Page 24 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Then

“What’s taking him so long?” I checked Quentin’s location again, but it still said it couldn’t be found.

Did he turn it off? “Do you think something happened?” We’d gotten back to the house after Quentin’s team meeting, and in less than five minutes he was gone again.

Miguel and I had been reading ever since to pass the time.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Miguel said, his back against mine. “It hasn’t even been half an hour.”

“But he said he’d be back in ten minutes.”

Miguel laughed. “That’s just an expression. He’s probably just taking the scenic way back from wherever he went. He won’t admit it, but busy streets make him nervous.”

“Well… Should we… I…” I didn’t understand why Miguel wasn’t more anxious.

Just yesterday he’d left me to go through the bookshelves in search of our next read while he and Quentin went to the kitchen to bring back food.

They insisted they’d both go to make the trip faster.

They came back sweaty and out of breath, looking like they’d run miles to hurry back to me.

We hated being away from each other. I hadn’t left their side much since that first night I’d slept in their bed. It had been two months of our waking up and falling asleep together, and it had been years of that for Quentin and Miguel.

I still had my moments when I wanted to be alone, but they were just moments—here one minute and gone the next—and I usually went no further than the room across the hall. Sometimes I went “through the woods,” the term we now used for my aunt’s house, but those instances were rare.

The point was, when I needed Quentin and Miguel, I had them. Now I needed Quentin, and he was gone. It made me anxious.

I suddenly felt like an idiot, like maybe us getting closer meant more to me than it did to them. I felt even sillier after realizing I was spiraling after less than thirty minutes without Quentin. What would happen when school started next week?

“Hey,” Miguel said softly. I turned to face him, my breathing shallow. “If he’s not back in five minutes, I’ll call him, okay?” He waited for me to nod, then pressed his forehead against mine. We stayed that way until my breathing evened out.

“I can’t believe the summer’s over,” I whispered. I didn’t handle change or stress well, and things would be changing soon.

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Miguel straightened the strap on the camisole I wore. It was such a small thing for him to do, but I liked it when he took care of me, no matter how small the gesture.

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

Miguel clicked his tongue. “Liar. You’ve been cranky all day. You shoved Quentin under the water when he beat you to the other end of the pool— after you’d already raced and beat him like ten times. You’ve never been a sore loser. That’s always been Quentin’s job.”

I headed over to the window, staring down at the pool.

Quentin and I raced from one end to the other for hours before his team meeting.

I didn’t realize I was so competitive until meeting him.

Or so into athletics. Miguel wasn’t into either.

He was a bookworm who understood emotions.

He connected with other parts of me, making it easier to say what was on my mind.

“What if things change?”

“What things?” Miguel came to stand next to me. “And change how?”

“I don’t know… Like you or Quentin getting a girlfriend. Jacob and Matt’s friendship was ruined over a girl.” We’d been watching movies and TV shows centered around high school so I could get an idea of what it was like.

“Us? Ruined over a girl ?” He shuddered. “That’ll never happen.”

“What, you don’t like girls?” My heart lurched. We’d never talked about stuff like this before.

“Eh, they’re alright,” he said, “but no one gets in the way of us.”

“What if you meet someone else you want to be friends with? Someone like me?” Would they replace me? Who would I have then?

He smiled, the sunlight reflecting off his big brown eyes. “There’s no one else like you, Ellie. And three is the limit. Promise.”

My cheeks warmed, and I glanced at my bare feet. “Okay.” I liked hearing them say things like that. The fuzzy feelings I got from it didn’t keep the fear away for long, though, and they constantly had to repeat themselves. Would they get tired of that? They didn’t seem to be tired of it yet.

“And the good news is, you’ve either got me or Quentin in all your classes.”

My parents believed wisdom began with the fear of God, but that only a well-rounded mind could lead. My mother was my teacher—until she believed I was beyond teaching.

“Well, with the exception of last period,” Miguel continued, not realizing my attention had shifted. “But you’ll be so sick of us by then you’ll be happy for the break.”

I jerked my head up to tell him that wasn’t true, but the soft look in his eyes told me he didn’t mean it. I said it anyway. “I’ll never get sick of you.”

Miguel grinned. Did he need to be reminded of our friendship too? He and Quentin seemed so sure of themselves. But maybe they were afraid of losing me too.

He hugged me, and I hugged him back after hesitating for only a second this time. I was still getting used to how affectionate they were, to how much of my space they took up. Barely a foot separated us when we were in a room together. I didn’t think they were conscious of it.

“Has it been five minutes yet?”

Miguel laughed. He did that a lot. “I’ll call him.” He went over to the sitting area for his phone. Where had Quentin gone anyway? Just then, Quentin barreled through the bedroom door, scaring us.

“I’m home!” he shouted, scooping Miguel up and spinning him in the air. He set him down, chuckling when Miguel swayed on his feet. He aimed for me next, stopping when I crossed my arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. What took you so long?” I sounded cranky, like Miguel said.

One side of Quentin’s lips tilted upward. “Did my pretty girl miss me?”

“I was worried.”

“That’s not what that pretty little blush says.

” He crept over to me with his arms spread wide, letting me know his intentions.

He made a habit of doing that, and I wondered if Miguel had anything to do with it.

Quentin didn’t make me nervous like he used to, but I liked how hard he tried to be considerate—sometimes.

Quentin lived in the moment, which meant he rarely planned his actions in advance.

I could go from reading a book to being caged inside a bear hug at any time.

He squeezed me, lifting me to my toes before setting me down again. He’d been a lot rougher with Miguel. “You can be yourself,” I whispered, even while loving the gentle way he tucked my hair behind my ear.

“First, admit you missed me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to hide my smile. “Fine. I guess I missed you.”

“I knew it!” He lifted me under my armpits this time, tossing me onto the bed before jumping on top of the mattress and making me bounce. Miguel shook his head, but he didn’t look annoyed by the way Quentin had handled me.

“Should we go to the kitchen?” he said to Quentin, his expression turning pointed when Quentin gave him a confused look.

“Oh yeah, the kitchen!” He rolled off the bed, holding a hand out for me. “Let’s go make something to eat.”

Quentin dragged me out of the room, buzzing with excitement. Miguel took my other hand, both leading me down the back stairs.

“Surprise!” they shouted as we entered the kitchen. Balloons filled the ceiling, and a huge chocolate cake sat on the island with gifts surrounding it.

“What’s all this for?” I took in all the decorations scattered around.

“You didn’t think we’d let your sweet-eighteenth pass by without a party, did you?” Quentin asked. “The food should be here any minute. I did delivery instead of pickup. I wanted to hurry home.”

I wanted to look into his eyes when he’d said that, to see if his expression was as sweet as his words. I couldn’t stop staring at the kitchen, though, at everything they’d done for me .

I’d been secretly counting down to my birthday because it meant I’d be free of my aunt.

We’d be meeting with the attorney first thing in the morning to sign all the paperwork.

She wanted everything except the house she and my mother grew up in.

I didn’t know what I’d do with it. Probably just forget it ever existed.

Quentin and Miguel hadn’t mentioned my birthday since I told them the date months ago. I didn’t care. My birthday had never been something I celebrated anyway. Or maybe I just thought I didn’t care. Maybe deep down that also explained why I’d been grumpy and extra needy today.

“It was hard pretending we forgot,” Miguel said. “Are you surprised?”

“I hope you like chocolate,” Quentin followed up with before I could answer. He fingered a scoop of frosting off the edge before sucking it clean.

“Yes, to both.” I sounded choked up. It was hard not to be when it felt like my heart was stuck in my throat.

“Are you sure?” Miguel asked. “We can go out instead or order a different cake. I have a feeling this one is more for Quentin anyway,” he said dryly as Quentin looked up from the cake guiltily.

“I… I’ve never had a party before,” I admitted, afraid that any second I’d wake up and find out this was all a dream. My dreams were never this good, though. They were nightmares filled with pain and fire and voices I didn’t recognize, with God and hell, angels and demons.

That seemed to make Miguel sad, and Quentin’s cheek twitched as they shared a look.

“Well,”—Quentin gave me a smile that didn’t touch his green eyes—“we’ll have to throw you a party every day for the rest of the month, then.”

“Does that mean you’ll have to be gone again?” I sounded panicked, and this time Quentin’s smile took over every part of his handsome face.

“It means I’m taking you with me next time, pretty girl.”

My heart settled back in place, but it felt bigger now, filled with Miguel and Quentin’s goodness.