Page 32 of Saving Sparrow
Quentin slammed the door again, leaning against it, anger pouring from every inch of him. He panted, staring at me, eyes blazing. I removed my glasses, setting them on the nightstand before drying my eyes. Seeing my stepfather never got easier, but the most painful part about it was being reminded that I was afraid, weak.
My tears made Quentin angrier, and he glanced at the door he leaned against like he was thinking about chasing Dylan down.
“Don’t. Please let’s just go to sleep.” I patted the space next to me.
Quentin came over, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He was too revved up for it. It had only been a sentiment anyway.
As always, I’d need to get him through this, through his chaotic emotions. But I didn’t mind. We both had our roles, and I took pride in playing mine. I took pride in dealing with the aftermath.
Miguel
Now
“We were too young to understand the dynamic we were creating,” I explained. Sparrow watched me with unnerving focus. “We just knew Elliott felt right. We wanted him in our lives.” I sighed, thinking about how innocent Quentin and I were, even though at the time we thought we had the world figured out. A world we rarely ever took part in. We were still young. All of us. But life made sure we were no longer innocent.
The pain pills I’d taken were wearing off. They weren’t strong enough to begin with, not like whatever Sparrow pumped through my veins.
I slumped on the couch a bit more, making it easier to breathe before continuing.
“Quentin and I thought we were building a friendship with Elliott, something we never had outside of ourselves.” I huffed, wincing from the stab of pain it caused in my ribcage.
“What did we know about the true meaning of friendship? Or at least one with actual boundaries. Our relationship was hardly healthy to begin with. We wanted someone to save, we wanted a purpose outside of ourselves, we wanted the feeling we got when Elliott was around, and even when he wasn’t.”
I tried to gauge if what I’d shared so far meant anything to Sparrow, if it changed his mind about me. I couldn’t spot anything soft in his gaze, though. Nothing that said he’d been moved.
He had to have cared for Elliott. He was the gatekeeper for a reason, and he only kept me alive because he wanted to know what Elliott’s life had been like. Or maybe he wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt,wanted to see if Quentin and Iweren’ttrying to hurt Elliott that night. I didn’t understand how he could possibly think we were, but I didn’t know what the scene looked like after I blacked out and Sparrow woke up. Maybe from his point of view, his actions were justified. Either way, he must care, otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.
“Elliott came along and reflected the pain we were feeling inside. He gave us something else to focus on, something else to fight, something else to fight for.” I shook my head before finding the words needed to simplify it.
“We were just three broken, codependent kids looking for a type of love no one could ever take from us. We had no boundaries, and before long, going too far didn’t seem far enough.”
I gazed into the fire, remembering the good and bad times, and not regretting any of them. Except for maybe one…
“We suffocated each other, and the high we got from that feltincredible. If only we could’ve figured out how to create a world that only the three of us existed in. Trouble came when the outside found its way in.”
I stopped there, waiting forsomethingfrom him. Sparrow kept his feelings heavily guarded behind a blank stare. After an eternity of silence, it became clear he wouldn’t be the one to break it.
“Say something.Please,” I begged.
“Let’s say I believed you—”
“I think you do,” I unwisely cut in. “Or, at the very least, you want to.” I wasn’t sure of either of those claims, but I hoped it would spark his passion, hoped it would get me some sort of meaningful reaction. I almost wanted him to hurt me again just to see himfeelsomething.
“Please.”Please be honest. Please give me something more than your contempt. Please give me my husband back.I didn’t verbalize those thoughts, but I didn’t keep them off my face either.
This time it was Sparrow who severed eye contact, and I exhaled a quiet, relieved breath. Something in my stare affected him. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be consequences for that.
He felt for the keys at his waist, stopping when he saw me notice. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him do that. Was the ring of keys an anchor for him? Did he feel secure with them close by his side? What else did they open?
Sparrow wore the same expression as the last time he’d had to admit he wanted something from me, when he’d ordered me to recount my history with Elliott. Anger and reluctance filled his gaze. I wondered whether the cool draft breaking through the heat of the flames came from the window or from him.
“Was he happy?” His tone indicated it cost him his pride to ask.
“Not always,” I admitted, a tidal wave of sadness building inside of me. “But that doesn’t meanwedidn’t make him happy.” Elliott’s demons lingered on the fringes of our happiness, sometimes threatening it. We were too blind, too caught up to see beyond our ownership of each other. Too stupid to understand love couldn’t fix everything.
“Do you miss him?” He seemed marginally less angry now.
“Yes,” I breathed, the word filled with a lifetime’s worth of desperation. “I miss the way you… I mean, I miss the way he—”
