red hill - jamie mcguire

Chapter Nineteen
Miranda
I’D IMAGINED SO MANY TIMES in the last week what it would feel like to finally lie down in my bed, to
feel the safety of the walls that my dad’s house provided, but even under a familiar comforter, my
head resting on a pillow I’d picked out myself, I didn’t feel at home. I felt sick, displaced, and afraid.
Bryce was lying behind me, his body outlining mine. My body was nearly in a ball, but Bryce
made sure to surround me with his warmth and love, as if it would keep reality away.
“I can’t remember the last thing I said to him, but I don’t think it was anything nice,” I whispered.
“He was excited that you were coming. If you weren’t nice to him, he obviously didn’t notice.”
“I wanted to hug him.” I sniffed, turning my head so the sleeve of my zipup hoodie could catch
more tears. “Getting here and being safe meant him being here to protect us. I don’t know where my
mom is, and my dad is dead. Leah’s dead. I have no one.”
Bryce propped his head up with his hand. “You have Ashley, and you have me.”
Those words should have offered more comfort than they did. I lay there until the rain began to
patter on the roof and Bryce’s breathing turned deep, and rhythmic. The lightning cast quick flashes
and shadows on the wall, including my own as I quietly snuck to the door and into the living room.
Scarlet was asleep on the couch, a rifle nestled in her arms like a child. She’d always been kind to
us, and her little girls were so sweet. Once when Dad made Ashley and I help him burn brush, Jenna
and Halle helped, too, entertaining us so much that by the time we were finished, it barely seemed
like we’d started.
I crept over to the front door and twisted the knob.
“I wouldn’t,” Scarlet whispered in the dark.
I jumped, and then when my nerves stopped trying to jump out of my skin, I sat on the rocking chair
adjacent to the couch Scarlet was resting on.
“That was smart. The cans, I mean. I would have never thought of it.”
She didn’t raise her head, and if she hadn’t spoken to me moments before, I would have thought
she was still asleep. Lightning lit up the room for a second, and I caught sight of a tear dripping from
her nose.
“They’re probably worried about you, too,” I said. Trying to comfort someone else made me feel
better. It kept my mind off the fact that I was probably an orphan.
“I worry about them being outside in this weather,” Scarlet said, sitting up. “I worry that Andrew
was hurt or killed and they’re alone.”
“Worrying won’t help them.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “You shouldn’t go outside. I’ve watched out the window at night.