Page 39 of Sparrow

I toss my middle finger in the air to her then make my way back to my table.

“Mills, I see you’ve met Carissa, the friendly neighborhood barfly.” I slide Mills her beer then place a kiss to the top of her head.

“I did, actually. She was telling me all about you, actually. In great detail, in fact.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your little evening,” Carissa says, placing her hand on my shoulder then sliding it down my arm. “I could use a bit of stress relief soon, Grayson. Call me.”

Her overpowering perfume hangs in the air even after she leaves.

“She’s a real charmer, Gray.”

“There’s nothing there, Mills. Don’t do that.”

“I know girls like that. I’m not threatened by her, but I do need to know; have you slept with her?”

“Yes.” I want to be as honest as possible.

“More than once?”

“Pretty regularly for a while until—”

“Until me,” she completes my sentence.

“Until you.”

“You haven’t since you and I reconnected?” There’s vulnerability in her tone.

“No. I wouldn’t do that. Not to anyone and certainly not to you.”

“But we aren’t even really together, Gray. I can’t tell you what to do or expect you not to sleep with someone else.” She picks at the label on her beer.

“We aren’t really together? Mills, you and I are CONSTANT. There were only pauses. You’re mine.”

“I’m no one’s property.”

“I didn’t say you were my property. You’re my girl. You’ve always been my girl. Even when you weren’t.”

***

(Amelia)

How does he do that? He can make me feel ten feet tall at the drop of a hat. His words sink into my soul and swim around in my heart.

“I’m your girl?” I ask with a grin.

“Always have been. The necklace says so.” He points to my chest with the top of his beer.

“So do your tattoos say you’re my boy then?”

“Man, darlin’. I’m your man.” He smirks and knocks me off my feet with that damn Southern accent, “and, as a matter-of-fact, yes, that’s exactly what they say.”

This man, he’s special. He’s always been special. He set the bar years ago and no one ever measured up. Maybe this is the path my life was supposed to take. Maybe I was meant to end up right here, with him, right now, when I need him the most.

“Gray—” I pause.

“What, darlin’” he asks, leaning closer so he can hear me over the music.

“Thank you.” I don’t elaborate. I don’t think I need to. He’s keeping me sane. He’s reminding me what it’s like to be free again.

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