Page 35 of Saving Sparrow
Hurrying over to the door, I unraveled the paperclip before snapping it in half. I had no clue what I was doing, but I poked and twisted until I found a lever, applying tension to it while I pushed it around with the other end of the clip.
My clammy fingers kept slipping on the clip, and I had to dry my hands on my sweats and start over several times. Twenty minutes later,the latch clicked, and fear consumed me as I thought about what Sparrow would do when he found out.
The child’s whimper sounded again, and I didn’t let myself think twice about jumping into action.
After peering down the long hallway and seeing no signs of Sparrow, I dragged myself across the hall and lowered in front of the door. All I could see through the skeleton keyhole was a wall on the other side of the room. I could hear the child’s distressed whine, though.
“I’m coming,” I whispered close to the keyhole, peering down the hall again before getting a good hold on the broken paperclip.
Please let this work, I thought, because what were the chances that lightning would strike twice in one night?
I worked, glancing down the dim hallway every time the flickering light made a buzzing sound. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, like any second Sparrow would reach the top of the stairs and spot me. Would he even bother with a beating this time? Or would he fire a round at my head?
“Help,” the child cried, and for the first time I considered that Sparrow might be in there with him. It didn’t matter. I pushed and twisted, swiping the sweat from my brow before pushing and twisting again. The lock wouldn’t budge.
My throat tickled, and I coughed as quietly as I could into my shoulder before attacking the lock again. I’d just made up my mind to go hunt down a hammer, or anything that would get me inside this room, when the latch clicked.
I shoved the door open, entering before fully getting to my feet. What I found sent me staggering back into the hall, bracing a hand on the wall.
“You gave me your room,”I’d said to Sparrow.“Why?”
“The other bedrooms are all spoken for.”
Swallowing, I turned my gaze from the many closed doors along the hallway, tentatively stepping back into the fire engine-themed nursery.
My shocked stare dropped to the childlike figure sitting on the floor in front of a crib. He smiled when he saw me, cheeks dry. I looked at the two action figures he held, locked in battle. He’d been playing pretend.
He abandoned them, reaching for the broken pieces of a toy fire truck. He held it out to me, his blue gaze begging me to fix it. He even wore a matching pajama set.
When I’d said Sparrow wastheirprotector, I’d meant his own protector and Elliott’s. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected this. I should have, but I didn’t.
My heart fractured further for the man holding me captive, for the heavy burden he carried on his shoulders. I sat on the floor in front of Sparrow—if that was the name this alter went by—and vowed that I would fix things. That I would fulfill his silent request to make everything better.
Quentin
Then
Miguel squirmed out of my arms, waking me. “Where do you think you’re going?” I yanked him into my chest, nuzzling into the sweaty hair at his nape.
“You’re hot,” he complained.
“I know,” I sighed. It wasn’t easy being me.
Miguel snorted. “Not that kind of hot, you idiot. I’m burning up.”
I held on tighter when he tried wriggling free.
“Ow.” He winced, batting my hand away from his hip.
I pushed up onto my elbow, lifting his T-shirt. My fingerprints were bruised into his skin. “I’m sorry,” I breathed.
He shifted onto his back, pushing my hair away from my forehead. “Sorry for what?”
“Sorry for needing you so much.” I’d held on to him all night, and when the dreams of losing him made me panic in my sleep, I’d held on tighter.
“Don’t look so sad. I didn’t mind. I like how you hold me like you hold your football.”
“What, like in the center? Using my fingers to create spin?” I curled my fingers in demonstration.
