Page 86 of Saving Sparrow
“Then what?”
“One day, they thought they weren’t being watched. But they werealwaysbeing watched.” He said it as though he wanted to shake Elliott for being careless, or maybe he saw himself as the careless one.
“They kissed,” I said, clicking some of the pieces into place on my own. “Elliott told us that part. He said the kiss ruined everything.” I waited for Sparrow to pick the story back up, but he allowed the silence to thicken. My heart beat a staccato rhythm, my anxiety building at the idea that he might leave me hanging.
“How did Gideon die?” I prompted, realizing my slip as soon as the words left my mouth. When Sparrow didn’t unleash his rage on me, I assumed he believed Elliott had told me, and not that I’d been snooping around in the attic.
Sparrow slowly looked over at me, the flames casting light over his weariness. “He killed himself. His death tore the community apart; many members had already begun losing faith beforehand. Everyone scattered,”—His voice dropped an octave—“and then we moved here.” He said it as if moving here had been the true tragedy.
“They made Elliott think their inability to produce more children was his fault. That the devil had poisoned our mother’s womb. Thathehad poisoned her. Toward the end, it became more about containing the devil inside Elliott rather than casting out the demons.”
“Toward the end of what?” I wasn’t sure how I could even speak at this point. I rounded the chair, taking the seat I should’ve taken when Sparrow offered it.
He ignored that question, instead answering the one that started this. “I have his memories. At least his earlier ones,” he amended, confirming my suspicion that he didn’t have any memories of me and Quentin beingin Elliott’s life. If he did, we wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have needed to prove my love for Elliott, to prove I didn’t try to hurt him.
“There’s some level of awareness when someone else is at the front, but I can’t communicate with them or see what they’re seeing in the moment.”
So, he’d lied when he said he should have known what Joshua and I spoke about. I understood enough about Sparrow to know he hadn’t wanted to reveal another weakness or the system’s limitations. But he was telling me now, and that gave me hope.
“So how do you know when to step in?”
“It’s more of a feeling.”
“Like with Joshua?” I asked.
“Yes.” He’d said he felt his panic. So that part had been true. “If they’re anxious, if their heart rate elevates to beyond what’s normal for them, I feel it. Like an urgent tug.”
“And Elliott isn’t aware ofanyof this?” I knew amnesia was a symptom of dissociation, but there were several other factors that Elliott’s unawareness could’ve been attributed to. The variables seemed to be endless.
“No,” Sparrow answered, “and that’s enough for one night.” He headed for the foyer, and I pushed to my feet.
“What happened to make you go away?”
He kept walking, heading for the hall to the right of the staircase. I followed, shouting my next question.
“Where did you go?!”
Being uninjured, he was able to move faster than I could. I did my best to keep up.
“Why did you leave him?!”
“Because I was tired!” He wheeled around, and his eyes were filled with more emotion than I’d ever seen from him. Guilt, sadness, rage, fear…
“You’re tired now,” I whispered. All systems eventually break down when they’re overloaded. Was Sparrow on the verge of a break? The possibility didn’t excite me because my husband was inside there. If Sparrow broke, would Elliott break too? Would I lose them both?
“I’m protecting him,” Sparrow whispered, as if guessing where my thoughts had gone.
I shuffled closer, drawn to him, drawn to the pain in his gaze. My blood roared through my veins, warning me to retreat. I lifted a hand with the intention of brushing a strand of hair away from his face.
Sparrow grabbed my wrist. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed, shoving my hand away. I swallowed, stepping in even closer and daring to reach for him again. This time, he breathed harder, murder flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t stop me.
His skin was soft, smooth, and delicate like Elliott’s, and warm too. Sparrow flushed, the second time I’d seen him do it.
“Why do you think you were gone for all those years?” I asked, resisting the need to hug him. I settled for smiling softly instead.
Sparrow averted his gaze. “Maybe because he didn’t want me anymore.” There was bitterness in his tone, perhaps even jealousy, and definitely untruth.
“I think it was because you knew he was safe.”
