Snowflakes & Fire Escapes Read Online Free Page A

Not this girl’s.”
    I motion toward myself to make my point. I’m surprised when, instead of more frustration, he offers a small smile of understanding. “I get it.”
    “Do you?”
    “Yes,” he says. “It would be dishonest to say I know exactly how you feel, because I haven’t walked in your shoes before, but I get it. You’re not the first person to feel this way. And I can promise it’ll get better. With time, you’ll get used to it.”
    “But I shouldn’t have to,” I say. “I shouldn’t have to get used to it . It’s not fair.”
    “It’s not,” he agrees. “But there’s always an adjustment period. I’ve told you that before. You just need to give it a chance. Make friends … watch TV … get a hobby. Do something to pass the time. And I’m here any time you need anything. All you have to do is call. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. It’s my job.”
    He says the last part with a smile, like it’s meant to ease my worries, but it only makes everything so much worse.
    Holden isn’t my friend.
    He isn’t my family.
    Holden is my handler .
    I can count on one hand how many people in the world know where I am at this moment, and every single one of them wears a U.S. Marshals Service badge. Out of them, Holden is the only one who has any personal contact with me. They’re tight-lipped, even within their own department, their security stronger than a virgin locked up in a chastity belt. Holden deals with the person behind the name. To the others, I’m just paperwork.
    That’s the saddest part of all, I think. I have one person in the world … one person I can turn to, one person I can call for help these days, one person who can listen to me, one person to understand, and he’s only there because he gets paid to be.
    It’s nothing like I had before.
    I had love, and compassion, someone to turn to when my world turned cold.
    This girl … she has nothing.
    ***
    The familiar black town car pulled right up to the curb in front of the apartment building. I’d seen it hundreds of times before, navigating these streets over the years, always driven by Cormac Moran. It parked, the engine still idling based on the smoke coming from the exhaust, but nobody got out of the thing.
    I stared down at it, the evening breeze ruffling my hair, blowing tendrils into my face. I brushed them away, tucking the soft red curls behind my ears. It was just after dusk and the air was cool, summer having faded away much too quickly.
    I was sitting cross-legged on the fire escape, the cold metal pressing into my thighs. My heels were abandoned on the other side of the open window, discarded on the living room floor when I realized I wouldn’t need them today.
    A few minutes passed before the passenger door to the car finally opened and someone stepped out. I recognized my father right away. He shut the door and stood along the curb as the car whipped back into traffic and sped away.
    Once it was gone, my father’s shoulders slumped, his poised posture fading. It was as if he’d just let out a deep breath he’d been holding for a long time. Even from five stories up, I could sense his exhaustion. For as long as I could remember, he always seemed drained, like he had little left to offer anyone … especially me. He had nothing for me, it seemed.
    After running his hands down his face, he turned and stalked toward the building, disappearing from my view. A minute later I heard the front door unlocking, footsteps echoing through the apartment.
    “Grace?”
    I didn’t respond, my eyes focused on my feet. My pantyhose were ripped from getting caught on some jagged metal on the fire escape, a line running the whole way down my left leg to my foot. My toenails were painted red to match my new dress. What a waste of effort .
    “Grace!”
    His voice had a panicked edge to it, his footsteps harder along the wooden floor. He seemed to be doing circles, checking all the rooms, before coming to an abrupt halt right by