Page 1 of Chasing Shelter (Sparrow Falls #5)

ELLIE

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

Everything was very pink. 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 were scalloped , 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 her draw on 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 it magic 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 mom saw me. 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. Mom never went 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 the wall ?”

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.

Mom’s hands snaked out, and she tickled my sides. “Are you sure? You might get covered in rainbow splatters.”

I shrieked, flopping back onto my bed as she tickled me in earnest. I rolled and writhed, trying to escape the attack. “I’m gonna splatter you with rainbows.”

A chuckle sounded from the doorway, deeper than it had been even a year ago.

When I caught sight of my older brother, he looked more like a grownup than a teenager.

He’d bulked up from playing hockey in a local league—much to our father’s chagrin—and had just a hint of dark stubble on his face.

Kate’s older sister, Angeline, told me his hazel eyes were dreamy . Gross.

“Threats in the form of rainbows. Watch out, Mom,” Linc said, eyes gleaming.

Mom grinned at him. I hadn’t seen that kind of smile in months. “I can take it.” She straightened and pulled me to sitting. “We’re going to paint a rainbow over Ellie’s bed. Want to help?”

Linc’s dark brows almost hit his hairline before a look of unease flickered across his face. He covered it quickly, and an answering grin spread. “I’m in.”

“The hell you are,” a new voice boomed from the hallway.

It wasn’t a yell, exactly. It never was. But the tone made my stomach churn because Dad’s punishments were crueler and more clever than the typical stuff. He didn’t spank or ground. He took the things you cared about most.

A class or club you loved. Access to your favorite friend or the library. Only for him to replace them with things he thought you needed to be an appropriate young lady. Stuff I hated. My life got a little smaller every time.

Dad’s dark eyes flashed, and Linc moved instantly, stepping between us and him. That telltale muscle in Dad’s cheek pulsed in a staccato beat, his dark gaze moving to Mom. “We discussed this, Gwyn.”

Mom wrung her hands again, that nervousness bleeding back into her. But she didn’t back down. “I know. But this room isn’t really Ellie. She’s six. She needs color, life.”

The continued pulse in Dad’s cheek was the only thing that gave away his anger. I’d gotten good at looking for it. It was my sign to run for one of my hiding spots.

As if Linc had read my mind, he held me tighter and moved closer to Mom…preparing.

One corner of Dad’s mouth lifted in something that looked a lot like a lip curl a Disney villain would make. “So noble.”

Linc’s eyes flashed. “You don’t need to be a dick just because your six-year-old has the audacity to be a kid.”

Dad only took one step, but the power behind it had me sucking in a sharp breath. He glared at Linc. “I’m the one who’s keeping you. Those clothes, your tuition, this house …it can all go away in a single second if I want it to.”

Linc’s jaw clenched, making sharp angles appear where more rounded curves had been.

“And you,” Dad spat, turning to me. “I spend thousands of dollars redecorating your room and you want to ruin it with sloppy finger painting? ”

My legs started to tremble. There were so many things I wanted to say. I hadn’t wanted thousands of dollars spent on designers and fancy, stuffy decorations. I just wanted my room to feel like me .

“You’re an ungrateful brat,” he snarled.

“Philip,” my mom said on a gasp as I started to cry.

“A sniveling brat, apparently,” Dad muttered.

“Enough,” Linc barked, lifting me into his arms.

I pressed my face into his neck, trying to hide the tears.

My father let out a sound of disgust. “She’s weak. Just like her mother.”

“Philip,” Mom whispered. “Let’s discuss this privately.”

“Mom, don’t,” Linc said, his voice tight.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. But I heard the lie in her voice. I’d gotten good at that, too, hearing the way untruths turned voices just a little higher, tighter.

“It’s not,” Linc gritted out.

At least he was honest. Linc never hid what he was feeling. He let it play out on his face and in his voice and words.

“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.”