Eleven
“Here sit down, honey,” a soft voice spoke from out of an old Nell’s face. “She looks like she’s going to faint. Charlie, help her.”
“My kids don’t faint,” Zach snapped, and then grabbed her other elbow and steered her to a bland couch. It went, she noted vaguely, with the bland room, if not the inhabitants. Okay, she didn’t know they hadn’t picked it, but it didn’t seem to go with the hiding/not hiding deal. Maybe they’d gone with boring because their lives had been too exciting.
A hand shifted to her neck, and he pushed her head down between her knees. Hannah stared at the tan carpet inches from her nose. Zach avoided tan like the plague. Had almost a love affair with plaid, the bigger the stripes the better. Surely her dad’s brother—
Her thoughts fractured then, and she pushe
