Read Online A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) by E.M. Tippetts - Free Book Online

to.
    “Perfect!” He snaps away. “And now some with a smile.”
    That I can do. I smile, laugh, turn and look over my shoulder—the usual routine.
    Once it’s over, I hop down and Julian claps me on the shoulder. “No problem, right?”
    “I guess. I don’t really know how I did there.”
    “This will get easier with practice.”
    I’m not convinced though, given that I’m not sure what I need to practice. I feel like a little girl trying on new clothes and I can’t help but think that, while trying to mature my image, I’ll end up looking like a six-year-old in high-heels that are ten sizes too big.

    That evening I’m relieved when Cleo calls over the apartment intercom.
    “Hey,” I say to her as I buzz her in. “I am so ready for something different.”
    As she rides up the elevator, I unpack some edamame salad and hummus and pita chips from the fridge. When she steps in, we exchange a quick hug.
    “Oh, hey,” says Kyra, who peeks out from her room. “Cleo?”
    “Yeah. Kyra, right?”
    My roommate smiles, nods, and retreats back into her room.
    “I don’t know if you’re hungry,” I say, pointing to the food I’ve set out on the counter. “We’ve got twenty minutes until the call.”
    “Great, thanks.” She’s entirely at ease in my place with it’s loft style living room and wall of windows that look out on the city. “Let’s look at Facebook profiles for Mackenzie Schaller.”
    She pulls her laptop from her courier bag and sets it up on the counter. The first profile she pulls up is of a girl with dark-brown hair.
    “I dunno,” I say. “I never saw her with hair.”
    “Yeah, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” she says.
    “Let me go get the picture I do have.” I dart to my room and grab the framed photo off my nightstand. “Here,” I say, holding it out once I return to the kitchen. “I know. It’s really old.” The three smiling faces aren’t faded at all—I made sure to put it behind UV protective glass—but the age still shows in the clothes we wear.
    She looks it over. “She might be a redhead, with all those freckles. Look.”
    “I guess that’d kind of fit the name Mackenzie, huh?”
    “There’s a redhead on Facebook.” She taps on her touchpad and calls up the profile.
    This girl has round, full cheeks, a lot of freckles, and long, red hair. In every single picture we can access, she’s grinning at the camera.
    “I don’t know,” I say. “It’s hard to tell because she was so skinny when I saw her last. Wouldn’t that be awesome if this is her though?”
    “That’s what I was thinking. She’s so alive. Here’s another hint.” She scrolls down to the ‘Likes’ section and points to a link to the Veronica Pryce fan page. “I’m just thinking she might be a little older than who we’re looking for. Mackenzie’d only be fifteen, and she looks more eighteen.”
    I nod. “That’s a really good lead though.”
    “I’m gonna message her and explain who I’m looking for. That okay?”
    “Yeah, go for it.”
    She taps away, placing each finger carefully so that she can depress the keys even with her long nails. “Do you know this guy’s name?” she asks, pointing to the image of Mackenzie’s brother in my picture.
    “No. Sorry.” He had been painfully shy and withdrawn and it had taken a lot of patience to get him to talk at all. He was twig thin, perpetually fidgeting, and clearly in over his head, but he soldiered on anyway, holding his sister’s hand and telling her he’d be there no matter what. In the years since, I’ve met quite a few people like him; family members and friends who are silent heroes, putting in hours, days, months, and even years of service little to no reward. It’s such a contrast to my own family.
    I look at more pictures of Mackenzies until it’s time to Skype. Cleo starts the call and I stand in front of the camera and wait while the connection sets up.
    The line goes live with a hiss and the video shows a