Fragile Sanctuary (Sparrow Falls, #1)

by Catherine Cowles

For all those walking the path of grief. It's a winding road that changes but never ends. Just remember, you're not alone. You carry them with you wherever you go. And you'll see the world in all its colors because you loved so deeply.

“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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.”

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.”

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.

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 find 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.

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?”

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

“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.

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 abo...

“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.”

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.

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.”

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.