Chapter 4
He shifted his weight.
A floorboard creaked.
Lily jumped to her feet.
“Who’s there?”
Ethan pushed the door open slowly and raised both hands.
“It’s me. Ethan. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her face transformed.
The gratitude from the bakery vanished.
Fear replaced it.
She stepped in front of Noah, thin arms spread slightly, becoming a shield with nothing but her body.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was worried.”
“You followed me.”
“Yes.”
“Are you from social services? Are you going to take us away?”
The question hit him with more force than accusation.
Noah peeked from behind her, still holding the sandwich.
“Is that the food man?”
Lily did not answer him.
Her eyes remained locked on Ethan.
“No,” Ethan said. “I’m not from social services. I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“Nobody helps for free,” Lily said.
She sounded much too old.
“What do you want?”
Ethan looked around the room. The broken window. The mattress. The cold. The little boy coughing into his blanket. The girl pretending she was not afraid because someone smaller needed her bravery more than she did.
“I want you both to be safe,” he said. “And from what I can see, you’re not.”
Lily lifted her chin.
“We’ve been through worse.”
Noah coughed again.
A deep, harsh sound that belonged in a hospital, not an abandoned building.
Ethan forced himself not to step closer.
“Your brother is sick.”
“He gets better.”
“Does he?”
She did not answer.
“I’ll respect what you decide today,” Ethan said carefully. “But I can come back tomorrow. Food. Warm blankets. Medicine. Clothes. Anything you need.”
“Why?”
“Because you need it. And because I can.”
Noah tugged at Lily’s sleeve.
“Let him help,” he whispered. “I’m cold.”
Lily closed her eyes for one second.
When she opened them, pride and fear were still there, but desperation had entered too.
“Okay,” she said. “You can bring things. But don’t tell anyone about us.”
“I’ll come tomorrow morning.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
As Ethan walked back down the stairwell, the snow outside fell harder.
By the time he reached his car, he understood his life had divided itself into before and after.
That night, he did not sleep.
He saw Lily standing in front of Noah.
He saw Noah’s small hand clutching the sandwich.
He saw the drawing of a bright house on a wall where no real house existed.
At dawn, Ethan was in a store filling carts.
Food first. Bread, fruit, soup, canned goods, crackers, peanut butter, shelf-stable milk, cookies because Noah was a child and children deserved something sweet.
Then the pharmacy. Fever medicine. Cough syrup. Thermometers. Children’s vitamins. Electrolyte drinks.
Then blankets. Pillows. Winter coats. Gloves. Hats. Thermal socks. Pajamas. Boots. Clothes in several sizes because he did not know what would fit.
The cashier looked at the pile and smiled.
“Big family?”
Ethan thought of Lily’s eyes.
“I hope so,” he said before he understood why.
When he reached the abandoned building, his arms were full.
The room looked the same.
Except Noah was worse.
He lay curled on the mattress, shivering violently beneath the thin blankets while Lily pressed a damp cloth to his forehead. Her eyes were red from a night without sleep.
“He’s burning up,” she said.
Ethan dropped the bags.
“Can I check?”
Lily nodded.
He touched Noah’s forehead.
High fever.
Very high.
“I brought medicine,” Ethan said, opening the pharmacy bag. “But Lily, he needs a doctor.”
“No.”
“He’s seriously sick.”
“They’ll ask questions. They’ll separate us.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“You don’t know that.”
May you like
She was right.
Ethan hated that she was right.
