He pulled a chair close and laid his heavy, calloused hands over mine.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough with everything he was not saying.

And the weight that had sat on my chest for three years — the fear, the isolation, the endless walking on eggshells in that cold and beautiful house — lifted all at once, the way a fever breaks.

“I am now, Dad,” I whispered.

“We’re safe.”

Chapter 15 — What the Quiet Was