Page 51 of Scythe & Sparrow
I clear my throat, trying to dislodge that idea from making its way into my voice. “I don’t know,” I finally say with a shrug. “It’s fun, whatever it is. And we’re friends. But anything else is not really …real.”
“Do you want it to be?” Lark asks, her clear blue eyes full of sympathy as she studies me, their teasing glimmer now gone. “Kind of seems like you might.”
“I don’t know if it’s that easy. My cast is coming off in a couple of days. Staying at Fionn’s was always meant to be temporary. I’m supposed to be getting back on the road. And even if I was in a good place to start a relationship, Doc doesn’t seem like he is.”
Sloane hums a long and thoughtful note. “I can’t say I reallyknowhim, but he seems like a bit of a tricky one. I think maybe he is ready.” She turns to me, giving me a faint smile. “But he might not realize it until you’re gone.”
A deep sigh fills and leaves my lungs. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Well, I for one hope it works out whatever wayyouwant it to,” Lark says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. When she pulls her palm away, she leaves a gold sticker behind. “And you’re not getting away from us, no matter which way it goes.”
“Yeah. You’re definitely not. You’ve been stickered. You’re part of the sticker-bitch crew now. Count yourself lucky she didn’t put them on your tits.”
I look down. “She’d have to find them first.”
Lark snorts. “Shut up. You’ve got great tits. All perky and shit. Great nips. Advantage of an optional bra and they don’t smack you around. Small is sexy.”
“Lark is like a tit sommelier. Trust her judgment,” Sloane says, then drains her cup and checks her watch. “I have to run to meet Rowan at the restaurant, but I’ll see you girls tomorrow? I’d love to catch up one last time before you both take off.”
“For sure.” Sloane rises, placing cash on the table before she gives each of us a hug. We stick around for another drink, and then we both head our separate ways with plans to meet up the next morning before we each fly out. It’s nearly six thirty when I get back to our room in the Langham, but Fionn isn’t there. He’s probably still visiting with Lachlan. I’m pulling my phone from my pocket when it buzzes in my hand with an incoming text. Lark’s name flashes on the screen.
OMFG!!!!
??
Rowan motherfucking Kane just broke up with Sloane, that fucking piece of shit. I’m gonna kill him.
Man-guy?! Are you fucking for real?
I’m going to knife that fucker in the balls.
You take the balls, I’ll go for the throat. Sloane will want the eyes.
Good. I hate the eyes.
I’m starting to type another reply, but Fionn calls before I have a chance to send it.
“Your brother broke up with that smokeshow Sloane—”
“Something is wrong, Rose,” he says, and though he tries to keep his voice calm, I can still hear panic swimming through its depths. “I was on my way back to the hotel when Lachlan called me. Rowan is hurt.”
“Did Sloane …? Is he all right?”
“He’ll be fine.They’llbe fine. I’ll explain later. But it’s going to take me a while. I’ll be late getting in.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“Let me know if I can help. Good luck.”
With a final worried goodbye, Fionn hangs up. I blow out a long breath through my bangs. I keep in touch with Lark for updates, though they’re minimal. My suitcase was returned a few days ago, so I busy myself with my tarot deck now. I do a readingfor Sloane and Rowan, whose pasts look troubled but whose future is bright with love. I shower and play with my hair, holding the length up to see what it would look like cut to a bob. I order room service. Watch some TV. Spend some time catching up on texts from José and Baz and Zofia, and all the others from the circus who’ve been checking in on me this whole time, but whom I’ve been a bit slower to respond to lately for reasons I don’t feel ready to fully explore. Spend time with myself, something that I guess I rarely do. I let my mind wander. To imagine the different futures that might lie ahead. Maybe I’ll rejoin Silveria and everything will go back to the way it was.
But what if I don’t? What if I stayed in Nebraska? Would Fionn even want that? Or maybe I could come here to Boston, start over fresh. Try on another life. See if it fits.
I’m lying in bed, too worried about Fionn and the others, too caught up in these kaleidoscopic futures, when Fionn comes into the dim room.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up a little to see him. He sits down on the edge of the bed and gives me a smile, but it’s weary. Whatever he’s had to do, it’s spent his energy and left little behind. “Are you all right?”
