Page 128 of Saving Sparrow
My ribs were still a little tender the next day, but I woke up feeling better than I had in weeks. I no longer had to think twice before bending down or worry that my neck would snap if I turned my head too fast. I was eager to get in a light workout and another stretch, so I headed for Sparrow’s workout room.
I kept my focus straight ahead, ignoring the rooms along the hallway as I headed for the stairs. Every night I promised myself I’d unlock the door to a room I hadn’t gone in yet, and every night—after spending time with Sparrow—I broke that promise. He trusted me more and more every day, and I didn’t want to risk a setback by getting caught with the spare key.
There was also a part of me that didn’t want to unearth all of Sparrow and Elliott’s truths on my own. I enjoyed it when he revealed them to me himself. The small spoon-feedings of information gave me a sense of worth. Like I’d made him feel safe and seen enough to share them with me, like I’d earned those parts of him. I wanted to earn the rest, not sneak around like a sleuth behind his back.
But what if it took forever doing things the patient way, the way that felt good? I couldn’t stay here forever.Wecouldn’t stay here forever. Or could we?
I thought back to the picture of me, Quentin, and Elliott. The one I kept under my pillow. The one I looked at every night before bed and first thing in the morning. Even sometimes in the middle of the night. No, we couldn’t stay here forever. We had to get home.
I almost stumbled over my own feet when I entered the workout room to find Sparrow waking up on a pallet in the corner. I wasn’t sure what surprised me more—that I’d woken up before him for once, or that he slept on the floor.
There wasn’t a fireplace in here, and I stood there gaping as he appeared from beneath the bundles of blankets covering him. He hadn’t spotted me at first, but his gaze darkened the moment he did.
“Yousleepin here?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound judgy. “I mean… I just meant…whydo you sleep in here?”
“Because you showed up at my door unannounced, and nowyousleep inmybedroom,” he said in annoyance, sleep making his voice deeper than usual.
“But there are other rooms.” The house was huge. I stepped closer to the padded area he lay on.
“None that I want to sleep in.”
I was sure there were reasons for that, but it slipped my mind to ask as I took him in. Loose strands of hair stuck up all over his head, and the end of his braid hung over one shoulder. The skin along his cheeks and neck was rosy from sleep, and I knew if I touched it, he’d be warm. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Instead of bristling at the way I watched him, he grew bored—likely used to it by now. Sparrow ditched his hard glare to focus on waking up fully. He shoved the quilts away, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head, then rubbed at his eyes.
“What?” he asked, frowning and subtly checking the corners of his mouth for drool.
“Nothing, you’re just… so normal sometimes.”
He dropped his hands to his lap, adopting his signature vacant stare.
“What are you thinking when you look at me like that?” I whispered.
“Like what?”
“Like… like you’re not thinking anything at all. Like you’re frozen or hiding.” I thought for sure that last part would reignite his grumpiness. Maybe I hoped it would. Anything was better than his aloofness.
It took him a while to respond, and even when he did, his tone and stare remained the same.
“It depends.”
“On what? What are you thinking now?”
Sparrow stood in one fluid motion, meeting me at eye level. Did he plan on answering me? Or would he leave me dying to know?
Please answer me.
I must have said that out loud because his eyes softened a touch.
“I don’t want you to know how much I liked hearing you call me normal.”
We were no more than a couple of feet away from each other now, with only the mountain of blankets keeping us apart. I could feel the heat of his sleep-warmed skin calling out to me. My fingertips twitched at my sides.
“Why? Why don’t you want me to know that?”
“Because being vulnerable feels too much like being weak.”
“You feel vulnerable when you’re nice to me, but I like it. Being kind doesn’t make you weak.”I’d said that to him in this very room last night.
