Page 99 of Saving Sparrow
“If you try to run, the—”
“Cold and the dark will kill me. I’m not running. I promise.”
“Should your promises mean something to me?” He hadn’t said it unkindly. Sparrow had a right to feel unsure of my intentions, just as I had a right to be unsure of his. I was working on believing him when he said the gun holstered at his side wasn’t for me, though. I hoped he was working on believing he’d never need to use it on me.
“There are worse things out there than me,”he’d said when I’d asked him why he needed it.
“But the house is gated in.”
“The interior isn’t the only thing in need of repairs, Miguel.”He’d called me by my first name. He’d said it in exasperation, but still…
I tackled the porch steps while Sparrow handled everywhere else. My movements were slow, my body twinging in certain places, and more than once I’d had to pause to breathe through a muscle spasm. Shoveling was hard work, I realized, especially when doing it while not fully recovered from multiple beatings.
“You’re in pain.” Sparrow’s voice startled me with how close it was. I’d been so consumed with the tightness in my lower back that I hadn’t heard the snow blower cut off across the huge yard. I spun around, hissing when the sudden move made a lightning bolt of pain shoot up my back.
“I’m fine.”
“We’ll finish the rest tomorrow.” He relieved me of my shovel.
“But today is Wednesday.” I snatched it back. I wasn’t sure what tomorrow’s agenda involved, but I knew he wouldn’t deviate from it.Which meant he’d dupe me into going inside, then sneak back out and finish plowing by himself.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, even while my heart warmed at his concern. I turned away from his scowl, picking up where I’d left off.
The brutal wind tore at my hood while the cold gnawed its way through my layers. Now and then, I stopped to stare into the distance, searching for the very bad things Sparrow spoke of. A part of me wondered if it was his paranoia that made him arm himself, his need to protect the people he carried within himself. Another part of me wondered if he’d also protect me if it came down to it.
The twilight sky turned pure black by the time we’d finished, and the numbness that had spread through my body gave the illusion of no more aches and pains. I stared at the large mountains of plowed snow sparkling under the storm lights, feeling accomplished.
Once inside, I removed my boots on top of the mat Sparrow had set down earlier, then hung my coat in the closet. I hobbled toward the stairs as Sparrow locked us inside. I felt his eyes on me as I climbed each step, depending on the creaky banister to keep me on my feet. Sparrow made no move to help me, but it strangely meant a lot that he’d watched until I’d made it to the top.
My room was dark and cold. The patchwork blanket still covered the window, but instead of flames, ash filled the hearth of the fireplace.
In the bathroom, I turned the shower water to hot, taking another dose of medicine while waiting for the steam to warm up the space.
Stripping in slow, pain-filled increments before stepping into the tub, I grimaced when the water pummeled my aching bones. I let it beat down on my spine, massaging my stiff lower back as I bore the stinging pain along the still-raw skin on my elbows. I didn’t leave the shower until all sensation had returned to my limbs.
Firewood had been stacked high inside the hearth, the bright flames flickering wildly, calling me over to it for more warmth, but Sparrow appearing in the open doorway snagged my attention instead. He watched me with that blank expression again, his gaze trailing down my bare chest.
As crazy as it was, his inspection made me self-conscious. He’d cleaned my battered body for weeks, changed my bedpan, nursed me back to lifeafter being the one to lay me at death’s door. That had been out of my control, though.
Now I stood in front of him on my own two feet, feeling a little less like a prisoner and more like a man. Yet, I wasn’t at my best. I didn’tlookmy best. I held tightly to the towel around my hips.
He held two items in his hands.
“What’s that?” I asked, hoping to shake his gaze off my body. Even without being able to read him right then, his stare didn’t feel clinical or evil or cunning like before. It almost felt like seeing me like this hurt him. Or maybe I’d misread his hard swallow when his eyes landed on my bruised ribs.
Sparrow’s stare rose at my question, but he didn’t answer it. Holding eye contact with him made me feel even more exposed than having his stare on my body. I looked around for my duffel bag, needing to cover myself up. It was on the other side of the bed, the side closest to him. I was relatively shadowed where I stood, although it seemed it wasn’t enough to hide from him. Crossing over to the other side of the room would’ve put me in the glow of the firelight and the bedside lamp. I stayed put, dealing with my embarrassment as best I could.
Sparrow set the items on the nightstand before turning for the hall again. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, the way he tended to sometimes. It might have been silly of me, but I’d come to take it as a sign he cared. At least enough to hear out my final thoughts, my pleas, my burning questions.
“I don’t always look like this,” I whispered, unsure why I felt the need to say it. I mean, he’d seen me when I arrived, so he already knew. What did it matter to him anyway? But it occurred to me that with my every thought consumed by Elliott in some way, I hadn’t taken the time to grapple with what I’d lost during this ordeal. My pride. My dignity. My confidence… They’d been beaten out of me.
Truthfully, I couldn’t put that all on Sparrow. Much of that had been lost months ago, when one tragic night robbed me of everything that mattered most. I’d honestly come here thinking I lacked all three things completely, but Sparrow made me understand there had been much more to lose. And still, I didn’t hate him for it. I felt nothing but compassion for him. For them all.
Sparrow left without a word, the door clicking shut but not locking. I exhaled as I ambled over to the nightstand.
“Pain balm,” I whispered, reading the label on the tub of cream. Unscrewing the lid, I sniffed the minty salve. The relaxing, tingly sensation it caused spread through my nostrils to every internal part of my body.
I smeared a good amount everywhere, feeling it heat and burn in the best way. The prescription pill bottle was almost empty, the label peeling off. I popped one of the strong painkillers into my mouth, swallowing it dry.
