Page 8 of Scythe & Sparrow
Matthew Cranwell.
STRANDED
Rose
Day three of being stuck in this bed.
Zofia brought Baz with her yesterday and tried her best to cheer me up by saying my stay in this hospital is like a less-fun version of a holiday, minus the beach. Or the sand. Or the hot guys. So that was a fail. Baz just rolled his eyes and laid his first three Venom Dark Origins comics and my tarot deck next to the medication button that rests untouched beside my hand. Then he asked the question that’s been haunting me worse than the smell of the hot dog stand in a mid-August heat wave:When are you getting out of here?
Not soon enough.
And now, as José Silveria stands near the foot of my bed, his hat clutched between his weathered hands, I’m faced with the hard reality of exactly whatnot soon enoughreally means.
“What about the bottle stand? Or the balloon-and-dart? I can totally handle one of the games, I swear,” I say, trying not to sound desperate. Judging by the way José sighs and fidgets with the brim of his hat, I’m failing.
“Rose, you can barely stand up. How long does it take you to get from here to the bathroom?” I frown. Ten minutes doesn’t sound like a great answer, so I say nothing at all. “We can’t stay in Hartford any longer or we’ll be late for our dates in Grand Island. I can’t take you with us, Rose. You need to stay and recover.”
“But—”
“I know you. You won’t look after yourself and you can’t say no to anyone when they ask for help. Jim’ll be lugging equipment or stacking boxes, and you’ll be out there on one leg, trying to do it for him.”
“That’s not true.”
“What about the time you busted your fingers in that crash two years ago?”
I cringe and tighten my left hand into a fist to hide how permanently crooked my pinkie is. “What about it?”
“Did you or did you not offer to help fix the curtain and end up stapling it to your hand?”
“Unrelated. One was an accident. The other was … also an accident.”
José sighs and offers me a smile lit with the warmth that’s earned him his much-deserved reputation as the loveable ringmaster of Silveria Circus. “We will always welcome you back.When you’re healed.But right now, you need a chance to recover.” José rests one hand on my good ankle. His eyes are always so kind with their crinkled edges and warm mahogany hues. Even when he’s breaking my heart. “You’ll come back as soon as you’re given the all clear. This isn’t forever. It’s just for right now.”
I nod.
His words echo in my mind as though my subconscious is desperate to cling to them and make them real. But even thinking about how longjust for right nowcould be has my chest tightening and my eyes stinging. I’ve been with Silveria for so long, I can almost convince myself that I’ve forgotten the other life I left behind. I was just a kid, only fifteen when I joined the tour. Silveria has been my home. My family. And though I know he’s right, and I don’t want to make this harder on José than I’m sure it is, I can’t help but feel discarded.
I shrug and give José a smile, but when I sniffle, his expression draws tight with regret. “Yeah, it’s cool. I get it,” I say as I clear my throat and push myself up a little higher, trying not to wince when my leg jostles in the foam block that keeps it suspended off the mattress. “I’ll be fine. I’ll catch up when I can.”
José gives me a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They might even be a little glassy, and that splits the cracks in my heart even wider. “Jim set your RV up at the Prairie Princess Campground just outside of town.”
“Sounds like a classy joint,” I deadpan.
“There’s a hookup there but we filled the generator with gas, just in case.”
I nod, unwilling to trust my voice to make words.
José takes a breath, probably preparing to launch into the thousand reasons why this unexpected time off is a “good thing,” and how maybe I’m overdue for some time off, but he’s cut off when Dr. Kane strides into the room.
Andoh holy fuck, but he’s ten times hotter than I remember from the first time we met. He’s so pretty that it almost shocks me outof the burning ache in my chest at the circus leaving me behind. At least until I realize I probably look about as appealing as a bag of dicks. I think it actually makes my leg hurt less just to look at him with all his doctory seriousness and his stethoscope and his ridiculous good looks. His rich brown hair is swept into place. His sapphire eyes catch the afternoon sun that filters through the blinds. No activewear today, but I can still make out the athletic build beneath his white coat and pressed blue shirt and camel-colored pants. He glances from the tablet he clutches to me, then to José, then to José’s hand where it rests on my ankle.
His eyes narrow for just a heartbeat before his expression smooths. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Dr. Kane,” he says as he extends a hand to José.
“José Silveria. Thank you for taking such good care of my Rose.” Dr. Kane’s expression is unreadable as he gives José a single nod. But José? I already know what he’s about to say. The delight is written all over his face. “Rose is mypequeño gorrión. My little sparrow. One of my best performers.”
“At the circus,” I say flatly. “I work at the circus.”
“Oh. That’s—”
