Page 97 of Saving Sparrow
I’d kissed away his whispered apologies after, was too used and exhausted to get out of bed the next morning, and I wore his bruises for days. He was sorry for more than the way he handled me. We both knew it, but were too afraid to deal with it right then.
Thank goodness Elliott hadn’t returned that night. Seeing us the way we were would’ve added to his nightmares.
“Is that when things changed between the three of you? After that night?”
“Things changed,” I said, thinking back to the serious talk Elliott had with us the next day. “But not in the way you think.”
Sparrow waited for me to expand on that, his frown deepening the longer he waited.
“That’s enough for one day.” I took a page out of his playbook. I wanted to get to know him on a more personal level before giving him more. How I planned on doing that, I didn’t know yet. Clearly frustrated, he stood, grabbing his plate.
“I’ll do it.” I pushed up, chair legs scraping along the uneven wooden floor. I snatched his plate before he could argue, piling mine on top of it, utensils too.
Dumping the dishes in the sink, I turned the faucet on. The pipes groaned before water gushed through. I could feel Sparrow approaching. Having him at my back unnerved me, raising the hairs along my nape.
Through the window’s reflection, I watched Sparrow watch me from the archway. His eyes, framed by thick lashes, speared into me. He looked striking and mean.
I busied myself with the dishes, choosing to believe he wouldn’t attack me. Sparrow expelled a long breath, and I held mine as I added more soap to the sponge.
“The sponge goes on the right side of the sink when you’re done. The scouring pad face down. Use the dish towel to dry the perimeter of the sink and counter, then hang it over the stove’s handle to dry. Make sure it hangs in the center, with the care label facing the oven door.”
I peeked at him in the reflection again. He flexed his fingers as though he were fighting the urge to take over cleanup duty.
“Okay,” I said gently.
Sparrow’s gaze moved to the window, our eyes meeting. His anxious hand movements stopped, his lips tightening. He remained there, observing me, as if maybe he wanted to be sure I got things right.
I turned to him, hesitating. “Why don’t you wait for me at the table? I’ll make us some cafecito when I’m done. I like having my coffeeafterbreakfast.”
“Are you telling me what to do?” Thirty minutes ago, the curt question and stern expression would’ve made me shrink away. Now it made me smile on the inside. Maybe it was the food stain on his collar that I hadn’t noticed until then. The one he surely hadn’t noticed at all. The tiny flaw made him appear less threatening.
“No,” I said, my voice light. “I’d just really like to have a cup of coffee with you. And… I’m not ready to give up your company just yet. It can get lonely here.”
Sparrow seemed flustered by my honesty, by the idea I’d willingly want to be around him. He opened his mouth to say something, but nodded awkwardly before returning to the dining room. I got the coffee going, then hurried to straighten up before carrying our hot mugs to the table.
I’d taken three sips to his none, smiling behind the rim of my mug when he eyed the archway. “Go ahead, inspect my handiwork.”
Sparrow narrowed his eyes at me. He couldn’t resist the urge to check the kitchen, though. He didn’t look at me when he came back, likely not wanting to give me the satisfaction of knowing I’d followed his instructions perfectly.
He brought his mug to his lips, taking an almost shy sip. He set the coffee down, drumming his fingers against the porcelain before brushing something unseen off his shirt sleeve. Sparrow straightened his spine before taking another tentative sip.
We typically shared space with one another for the sole purpose of gaining information. Whether it be over dinner, breakfast, last night in the living room, or any number of the violent altercations that took place in the bedroom he kept me in.
But now we sat in silence simply for the sake of enjoying each other’s company, or at least I did. The experience seemed to make him uncomfortable.
“If you’re done, I’ll wash our cups,” he said stiffly. I wasn’t even halfway through mine, and he hadn’t taken more than two sips of his own coffee.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, not wanting the vein protruding down the center of his forehead to burst. He stood faster this time, making me think I’d imagined the pain I thought he’d been in when he first sat down this morning.
I followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the wall as his body jerked with the aggressive way he soaped up our mugs. How hard had it been for him to let me clean up after breakfast? Whatever it took for him to allow that, he seemed to be paying for it now.
“What are your plans for the day?” I asked as he finished up, drying the sink and making sure the dish towel was fixed according to his standards.
“Why?” He turned his ever-vigilant gaze on me.
“Just making conversation.”
“By wanting to know my every move?” He took a menacing step in my direction. “What are you up to?”
