Liz smiled fondly. “Honey, you don’t have to leave. I’ve told you already. This is your home as long as you want it to be.”

I snapped. “Shut up! Stop telling her that. This isn’t her home. You aren’t her mother!”

She blinked, taking a step back. “I’m not trying to take your mother’s place, Ember.”

“Bullshit.” Anger and something akin to hatred boiled through me. I stalked across the floor.

Olivia darted in front of me, cutting me off before I could reach Liz. She held out her arms, wiggling her fingers. In one quick swoop, Liz cradled Olivia in her arms.

I froze mere feet from the two. Olivia reached up and wrapped her arms around Liz’s neck. A hot, fierce emotion cut though me and stole my breath. Betrayal. I recognized the stupidity behind the emotion. Olivia didn’t know what she was doing, but whatever fight I had left burned out.

“What’s going on in here?” Cromwell asked, standing behind Liz.

“Ember wants to leave,” Olivia said. “Do I have to leave?”

Cromwell stepped into the room, resting his hand on Olivia’s back. “No. You don’t have to leave. Ember is just tired and confused. Perhaps she should make it an early night. I’m sure she’ll feel better in the morning.”

Olivia pushed her head into the crook of Liz’s neck. She mumbled something, but I couldn’t hear her. There was a buzzing in my ears, a sick feeling in my stomach. Head down, I darted around them. I walked down the wide hallway, and then bolted up the stairs. My heart felt as if it would shatter into a million pieces.

Once inside my bedroom, I slammed the door shut behind me. Once. Then twice. Doing that always made me feel better whenever I’d gotten into an argument with my parents.

I didn’t feel better now.

Slowly, I slid down the closed door and gulped in air. I’d lost control of Olivia to complete strangers in a matter of minutes. And they hated my guts and planned on shipping me off to some godforsaken place the moment I made the wrong move.

Chapter 7

I hardly slept—big surprise there.

The sun had barely crested the mountains when I climbed out of bed. Unsure of why, I’d searched the quiet house for the room my mom had been placed in, my hands shoved into the front pocket of my hoodie.

She sat in a rocking chair, staring out a large picture window overlooking the front yard. Limp curls hung around her pale face. The vibrancy in her hair seemed to have dulled since yesterday. Beside her was an untouched glass of water.

Ignoring the raw ache in my chest, I crossed the room and sat down cross-legged next to her, resting my chin in my hand. “There’s something wrong here.” I stopped and laughed wearily. “Besides the obvious. But he has these kids here and they hate me. And I think they all can do things.”

Silence.