Free Where You'll Find Me by Erin Fletcher Page A

pair of shoes, umbrella, scarf, and hat. Not that I ever use the system correctly. Dad starts to loosen his tie, then stops and sniffs. “Do I smell eggs?”
    My heart rate, which had started to return to normal, spikes again. “No,” I say, louder than I intend to. “I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Maybe the garbage needs to go out.” At that moment, I’m glad that we ran the egg shells down the garbage disposal.
    “Maybe.” He studies me with those dark brown eyes that are the exact same color as mine. “Everything okay, Hanley?”
    “Yep. Fine,” I say, too quickly. Usually I can lie like a boss, but the higher the stakes, the more I fumble. Hiding a stranger in my bedroom? The stakes are beyond high. “Just thought I’d see what was going on. Say hi. But I think I’ll go back up to my room.” I back out of the hallway, toward the stairs.
    “Sounds good.”
    As I climb the stairs, Dad follows. What the hell is he doing? Does he suspect something? Did he hear Nate? Did he hear the closet door closing and assume I’m hiding something?
    “I thought you were going to work.” I nod toward the den where he holes up when he’s working from home.
    “I’m going to change first. No sense sitting around in a suit when no one’s going to see me.”
    “True,” I say, relieved, climbing the rest of the stairs. But then my heart drops. Sitting outside the bathroom, where he dropped it after his shower, is Nate’s backpack. The masculine yellow and gray backpack I would never own in a million years. I freeze, trying to decide if I should acknowledge it, ignore it, or try to sneak it into my room. My dad almost runs into me.
    “Sorry. I thought I forgot something downstairs.” Maybe if I ignore it, he won’t even notice it.
    My fingers are around my bedroom door handle when Dad asks, “Is that your backpack?”
    I whirl around. “No.” The answer is too quick. “It’s…it’s Rosalinda’s. She left it with me, and since there’s no school, I said I’ll give it to her tomorrow.”
    Dad nods, but he’s looking at me with suspicion. Rightfully so, I suppose. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
    “Yeah,” I say, picking up the backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. The straps are far too long for anyone my height or Rosalinda’s, but I hope Dad won’t notice. “Fine. I’m just going to watch a movie. Have fun working.”
    “Okay.”
    My hand shakes as I open my door, Nate’s backpack still slung over my shoulder. I turn and force a smile at my dad before closing the door behind me. For a few seconds, I hold my breath and don’t move until Dad’s footsteps retreat into his bedroom.
    With a sigh of relief, I drop the backpack, but I’m not really in the clear until my dad is downstairs. “Don’t move,” I whisper in the direction of my closet doors. No response. Grabbing the remote, I turn on the TV just in case Dad decides to stick his head in the room. I sit awkwardly on my bed and stare at the screen, but all I can think about is the fact that there’s a boy in my closet. A very homeless, potentially dangerous, insanely cute boy.
    A few minutes later, my dad leaves his bedroom. The Third Step Creak has never been such a welcome sound. I can relax a little.
    I wait another minute or two for good measure, then tiptoe to the closet doors and open them slowly. Inside, Nate looks so scrunched, his blue eyes so pissed, I almost laugh. “Sorry,” I whisper, crouching down to sit cross-legged in front of him. He glares at me, but it’s more sexy than intimidating. When I glance around the closet, I’m relieved to see that the sock monkey pajamas are nowhere in sight. There is a bra and a pair of underwear within his reach, but with that sexy glare, I’m not too worried about it. “My dad’s working from home for the afternoon.”
    “Fantastic.”
    “Yeah.”
    “And he’s working in the room right below us. At the bottom of the stairs, which I need in order to get to