Page 5 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Nine Years Ago

“You’re such a bully,” I complained to Quentin.

It was our last day of junior year, the official start of summer break.

I wanted to go to Jessica’s end-of-year party, but he wanted to disappear into the woods behind our home like we were kids again.

Quentin always voted for the option that didn’t include him sharing me.

My easygoing personality was no match for his domineering ways, so he typically got what he wanted.

“We’ll never get invited to anything ever again. ”

We never got invited to things. No one wanted to hang out with the geek who always had his head in a book or the football jock who threatened to unalive anyone who came near said geek.

We were known as the weird McAllen boys who lived in the big house beyond the hills.

Truth was, we ostracized ourselves on purpose, preferring the company of each other.

“Am not.” He shoved my shoulder, sending me stumbling.

“Eres un puto idiota.” I shoved him back, but he just laughed and interlaced our hands.

“I’m taking Spanish my first semester at Wembly.” His green eyes were full of mischief. “Eventually I’ll be able to decipher all the bad things you say to me.”

“I guess I’d better spend senior year doubling up then, huh?

” I smiled, never able to stay upset with him for long.

Kind of hard to hold a grudge against someone who loved you so much.

“How do you even know you’re getting into Wembly?

” We’d already started the application process.

I had the test scores to get in. Quentin, not so much, but he had football to pick up the slack.

“Oh, I know,” he scoffed. “They’d be stupid not to recruit me.”

“And what about me? What if I don’t get in?”

“You go where I go.” He said it like he’d move mountains to make sure it happened. I was confident I’d get in. I just loved hearing him say stuff like that.

“Come on, I want to show you something.” Quentin took off running, dragging me along while I shouted for him to slow down. Being physically fast was a requirement for football, but I only needed mental speed to read books.

We reached the tree line that separated our property from the Lenox House’s backyard.

It was big like ours, but with an old English manor vibe.

It had been a while since we’d looked over here.

The last time we nosed around, it was still in an abandoned state.

Someone had cut the overgrown grass and trimmed the wild hedges.

They’d even gotten the mold off the marble lions at the top of the patio stairway.

Quentin grinned at me like he’d accomplished some great achievement by bringing me here. The afternoon sun glinted off his freckled nose, and the look in his eyes made my stomach go warm.

I scanned the backyard again, noticing the pool hadn’t been filled yet. “So, it’s been fixed up. You could’ve told me that from the house.”

“It hasn’t just been fixed up. I saw a moving truck out front while driving home from school. You know, while you were asleep and drooling in the passenger seat. Figured it’d be fun to do some recon.”

“Recon? This is why I couldn’t go to Jessica’s party?”

“Are you still pretending you wanted to go? What kind of party starts at five in the afternoon anyway? What are we, ten?”

I’d been about to claim I wasn’t pretending, but the snap of a twig startled us.

“Who’s there?” Quentin demanded, positioning his taller, broader frame in front of me. I pinched his side in reprimand, coming to stand next to him.

A pretty, thin girl with long red hair and pale blue eyes crept from behind the trunk of an oak tree. Her gaze widened as she took in Quentin.

“Who are you?” Quentin asked, and she took a step back. He hadn’t said it in a mean way, but he could be a wrecking ball without even realizing it.

“Elliott?” A woman’s voice called from the house. We all turned that way. “Elliott? Are you out there? We’re going to be late for your appointment.” A slim woman with short black hair stood near the stone patio railing overlooking the backyard.

“Told you someone lived there,” Quentin whispered.

I rolled my eyes as we ducked to prevent being spotted.

We watched until she disappeared into the house.

I remembered the girl then, but when we looked, she was gone.

We found her hiding behind the tree again.

Her dress hung loose on her, one of the thin straps hanging off her pale shoulder.

“Is she… Is she praying?” Quentin asked. Her lips moved swiftly, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying to herself.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked. Her eyes snapped open. “Where do you live?” I took a step forward, and she pushed harder against the bark of the tree.

“It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Elliott!” The woman was back, and she sounded frustrated now. The girl’s gaze bounced from us to the house beyond the trees. Quentin and I looked at each other in confusion.

“Do you live there?” Quentin asked. “Is that your mom?”

She shook her head, but I didn’t know which question she was answering. Maybe both.

A familiar look sparked in Quentin’s eyes. “Did someone hurt you?” He sounded angry, which freaked her out even more.

“Don’t mind him,” I said. “He’s just looking for a reason to punch something. Not you,” I rushed to add. “What’s your name?”

She didn’t answer, and that’s when I took a closer look at her. She didn’t have shoes on, like maybe she hadn’t expected to run into the woods. Her arms were long, slim but toned, and her shoulders were round and strong too. I stopped when I reached the lump at the front of her throat.

“You’re Elliott, aren’t you?”

“What?” Quentin said, then, “Oooooh… Who’s that lady? And why are you hiding from her?” he asked. “Are you afraid of her?”

Elliott shook his head again.

“Do you not want to go to your appointment?” I asked next. Elliott peered down at himself. “You don’t want her to see you in that,” I guessed. “You can come to our house. It isn’t too far. You can borrow something of mine.”

Elliott fisted the dress, and I decided to make introductions, hoping it would make him less nervous.

“My name’s Miguel, and this is Quentin.” I sighed when Quentin cleared his throat. “Or Q for quarterback,” I mumbled. “We’re stepbrothers.”

Quentin gave me a disapproving stare. He didn’t like it when I called him that, said it made us seem less important to each other than we were. Calling him my brother felt weird, though, especially when we looked at each other the way we did.

“We just turned eighteen. Our birthdays are a couple days apart. How old are you?”

Elliott just watched us, and it was hard not to stare back. He was the prettiest boy I’d ever seen.

“Will you be staying here for a while? We could show you around town. There isn’t much to see, but there’s a cool library in the town center.” I felt the opposite of cool the moment I said it. “Er, there’s a badass pizzeria-bowling alley there too.”

Quentin slung an arm over my shoulder. “ I personally think the library is way cooler.” He winked at me, and I smiled.

“So, want to come?” I asked. “We look like we wear the same shoe size. I can lend you a pair of mine. We’ll walk you back too. Or drive you. Quentin has his license.”

Elliott chewed his bottom lip, nodding.

“Here, take my shoes.” Quentin stooped to unlace his sneakers.

“He can take mine. Yours are too big.”

“No,” Elliott said before I could kick out of my Chucks. Quentin and I froze. Elliott’s voice was soft and shy, not girly, but nicer than any guy’s voice I’d ever heard. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, well, stay behind us,” Quentin said, pushing to his full height again. “That way we can look out for anything that may hurt your feet.”

We took off, Quentin and I scanning the ground as we went.

Elliott hesitated when the back of our house came into view.

“It’s more modern than yours,” I said. “My stepfather had it renovated before we moved in years ago. It looked a lot like the Lenox House before then. It was supposed to be a new-beginning home, but…” I trailed off, looking at Quentin before adding, “…things changed.”

Quentin squeezed my hand before leading the way inside.

We entered the kitchen through the patio doors, Quentin grabbing bottles of water and snacks from the fridge before we made our way upstairs.

“My stepfather travels a lot for work,” I said as we made our way down the hall. “The housekeeper comes a couple times a week, but Quentin and I practically raise ourselves. There are plenty of bedrooms here, but we’ve always preferred to share.”

Elliott stood at the threshold of our room, staring at the single big bed in the center of it. Quentin and I preferred to share that too. “We’re pretty close,” I offered in explanation, wondering if Elliott judged us for it. Most people would—and did. We didn’t care.

Stacks of books overwhelmed my side of the large space, while Quentin’s football gear and sports memorabilia overtook his side. We were complete opposites in all ways but one. We loved each other more than anything. That we agreed on.

I entered our walk-in closet, returning with an armful of clothes. “Quentin’s stuff won’t fit you, but mine should work.” My muscles weren’t as jacked as Quentin’s, but I wasn’t frail either. “There’re a few things you can choose from.” I pointed to the bathroom on my side of the bed.

“Thank you,” Elliott said, heading that way.

I hadn’t realized I had stood there staring at the closed door until I felt Quentin’s gaze on me from the sitting area.

“What?” It came out defensive.

“Nothing.” He went back to clearing his junk off the couch.

“It’s not nothing. And since when do you hold back?”

Quentin stalked over to me, backing me into the nearest wall. I found it hard to breathe, and it had nothing to do with his muscular chest pinning me in place. “I don’t like the way you look at him.”

“What? How do I look at him?”

“Like you’re curious.”