Fragile Sanctuary (Sparrow Falls Book 1)
Fragile Sanctuary: Prologue

PAST, AGE THIRTEEN

“What was it like?” Fallon whispered as the SUV bounced along the gravel road. There was a reverence in her voice, as if she were talking about God or some great work of art on a museum wall.

But we definitely weren’t.

I couldn’t seem to get that wide, cheesy smile off my face as Fallon’s mom drove us through the night, casting the occasional look back through the rearview mirror the way all moms seemed to do. My stomach swirled like I was on one of those carnival rides that spun round and round, pressing you against the wall. Then my grin got wider.

“You know when you’re on a rollercoaster and your stomach dips?”

Fallon nodded, her lightly curled hair swishing into her face as her eyes shone.

“It was like that.” I collapsed against the far back SUV seat with a sigh.

Fallon tucked her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. “I knew Felix liked you. I knew it.” She kept her voice low, whether it was to keep her mom from hearing or just her typical soft-spokenness, I didn’t know.

I couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past my lips as my stomach did another of those swirls. I hoped he liked me. But what I really wanted was for him to ask me out. Maybe we’d go to the movies. Or walk downtown holding hands.

I could still feel the press of his lips against mine for the count of one, two, three in the dark of the closet in Owen’s basement. We’d had seven minutes in that closet. Mostly, we’d talked. About Felix’s spring-break trip to the coast and mine to New York. But then he’d gotten quiet, leaned in, and⁠—

“Did he use his tongue?” Fallon whispered in the dark of the SUV.

“No,” I squealed, jerking upright.

Our eyes met, and we both burst out laughing.

Mrs. Colson’s gaze flicked briefly from the road to the rearview mirror. “What’s gotten into you two?”

Her question only made us laugh harder. I collapsed against Fallon as we giggled, not even sure what we were laughing about. Fallon and I spoke in a language that was all ours. Even our laughter had a sound that was ours alone. With how close our families were, she was more sister than best friend at this point.

The fact that my family didn’t have any relatives in Sparrow Falls only made the Colsons that much more important. We’d bonded, creating a ragtag group that was our chosen family, spending Thanksgivings and Christmases together.

When my parents moved us from New York to Sparrow Falls six years ago, my little sister and I had not been pleased. We had lives in the city. Friends and school. The last thing we’d wanted to do was move to a town of three thousand people in Middle-of-Nowhere, Oregon.

But I’d slowly fallen in love with it. And Fallon was a huge part of that. With her easy, wide smile despite her shyness, and how she welcomed everyone—even the new kid from New York, who everyone looked at a bit funny—we’d fallen into an easy friendship. And she was the best part of Sparrow Falls.

But Felix Hernandez might give her a run for her money with his dark brown hair, tanned skin, and soulful amber eyes. Just thinking about him made my skin flush hot, like I’d just stepped out into a blistering summer day.

Fallon let out a longing sigh. “With my brothers, I’ll probably never get a first kiss.”

I sent her a sympathetic smile but didn’t argue. Fallon had three older brothers. One by blood, Copeland. One adoptive, Shepard. And one foster, Trace. Her mom and grandma, Lolli, were always taking in kids who needed homes. Most came and went, some staying for as little as just a few days. But Cope, Shep, and Trace were permanent, leaving Fallon with lots of overprotectiveness in her life.

“Is there someone you want to kiss?” I asked. Fallon kept those kinds of feelings to herself most of the time. And her shyness kept her from talking to many of the boys in our class.

Even in the dark, I saw her cheeks flame. “I guess not. Most of the guys in our year are jerks.”

A laugh bubbled out of me. “You’ve got a point.” I might have snagged the only decent one.

Mrs. Colson pulled to a stop, putting the SUV in park and turning to face us. “First stop for the giggle brigade.” Her gaze flicked to me, warmth spreading across her face. “I’m glad you two had fun.”

Fallon’s mom had become like a second mother to me over the past few years, and I swore she knew something had happened at that party. Mom radar. I felt my cheeks heating and fought not to duck my head.

Fallon bit her bottom lip to stave off another burst of giggles and leaned closer. “Call me tomorrow. We can go to the river, and you can tell me everything.”

“Right after breakfast.” My dad had a thing about Sunday breakfasts. He would make a massive spread with pancakes or waffles, even crepes if he was feeling fancy. There were no phones or other interruptions allowed. Family time.

It was one of the reasons he’d moved us to Sparrow Falls. Even though he had a big job as a financial planner to lots of hotshot businesspeople, he hadn’t wanted us to get sucked into that world. So, he’d moved us here. Finally, I wasn’t mad about it.

Fallon threw her arms around me in a huge hug, grabbing me tightly. “I don’t know how you’re going to sleep.”

Another laugh bubbled out of me. “I probably won’t.”

Unfastening my seat belt, I clambered out of the SUV. “Thanks for driving me home, Mrs. Colson.”

“Anytime, Rhodes,” she said as the front door to my house opened.

“Thanks, Nora,” my mom called from the doorway.

Mrs. Colson gave Mom a wave and a smile. With as much time as Fallon and I spent together, they were used to this back-and-forth trade-off of kids. “Want to hit up yoga tomorrow afternoon?”

“Only if we can make a stop at the bakery afterward,” Mom shot back.

Mrs. Colson laughed. “You always have the best ideas.”

I jumped down, my sandal-clad feet hitting the gravel. The full moon illuminated the house in a silvery hue. My mom had fallen in love with the ancient Victorian on a trip out here with my dad. He’d, of course, found a way to make it hers.

I’d always been a little self-conscious of the structure with its separate guesthouse that sat on a good twenty acres, the nearest neighbor barely visible. It was different than most of the other homes in Sparrow Falls. The downtown area was full of adorable Craftsman-style creations. Outside the town limits, you found sprawling ranch homes.

But as I practically skipped up the walkway, I had to admit the house was beautiful. It looked like something out of a fairy tale with towers and steeples. But even with all its intricate beauty, it never felt cold. Part of that was the sprawling gardens my mom worked tirelessly at maintaining. But more than that, it was the love inside the home’s walls.

The moment I was within arm’s reach, my mom pulled me into her embrace. She squeezed me hard, rocking me back and forth.

“Mom,” I protested, but it was muffled against her chest.

“Let me have this moment,” she argued. “My baby went to her first boy-girl party. Before I know it, you’ll be driving, drinking, and moving out of the house.”

I groaned. “I’m thirteen, not thirty.”

Mom sniffed exaggeratedly as she released me but slipped her arm around my shoulders. “I’m going to blink, and you’ll be there.”

I just shook my head. “We’ve still got some time. Breathe.”

My mom laughed. “I’ll try. Come on. I made cocoa.”

It didn’t matter that the days were slipping into the seventies and eighties; I’d take my mom’s hot cocoa anytime. It was the kind she made from actual cocoa powder, mixing in sugar and other secret ingredients. Plus, as hot as the days could get in the high desert of Central Oregon, the nights got cold.

“Marshmallows?” I asked hopefully.

She grinned down at me. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“Definitely not,” I said with an echoing smile.

My mom kept her arm around me as we walked through the entryway and down the hall toward the kitchen. Intricate woodwork bracketed us on both sides, but it all acted as a sort of frame for the whimsical wallpaper. This hallway was home to a magical fairy scene, complete with a sparkly sheen to the fairies’ wings.

When my dad had seen Mom’s choice, he’d simply shaken his head and grinned. “My girl has to make it magic.”

As we reached the kitchen, the faint scent of chocolate teased my nose, and Mom finally released me. I slid onto a stool at the wide kitchen island and wrapped my hands around the Alice in Wonderland-esque mug with its misshapen body and curlicue handle.

I closed my eyes and took a testing sip. The perfect balance of chocolate and sugar hit my tongue. “The best,” I mumbled.

When I opened my eyes, it was to replace my mom studying me. Her gaze roamed over my face in slow sweeps as if she were excavating the surface layer by layer to discover what hid behind it. I had the sudden urge to bolt for my room.

Then she began blinking rapidly as her eyes shone. Panic skidded through me. “Mom?”

She waved her hand in front of her face. “It’s nothing. I’m just emotional. My little girl’s growing up.”

The panic fled as my lips curved. “It was one party.”

“Your first.” Her hands wrapped around her matching mug. “Were there any other firsts tonight?”

Heat hit my cheeks fast and hard as my gaze dropped to my hot cocoa.

Mom’s hand covered mine. “You know you can always talk to me. I’ve been there. First parties, first crushes, first kisses…”

I bit my bottom lip, and then it all came out in a rush. “Felix kissed me. I like him. Like really like him. He’s nice and cute, and every time I’m close to him, I feel like I’m on one of those Tilt-A-Whirl things. But he didn’t say anything when we left. What if he doesn’t like me back? What if I’m a bad kisser? What if⁠—?”

My mom’s light laugh cut into my panic-induced spiral. “Rho,” she said softly.

My gaze lifted to hers.

Those hazel eyes, the same ones she’d given me, stared back at me. “He’d be a fool not to like you.”

My shoulders slumped. “You’re my mom. You’re biased.”

“You’re right. I am. But I’ve seen him looking at you when I pick you up from school. He likes you back.”

Hope flared to life somewhere deep. “Really?”

She grinned. “Really. Although I’m not sure how I feel about that. Thirteen is young for a boyfriend.”

“So many girls in my class have them,” I protested.

My mom sighed, squeezing my hand. “If he asks you, group dates only. No one-on-ones.”

“Mooooom, come on.”

She gave me a look that said arguing was futile.

I sighed. “Fine. He’s gotta ask me first anyway.”

Mom released my hand. “He will. Just give him time.”

I’d have given anything for just a little bit of her confidence. But I was still a jumble of nerves and countless other emotions I couldn’t identify. So, I drank my hot chocolate as Mom asked me about the party. Thankfully, she stayed away from the Felix subject.

“What about Fallon? Anyone she has her eye on?” Mom asked.

I shook my head. As fun and free as Fallon could be with me, she shut down completely when we were in a group. She pulled everything that was so wonderful and special about her away and put it behind the shell she’d constructed to keep everyone out. “Not really.”

My mom tapped her fingers against the island. “Just make sure you include her in those group dates, even if she doesn’t have anyone she wants to go with.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Like I go anywhere without Fallon.”

Mom laughed as she took our mugs and put them in the sink. “How could I forget?”

As I slid off the stool, she wrapped me in another hug. “Love you to infinity.”

“Love you to infinity times infinity.”

Mom smiled against my dark brown hair. “Infinity squared.”

I squeezed her harder. “Infinity to infinity power.”

She released me with a chuckle. “I guess you have me beat. This time.”

I grinned as we headed up the stairs, my mom flipping off lights as we went.

“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 replaceing new adventures for us to go on together between the pages of a good book. We’d just finished A 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 my favorite.”

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 replace 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 it The Pop.

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

Emilia’s mouth thinned. “Shouldn’t I decide 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 into it 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.

I groaned as I flopped back on my pillows. Freaking little sisters. Guilt flickered in my belly, tiny pinpricks against my flesh. I should’ve gone after her. But I was so dang tired. I’d make it right in the morning. I’d bring her the shirt and her favorite lip gloss of mine, and all would be right with the world. But right now, I needed sleep.

Something teased my nose, spreading through my airways and tickling the back of my throat. A cough had my eyes fluttering. I blinked against the dark room. The moon wasn’t quite as bright, having disappeared behind a wall of clouds. But even with less light, I knew something was wrong.

That was when I heard it. The wail of an alarm. I frowned as another cough racked me. The source of the smell hit me fast and hard.

Smoke.

I jerked upright, trying to swing my legs out of bed, but they got tangled in the sheets. My upper body kept right on going, my palms hitting hard on the rug beside my bed. The fibers dug into my skin as I pulled myself out of the knot of linens and struggled to my feet.

Another coughing wave hit me, and I dropped low again, images of the firefighter who’d come to visit my fifth-grade class filling my mind. Drop low. Cover your mouth if you can.

I grabbed a fallen piece of clothing—the same shirt Emilia had dropped earlier. Emilia. I pressed the gauzy fabric over my nose and mouth and crawled toward the door.

Emilia’s room was down the hall, closer to my parents’. She’d been scared when we first moved into the house six years ago. It was so different from our Manhattan apartment. She’d had nightmares and disrupted sleep for the first month and had opted for the room next to my parents’ instead of the one next to mine as they’d originally planned.

Reaching the door, I slowed as another command flashed in my head. Feel the doorknob. I lifted a hand, gently tapping the brass fixture. Heat bloomed in my palm the moment I touched it.

A fresh wave of panic ripped through me as tears stung my eyes. I didn’t know what to do. This was the only way out of my room. And it wasn’t like I had a phone. Both my parents were staunchly opposed to me having my own line or, God forbid, a cell phone. And now, I was trapped.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, but I barely noticed. More smoke billowed in from under the door. I was running out of time.

“Mom!” I screamed. “Dad!” But there was no answer.

Maybe they’d gotten out. Maybe things were just blocked between me and them. But I had to open my door to see.

I worried the raw spot on the inside of my cheek, the pain keeping me in the here and now. I wrapped the shirt around my hand and twisted the doorknob. The moment the door opened, a wall of flame burst forward.

I scrambled back with a strangled scream that sent me into a coughing jag. The flames licked forward in a dance that would’ve been beautiful if it weren’t so terrifying. Smoke billowed into my room like a monster from long-ago nightmares.

Fear spiked and had me tumbling farther into my room until my back hit the wall. My lungs seized in a vicious squeeze. Out. I had to get out.

My hands fumbled, feeling across the wall. The intricate woodwork gave way to windows. I stumbled and tumbled until I hit the doorknob for the French doors that led to my balcony.

It took three tries to get the door to do what I wanted. As it finally flew open, a gust of fresh air hit me in the face. It only made me cough harder. I pulled myself onto the ledge, the wood planks skinning my knees through my thin pajamas.

My hands curled around the wooden rods holding the railing as fire blazed brighter behind me. So much heat. It made my skin feel like it was crackling.

I scanned my surroundings, looking for a way out, for help. There was nothing. I had to pray a neighbor had seen the blaze in the distance and called for help, but there was no guarantee. It was the middle of the night.

Glancing at the ground, I tried to judge the distance of the drop. I didn’t think the fall would kill me, but I’d definitely get some broken bones. Still, that was better than burning alive.

I looked to my right and caught sight of a drainpipe. It looked antique, just like the rest of the house. Struggling to my feet, I made my way over to it and pressed a hand to the surface. It was warm but not hot. Maybe I could use it to slide down the side of the house.

A deafening boom sounded from inside, nearly sending me flying over the side of the railing.

Now. I had to move now.

I threw one leg over the railing, not letting myself look down, then the other. I scooted over to the drainpipe and grasped it as hard as I could. It was affixed to the house with brackets that gave me some footholds.

Squeezing my eyes closed for a moment, I shifted completely to the pipe. The metal dug into my bare feet and pain flared, but I ignored it.

Holding as tightly as possible with my hands, I let myself down a bit until my toes felt another metal bracket. Cracks and snarls sounded from inside the house as if the fire were a living, breathing thing. And maybe it was.

The pipe got hotter as I tried to shimmy down it, and fear bloomed in my belly. I was closer to the ground but not close enough to jump. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted my dad. He always knew what to do. We’d talk a problem round and round until I found the solution right along with him. But he wasn’t here. And I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

The fire seemed to go silent for a moment—a terrifying quiet I should’ve recognized as a precursor to the worst. There was almost a faint whistling sound and then nothing but flames.

Agony wrapped around me in that blanket of fire. If I hadn’t been so consumed by the pain, I would’ve realized I was falling. And then, thankfully, there was nothing but the blessed dark.