Page 2 of Chasing Shelter

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 weredreamy. 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 uneaseflickered 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 anappropriateyoung 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, thishouse…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 likeme.

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

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

“Asnivelingbrat, 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.

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