Page 41 of Scythe & Sparrow
I close my palm around the handle. Rest my head against the door. My other hand is poised to knock. I can almost feel the tap of my skin against the wood.
I let out a long, slow breath, and uncurl my fingers from the lever one by one.
I return to my room. Stare at the ceiling in the dark.
And for the first time, I ask myself:
What would happen if I stopped trying so hard to be a different man?
SCRATCH
Rose
I hobble to the door in Rowan and Sloane’s wake as they head out onto the porch of Fionn’s house and turn to say goodbye. The sun illuminates the speckled black marks beneath Sloane’s eyes. The boot print in the center of her forehead is an angry stamp of purple. I wanna hunt down the motherfucker who hurt her and rekill him, whoever the hell he was. But despite her obviously painful injuries and her flighty vibes when she glances at the neighbors three doors down, I can tell. This woman ishappy. At least, as happy as she’ll let herself be. For now.
And her Shitflicker man-guy? He’s over the fuckin’moon. Hopelessly in love. Ready to get the hell out of here and look after his woman. So it’s no surprise that it’s Rowan who kicks off the departure.
“See you around, Rose,” he finally says. His wary gaze rakes over my face. I narrow my eyes at him, but I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling.
“I’m sure you will. Drive safe, Shitflicker.”
“Listen here, ya little banshee—”
“Rowan,” Sloane hisses as she wallops him in the stomach with her good arm. My grin begs to ignite.
“Shebeat mewith hercrutch, Blackbird.”
“And then you ate three helpings of her waffles this morning and single-handedly drained her maple syrup supply. I think you’ll survive, pretty boy.”
Rowan shrugs, but there’s a spark in his eyes as they slide to where Fionn stands just behind me. “I needed the calories. I had a busy night. Playingsports.” Rowan lets the innuendo linger like a barb before he cackles a laugh. A deep blush creeps across Sloane’s swollen cheeks. Satisfied, he drapes an arm across Sloane’s back before he presses a gentle kiss to her temple. “Come on, love. We’ve got a long drive ahead. Rose, it was good meeting you. Keep my little brother safe with that crutch, all right?”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, and with a nod, Rowan turns his gaze toward his brother, his expression softening.
Fionn steps around me, laying a hand on my arm to ensure I don’t wobble on my crutches as he passes close to me. He probably doesn’t notice the electric hum that travels beneath my skin in that momentary touch. I bet he doesn’t register the way I glance down just as his hand lifts away. For him, it probably wasn’t even a thought to touch me, just an action. A sleight of hand. A magic trick. So fast and so simple that I could have imagined it. But when I meet Sloane’s eyes, I know she saw it. There’s a spark in her bloodshot gaze. A little dimple peeks out at me next to her faint smile.
My gaze is still lingering on Sloane when Fionn says, “I’ll miss you, brother. Maybe next time you should come for a simple visit. No drama. No … shenanigans.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun at all,” Rowan replies as the two men clasp each other in a tight hug. When they separate, Rowan’s hand folds over the back of his brother’s neck, and they press their foreheads together. “Thank you for looking after my girl.”
Fionn nods, and with a final round of goodbyes, they head to their rental car. We’re alone once more. Just me and the doc. Standing side by side on his porch. The car slides away into the morning sun, as pretty as a sweet fairy-tale ending. The couple three doors down watches too, then turns and waves at us. We wave back.
For a flash, I can see it. My own fairy-tale ending. A quaint little house. A happy little life. My own little bit of magic.
But it’s just that. A flash. A little trick. Because that’s a life not meant for someone like me.
“They’re gonna be just fine,” I say, and when Fionn looks down his shoulder at me, I smile.
When we’re back in the house, I flop down on the couch, putting my cast up on the coffee table with athunkand a sigh. I press my hands over my eyes as though it might help push all my thoughts back into the depths of my skull. It might have been a rocky start with man-guy in particular, but I realize now that they’re gone just how much their presence was a relief from tension that’s been filling the walls of this home. Tension that maybe only I feel. As much as I loved having Rowan and Sloane here, their absence has already shown me that it’s worse than I realized. I’m suffocating here, forced to sit with myself without all the chaos and distraction of a life on the road. And I don’t think it’s just a simple case of “itchy feet.” It’s not the familiar urge to get back on the road with the troupe when I’ve been off it for too long. It’sthat I can’t get away from all the things I convinced myself I never wanted. Not when I’m encased in them.
A deep breath fills to the bottom of my lungs and releases in a frustrated whoosh.
“You all right?” Fionn asks from the kitchen, his voice wary.
“Yeah.”
“You sure …?”
“Totally positive.” I can feel him scrutinizing me from the other room. Fuck knows, the weight of his assessing stare on the back of my head does absolutely nothing but ratchet up the feeling of discomfort at least ten more notches. “It’s just this damn cast,” I mumble, which is a half-truth. My leg is itchy as fuck beneath the layers of fiberglass.
