Page 63 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Now

My ribs were still a little tender the next day, but I woke up feeling better than I had in weeks.

I no longer had to think twice before bending down or worry that my neck would snap if I turned my head too fast. I was eager to get in a light workout and another stretch, so I headed for Sparrow’s workout room.

I kept my focus straight ahead, ignoring the rooms along the hallway as I headed for the stairs.

Every night I promised myself I’d unlock the door to a room I hadn’t gone in yet, and every night—after spending time with Sparrow—I broke that promise.

He trusted me more and more every day, and I didn’t want to risk a setback by getting caught with the spare key.

There was also a part of me that didn’t want to unearth all of Sparrow and Elliott’s truths on my own.

I enjoyed it when he revealed them to me himself.

The small spoon-feedings of information gave me a sense of worth.

Like I’d made him feel safe and seen enough to share them with me, like I’d earned those parts of him.

I wanted to earn the rest, not sneak around like a sleuth behind his back.

But what if it took forever doing things the patient way, the way that felt good? I couldn’t stay here forever. We couldn’t stay here forever. Or could we?

I thought back to the picture of me, Quentin, and Elliott. The one I kept under my pillow. The one I looked at every night before bed and first thing in the morning. Even sometimes in the middle of the night. No, we couldn’t stay here forever. We had to get home.

I almost stumbled over my own feet when I entered the workout room to find Sparrow waking up on a pallet in the corner. I wasn’t sure what surprised me more—that I’d woken up before him for once, or that he slept on the floor.

There wasn’t a fireplace in here, and I stood there gaping as he appeared from beneath the bundles of blankets covering him. He hadn’t spotted me at first, but his gaze darkened the moment he did.

“You sleep in here?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound judgy. “I mean… I just meant… why do you sleep in here?”

“Because you showed up at my door unannounced, and now you sleep in my bedroom,” he said in annoyance, sleep making his voice deeper than usual.

“But there are other rooms.” The house was huge. I stepped closer to the padded area he lay on.

“None that I want to sleep in.”

I was sure there were reasons for that, but it slipped my mind to ask as I took him in.

Loose strands of hair stuck up all over his head, and the end of his braid hung over one shoulder.

The skin along his cheeks and neck was rosy from sleep, and I knew if I touched it, he’d be warm. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Instead of bristling at the way I watched him, he grew bored—likely used to it by now. Sparrow ditched his hard glare to focus on waking up fully. He shoved the quilts away, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head, then rubbed at his eyes.

“What?” he asked, frowning and subtly checking the corners of his mouth for drool.

“Nothing, you’re just… so normal sometimes.”

He dropped his hands to his lap, adopting his signature vacant stare.

“What are you thinking when you look at me like that?” I whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like… like you’re not thinking anything at all. Like you’re frozen or hiding.” I thought for sure that last part would reignite his grumpiness. Maybe I hoped it would. Anything was better than his aloofness.

It took him a while to respond, and even when he did, his tone and stare remained the same.

“It depends.”

“On what? What are you thinking now?”

Sparrow stood in one fluid motion, meeting me at eye level. Did he plan on answering me? Or would he leave me dying to know?

Please answer me.

I must have said that out loud because his eyes softened a touch.

“I don’t want you to know how much I liked hearing you call me normal.”

We were no more than a couple of feet away from each other now, with only the mountain of blankets keeping us apart. I could feel the heat of his sleep-warmed skin calling out to me. My fingertips twitched at my sides.

“Why? Why don’t you want me to know that?”

“Because being vulnerable feels too much like being weak.”

“You feel vulnerable when you’re nice to me, but I like it. Being kind doesn’t make you weak.” I’d said that to him in this very room last night.

“Why are you telling me now?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand you; didn’t you just ask me what I was thinking? And now you want to know why I told you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, but I expected you to lie to me.”

“Well, I didn’t lie.”

“Why not?”

Sparrow sighed. “Because I’m hoping you’re right.”

“I am.”

“We’ll see,” he grouched, shifting topics. “What are you doing here?” He grabbed a blanket and folded it.

“Thought maybe I could work out a little and stretch.”

“Are you hoping I’ll stretch you?” He raised a brow.

I scoffed, then lied. “No.”

“Good, because I have your and Joshua’s mess to clean up in the backyard and chores to do, and I’m already running behind. I’ll be busy most of the day.” He opened a closet door I hadn’t noticed before, setting the blanket on the top shelf before folding the next one and doing the same.

“Will we eat together? Dinner, maybe?”

“Maybe.” He hesitated. “What will you make?”

“Maybe stewed chicken over black beans and rice? You seemed to like that.”

“It was okay.” He scooped up his pillows and walked over to the closet again. It had been more than “okay.” He’d eaten every grain of rice off his plate.

“Maybe I’ll make pasta, then.”

“No, the chicken and rice will do.” He made an effort to sound casual.

“Okay, see you at dinner.”

Sparrow glowered at my smile before leaving me standing there.

After working out, I read for the rest of the afternoon before getting started on dinner. I was halfway through when Sparrow breezed by the kitchen.

“Hey, hold on a second.” I left the extra peppers on the cutting board to hurry over to the stove. “Taste this for me. Let me know if it needs anything else.”

I scooped a spoonful of the stew gravy from the pot, blowing on it before holding it out for Sparrow to taste.

“Can’t you tell if it needs anything yourself?” he grumbled, even while leaning in for the small portion.

“I need a fresh perspective. An objective evaluation. I’m too close to it.”

“It’s okay,” he said for the second time that day. I gave him a look. “Fine, it’s good,” he grudgingly amended.

“Just good?” I pushed, and he returned the look I’d just given him. “I can live with good.” I shrugged.

He glanced over at the cutting board on the island. “Are you going to put more peppers in it?”

“I was thinking about it.” I feigned indecision. “More might be too much, don’t you think?”

“You already know I don’t think that.”

Fishing for compliments was impossible with him, but his grouchiness made me chuckle, so it was a win either way.

“Go work out and shower. There will be more peppers than chicken in the stew by the time you get back.”

“How do you know what I have planned?”

“Well, I saw you cleaning the backyard earlier, and you smell like lemon and pine now, so I’m guessing you already finished your inside chores. What’s left but to work out and shower? Then eat, of course.”

Sparrow grunted, glancing longingly at the peppers again before disappearing. He returned an hour later looking dewy and smelling minty. He wore a loose T-shirt and ripped jeans. His feet were bare, with his perfect toes peeking out from under the frayed, baggy hem. I used to kiss those toes.

I cleared my throat. “I thought we’d eat in here for a change.” I’d set the kitchen island, situating our place settings across from each other. “I’ve been keeping the food warm in the oven. Take a seat. I’ll make our plates.”

I kept stealing glances at him while we ate, smiling apologetically whenever I got caught. “I don’t see you out of your uniform much. Guess I’m just not used to it.”

“My uniform?” He set his fork down to give me his undivided attention. Nothing ever felt as intense as having his complete focus on me. I wanted to slip under the table to escape it, but I also wanted to drown in it.

“That’s what I call what you usually wear.”

“Oh.” He gave my response some thought. “It feels too heavy sometimes. Occasionally, I just want to feel… light.”

I loved it when he surprised me with his introspection.

He’d shared details about Elliott with me, about both their pasts, and about their parents.

But he didn’t often speak about himself as an individual, about his own emotions, his vulnerabilities, what scared him, and what brought him joy.

I’d mostly had to assume his feelings based on his actions or gestures.

Yet, he’d expressed himself in this thoughtful way twice in one day now.

“I like it,” I said. Sparrow quickly dug into his food again, searching around his plate for red peppers.

We finished eating in silence, then I brought up the topic of the sleeping arrangement. It had been bothering me all day.

“I’d like you to have your room back.”

Sparrow wiped his mouth with his napkin. “No.”

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re sleeping on the floor in a cold room.”

“No,” he repeated, pushing away from the island and grabbing both our plates.

I twisted in my seat as he headed for the sink. “You’re so stubborn. Will you at least sleep in the room with me? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“No,” he enunciated.

“Fine, then you sleep on the couch. Otherwise, I’ll be down here checking on you all night.”

I caught the flash of anger before it was gone through his reflection in the window. He met my stare guiltily. He’d been considering locking me inside his room again. I just knew it.

My own anger and fear stirred in my gut. “Don’t—”

“I’ll think about it,” he cut in, turning back to me. He didn’t look upset, but it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “And I wouldn’t…” he stopped, starting over in a softer tone. “…I wouldn’t do that to you again.”

“Okay,” I whispered, searching his gaze for deceit. I didn’t find any. Over his shoulder, snow began to fall outside.

“It’s snowing again,” I said in disbelief. There was still so much of it outside. How much more could we take before we were swallowed up by it?

“We’re supposed to get up to half a foot,” Sparrow said. The dim lights flickered overhead, reminding me of the dire situation we were in.

“I suppose there’s still no signal,” I breathed.

“No, there isn’t.”

“Then how do you know how much snow we’re getting?”

“I just do.” He turned back to the sink, busying himself with cleaning up, transferring the leftovers to containers before washing the pots too.

I watched him work for a while, thinking.

I sat there until doing so felt silly, until I was sure he could read the thoughts floating around in my head.

The scary thoughts, the ones I couldn’t say out loud.

“I’m going to head up to bed now,” I said. Sparrow didn’t answer, like maybe he didn’t want his voice giving away his own thoughts.

I slowed when I reached the stairs, smiling over at the miniature tree on the living room coffee table.

He’d even strung it with ribbon. I glanced back in the direction I’d come from, tempted to go thank Sparrow, but decided I’d do it in the morning after we’d both had some sleep.

Maybe by then I’d remember why I’d come here in the first place.

I started my own fire that night. Sparrow now trusted me with matches.

I found it hard to get to sleep, though, tossing and turning for hours as I pictured him sleeping on the floor, as I pictured the look on his face when he’d lied about there being no signal.

Why hadn’t I called him on it? The answer hovered near the scary thoughts.

I pulled the photograph of me and my husbands from beneath my pillow, letting the reminder of them shatter me until I eventually cried myself to sleep.

The bedroom door was cracked open when I woke up again, but not as much as I preferred.

I hadn’t slept with it completely closed ever since Sparrow stopped locking me in.

Partly because seeing it closed triggered me, making me rush for the handle to make sure I wasn’t locked in.

And partly because I hoped to hear him if he ever snuck into one of the rooms along the hall.

I never did, but something had woken me up just now. What was it?

The armchair from the sitting room sat next to my bed, and Moonlight’s Shadow rested on the nightstand, bookmarked five chapters beyond where I’d left off.

Sparrow hadn’t even bothered to put the chair back, hadn’t bothered to pretend he didn’t sit here and read to me.

It was almost as if he’d rushed out of here.

Rushed out and left the door open just enough to say he hadn’t closed it but not as open as he’d found it.

It was three in the morning. Where was he?

I climbed out of bed to find out but stopped before reaching the door. Glancing over my shoulder at the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed, I muttered a curse, striding over to get the key I kept taped to the bottom of the drawer.

The faint sound of running water could be heard from the hall. I followed it to the third room on the left, pressing my forehead and palms against the door.

Don’t go in…

Don’t go in…

Don’t go in…

I dug the key out of the pocket of my sweats, humming inside my head to drown out the warning voice as I inserted it into the keyhole and turned.

My mouth went dry as I slowly opened the door, sweat now prickling under my arms as I braced for whatever I’d find inside.

An open suitcase rested on the made bed, clothes spilling out of it. The bathroom door was closed, the sound of rushing water coming from within. I entered the room to fully assess it, spotting a bassinet at the end of the bed with a swaddled bundle inside. I hurried for it.

“ What? ” I mouthed, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Too busy working through my confusion, I didn’t hear the water cut off. I was about to reach inside for the baby doll when the sound of a gun cocking behind me stopped me.

Blood-curdling terror seized my body when a woman with a thick Southern accent spoke. “Get the fuck away from my baby.”