Page 37 of Saving Sparrow
“Do you ever wonder where she is?” Miguel asked. “Your mom.”
“All the time,” I admitted before launching into my childhood fantasy. “She’s somewhere off the grid where he can never fucking find her. She’s happy wherever she is. She’s found someone who loves her and treats her right. Like she deserves.”
My father never got over my mother. When he couldn’t find her, he decided to try to mold someone else into her. It didn’t work, though, and Gabriela paid for it.
“I didn’t protect her. I didn’t protect either of them. What if that makes me just like him?” The thought made me sick. I sank my fingers into Miguel’s hair, holding tight when a feeling I didn’t understand began tearing at my heart.
“It doesn’t,” he said, sounding angry. “You’re nothing like him. I’d never let you be.”
“I’m obsessed with you,” I pointed out.
“In a good way,” he countered. “And it goes both ways with us.” His hand was in my hair now, his touch gentler than mine.
“I don’t like you out of my sight. I’m a raging asshole during the school year. Dangerous on the field because I just want to scale the fucking bleachers to get back to you.”
“You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”
I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead tighter against his, wishing I could climb into his skin. “I hate that his blood runs through my veins, but what I hate even more is that I understand how he felt about my mother.” I’d never said that out loud before. “I’d take the whole world down if anyone tried to break you and me apart.”
“You’re nothing like him,” he repeated, like he knew I needed to hear it again. “And I can’t live without you either.”
“Fucking promise me, Guelly.”Promise me both things.
“I swear it. You’re the best person I know, Quentin. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the poster child for sanity when I’m not with you.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” I said in that cocky tone that never failed to get an eye roll from him.
My father didn’t understand our relationship. No one did. We’d been called into the school counselor’s office too many times to count, dating back to elementary school. We didn’t just not play well with others; werefusedto play with others, and I’d gotten into more than one fistfight because some moron thought it was wise to call him a nerd. We didn’t need anything but each other, and it only got worse with age.
I thought about Elliott then. He was the exception to the rule, because of course there always had to be one. I’d never seen Miguel interested in anyone other than me before, but once I’d gotten over my initial jealousy, I realized he’d been right. I was interested in Elliott too.
Elliott was different from anyone I’d ever come across before, and he didn’t feel like a threat to what I had with Miguel. If anything, he felt like a missing part of it. Elliott brought out my protective instincts, ones usually reserved for only Miguel. It didn’t help that Amelia reminded me of my father, nor that Elliott reminded me of my mother and Gabriela. Sweet and afraid.
I was pulled from my thoughts when I realized how quiet Miguel was. He hadn’t called me out for my cocky reply or said anything meant to “humble” me. His eyes were watery when I pulled back to look at him.
“You’re such a crybaby,” I whispered, running my calloused fingertips over his sun-kissed cheek.
He smiled at my running joke. “You love that about me.”
“Damn straight. I get to be the one to make you feel better. My ego loves it. There he goes,” I said when he rolled his eyes.
Miguel blinked his tears away, hesitating before asking, “What if he didn’t do it?”
I shook my head, not wanting that thought to sink in. “He did it. She wouldn’t have left us.”
He nodded, letting me pull him on top of me for a hug.
“I feel like hunting him down right now,” I growled, squeezing him tighter.
“Don’t,” he wheezed, and I loosened my hold. “I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail.”
“Can you imagine how hot my mugshot would be? I’d be the new jail-bae.” I wiggled my brows when he lifted his head to look at me.
“Not funny.” He held out for a few seconds, then smiled, making me feel accomplished for the day. Well, almost.
“What is it?” he asked when I frowned.
“Elliott.” I didn’t have to say any more. The expression on Miguel’s face said he understood.
