Page 4 of Fragile Sanctuary

“Are Dad and Emilia already asleep?” I asked as we moved toward the second floor.

“I think Emilia’s still up, but you know Dad’s been asleep for hours.”

Because the majority of Dad’s clients were on the East Coast, he still kept those hours. He was up and working before the sun rose, but it also meant he was there to greet us when Emilia and I got home from school.

Mom tapped my nose. “He left a new book on your bed, though.”

I grinned. While Mom’s and my bond was planting flower gardens every year, for Dad and me, it had always been books. He was forever finding new adventures for us to go on together between the pages of a good book. We’d just finishedA Wrinkle in Time, and I knew he’d been hunting for our next fictional journey. I couldn’t wait to see what he’d come up with.

Mom stopped to kiss my forehead as we reached my room. “Any requests for breakfast? I can put in a word with the chef.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Crepes?”

“Going for the big guns.”

“They’re myfavorite.”

She gave me one last squeeze. “I’ll see what I can do. Sweet dreams.”

“You, too.”

As I moved into my room, a wave of tiredness hit me like a truck. I winced at the clothes strewn everywhere. I’d been frantic in my search for the perfect outfit earlier and had left destruction in my wake. I’d clean it up tomorrow. If I didn’t, my clothes had a way of disappearing—my mom’s punishment for me not taking care of them.

I made quick work of brushing my teeth in my adjoined bathroom and slid on my sunflower pajamas. As I came out of the washroom, I pulled up short to find Emilia sitting on my bed, holding up one of the tops I’d been considering for the night.

“Can I borrow this?” she asked hopefully.

My little sister was just over a year younger but forever trying to take my things and hang with my friends. I frowned. “For what?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe to go to The Pop?”

The Soda Pop was a fifties-era diner that was a favorite of people of all ages thanks to its incredible burgers and delicious milkshakes, but most locals simply called itThe Pop.

“It’s too fancy for The Pop,” I said, crawling under the covers.

Emilia’s mouth thinned. “Shouldn’tIdecide what’s too fancy?”

Alarm bells flashed in my head. Emilia was the most stubborn twelve-year-old I’d ever met, and I was way too exhausted to get intoit with her tonight. “Take it,” I said, reaching for my lamp and switching it off.

The moonlight spilling in from the giant windows leading to my balcony still illuminated the space. And I saw that Emilia had zero plans of moving.

I groaned. “What is it, Em? I’m tired.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You have a boyfriend?”

I jerked upright in bed. “Were you spying on me and Mom?”

Emilia’s jaw set in that defiant bent I recognized far too well. “I was thirsty. I needed a glass of water.”

“Then you should’ve come into the kitchen and gotten one like a normal person, not hovered in the hallway like a nosy sneak.”

She leapt from the bed. “I’m not nosy! You and Mom weren’t being quiet.”

“We didn’t know you were there.”

Hurt flashed across Emilia’s face. “Whatever. I don’t want to know about your stupid boyfriend anyway.”

She dropped the shirt onto the floor and stalked out of my bedroom, letting the door slam behind her.

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