Page 22 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Miguel: We understand. Goodnight.

I tried to read, but three chapters in and I couldn’t recall anything I’d just read. I set the book aside and turned off my lamp, deciding to go to sleep.

A couple hours passed, and I still hadn’t fallen asleep. My body was exhausted, my eyelids were heavy, but my mind couldn’t stop thinking. I’d tossed and turned so much that my sheets had popped off the bottom corners of the mattress.

Frustrated, I rolled onto my back and huffed out a breath. I’d told them I was fine, said I wanted to be alone. “I’m not fine,” I admitted to myself in the darkened room, and I didn’t want to be alone.

I jumped out of bed and slipped on my shoes, grabbing a long-range flashlight from the garage before leaving through the side door. The woods terrified me at night, but I ran for Miguel and Quentin’s house, ignoring the snapping of twigs in the distance.

I was out of breath by the time I’d raced up the ten patio steps and entered the entry code before stepping into the kitchen.

The house was dark and quiet, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake.

I couldn’t make myself turn back, though, and not just because I was too scared to go into the woods for a second time.

It just… felt like I was where I was supposed to be.

A dim stream of light poured through Quentin and Miguel’s cracked bedroom door, but I couldn’t hear their voices as I quietly made my way down the hall.

Quentin snored softly on his side of the bed, but Miguel stirred, blinking awake.

He sat straight up when he noticed me. His lamp was still on, and so were his glasses, like he’d fallen asleep by accident.

Had he exhausted himself worrying about me?

I felt bad for waking him, but before I could back away, he reached out to me.

He had this soft and open look on his face. It was the same way he looked at Quentin. It said maybe the rest of the world had hurt him, but I hadn’t. It said he trusted me. I felt both lucky and sad because while I wanted his trust, I’d lose it if he knew the truth about me.

Miguel tried to rub his eyes, frowning when his glasses got in the way. He set them on the nightstand before reaching out to me again.

He was cute with his glasses on. Predictable, safe, and cute. He was the same with them off, but… maybe more mature too. More capable-looking, whatever that meant. He also looked more vulnerable, his large eyes no longer hidden by his frames.

Miguel tilted his head, his drowsy smile wavering a little. Could he tell I was a mess inside?

My eyes began to sting when he waved me over, hand still outstretched. He didn’t have to chase me. I’d shown up here on my own, and he still wanted me, was still happy to see me. I hadn’t imagined it all.

I crept over to the gigantic bed, toeing off my shoes before placing a knee on the soft mattress.

I crawled toward his outstretched hand, letting him pull me into the space between him and Quentin.

We lay on our sides, staring at each other for a while.

I opened my mouth to speak but then glanced over my shoulder at Quentin.

“He’s like a kid,” Miguel whispered. “Sleeps straight through the night if you tire him out enough.” He wore a tank top, and a small bruise peeked from under one of the shoulder straps. Noticing the direction of my gaze, he said, “Quentin was right, he always wins.”

“Your entry code spells love,” I whispered. Seemed like a silly thing to start with, but it also felt right.

“Yeah.” He tucked his hands under his cheek. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” I disagreed. It was so like him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m glad you came,” he said, not putting any pressure on me by asking why not. I appreciated that, and my eyes got teary again. It also made me want to give him a reason, made me want to give him something.

“I used to want to be a fireman. When I was a kid.”

Miguel’s eyes widened. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t have made a good fireman, or maybe he couldn’t believe I’d shared that with him. The second option felt right.

“Why a fireman?”

I shrugged, tucking my hands under my cheek too. “It seemed like something a boy would want to do. Plus, I love the color of fire. It’s not just blue or yellow or red or orange and white… It’s all of those things. It’s complicated.” Like me .

Miguel smiled as though I’d fulfilled a dying wish by letting him in. “I bet you’d be a great fireman.”

“I would not.” I snorted, and he chuckled, both of us looking over at Quentin now.

“You’re nice. You’d make a great dad.” I wasn’t sure what had made me say that. Maybe because I would’ve loved it if my father had thought I’d be great at something.

“Quentin says that all the time. I never knew my father, and Dylan isn’t the best example of a good dad.”

“What about your mom?”

Miguel’s eyes grew misty. “She was the best.”

“Just like you,” I whispered. “I…” Closing my eyes, I breathed past the feeling in my stomach before trying again. “I…” Tell them nothing.

Through the chaos happening in my head, I didn’t realize Quentin had stopped snoring until he wrapped an arm around my waist, then slid his hand up to rest against my heart as if protecting it. He pulled me into his wide chest.

“I’ve got you.” His steady heartbeat tapped against my back while my bruised heart pounded against his protective hand. It gave me something to focus on.

Miguel watched me, pulling one of my hands from under my cheek to hold it. I’ve got you too, his gaze said, and I got it then. My prayers had been answered. They’d both been sent to protect me. I wouldn’t ruin it. I wouldn’t risk losing it. But I was no longer too afraid to give them something .

“I-I miss someone, I think.” It was a feeling I had often, but I didn’t know why. “Feels like I’m grieving without having someone to grieve for.”

“Maybe your parents?” Miguel asked.

“No,” I breathed. “I would never grieve for them.” I closed my eyes to the questions in his. I couldn’t tell him why, no matter how much a part of me wanted to.

“Tell us something else about you?” he asked. “Anything. Please.”

I’d planned on saying no, on ending things right there. But when I opened my eyes, the look on his face crushed me.

“We lived in a religious community when I was a kid. My father worked for one of the elders. We left there and moved to Alaska before my twelfth birthday.” I didn’t explain why we’d moved. I didn’t think I could ever share that with anyone.

“The winters are so long and cold there.” I got lost in the memories I did have of that time, memories of feeling lonely and wishing I could just be a kid, wishing I could go outside and play in the snow.

“I never got to play in the snow,” I whispered to myself. Quentin rubbed his hand over my heart, bringing me back from where I’d gone in my head. I couldn’t do this anymore, not even for them.

“I want to start over.” I placed a hand on Quentin’s forearm, so he knew I was talking to him too. “No more before.” I was crying now. “No more before.”

“Okay,” Miguel said, gently wiping my tears.

“No more before,” Quentin promised.

I fell asleep surrounded by their protection, feeling like life might just be worth living.

The next day, I swore to my aunt that I’d sign over my inheritance to her as soon as I was legally able to.

I didn’t know if she believed me, but she stayed gone more often than not and no longer forced me to go to therapy.

The three of us grew even closer as the weeks went by.

Quentin and I played in a way I never got to as a kid, while Miguel and I raided the local library and talked about books for hours at a time.

I still enjoyed my solitude, but I loved spending nights with them too.

And although my nightmares hadn’t vanished completely, I now had someone to hold my hand through them.

Better yet, two hands. Two best friends.

There was still a darkness living inside me, but Quentin and Miguel didn’t need to know that.