Page 103 of Saving Sparrow
“Do you come out here often to watch them?”
“Never,” he replied.
“Why not?”
His blue eyes shone like beacons, eclipsing the beauty of the lights above us. “Why would I?”
“Because it’s a natural phenomenon that can’t be experienced everywhere, yet it’s literally taking place right here, all around you. Because it’s beautiful, and life can be cruel sometimes. You have to grab beauty wherever you can find it.”
“I’m not like you, Miguel. We serve two different purposes. I don’t have time for things like this.” His purpose was to be vigilant and fierce, to stand guard and protect the realm, like Demian. But what if he could do both? What if he just needed someone to show him how?
“Do you have cardboard? Big enough for us to sit on? Or trash can lids? Humor me,” I drawled when he raised a skeptical brow.
Sparrow looked back at the front door as if deciding if he’d drag me inside.
“Give me ten minutes,” I pleaded. “Then you can lock us inside again.”
He exhaled, the cold air clouding in front of him. “There’s a shed behind the house. There may be something in there.” He strode off, and I followed, snow crunching under our boots.
The mounted storm lights came to life, beaming over the property and providing even more visibility to navigate in the dark.
The shed may have been at the back of the house, but the back of the house went on for what seemed like miles, the shed a tiny speck in the distance. My bones felt frozen by the time we got there, but I didn’t complain.
Sparrow pulled his ring of keys from his pocket, unlocking the shed door before shouldering it open and flicking on the light. Lawnmowers, a leaf blower, shovels, rakes, and other miscellaneous items were neatly arranged throughout. His tidiness even extended to a run-down shed.
I lifted the lids on bins, rummaged through stacks of rope and crates filled with saws and other tools. It was a handyman’s dream come true.
“Why are these here?” I asked, pulling two small deflated water rafts from a bin.
“There’s a pond on the property, although these have never been used.”
“Was all this stuff here already?” I looked around again. “When you got back?”
“Yes.”
It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t know how he could afford to take care of himself and the others. Elliott had given Amelia all his money, yet Sparrow kept the lights on and food in the house. He had access to Elliott’s debit and credit cards, but there’d never been any activity on them. I’d never canceled them, just in case. Any transactions that might have come through could’ve led me to him. He’d probably used whatever cash had been in Elliott’s wallet to catch a train or bus here—because he hadn’t boarded a plane—but what then? Maybe there’d been a hidden safe in the house stuffed with cash or items to pawn? I’d have to think about that later. Sparrow looked seconds away from putting an end to our little field trip.
“Do you have something that can inflate them?” I re-focused on the rafts.
“Why would you need to inflate them? The pond’s frozen.”
I gave him a look that begged him not to make things hard for me. He returned it with a dark one of his own.
“Please,” I said. Sparrow grumbled but maneuvered to the rear of the large shed, pulling a battery-powered pump from a drawer there.
I inflated the first raft, then tossed it outside to make room to inflate the other. “Follow me,” I said once done, “and no complaining.”
“Stop telling me what to do.”
“That counts as complaining,” I called back.
The property resided on a slope, making my idea so much easier. I climbed to the highest end, setting both rafts down and looking over at Sparrow. “Get on,” I panted, out of breath. Carrying two rafts up a hill in my condition had been a challenge.
“No. Now let’s go back inside.”
“How about you give your fear the middle finger, and then get on the raft?”
“Excuseme?”
