Page 88 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

I pulled the brim of my ball cap low, sliding my sunglasses on, hoping not to draw the attention of security. They all knew my face by now. I let Elliott walk in front of me, and I kept my head down.

We made it inside, but Octavia happened to be standing near the front desk when we turned the corner. She was the nursing manager here.

“Mr. Ramirez,” she sighed. She was a sweet older woman, only doing her job. Unfortunately for her, I wouldn’t let anything keep me from my husband.

I removed my disguise. “This is Elliott.” Her eyes widened. I’d told her about Elliott—about what happened to us—on the numerous occasions I’d tried to play on her sympathy to gain access to Quentin. “ Please , let us see him.”

“There’s nothing I can do. He—”

“Has he gotten any better?”

“You know I can’t discuss—”

“I’m his power of attorney.”

“And as I’ve explained before, Mr. Ramirez, that holds no bearing when the principal is cognizant.” She was right, but I could see she didn’t want to be.

“ Please . You know he’ll never get better in this place. He’s here because he wants to suffer.” And Quentin had enough money to make sure he suffered here alone forever.

She looked at the two women watching from behind the front desk. One cleared her throat as they both turned away. Octavia led us off to the side. “He doesn’t even try,” she whispered. “He’s accepted his prognosis.”

“Is he eating?”

“Barely.”

“Bathing?”

“Only when we threaten to hose him down.” She gave a sad smile.

“Is he speaking?”

“Only to demand we stay away from him.”

Elliott flinched with every answer she gave, so I stopped there.

“Please,” I begged again while holding Elliott close to me. “Let us see him. We can help.” Quentin needed love to heal. He needed to be home with us.

“He could take legal action against the facility.”

“Well, then, I’ll pay for your attorneys. Please, Octavia. I know you want to see him get better.”

She glanced at the two women again, then tilted her head to the left, whispering, “He was just taken from his suite to the conservatory. Ran everyone else out of there with his bad mood.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Good luck.”

Elliott and I took off, following the signs for the conservatory.

We peered through the window of the double doors once we got there, watching Quentin ignore the vibrant plant life around him in preference for staring at the wall.

Elliott sucked in a breath as he pressed a palm to the glass.

I kept my emotions in check, wanting to be strong for him.

“Ready?” I asked him. He nodded, reaching for the handle.

“If you’re not here to put me out of my misery, then fuck off,” Quentin bit out, but we steadily approached the wall his wheelchair faced. “Did you hear me?!” He tried to turn, but the wheels seemed jammed. “Dammit.”

“It’s us,” Elliott said shakily. Quentin’s jerky movements stopped at the sound of his voice.

We continued past the row of citrus trees, rounding his chair.

His hair had grown past his shoulders, his beard now stretched to his chest, and his eyes no longer held their mischievous spark.

Quentin’s spirit had been broken, and so had ours.

Quentin’s eyes welled up. “P-pretty… G-girl?” He sounded pained, as if the ache came from his soul. He glanced over at me, the moisture filling his eyes no match for the guilt and shame already swimming in them. “You… f-found him.” His devastation caused him to stammer.

“I told you I would, Q. I promised I’d find both of you.” Because knowing where to physically find Quentin didn’t mean he wasn’t lost to me. My search for Elliott was a rescue mission for Quentin, too.

Quentin closed his eyes, a tear rolling into his beard. “Leave…”

“Never,” Elliott said, kneeling in front of him. “Look at me. I’m begging you.”

Quentin kept his eyes closed, his left hand going for his joystick. Elliott secured it first.

“Look at me.” Elliott sounded desperate. Quentin opened his eyes but kept them downturned. “What happened wasn’t your fault,” Elliott swore. “You tried to stop him from hurting me. You tried to save me. That’s what matters.”

“I failed. I didn’t protect you. Either of you.”

“We’re here because of you,” Elliott said. “Had that gun not gone off, the neighbors wouldn’t have called the cops, and those men wouldn’t have rushed out of there.”

It was true. They’d likely have had time to organize a way to kill us all after getting everything they wanted. Quentin’s bravery had saved us, even if it took some time for us to circle back to each other. I’d told Elliott all of that before boarding our flight.

“I still failed you. I shouldn’t have gone back to the house. I… I should’ve gotten us the hell out of there the moment the cameras went out. I should’ve made sure the alarm was on.” He looked at me. “That was my job. My f-fault.”

“Well, now you have a second chance to help save me,” Elliott said. “I need you, Quentin. I’m not well.” Elliott reached for my hand before adding, “I’m scared.”

Quentin gripped the arms of his chair, some of the man I used to know peering through his worried gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“He didn’t leave us because we couldn’t protect him, Quentin.

He didn’t abandon us.” I hadn’t been able to convince him of that before.

Quentin’s injuries were worse than mine.

The bullet tore through vital organs before reaching his spinal cord.

He had to be resuscitated twice on the way to the hospital, spent weeks undergoing surgeries to repair the damage, all while being in an induced coma.

He learned about his paralysis and Elliott’s disappearance on the same day, while I was in my own recovery bed. He’d had to be sedated after that. Not long after, he created the story in his mind that Elliott wanted to be gone, and that Elliott and I were both better off without him.

“I didn’t leave because I wanted to. My mind took me away. I need help.” Elliott touched his head for emphasis. “I should’ve never tried to ignore all that happened to me before … I’ve got some tough things to face, a-and I can’t do that without you. Without either of you.”

Quentin dried Elliott’s tears with a trembling hand, and I reached in to dry his.

He let me, closing his eyes and exhaling as if to say it had been far too long since he felt my touch.

The feel of his skin sent me to my knees next to Elliott.

He spread a hand along both our cheeks, and his strength and heartache could be felt through the uncertainty of his touch. “Tell me what happened. What’s wrong?”

Elliott filled him in on his childhood, even adding some parts he hadn’t yet mentioned to me. Parts I’d already gotten from Sparrow. I took over when Elliott’s tears left him unable to continue, providing Quentin with the same context I’d given Elliott. The rest would need to wait.

“Why didn’t you tell us all this before?” Quentin’s tone was a sorrowful plea for understanding.

“Because… Because I didn’t think you’d love me if you knew.”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Elliott looked adrift. “Because I didn’t love myself.”

Quentin’s chair shook with the force of his regret and pain as he held Elliott’s hand to his lips. “I’m so sorry,” he wept. “I’m so sorry.”

We thought he was apologizing for all Elliott had gone through, and maybe he was, but he was also apologizing for not being willing to leave with us. “I can’t help you.” His bottom lip quivered as it brushed over Elliott’s knuckles. “I’m too broken.”

“We’re all broken,” I breathed, my heart tearing in two. “Can’t you see that?”

Quentin took in what he could see of me from my knelt position. I was just as haggard as he was and hadn’t gained all my weight back. I had scars that weren’t there before, and the small patch of hair Sparrow pulled out had grown back thin.

“None of us is in fighting shape, but we made vows to love each other through good and bad. Please don’t break them.

We’re no good when we’re not together.” How had I survived so long without him?

I let myself experience the true effect of his absence.

I opened the compartment I’d been keeping that particular heartbreak in, sagging as I gazed up at him.

“Come home,” Elliott begged. “Fight with us, fight for us.”

Quentin seemed torn, blinking up at the ceiling and biting his lip. Then he stared deep into Elliott’s eyes, tracing the bruises beneath them. “You look tired and sad. I don’t like when you’re sad.”

Elliott kissed the center of Quentin’s palm. “Then make me happy. Say you’ll come home.”

Quentin glanced at me, almost like he was embarrassed. “How can you stand looking at me? How can you not hate me for pushing you away?”

“I could never hate you,” I swore. “You thought you lost the one ability that made you useful to us, but it was never your physical strength we fell in love with, Q. It was always your heart, and that still beats stronger than ever.” I placed a hand over his heart, bringing one of his to mine.

“Please show yourself some grace and let us do the rest.”

He shuddered. “H-how do we fix us when we’ve lost so fucking much?”

“We’ve lost nothing of importance, not when everything we need is right here.

” The truth of that hit me hard in the chest. We could rebuild, we could become whole again, so long as we had what mattered.

“It’s just us here,” I reminded him. “Nothing else matters, and we can get through anything together.” Elliott and I looked at each other, and I hoped my gaze reflected the optimism I saw in his.

“What kind of life will we have?” Quentin peered down at his legs. “I’ll never walk again.” He gazed at Elliott. “I’ll never run in the grass with you again or carry you in my arms.”

“And you believe the idiot doctor who said that?” I scoffed through my tears. “The Quentin I knew would’ve told them to fuck off.”

He shook his head. “I’m not him anymore.” Quentin was weak right now, but that’s what he had us for.

“I’ve seen what the power of love and faith can do, Quentin.

We’ll build each other back up, better and stronger than ever,” I said with conviction.

“Of course they think you’ll never recover.

They’re only looking at your spine. Your heart needs to be repaired first, and only we can do that.

We’ll fill you with love, and our love will make the impossible happen.

I’ve got everything you need ready and waiting.

” I’d found a new home and gotten everything set up for Quentin’s rehabilitation in preparation for this day, even before finding Amelia and then flying off to Alaska.

“Listen to your husbands,” I pleaded. “Come. Home.”

“You… still want me?”

I smiled through the pain his whimpered words caused, leaning in to kiss his tear-stained lips. “I’ll never stop wanting you, Q.”

Elliott and I wrapped ourselves around Quentin, forming a force field of love and devotion. We were all tired, scared, and heartsick, but we held on, promising to never let each other go.

We were sniffling messes when we finally came up for air. I brushed Quentin’s hair back while holding Elliott’s hand. “So, what do you say?” I asked Quentin.

He looked between the both of us, fear and shame still persistent in his gaze. But there was some fight there too, the beginnings of a spark. “I’m ready to prove those fucking idiots wrong,” he said with defiance. “Take me home.”