Page 61 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Then

The Wembly athletics department implemented something called bonding-stays—an overnight event where incoming and existing players spent the day bonding.

They ran drills, participated in team-building games, shared war stories, and got to know each other.

The day ended with a banquet dinner hosted by the head coach.

All the players’ families were welcome to attend.

Elliott refused to go, so instead of spending the night in Quentin’s hotel room, I was at home in bed alone, unable to fall asleep.

Elliott freaked out the morning after the whole nightmare-spanking happened. He was relieved we still loved him, still wanted him around, but he became cautious about not doing anything else to mess up our friendship. We swore it wasn’t messed up to begin with, but he didn’t believe us.

No more showers, no more voyeurism, no more sleeping in bed together. It had been the worst couple weeks of my life. Well, the worst since my mother died.

“We should’ve just told him the truth,” Quentin had said.

We probably should have, but Elliott setting boundaries didn’t mean he wanted us the way we wanted him.

What if it meant he hated what happened and never wanted it to happen again?

What if telling him only pushed him further away?

At least he slept in the room across the hall. At least he was still close by.

None of us had gotten any real sleep since that night. Quentin walked around cranky, taking it out on the gym equipment, the tackling dummies, and me . Any chance he got to fuck me, he took it. Even sliding into me after I’d fallen asleep.

When not in school or on the receiving end of Quentin, I sat around pouting all day with my head stuck in a book.

Elliott read too—although not in my vicinity—or he walked around like a zombie, complaining about headaches.

We’d become the mess Elliott wanted to avoid, and it was up to me to clean things up.

Sighing, I put on my glasses and rolled out of bed, then slipped into the loose shorts thrown over the foot before padding across the hall.

“Ellie?” I whispered into the dark room. The sound of sheets rustling filled the silence before the lamp came on.

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted, and his eyelids looked heavy.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked, gripping the doorframe. I didn’t want to break any boundaries by entering uninvited.

“No,” he admitted. “Every time I try, the same dream wakes me up.” He pushed his hair off his face, looking around the room as if it were unfamiliar to him. He belonged across the hall with us.

“Do you remember what this one was about?” He never seemed to remember, but we always asked anyway.

“It was about us. About you, me, and Quentin.”

“Oh.” I perked up. “Was it a good dream about us?”

“The best.” Elliott’s sad smile didn’t line up with his answer.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” He scooted over so I could sit on the edge of the bed next to him.

“This is stupid, you know. You should be in bed with me. In our bed. I can’t sleep without you.”

“You’ve been sleeping without me for weeks.” He sounded hurt.

“We’ve been tossing and turning and snapping at each other to stay still.” I left out all the other stuff we’d been doing, the things Quentin had been doing to me. I was sure Elliott heard it all, though. “I’m exhausted.”

This time, his smile was shy, his cheeks going as red as his tired eyes. “Me too, and I failed the history test.”

“So did I.” I’d spent the whole class looking over at him. I hadn’t even gotten halfway through the test when the bell rang. “I should’ve been able to pass that with my eyes closed.”

“Maybe Mr. Valin will let us take a make-up test. Or give us extra credit to bring our grades up.”

“Maybe.” We’d gotten accepted into Wembly under academic scholarships, so not maintaining our GPAs until graduation could have jeopardized it.

“Tell me about your dream. What were we doing?” I wanted to fix the stubborn strap on his nightgown.

It was my job to fix it. I tucked my hands under my arms to stop myself from doing it.

Elliott blew out a long breath as he blinked up at the ceiling. His unshed tears were gone when he looked at me again.

“It must have been some dream, huh?” I gave him a shaky smile. His reaction worried me.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, angling his head away so his hair hid his face from me. I needed to see him, needed to see his feelings play out as he told me about the dream.

Without planning to, I placed my fingertips under his jaw, tilting his head up. His skin was soft, warm, and flushed in the spot I touched. “Here.” I handed him the elastic band I habitually kept around my wrist for him. Elliott tied his hair back at his nape.

“Thanks,” I said, able to see all of him now. He nodded before diving into the details of the dream.

“You and Quentin were…” he paused, biting the inside of his cheek.

“We were…” I prompted softly.

“You were having sex. In your bed.”

“In our bed,” I corrected.

“Yeah, in our bed.” He paused again, then shook his head like he thought he was being ridiculous.

His tone was less nervous when he spoke again.

“You were on your hands and knees, and Quentin was behind you. He was inside of you. He moved fast and hard, cursing, telling you all the things he planned on doing to you.”

The dream lined up with how things typically went down. I listened without interrupting.

“But then things changed. He was still behind you, still inside of you. But now…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “…but now I was underneath you, and you were inside of me .”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That was, um, some dream.” I shifted on the bed. “Is that why, uh, why you looked sad when I walked in?” Did he hate the idea of us together like that, even in a dream? That possibility stung. “Sometimes dreams can be weird. They don’t have to mean anything.”

“That’s the thing…” he started, “…it wasn’t weird. At least not to me. And it meant everything .” He gripped the blanket between his fists, but he didn’t look away.

“W-what are you saying, Ellie?”

“I’m saying I have feelings for you and Quentin, and I don’t know how to make them stop.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “Being in here by myself doesn’t help; it only makes me want you more. It makes me sad.”

“Oh, Ellie.” I pulled him into a hug. My heart broke and pieced together at the same time because I hated seeing him like this, but he wanted us.

“What are we gonna do?” He sniffled.

“We’re going to figure it out. We’re gonna make it work because… because we want you too.”

Elliott stiffened, pulling back slowly. A strand of hair clung to his wet cheek, his blue eyes shimmering so bright they almost blinded me. “You… you what ?”

I kissed his cheek, then licked the salty wetness from my lips. He watched my tongue snake out of my mouth and licked his own lips in response. I wanted so many things right then.

“We should’ve told you sooner.” I fixed his strap. “Quentin wanted to, but he likes to act without thinking. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways telling you could go wrong.”

“I think you need to stop thinking,” he breathed, clearly in shock.

I laughed, then stopped when he didn’t join in. He seemed so fragile right then, but maybe looks were deceiving because he’d been the one to make the first move. He’d been the brave one.

“What now?” he asked.

“We have to set some ground rules, I think.” This was all new to me, but rules seemed like a good thing. “And you need more time to be sure.”

“I am sure.” He raised his chin.

“Well, more sure.”

“But—”

“It doesn’t mean we can’t be together while you’re making sure. Quentin and I didn’t rush into things. It took us years before we even kissed. Let’s just take our time,” I said. Elliott frowned. “We can still have some fun while we take our time. I just don’t want to lose you.”

His gaze turned soft. “You won’t lose me. I promise.” He brushed his fingers down my cheek, and I nodded, hoping he was right.

“Umm, you said fun…”

“Yeah,” I said slowly when he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did you mean kissing?”

“Yeah, Ellie.” I chuckled. “We can kiss.”

Elliott touched my smile with gentle fingertips, clicking his tongue when it fell away, so I smiled again for him. His touch was soft and kind, and it asked for permission. Nothing like Quentin’s domineering hands. Elliott’s eyelids fluttered shut, and he leaned into me.

“Wait.” I caught him by the shoulders, holding him back.

“You said we could kiss.” His words came out huffy and cute, making me want to give in.

“Not without Quentin. We don’t do anything without Quentin.”

“Oh, right.” He straightened again. “You think he’ll want to?”

I’d said as much, but he seemed nervous about it anyway.

“Trust me, he will.” I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s late. Let’s get some sleep.”

As if my words reminded him of how little sleep he’d had, he yawned, moving to the middle of the bed so I could get in.

I didn’t even remember to turn the lamp off before spooning him. “I missed you, Ellie. So damn much.” I pressed my nose to the back of his ear, inhaling the soapy scent of his skin.

“I missed you too,” he said sleepily, tracing the knuckles on the hand I flattened against his stomach.

We hadn’t even drifted off when heavy footsteps stomping down the hall made us bolt upright. Was Dylan here? Elliott and I gave each other a confused look before Quentin appeared in the doorway.

“Quentin?” I said in surprise. “What are you doing home?”

“Oh good,” he stepped in, dropping his backpack to the floor, “you’ve already worked shit out.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Elliott asked.