Page 209 of Black Bird

He tried to move, but quickly regretted it. He groaned in pain, but it was enough to send his eyelids flying open. He blinked rapidly, and every quick rise and fall of his chest caused overwhelming pain in his belly. His vision was blurry, but when he was finally able to focus on the hazy figure sitting at his right, he realized … somehow … he’d survived. He focused on a pale face with a huge swollen eye, and a red rat’s nest of a bun on top of her head. Her breath caught, and she pressed her fingertips to her busted lips.

“Not your best look …” he whispered, wetting his lips. She scoffed, and that one open eye filled with tears. “Jesus … I didn’t think you’d take it so personal.”

“I thought he’d killed you.” Wren sniffled, her fingers lingering on her mouth.

“Disappointed?” Brent smiled, weakly.

“I mean … can’t you just do one damn thing right?” She snorted. He tried not to laugh. It hurt. Everything hurt. He groaned again, wincing, and giving a pitiful attempt to adjust himself. Wren dropped her hand to stop him, and it unintentionally rested on his. They both glanced at the contact, and then back at each other. Neither one said anything. She finally curled her fingers around his and he squeezed, exhaling slowly and clenching his jaw.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Wren …”

She wiped a tear that fell quick down her cheek. “He got what he deser—”

“I don’t care.”

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. He started to understand that weird, annoying connection he’d noticed every time Sarah had been around the detective. Something in his chest lightened. Brent tugged on her hand and urged her down towards him. Though he never asked, she seemed to understand what he intended, and lowered herself to lay next to him, tucking her head just under his chin. He brought both arms around her and held her close while she cried softly. His mouth rested in her hair and his lips turned up in the corner.

“You could use one of those fancy showers.”

Wren huffed a snotty laugh.

“Get fucked, Stratford.”

He closed his eyes and grinned. “There she is.”

It was freezing in here. The apartment looked like the ghost of the girl who lived in it. Everything she owned had been strewn all over the small space. Sarah was silent as she stepped over books, miscellaneous papers, a broken microscope, and a spilled mug of long-forgotten remnants of leftover coffee that had grown solid as dried glue to the cracked ceramic lip. Athan stood in the doorway in silent rage with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. After a few minutes of swallowing down her irritation, she scooped up the old, tattered blanket on her bed and held it close to her chest.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Athan finally said, quietly. She didn’t turn around but could hear him carefully navigating through the mess to get to her. His arms came around her from behind and he perched his chin over her shoulder. “We can have it packed up, and … moved.”

Sarah closed her eyes and a slight smile crept across her mouth. “Moved?” He tightened around her and pressed a kiss to the scar on her neck.

“To my place …”

That notion swelled through her like a warm tide. An invitation. One she wouldn’t have guessed he’d offer when they first met. When he’d been the quiet, mysterious stranger that stood a safe distance away at the door to her hospital room.

“Is this you, asking me to move in?” she asked, turning her face slightly towards his. His breath was warm against her neck.

“Only if you want it, love.”

She considered that for a moment. His apartment was where she’d first kissed him. Where he’d more than shattered her heart when she found out the truth. It was where he’d taken her to wake up as a differentversion of herself after he’d saved her life. It was the safe space close to their friends, who were only one door over. Wren would likely move out of her apartment now that all this had happened, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be down to stay long term with Rhaena. Sarah glanced around the wrecked apartment. She’d always loved this place. It felt the most like home since leaving Seattle behind. Something about being here had always been a comfort to her. It wasn’t much, and it was cramped and small. Brent had never been comfortable here, but it was what made her feel safe.

“What if … we packed your stuff instead?” Sarah whispered. Athan stilled. After a moment he turned her around to face him. “If I asked you to stay … would you stay?” Her heart hammered at the thought of hearing him tell her the same thing that Brent often did. She braced herself for an excuse. For any reason—

“Of course, I would,” he answered, his voice low, and smooth. “You’re the only four walls I’ll ever need, Sarah. I told you that you were the only gold mine standing in that room.You’rehome to me.”

Sarah bit down on her lip, staring into those two orbs of cerulean sin. The knot in her throat gave way to tears and she shoved him. “You’re such a dick.” She smiled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Always making me fucking cry.” He grinned, sliding a cigarette into his mouth.

“You’re right …” he agreed, lighting it. “But I didn’t hear much bitching about it last ti—” he winced, chuckling through smoke when she punched him in his upper arm. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her towards him until she found herself slamming against his chest. Sarah snatched the cigarette from his mouth and flipped it around to drag from it.

“You’d really be okay with staying here with me?” she asked, blowing a line of smoke in the opposite direction.

“Under one condition.” Athan held up a finger.

“Name it.”

He slid an arm around her back and turned them towards the opposite wall, pointing to the poster that was still leaning against it in a busted frame. “That gets fixed and finds its way back up on the wall.” Sarah smiled, passing the cigarette back to him.

“I think Poe would like it.”

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