Page 43 of Sparrow

Sparrow didn’t want to be there, and she hadn’t been for more than a few minutes in the past week. However, standing in the center of the bedroom now, she really never wanted to come back. So, she had to make it quick and thorough.

With a duffel bag filled with the last of her clothing slung over her shoulder and a few other things in her memory box, she glanced around the room she and Pipes had decorated. There was a time when he was a good guy. He wasn’t always the monster he’d been that night, that last night.

Her gaze landed on a picture of the two of them. They’d taken it at the top of the Paris hotel in Las Vegas. They’d been dating a few months before they took that trip. He had so much life in his eyes. A life, and light she hadn’t seen in years, not since she agreed to introduce him to the club.

This wasn’t her life anymore. Decisions were made. His and hers, and not all of them were good. She may have brought him to meet Bowie and Tut at The Spoke, but she didn’t put a pipe in his hand. He made that choice. Just like it’d been her choice to sleep with Jacob.

Sure, she could blame him. Their relationship had been in the shitter long before the night in the parking lot. It should’ve ended before it got to this point. Perhaps if she had, things would be different. Maybe she and Jacob could have gotten together sooner, without any of the drama. Maybe Pipes wouldn’t be in the shed.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the bedroom, content to leave it all behind. Going down the path of what-if’s and coulda-woulda-shoulda’s was an exercise in futility. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She could mourn the time lost and the man, but ultimately, she wasn’t responsible for it.

Trotting down the stairs, she met her mother on the curb. Dixie had her demons, and she was by no means perfect, but she hadn’t batted an eye when Sparrow asked to stay with her. While not totally the same, her mother understood the need to not return to a place with memories.

With the sun warming her skin, she approached her mom as her mother tossed her cigarette to the curb.

Smiling, she opened the back door so Sparrow could toss in the last bag. “Romeo’s stitches came out today.”

With her mother hanging out at the club more than her own apartment, it was no surprise she had the update on Jacob. Or Romeo. She hated his road name and had a hard time using it. “Yeah, he and Dash said it was time.” In reality, Jacob had threatened to take them out himself if Dash didn’t do it the next time he was sober.

She grinned, thinking how the bald guy chugged his beers with his thumb up every time he saw Jacob after that.

Once the two of them were in the car, Dixie keyed the ignition and turned to her daughter. “Is he the one?” she asked.

Freezing just before she snapped the seatbelt, she peered up at her mother. “The what? Who? Dash?”

Rolling her eyes, her mother sighed, putting the car in gear. “Romeo, and you know what.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, clicking the seatbelt and sitting back while her mother rolled into traffic.

“You spent a decade mooning over his picture, and I know it wasn’t over that horrible bike he had,” her mother said.

“First of all,” Sparrow began with a finger in the air, coming to Jacob’s bike’s defense. “He still has the bike, and it’s beautiful.”

Her mother chuckled.

“Second of all.” She ticked off a finger. “I don’t know. He’s going back to Montana.”

“Hmm.” Her mother hummed before she clucked her tongue. “I see.”

Sure, she’d known him for years, but they had been out of touch for longer than they were in touch. Was there an undeniable attraction between them? Yes, but the man could already have an Ol’ Lady at home.

One percenters, or bikers in general, weren’t known for their fidelity. Plus, wasn’t there some sort of zip code rule or something? He’d never really told her about the girls he dated when they were younger, so there was no reason for him to be upfront about it now. Besides, it’s not like she’d painted herself as all that faithful to him either.

Yet he’d taken a bullet for her. He’d traded punches and got shot to protect her. He’d put her before his club. That wasn’t something to take lightly.

“Do you know what drew me to your father?” Dixie asked, breaking into Sparrow’s thoughts.

Peering at her mother, she was intrigued. Her mother hadn’t spoken of her father much since he’d died. Usually, only in drunken ramblings blaming him for her fall from grace. It wasn’t like that man died on purpose. Given the choice, she was certain her father would’ve chosen life.

When Sparrow didn’t answer, Dixie continued. “He went for what he wanted. No questions asked, he took it, and that was me. He just wanted me, he didn’t want anyone else to have me, either. From the moment he laid eyes on me in the clubhouse, I was his. Nothing else mattered to him.”

She’d heard about their instant attraction to one another at family parties when they were together. It was their favorite story. She’d been playing pool with someone else, and her dad butted in on the game, ran the table, and they were together ever since. He’d kicked the shit out of anyone who’d looked at her mother twice. She was hands-off.

In the biker world, it was as close to a fairy tale as she’d heard. And in true fairy tale form, they did have a happily ever after of sorts. They did for a lot of years. Anything more than ten years is a happily ever after in Sparrow’s book.

“You think Jacob is like Dad?” she asked.

Her mother chuckled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He has it bad, and so do you. I don’t think he’s going to Montana, and if he is, he isn’t going alone.”

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