Page 69 of Sparrow

THERE ARE NOwords to describe the willpower it took to not bash that motherfucker’s brains in when Case finally brought him down the stairs in handcuffs, but I did get one, glorious punch to his nose. It was euphoric.

I knew something was wrong the minute I left her. I just needed to get Case involved before I did something monumentally stupid.

Twenty minutes.

That’s how long it took for him to arrive with his partner.

Twenty minutes: filled with the unimaginable for her.

Twenty minutes: she wasn’t safe.

We heard the gunshot from where we were parked and my heart stopped. With Case on my heels, calling for backup from the radio attached to his shoulder, we ran the two blocks between her house and our vehicles.

The door was locked, so Case broke through a window and we climbed through. What I saw will be forever burned into my memory.

My Mills, at the foot of the stairs, pale, blood smeared across her head, lifeless.

Letting the medics take her from me when they arrived was just as hard. I didn’t want to leave her side. I feared the worst. I thought I’d lost her forever.

I paced the length of the waiting room at the hospital, only pausing when Case came by to let me know the fucker was in custody and wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon, and that Mills did a number to his face.

That’s my girl.

He’s gone now, back to finish his paperwork on the situation, and I’m back to pacing.

This lasts for minutes, hours, I’m not sure either way, but it’s never-ending. The ticks from the clock on the wall taunt me with each passing second.

“Family of Amelia Allen?” I turn toward the doctor, and even though I hate she still carries that fucker’s name, I’ve never been more relieved to hear it

“Me. That’s me.” I approach him. “Is she okay?”

“She’s going to be all right. She has some bumps and bruises, but nothing is broken. She did hit her head very hard and there is a laceration there, so we’ve stitched it up. We’d like to keep her overnight to monitor any swelling. Head injuries are tricky,” he says.

I nearly weep with relief. “Can I go see her?”

“Sure. Room 865. Right down the hall.”

I take off in a full jog toward her. I need to see her with my own eyes. I need to touch her. I need to kiss her.

I locate the specified room and push the door open, revealing my Mills, in all her red-haired glory, tucked into the bed with a bandage around her head.

Her eyes widen when she sees me. “Gray?”

I step inside, closing the door behind me. “I’m here.”

She doesn’t speak again, she just cries and covers her mouth.

“Shh.” I cross the room and kneel by her bed. “Don’t cry. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry, Gray. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I had to say it. I had to,” she speaks brokenly though sobs.

“I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay.” I kiss her hand and her arm, wanting nothing more than to kiss her lips, but I don’t want to hurt her.

“He was going to hurt you and Cadence. I couldn’t let him.”

This news sends a chill through me. I regret not bashing his face in.

“You protected us. You protected her. That was brave, darlin’, but so incredibly dangerous. You should have told me. I would have protected you.”

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