Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(45)

Now it’s close to midnight. And I’m still wide-awake. Because there are muffled voices from the guest room across the hall where Rowan and Sloane are staying. Voices whose words are indecipherable, but the tone is unmistakable. Desire. Desperation. Demands. There’s a low chuckle. I hear the creak of the mattress through the thin walls. A moment later, there’s a loud moan from Sloane.




“Fuck. My. Life,” I groan as I pull a pillow across my face.

It does not stop. For hours. I try falling asleep with my earbuds and a playlist of white noise, but all the white noise in the world can’t cover up the occasional scream. I swear to Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to murder my brother more than I have tonight. And I’m almost positive he’s rubbing my self-imposed celibacy in my fucking face. You’re allowed to have fun, he’d said just this afternoon.

Maybe he’s right. Would it be so bad to want something easy if Rose wanted it too? If we made no promises about where it would go? She won’t stay here forever. Once she’s fully recovered, she’ll be back on the road.

It’s finally quiet when I sit up on the edge of my bed and put my earbuds away. I stand and leave my room as though summoned by a force I can barely resist, not stopping until I’m standing outside Rose’s room.

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 is happy. 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.

“She beat me with her crutch, 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. Playing sports.” 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.