Page 10 of Fragile Sanctuary

Two years working for Shep, and I’d managed to get by with only one brief meeting with his mom and grandma and a handful of quick words with his eldest brother, Trace. The sheriff always gave me an assessing stare that had my Spidey senses tingling, as if he knew there was more to my story.

But Shep had kept his word. He hadn’t told a soul about my past or my previous occupation. To anyone who asked, I was simply a friend from college who needed a job. A loner asshole who didn’t especially like anyone, so there was no need to take my lack of conversation personally. It worked. Even if it was lonely as hell at times.

“One of these days, Lolli is just gonna hog-tie you to get you there,” Shep muttered.

My mouth twitched at the mention of Shep’s grandmother. In just the few seconds I’d been around her, I already knew I was a fan. “I don’t really wanna get sucked into modeling for one of herartpieces.”

Shep made a gagging noise. “Please don’t remind me. She tried to offload one that was some sort of shirtless elf prince and his fairy love.”

I didn’t laugh, but I wanted to. “It’s hanging in your house right now, isn’t it?”

“It’s in my office,” he grumbled. “Behind the door so I don’t have to see it.”

I grinned as I turned onto Cascade Avenue, the main drag through town. “You’re a good grandson.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shep muttered. “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Sounds good.” I hung up without another word. My lack of hellos and goodbyes annoyed the crap out of Shep, but he’d grown used to it over the past couple of years.

I slowed to a stop at one of the three stoplights in town. Shep had told me the town had descended into a riot when they were put in. Half the residents thought they were necessary for safety, and the other half was certain it would ruin everything about Sparrow Falls.

I wasn’t sure you could ruin a place like this. There was a simplicity to it that hung in the air. A peace. It was the first place I’d felt like I could breathe since losing Greta.

Just thinking her name lit a burn in my throat and down into my gut, an image of my sister flashing to life in my mind. They were rarely of her grown. Almost always something of us as kids. Racing around the yard as our parents called us in for dinner or climbing up into our treehouse to try to escape bedtime in the summer.

A horn honked behind me, shaking me from the agonizing thoughts. I never used to think happiness could be painful. But now I knew the truth. Happiness was the greatest torture of all because it could all be taken away—and it was so much worse than if you’d never experienced it at all.

I shifted my foot from the brake to the accelerator as a gray-haired woman in the sedan behind me glared at me through her windshield. I couldn’t help but build her profile in three quick snapshots. Car old and sputtering but impeccably clean. A bumper sticker that readJesus Saves. A car seat in the back.

She was proud, a tinge of righteousness sneaking in there. She followed the rules but also did the right thing, the caring thing. She was a caregiver to a small child, and she did what she could to make her life the best it could be. But she thought others needed to live life the same way she did and wasn’t happy when they didn’t. Hence the honking.

I forced my gaze away from her and to the shops along the streetas I drove. Most of them were made of aged brick, giving the downtown character, something I hadn’t experienced in my development in the DC suburbs. Every structure here held a story, and something about that fact resonated.

I passed the diner, a bakery, and the bookstore. There were tourist shops, cafés, and a coffee place on the other side. Galleries here and there. But I could count on one hand the number of times I’d entered any of them, other than the small grocery store.

The more you ventured into town, the more you made yourself a part of the fabric of the place, and the more people felt they had a right to talk to you. To ask questions. That was not on my list of desired outcomes.

It took less than ten minutes to reach the turnoff for the Victorian. As I made a right onto the gravel road, I couldn’t help but be struck by the sheer beauty and power of the image that greeted me.

A range of four mountains was to the east, their craggy peaks covered in snow. To the west was a series of rock cliffs that made you want to stop dead in your tracks in hopes of taking them in for just a moment longer. The gray-blue of the mountains was the perfect juxtaposition to the golden hue of the cliffs. Shep’s sister had sure landed herself one hell of a view, even if she had bought a half-burned-out house.

As the structure came into view, I slowed, letting out a low whistle. The gorgeous Victorian was completely decimated on one side. The walls were caved in, and charred beams poked at the tarp-covered roof. Most people would consider it a gut job—tear the whole thing down and start new.

But Shep had made it clear that wasn’t an option. His sister wanted the house restored, not rebuilt from scratch. It’d cost her at least a third more to do things that way.

My sixth sense began to prickle on the back of my scalp as I wondered why.

3

RHODES

I stepped back,leaning against the small kitchen island in the guesthouse that had thankfully escaped any fire damage, to admire my artwork hanging over the fireplace in the living space. Then I burst out laughing. The dick flower was up in all its glory.

But it was so much more than inappropriate art. Lolli had known exactly what she was doing when she brought it for me today of all days. She knew I’d need to laugh and be reminded of the family that surrounded me.

Over the years, I’d had to find a way to hold both—the family I’d lost and the one I’d found—and be grateful for the time I had with them. Today, Lolli topped that gratitude list.

As if to punctuate that, my phone dinged. I swiped it up, seeing a group chat name and icon pop up. The name constantly changed, usually a result of Cope and Kyler trying to one-up each other or piss off our law-and-order eldest brother. Cope and Kyler had been getting into mischief since Kye came to live with us when he was sixteen.

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