Page 81 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Then

Elliott was still at the bookstore, but Quentin’s location pinged at our apartment building.

I headed for the roof when I didn’t find him inside.

He turned when the door creaked open, then went back to staring out over the city.

I plopped onto the seat nearest to him, and he tugged the chair closer without taking his eyes off the skyline. “I missed you too,” I said.

He grabbed my hair when I leaned in to kiss his cheek, inhaling along my jawline before kissing me. I licked my lips, frowning at the unfamiliar taste.

“What’s that?”

“I needed a drink.” He held up a beer bottle, letting me read the label.

“It’s… non-alcoholic.”

“I’m not fucking up this body with real booze.”

“The nerve of me,” I deadpanned, snatching the bottle and stealing a sip. “Yuck.” I handed it back, taking in the view. “We should come up here more often.”

“We should.” He sounded distracted.

“What are you thinking about?”

He shrugged. “Just stuff.”

I scratched his chin. “I hope you’re thinking about shaving. Beard burn between my ass cheeks is no fun.”

He rubbed his stubbly jaw over my cheeks. I shoved him away, fixing my glasses.

“I’m behaving like him, aren’t I?” He sounded scared.

I was usually the first to swear he was nothing like Dylan, but telling the truth came with loving someone, even when it hurts. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

“Figured.” He picked at the label on the bottle. “Do you think that’s how our mothers felt? The way Elliott feels?”

“Yeah, Q,” I whispered. “I do. But I’m partly to blame. I’ve been more than happy to let you do all the dirty work.”

He closed his eyes, and there was so much pain there when he reopened them. “How do we fix it?”

I’d been thinking about the answer to that all morning. “I think… I think we let him grow, and I think we should grow too.” Because Elliott might swear he’d never leave, but Quentin and I had first-hand experience of how fast that could change.

“Why are you so fucking wise? It makes me wanna puke.”

I laughed into his shoulder before taking the last swig of his nasty non-beer. Quentin set the empty bottle aside, pulling me onto his lap and threading his arms around my waist. His heart beat against my back as we fell into comfortable silence.

“Grow, huh?” he eventually asked.

“Yup. Big time.” I trailed my fingers up and down his forearms. “We let him have all the new experiences he wants, even sharing in some. And we find some new experiences of our own.”

“That’s gonna fucking hurt.”

“Until it doesn’t.”

Quentin pointed to a flock of birds, their bodies silhouettes against the sunlight. I pointed to the tallest building in the distance, awed by its height. Quentin promised to drive us past there later. We took bets on how many blocks away it was.

We spent the next hour or so getting lost in the most ordinary things, the way we used to as kids. We set our problems aside for a while and just enjoyed each other’s company.

“Love you, Guelly.” He kissed below my ear.

I twisted in his lap, grinning. “You know, I kind of miss the days when you were more creative with your declarations of love.”

He rolled his eyes. “I mature, there’s a problem. I don’t mature, there’s a problem. At least there’re no complaints in the fucking-you-good department.”

I chuckled. “Nope, no complaints there.”

“Okay, how about this?” His gaze turned intense. “Miguel McAllen, you’re everything to me. Sun, moon, and stars. The air that I breathe.” He inhaled deeply to drive it home.

“Wow,” I said on an exhale, “someone’s getting laid tonight.”

“Psh, I’d love to see you try to stop me.” He meant it too.

“I promise I will.”

Quentin bit down lightly on my finger when I trailed it across his lips. “I think I’m going to find her,” he said softly. “Maybe that can be an act of growth.”

“I think you should—if you’re ready.”

“Do you think she’s out there?” He looked at the sky. “Do you think she misses me?”

“It’d be impossible not to miss you. I bet you’re always on her mind.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Then why didn’t she come back for me?”

Quentin claimed to understand why his mother left, claimed he didn’t blame her for staying away.

This was the first time he’d ever let on that her leaving made him feel unloved.

He was always so strong, the white knight.

But right then he allowed me to see a weakness. It was the strongest I’d ever seen him.

“I guess we’re about to find out. Either way, you’re worth staying for, Q. Elliott knows that too.”

He kissed me, splaying a palm over my heart. Elliott’s phone pinged, and I fished it from my pocket.

“My phone’s home,” I said.

Quentin blew out a breath. “Guess I should talk to him.”

“It’ll be fine. And look, I have the perfect peace offering.” I pulled up Rachel’s number, running down my conversation with her.

We held hands as we headed for the roof’s door. “So, what are you gonna do?” he asked. “What new experience will you try?”

I stopped, thinking long and hard. “I’m gonna learn how to drive.”

Elliott slipped a cotton dress over his shoulders just as we walked into the spare bedroom.

“Hey,” Quentin greeted him.

“Hey.” Elliott sounded cautious.

“Glad you’re back,” I said. “How did training go?”

“It went okay.” He shrugged, downplaying things. “I start Monday.”

“Cool.” I tried my best not to be sick. Regardless of what I’d said to Rachel and Quentin, it would take some time to adjust to the changes.

“Just for a few hours,” he reminded us, smiling awkwardly. It felt like we were walking on eggshells.

Quentin tilted Elliott’s chin up. “It was more than just okay . You’re trying to hide how excited you are.”

Elliott’s bottom lip quivered, and Quentin pulled him over to the loveseat, tugging him onto his lap.

I stayed by the door, giving them space.

“I hate that you have to pretend for us, pretty girl. I hate that we haven’t been better friends to you lately, especially me.

Things are going to be different now.” Quentin glanced at me.

“We’re gonna grow, I promise. Now, let’s start again—and this time, no holding back. How kickass was training?”

A huge smile broke out across Elliott’s face. “It was incredible. They introduced me to everyone, and they were all so nice. They showed me how to work the register—but I wasn’t really good at that, so they put me in the stockroom.”

Quentin chuckled at his enthusiasm, and I smiled with pride for them both. “Let me guess, the stockroom is exactly where you want to be?”

“Definitely. I get to unbox new shipments, stack them on the shelves—sneak a peek inside.” He turned to me. “I bought you something, Guelly.”

“Really? Can’t wait to see it.”

Elliott went on, hands gesturing as he spoke. I couldn’t believe we’d been afraid of this. Watching him discover something new was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

Quentin combed his fingers through Elliott’s hair, trailing soft kisses up and down his shoulders.

“I missed you two,” he said to Quentin once he’d replayed everything. “I almost turned back like ten times. Maybe I’ll just do it for a little while. I mostly agreed to piss you off.”

“But you ended up loving it,” Quentin said. It was written all over Elliott’s face.

“I did.” He averted his gaze.

“Don’t ever feel guilty about that,” Quentin said.

“Work there for however long you want,” I added.

Elliott glanced between the two of us as if trying to gauge our sincerity. We hid our fear behind our smiles.

“On another note.” Quentin pulled Elliott’s phone from his pocket. “Rachel and Kayden will be here in two hours.”

“Wait, what?” Elliott snatched the phone, gaping at Rachel’s number. “I don’t get it. Why?”

“I went to Rachel’s dorm to apologize for how we’ve been acting. I got her number for you.”

“You… you did that for me ? ”

“I’d do anything for you, Ellie.” Even if it hadn’t seemed that way lately.

“And they’re coming to hang out with us?”

“They’re coming by to help you get ready for drag night.” Quentin ran his hands up and down Elliott’s arms.

“ Drag night? Hold on… They still want us to come to drag night?”

“Fuck yeah. Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because you’ve been an idiot—no offense.”

“Oh, all the fucking offense,” Quentin scoffed. “I’ve been an asshole.”

“And you think Kayden’s Twink-Bundy.”

“I’m working on that.”

Elliott threw his arms around him, kissing him in between saying, “I love you.”

We helped Elliott organize his clothes by color. He said it would make it easier for Kayden to sift through. Quentin and I thought he was nervous and wanted to keep himself busy. A knock sounded on the apartment door a while later.

“I’ll get it.” I didn’t trust Quentin to meet them at the door.

“Out of the way, professionals coming through.” Kayden breezed in, garment bags in hand. “Where’s my muse?”

“First door on your left,” I called as he marched down the hall.

“Hi again.” Rachel smiled, carrying what I assumed to be a makeup case.

“Let me get that.” I took it from her, leading the way to the spare bedroom.

“Okay, let’s see what we’re working with.” Kayden went through racks of clothes while Elliott wrung his hands. Quentin stared comically at the tornado—also known as Twink-Bundy/Kayden.

“Don’t be nervous,” I said to Elliott, setting Rachel’s case down on the vanity table.

“Yeah, don’t be,” she said. “This is the fun part.” She gestured for him to sit on the stool.

“Well, we’ll get out of your way.” I pulled Quentin up from the loveseat, dragging him into the hall and closing the door.

“It’s fine.” I paced in circles. “He’ll be fine, we’ll be fine, everyone will be fine. It’s perfectly normal for people in relationships to do their own thing sometimes. It’s fine.”

“Then why do you sound like that?” Quentin quirked a brow.

“Like what?”

“Like Mariah Carey when she hits the high notes.”

“I do not.” I frowned. “Okay, maybe I do.” I sagged, letting Quentin pull me into a hug.

We were still standing in front of the door when it swung open over an hour later. Rachel gave us a pointed stare.

“Baby steps,” I said to her. She stepped aside, Elliott coming into view.

“ Fuck . Is it too late to change our minds?” Quentin muttered.

“Growth,” I reminded him.

Elliott’s now pin-straight hair fell around his shoulders. Silver pencil lined his eyes, the matching mascara covering his lashes. It made his blue irises look frosty.

His lips were a pretty pink, a shade darker than their natural color, and his cheeks were dusted a soft red. His eyelids sparkled too.

“You look hot as fuck,” Quentin said as we approached him. The long metallic dress was simple enough that he wouldn’t look overdressed, but elegant enough to make him stand out in a crowd of other men dressed like him.

“Yeah,” I seconded. “Gorgeous.”

Rachel and Kayden had changed into their outfits, too, but they paled in comparison to Elliott.

“Thank you,” he said in a shy voice.

“We didn’t have time for a master class on walking in heels, so he’s got his Chucks on. You can’t see them, but it wouldn’t matter if you could because he still looks badass,” Rachel said.

“Definitely badass,” I agreed. “How do you feel?”

He turned to the vanity mirror, touching his hair. “Amazing. I feel like… myself.”

“Good, because you should.” I swooped in for a hug and kiss, but Kayden got in my way.

“Oh no, you don’t. You will not fuck up his makeup on our watch. You and Muscle Man can save it for later.” He looked us up and down. “Oh my gawd, why aren’t you two dressed? The show starts in thirty minutes; we’ve got to get seats near the stage. Tell me why you’re not dressed!”

Elliott’s smile faded. “Yeah, why aren’t you two dressed?”

Quentin and I looked at each other. We’d discussed this outside the door. “You go and enjoy yourself tonight,” he said. “We’ll go to the next one.”

“ What? No, I can’t go without you two. I never said I wanted to do this without you.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel jumped in. “Kayden and I will take care of you. We’ll stick with you the whole time, drive you there and back.”

“I…” Elliott seemed unsure.

“What if we picked you up?” Quentin suggested.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Elliott shifted on his feet. “You need the address.”

“Already got it,” I said.

“Maybe the phone number too, just in case the cell signal is bad.”

“Got it,” Quentin said. “And we’ve got Rachel and Twi…” He stopped himself.

Kayden gave him a look. “Watch it, Muscle Man.”

“We’ve got everyone’s number,” Quentin amended.

Elliott peered down at himself. “Maybe I should change. I’ll be fast.”

Quentin sidestepped Kayden, cupping Elliott’s shoulders. “You just said you feel like yourself. Don’t ruin that because someone might look at you weirdly. Fuck ’em.”

“Yeah, fuck ’em,” Rachel said.

“Fuck ’em,” I added.

“Fuck ’em real good.” We all glared at Kayden. “What?” he asked innocently.

Quentin kissed Elliott, ignoring Kayden’s warning about his makeup. “Have fun, pretty girl.”

“Ugh, pretty girl.” Kayden sounded faint. “Gets me every time.” He fanned himself.

Elliott took a deep breath, smoothing his hand down his dress. “Okay, let’s go.”

Kayden snapped his fingers, grabbed his purse and headed for the door. We followed them outside. Elliott preened under the fading sunlight, not allowing the few stares to get to him. They loaded into Kayden’s Jeep, all of them waving as he pulled off.

“Oh!” Elliott called out. Kayden slammed on the brakes. Elliott stuck his head out the window, smiling. “You have my permission!”

Quentin and I gave each other a look as they peeled away, both remembering the “rules” at the same time.

“What do you say? Should we pass the time with a little dicking down?” I asked playfully.

“Only if we do it on the roof.” Quentin chased me up the stairs, laughing as we went. We grabbed a blanket, snacks, water, and lube before heading up to the deck.

We had sex, talked, and laughed until it was time to get Elliott. He talked animatedly about his night the whole ride home.

He didn’t ditch his masculine clothes right away, but a camisole with baggy jeans eventually graduated to summer dresses with heels. His confidence grew more and more each day, and drag night became a permanent fixture in our lives.

I learned how to drive, Quentin found his mother sophomore year, and Elliott became a fashion major. He was a natural with a needle and thread. We lived, learned, and loved. We grew, both together and as individuals.

The years breezed by. Quentin got drafted to the NFL, and we bought the house of our dreams. We ditched the McAllen and Holland legacies, taking on my mother’s maiden name. Ramirez.

We committed ourselves to each other, exchanged rings, and made promises we swore never to break. Things couldn’t have gotten any better; we couldn’t have loved or wanted each other more—until the unthinkable happened.