Jonathon stood beside Emma at the sink as he dried the last of the dishes. There was no dishwasher. The microwave had to be as old as Kirra at the very least and he didn’t trust the upright stove tucked between the lime green and walnut brown cabinets. Jonathon wanted to bundle up Emma, Kirra, and their mother and transport them somewhere else—anywhere else—where he knew they would be safe. He hated that they lived in this house that was falling down around them in an unsafe neighborhood. He wanted to throw as much money at this situation as he could to make it better, but he knew that wasn’t...