Page 198 of Saving Sparrow
We became concerned about spanking Elliott once we’d started therapy, wondering if the need came unknowingly from Abraham. He said it didn’t, and Dr. Mercer told us not to worry. So long as the self-flagellation aspect remained absent, and we were being safe, she didn’t see any harm in continuing.
The Good One hadn’t made any significant appearances. Once, while working through an amnesic barrier break, he’d taken on her southern accent. But it was still him sitting on Dr. Mercer’s couch, gazing wide-eyed at us as he gained the memory of his parents’ death.
He seemed to have taken on her nurturing side, though. I went over to his worktable, picking up the set of sleeping babies. “What inspired the new carvings?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. It just… felt right.”
“That’s all that matters.” I tugged on the end of his braid. “Come back to bed with us for a little while. I want to hold you.”
Elliott bit his lip, looking over his shoulder at the rain.
“Go on.” I laughed. “I’ll grab you a towel.”
He dashed out into the rain, spinning with his face to the gloomy sky. He was beautiful, playful, and free. All the things he never got to bebefore.
His white nightgown clung to his body, revealing the scars on his back. I could still remember the blood-curdling scream that tore through him the night he woke up with the extraction ritual memories. He hadn’t spoken for days afterward, and both Dr. Mercer and his psychiatrist were forced to make a house call. We got through that like we’d gotten through everything else.Together.
The only other time I’d seen him that despondent was when I went into great detail about my time with Sparrow during one of our earlier sessions. Elliott found it hard to forgive himself for what his gatekeeper did to me. He also had a tough time shaking his insecure feelings about no longer being enough for me.
“Are you… Are you in love with Sparrow?”
“I’m in love withallof you, Ellie. But you, the man standing in front of me now, are who I want to spend the rest of my life with. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
The guilt and insecurity ended once he fully merged with Sparrow.
“I’m sorry he hurt you, but he thought he was doing the right thing. And by the end, he loved you. I hold his love for you now, and I hold him. Thank you for not hating him. Thank you for loving all of me.”
I shook my head to clear it, hurrying through the mudroom and into our linen closet for a couple of towels. Elliot had already stripped himself naked and was wringing his hair dry in the garage when I returned. Thank goodness we were surrounded by woods.
“Quentin will kill me if you get sick,” I said, helping him dry off.
“He worries too much.”
“Yeah, well, that protective instinct never fully goes away.” It took Quentin a long time to forgive himself, and I still wasn’t convinced he’d done so completely. Soon after we brought him home, he had a panic room put into our bedroom and cameras installed everywhere, inside and outside of the house. He’d purchased more firearms, too.
“Give it time,”Dr. Mercer had said.
We gave him all the time he needed. Now he mostly fussed over us getting sick or Elliott forgetting to charge his phone, and there was no longer a gun in every room.
For my part, I no longer slept with the bedroom door ajar or needed to wake Elliott up in the middle of the night to be sure he was still himself.
I removed my robe, holding it out for Elliott. I tied the sash as he offered a new proposal.
“How about I make us breakfast? That way, we’ll have enough fuel to fuck until at least lunchtime. Quentin should be waking up soon anyway.”
“Sure.” I grinned, dropping a chaste kiss on his lips. Elliott had gone from not being able to boil an egg to cooking twelve-course meals literally overnight.
We split up once we entered the house. Down the hall, Quentin’s rumbly morning voice drifted through the bedroom door.
“Alright, Mom, talk to you later.” He set his phone on the nightstand as I entered the bedroom.
“How’s my mother-in-law?” I leaned against the doorjamb, watching my sleep-rumpled husband. He was still reclined against his pillows, covered from the waist down.
“Good. She misses you both.”
“We miss her too.” Elliott and I didn’t have moms, so we clung to the love and attention we got from Quentin’s mother. She’d come to stay with us for a while during the start of our recovery, mothering us back to life. She’d even attended therapy sessions with Quentin, mending any unresolved issues they had.
Quentin’s phone rang again, but he silenced it after noting the caller.
