Chapter Two #3
As I’m shampooing my hair, my stomach rumbles, reminding me that it’s been way too long since I last ate. Tipping my head back, I rinse away the suds and quickly finish up. I put on the spare set of clothes I’d stashed in my bag and step out with a cloud of steam behind me.
When I see all the tiny bottles in the garbage can beside the bed, I’m reminded that my sister sent an alcoholic to pick me up from rehab.
Beggars can’t be choosers and all, but even I know whoever had that bright idea didn’t think it through.
Unless someone is trying to set me up to fail, in which case I can’t wait to prove them wrong. I guess time will tell.
“Bout time,” Sparrow grumbles as he climbs off the bed.
In his haste to get to the bathroom, his shoulder roughly bumps mine sending me flailing into the nightstand.
The sharp corner makes contact with my thigh, sending a shockwave of pain through me.
I grit my teeth, refusing to give the jerk any satisfaction.
A few moments later, the bathroom door is thrown open, and Sparrow stalks out like a pissed-off bear.
It’s a shame he’s such an asshole because even with the look of annoyance, he’s sexier than any man should be.
I’m actually surprised I find him attractive in the first place.
Usually, men don’t register for me like that.
I look at them with one motivation in mind.
Determining whether they’re a threat or not.
“Look. I know you don’t like me. I can’t change your mind seeing as it’s clearly already made up, but could you at least tell me how my son and my sister are?
” My heart flutters every time I think about how I’ll get to see Nash tomorrow.
I’m not going to let anything get me down when I have so much to look forward to.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Sierra. I know I’m coming off as hot and cold, but I’m really trying here.
It’s not that I don’t like you. I’m going through my own shit, if you haven’t noticed, and I’ve been taking it out on you.
I’m sorry about that, darlin’, but it’s not exactly something I’m in control of, which honestly pisses me off more.
” Before I can say anything, he grabs his cut off the dresser and storms out the door.
I’m not sure what to think about his apology, but what I do know is that I don’t want to be his enemy.
I spend the next couple of hours flipping through channels, trying to distract myself, but it’s pointless.
The bunny ears only pick up a few local stations, and it’s nothing of interest to me.
Plus, I’m starting to worry about Sparrow.
He’s been gone longer than I thought he would be, considering we’re supposed to be leaving early in the morning.
I was hoping he just went for a walk to get some perspective, but when I checked the lot to make sure he hadn’t left me, I saw the honky-tonk bar across the street.
I think it’s safe to assume that’s where he went.
Clicking off the TV, I toss the remote onto the nightstand and pull the covers over me. Just as I close my eyes, someone starts banging on the door and rattling the handle. Bones leaps from his spot on the floor and starts barking viciously at the door.
“Birdie!” I scramble off the bed and race towards the door as Sparrow continues to shout from the other side.
“I’m coming,” I growl, just barely getting the door open before he stumbles into me, almost taking me to the ground.
“You were doing so good,” I point out. He’ll be so pissed at himself tomorrow when he realizes he let his addiction win.
Wrapping my arm around his waist, I guide him to the bed while desperately fighting back the urge to gag. He wreaks of Whiskey and cigarette smoke.
“Sparrow,” I sigh. “You really need to get some help. I don’t know what demons are chasing you, but you’ll never outrun them like this,” I scold as he falls backward onto the bed.
I make quick work of getting his boots off and wonder if I’m strong enough to drag him higher up the bed so there’s plenty of room between us.
“He killed them,” he slurs. “He killed Tempy and our kid, Birdie.” My breath leaves with a whoosh at this horrific tragedy.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, brushing his hair out of his face. I’ve been through some shit, but I wouldn’t be able to survive if I lost my child.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, watching my every move.
“And you’re drunk, Braxton.” I freeze when he grips my wrist and pulls me toward him.
“Wha . . . What are you doing?” I panic, digging my nails into his arm as I try to push him away.
“I just want to hold you, baby. Everything is quiet when you’re near.
” He dislodges my hand and wraps his arms around me.
He squeezes me close to his chest, and within seconds he’s out for the count.
Once I get my beating heart under control, I’m able to relax.
This is . . . nice. I’m shocked at how safe I feel tucked up against him.
I don’t know what it is about Sparrow, but I’m starting to feel like nothing can hurt me as long as he’s around.
“I’ll just lay here for a minute,” I tell the dog as my eyes begin to grow heavy, and sleep pulls me under.