Page 56 of Scythe & Sparrow
My flight was canceled but got the earlier option! I’ll be there by seven instead.
She still hasn’t responded.
I pocket my phone and hitch my backpack farther up my shoulder. I spot her RV at the far edge of the clearing, not far from a picket fence that skirts the grounds where other motor homes are parked. It seems like she’s one of the only full-time circus staff who doesn’t choose to spend the off-tour months living in the small, well-kept trailer park that’s part of the permanent circus grounds. Her home stands out from the beige and white and aluminum options that are parked in the clearing. The sides are custom painted with an ombre of pink and orange, a flock of sparrows in flight across the sunset colors. The lights are on. The blinds are drawn. And there’s a rhythmic sound coming from within.
I know that sound well.
It’s an Echelon Stride-6 folding treadmill. One I bought her as a goodbye present to help with her recovery. And she’s running.Hard.
She shouldn’t be going that fast. It’s only been a month since I took her cast off and she went on her way, meeting up with the troupe as they returned back to Texas. I frown as I approach theRV. A sudden burst of anxiety floods my veins as I tighten my hand into a fist and rap three times on the door.
The rhythm of the running footsteps doesn’t change.
I knock again.
I shift on my feet. Clear my throat. I wait, but there’s no change.
“Rose,” I yell on the third knock. “I knew you’d love that thing, but come open the door.”
No answer. She must be wearing headphones, so I grasp the door handle and start to pull it open. I only make it an inch or two when Rose is there, her hand braced against the edge of the door to keep it from opening and a wild, panicked look in her eyes.
But the sound of running doesn’t stop.
There’s someone else here.
“Doc,” she breathes, adjusting the belt of her robe, then pushing damp hair from her forehead. She’s cut it into a bob, the damp waves and curls skimming across the smooth column of her neck. Her eyes dart to the direction of the sound and back again. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you for another couple of hours.”
Dying, that’s what I’m doing. Clearly dying of total embarrassment.
“I, um. I’m sorry.” I run my hand through my hair and back away a step. My skin is burning. My heart thrashes against my ribs. My vision has narrowed as though nothing exists outside the things I wish I could unsee. Like the damp blotches on the purple silk from her wet hair. The blush in her cheeks. The distress in her mahogany eyes. “I texted, but … I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d have someone else here. I’ll leave.”
Fionn, you fucking fool. This isn’t a relationship. You said so yourself. What the hell did you expect? You have no right to be upset. Just go.
I flash a tight smile at Rose, but I can’t bear to see the pity in her eyes. So I turn away. I’ll get the fuck out of here and find the next flight home and lick my wounds with a bottle of bourbon and we’ll forget this moment ever happened. We’ll go back to being friends,no benefits. Or maybe just doctor and patient.Jesus fucking Christ—
“Doc,stop.” Rose’s delicate hand wraps around my forearm in a talon grip. Part of me wants to pull away and keep walking, but I don’t. Not when she whispers a single word, filling it with a desperate note. “Please.”
My brows tighten as I take in the way her gaze darts across our surroundings. She tugs on my arm, towing me toward her RV. I don’t argue, though I don’t exactly stride after her either. But she doesn’t give up. And she doesn’t let go. Not even when she opens the door, tossing me a wary glance over her shoulder.
I enter the RV. A shirtless man runs at a punishing pace on the treadmill that fills the narrow aisle between the sofa and the little dining table. His chest is covered with cheap tattoos. His skin glistens with sweat.
“I’m gonna beat your record,” he declares with a crazed grin, his eyes latched to Rose.
“I should go—”
“No,wait.” Though I try to pull away, Rose refuses to relinquish my arm. She gives the guy a grimace of a smile and a thumbs-up. “Keep going, Chad. Maybe you’ll beat me, after all.”
When Chad gives her a double thumbs-up in reply, Rose tows me closer to the front of the vehicle, not letting me go until she seems certain I won’t try to push past her to leave. There’s a chittering sound of an animal, and a raccoon’s face suddenly appears from the driver’s seat.
“Is that … is thatBarbara?”
“Umm, yeah,” Rose says through a pinched smile. She blushes when I raise my brows in a wordless question. “When I left Hartford, I drove past your clinic and saw her trying to break in. She fell from the vent by the roof. She hurt her paw. I couldn’t just leave her to fend for herself.”
“So youtookher …?”
“Pretty much.”
“A wild, rabid raccoon.”
