on and tried not to think about the little creature it had once been. The one time I’d told Dad I wanted to stop eating meat, he hadn’t been thrilled.“You don’t want to eat like a normal person, then you’ll get bread and water in this house and nothing else.”

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