Page 48 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Now

Sparrow watched me from across the table, seemingly grateful that I ended the story where I did.

I left out the part where Quentin made love to me all night, both of us so caught up in our fear and pleasure we’d forgotten about Elliott.

Made love was a kind way of putting it. In reality, Quentin had fucked me nonstop with an aggression that bordered on violence.

I’d kissed away his whispered apologies after, was too used and exhausted to get out of bed the next morning, and I wore his bruises for days. He was sorry for more than the way he handled me. We both knew it, but were too afraid to deal with it right then.

Thank goodness Elliott hadn’t returned that night. Seeing us the way we were would’ve added to his nightmares.

“Is that when things changed between the three of you? After that night?”

“Things changed,” I said, thinking back to the serious talk Elliott had with us the next day. “But not in the way you think.”

Sparrow waited for me to expand on that, his frown deepening the longer he waited.

“That’s enough for one day.” I took a page out of his playbook. I wanted to get to know him on a more personal level before giving him more. How I planned on doing that, I didn’t know yet. Clearly frustrated, he stood, grabbing his plate.

“I’ll do it.” I pushed up, chair legs scraping along the uneven wooden floor. I snatched his plate before he could argue, piling mine on top of it, utensils too.

Dumping the dishes in the sink, I turned the faucet on. The pipes groaned before water gushed through. I could feel Sparrow approaching. Having him at my back unnerved me, raising the hairs along my nape.

Through the window’s reflection, I watched Sparrow watch me from the archway. His eyes, framed by thick lashes, speared into me. He looked striking and mean.

I busied myself with the dishes, choosing to believe he wouldn’t attack me. Sparrow expelled a long breath, and I held mine as I added more soap to the sponge.

“The sponge goes on the right side of the sink when you’re done. The scouring pad face down. Use the dish towel to dry the perimeter of the sink and counter, then hang it over the stove’s handle to dry. Make sure it hangs in the center, with the care label facing the oven door.”

I peeked at him in the reflection again. He flexed his fingers as though he were fighting the urge to take over cleanup duty.

“Okay,” I said gently.

Sparrow’s gaze moved to the window, our eyes meeting. His anxious hand movements stopped, his lips tightening. He remained there, observing me, as if maybe he wanted to be sure I got things right.

I turned to him, hesitating. “Why don’t you wait for me at the table? I’ll make us some cafecito when I’m done. I like having my coffee after breakfast.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Thirty minutes ago, the curt question and stern expression would’ve made me shrink away.

Now it made me smile on the inside. Maybe it was the food stain on his collar that I hadn’t noticed until then.

The one he surely hadn’t noticed at all.

The tiny flaw made him appear less threatening.

“No,” I said, my voice light. “I’d just really like to have a cup of coffee with you. And… I’m not ready to give up your company just yet. It can get lonely here.”

Sparrow seemed flustered by my honesty, by the idea I’d willingly want to be around him. He opened his mouth to say something, but nodded awkwardly before returning to the dining room. I got the coffee going, then hurried to straighten up before carrying our hot mugs to the table.

I’d taken three sips to his none, smiling behind the rim of my mug when he eyed the archway. “Go ahead, inspect my handiwork.”

Sparrow narrowed his eyes at me. He couldn’t resist the urge to check the kitchen, though. He didn’t look at me when he came back, likely not wanting to give me the satisfaction of knowing I’d followed his instructions perfectly.

He brought his mug to his lips, taking an almost shy sip. He set the coffee down, drumming his fingers against the porcelain before brushing something unseen off his shirt sleeve. Sparrow straightened his spine before taking another tentative sip.

We typically shared space with one another for the sole purpose of gaining information. Whether it be over dinner, breakfast, last night in the living room, or any number of the violent altercations that took place in the bedroom he kept me in.

But now we sat in silence simply for the sake of enjoying each other’s company, or at least I did. The experience seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“If you’re done, I’ll wash our cups,” he said stiffly. I wasn’t even halfway through mine, and he hadn’t taken more than two sips of his own coffee.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, not wanting the vein protruding down the center of his forehead to burst. He stood faster this time, making me think I’d imagined the pain I thought he’d been in when he first sat down this morning.

I followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the wall as his body jerked with the aggressive way he soaped up our mugs. How hard had it been for him to let me clean up after breakfast? Whatever it took for him to allow that, he seemed to be paying for it now.

“What are your plans for the day?” I asked as he finished up, drying the sink and making sure the dish towel was fixed according to his standards.

“Why?” He turned his ever-vigilant gaze on me.

“Just making conversation.”

“By wanting to know my every move?” He took a menacing step in my direction. “What are you up to?”

I pushed off the wall a little too quickly, hoping to evade any attack. A sharp pain shot up my side, nearly blinding me. I flung an arm out, using the same wall as leverage to keep myself from hitting the floor.

Sparrow backed away. “I…” He peered down at his hands. Had he been about to hit me? He spun away from me, bowing his head as though he were ashamed of himself.

I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to be, that I understood, that it wasn’t easy to go against what you’d been born to be.

I didn’t tell him any of that, though. I allowed him to work through whatever he needed to on his own, knowing we were still miles away from him letting me console him. If he ever would.

“It’s Wednesday,” he whispered. “I’m going to clean downstairs today. The west end of the house.”

I looked around. The place was spotless.

The house was old and in need of repairs, but other than the side of the house where the basement door was, he kept the place clean.

He was clearly obsessive about cleanliness, so the fact that any part of the house went untouched spoke volumes about how triggering that area must have been for him.

“You gotta get the keys.” Joshua’s urgent words came back to me.

It didn’t escape me that he’d told me what day it was.

Another apology, perhaps. The only kind he seemed capable of.

I knew the time and the day now. Who would’ve known something so simple could mean the world to me?

But it wasn’t simple, and I wouldn’t take the ability to track time for granted ever again.

Sparrow had given me something else, too, and I didn’t believe for one second it was accidental. He’d given me a peek into his system.

“What else do you do on Wednesdays?”

Sparrow glanced over his shoulder at me, gaze falling to the hand holding my ribcage. “If needed, I plow the snow in the front yard.”

“Maybe I can help,” I offered, noticing it had stopped snowing outside.

Sparrow gave me his full attention then.

The complete weight of his stare, the breadth of his chest, the width of his shoulders, and the full measure of his height…

It all rose and expanded. “Are you trying to manipulate me? Do you think I’m weak enough to fall for your tricks?

That I’d let you escape?” He shook from the effort it took not to lash out at me.

I dropped my hand to my side, not wanting my injuries to be the reason he held himself in check. I wanted him not to hurt me because he cared, because he knew hurting me was wrong.

Sparrow loved Elliott, and whether he was ready to admit it or not, he knew Elliott loved me.

I wasn’t stupid. It was that love—the one he had for Elliott, and the one Elliott had for me—that made Sparrow feel guilty.

But until he let go of the fear that he’d somehow fail Elliott again, he’d always default to violence. Better safe than sorry.

“I’m not trying to trick you, Sparrow. And I think you know by now I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that as if it’s up to you,” he challenged, his voice calm and steady.

“You let me walk around freely in here.” I opened my arms, gesturing to the kitchen and beyond.

“Within reason.” His words sounded like a reminder and a warning. “Letting you roam around inside is completely different from letting you loose outside.”

“There’s more for me to discover in here,” I pointed out, making the bad decision to highlight that fact. I needed him to let me help him, though. I needed him to let me in. “And like you said, if I try to get away, the cold and dark will kill me first.”

Sparrow stared me down with those beautiful blue eyes of his. I missed the days when that gaze watched me with arousal instead of cold calculation, with love and awe instead of suspicion.

“Will you let me help you?” I whispered. “Clean and plow?”

“Maybe,” he gritted out grudgingly before breezing out of the kitchen.

Turns out Sparrow didn’t do well with help. He went back over every surface I cleaned and nearly popped a blood vessel when I wiped down a window with Windex.

“I told you, that’s for the countertops, not the windows!” He’d broken into a sweat as he then scrubbed the window down with white vinegar.

We stood at the locked front door now, our coats and boots on as Sparrow watched me with indecision. “I have a snowblower. It doesn’t require two people.”