Page 120 of Saving Sparrow
We turned down two more hallways before entering a workout space. There were a few sets of dumbbells on a rack against the wall right next to a tower of resistance bands. A jump rope dangled from a hook beside them. Padded flooring overtook the other side of the room.
I stepped into his simple and unpretentious world, feeling oddly privileged to be here.
“It’s been weeks since I worked out.” More than a month, actually. Hard to believe I’d been his prisoner for that long, although prisoner hadn’t felt like the right word lately. “I’m not sure how much I can do.” There were still a few aches the painkillers hadn’t numbed.
“You need to stretch,” Sparrow said, heading for the padded area.
“I’ve been stretching a little this week, but it never feels like enough,” I admitted.
“You need assistance.” Sparrow knelt on the floor, pointing to the scuffed spot in front of him.
Was he… Did he plan onstretchingme? That couldn’t be the plan. He’d have totouchme.
“I probably just need to do it a little longer.” I gave a nervous chuckle. “Stretching is the one thing I’ve never been patient with.”
“I can get deeper and help you into positions you can’t get into, or hold, on your own.” He pointed to the mat again. “On your stomach.”
With a sigh and a grimace, I lowered onto my stomach. I turned my head away from him, too anxious to look at him while he worked, too afraid of him seeing my reaction to him touching me with anything but violence.
Joshua had held my hand many times, and we’d sat on the raft together, but Joshua wasn’t Sparrow. Sure, Sparrow had held my arm to him after returning to find himself wedged into the raft with me, but he’d been disoriented after the switch, shocked to find himself on top of thehill. He’d grabbed onto my forearm out of reflex… hadn’t he? He’d be deliberately touching me now.
Would it hurt? And not because stretching sometimes hurts, but because he’d betryingto cause me pain? I was scared to find out. I was even more afraid to find out his touch could be gentle, caring, healing. Because what would I do with that? What would my heart and my mind do with it?
Minutes ticked by, and he hadn’t made a move or given me any further instructions. Were similar questions running through his head?
“We don’t have to do this,” I said, my eyes on the archway. Sparrow laid his trembling fingertips on my arm.
“I’m going to angle your forearm so it rests across the middle of your back. Then I’m going to press your right shoulder into the mat. Tell me if it hurts.” He seemed equally nervous about causing me pain. I realized any pain I did feel wouldn’t be intentional, and I could live with that.
“It’s going to hurt,” I said, “because it’s supposed to, not because you’re hurting me.” My body relaxed as soon as the words were out, giving Sparrow permission to relax too. He gripped my arm properly, fingers steady.
I groaned as he maneuvered me into position, and he let go. “No, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it did—I mean…” I pushed onto my forearms, turning toward his wide eyes. “It felt good.” I smiled, lowering onto my stomach and straightening my arms at my sides. This time I kept my head his way, but I closed my eyes.
Sparrow eventually started again, and I made an effort to keep quiet as he worked. He stretched my arms, shoulders, legs, and even my fingers. I didn’t make a peep when the seemingly hour-long stretch shifted to a massage, when he kneaded my hamstrings and calf muscles, then rolled me onto my back to tackle my quads. Sparrow took his time, spending an excessive amount of it on each area, more than the few minutes I’d dedicated to it over the past few mornings.
I cracked an eye open, watching deep concentration play out on his face. His hands were no longer uncertain; they prodded and moved along my body with professional efficiency.
“Where did you learn all this?”
Sparrow’s hands stilled as his gaze flicked to mine, and with a sigh he went back to his task. “My mother,” he said a moment later. “It was sometimes hard to move after recuperating in bed for so long.” His hands stalled for a brief moment again, and I wondered if he’d understood the irony in our roles right then.
“On your stomach again.” He moved over to the left side of my body now. I rolled over, groaning.
“That was a good groan,” I blurted, settling in and closing my eyes.
I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until something crawled over my hair. I woke up with a start, the creepy-crawly sensation taking me back to my childhood.
Scrambling into a seated position, I batted at my hair, but nothing fell from the strands. Everything came back to me then, where I was, who I was with, and why I’d fallen asleep in the first place.
I shoved my hair back, finding Sparrow still kneeling near me. His fingers gripped the tops of his thighs, a strange expression on his face.
“Sorry. I must have been dreaming about… never mind.” I rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my palms before stretching my arms over my head. Nothing cracked or pulled. “Wow.” I moved my neck from side to side. “I feel a million times better. Thank you.”
Sparrow nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. It never failed to take me by surprise when he made the simplest, normal gestures.
I cleared my throat, looking away when he arched a brow. I’d been staring at him for too long. “How long have I been napping?”
Sparrow snorted, and I whipped my head up.
