Page 231 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

the kitchen table. Nate looked up and smiled—“Good night,
Greta!”—while the rest of them mumbled into their cards.
She fell asleep the second she closed her eyes, not even
stopping to top up her air mattress. The floor against her
hip was not a deterrent at all. A dead, dreamless sleep, not
touched by the occasional shout from the kitchen. Then
awake. She blinked into the dark. Had she just closed her
eyes? She reached up to the bed and felt Ash’s leg. He’d come

in without waking her. In the kitchen, silence, and dark-
ness from the crack under the door. Was it morning? The
heaviness in her body said no. She’d been woken by some-
thing—a noise. The light flashed on the phone beside her
pillow. Annoyed that she’d forgotten to turn off the sound,
she reached for it and saw the text notification. Wide awake.
Who was texting her at—she checked the time—12:30 am?

She clicked on the message icon.
I’m downstairs.
A jolt of fear. From? Dad. A second jolt—something she
couldn’t even name. Another message opened as she held the
phone. Can you come down and talk to me? She stared at the
words. Some kind of trap? But this was her dad…possibly
with Patty. She could handle seeing Roger. Greta knew
with 100 percent certainty that she never again wanted to
lay eyes on Patty. Never breathe the same air. Never stand

within the same four walls. No compromise, no promise
of change, would move her. Never again. Something had
shifted after today. Roger? Still murky. Greta reached to shake
Ash’s leg but jerked her hand back before it touched him.

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