Sparrow (40 page)

It was wrong. All of it. To know what he did. To keep it from the police, from my friends, from Pops. To carry his burden for him in my gut.

It was wrong…
but it was ours
.

Troy waited for me to say something. His eyes didn’t plead—he would never beg—but hell, they were curious, and full of beautiful, ugly, raw feelings.

“You’re still an asshole,” I concluded.

He laughed. His laugh sounded like the best song I hadn’t heard yet, something I wanted to loop in my earbuds.

I laughed, too. For the first time in months, it felt genuine on my lips. “A brutal asshole. Not a lot of women can handle something like that. But I think I just might.”

“I fucking love you, Red.”

“I fucking love you, Brennan.”

His lips found mine hungrily, demanding to be back where they belonged. His tongue parted my mouth, hot and familiar and addictive. His arms moving down my body, he placed one hand over my heart. His kiss not only told me I was doing the right thing—that I was meant and built to forgive this man—but also that this was it. It wouldn’t get any better than this. There was nothing I’d rather do, nowhere I’d rather be, than right here with him.

His kiss was possessive, the warmth of his breath both comforting and thrilling. I tilted my neck sideways, inhaling his scent, letting it seep back into my hungry body. His skin on mine was bliss, and a rare, raw moment of happiness washed over me. I was so happy I wanted to scream. So happy it hurt. So giddy I couldn’t even contain it anymore.

In theory, this should have ended in disaster.

In theory, stepping out of this mess with the upper hand meant that I had to rat on Troy Brennan to the authorities. Let my dad know what his family did to him, to
us
.

In theory, things were very complicated. Everybody had to pay for their sins, I had to grieve for the woman who gave birth to me, Troy had to turn himself in, and more lives had to be ruined.

Reality, though, was really quite simple.

I was his, he was mine, and everything else we did and didn’t do to each other was just that.

Our past.

TROY

SAM GRABS ONE
of my toes, yanking it from the white sand it’s buried in, victory written all over his face.
Brock’s face
. I wiggle my toe like it’s some kind of a small animal trying to break free. Sam’s laughter drifts over me, drowning the noise of the waves crashing on the beach, the music from a nearby bar and the chit-chat of the beach-goers.

“I got it! I got it!”

“Good.” Sparrow squares her shoulders, staring straight ahead to the ocean with hands on her waist and a small, navy blue bikini covering her little tight body. Her voice is smooth and serious. “Now let’s feed it to the sharks.”

“Aw…” Sam’s eyebrows nosedive. He is frowning, worried and alarmed all of a sudden. “No, thanks. I’d rather…I dunno, build a castle or something. I don’t want to hurt Uncle Troy. I will never hurt him.”

It’s amazing how forgiving kids can be. Nine months ago, I barely acknowledged his existence. Today, he is vacationing with us in Miami. Well, not just with me and Sparrow. Maria’s here, too.

“Okay.” Sparrow feigns disappointment. “But I will feed his toes to the sharks at some point.”

Sam’s still smiling, looking at her like she is life itself. “No, you won’t,” he declares as Maria approaches with sandwiches for them and a beer for me. “You looooove Uncle Troy.”

I laugh, because I can’t help not to. Maria grabs Sam by the hand and walks him over to a cart with an umbrella to get something cold to drink. I recently found out that he is pretty picky about what he likes to drink. No water for him. Just the fizzy stuff.

It was Red’s idea to break the cycle. Sons killing fathers. Sons avenging fathers.

One night, when she was in my arms, just as I inhaled her cherry hair, she said, “You need to be in Sam’s life. You owe it to him. You’ll never be his dad, but he does deserve someone. Someone other than Maria and Catalina.”

What she didn’t add was that if I didn’t want to end up like my dad, like David Kavanagh, and like Brock, I needed to mend the pieces I broke in Sam’s life when I killed his father.

He doesn’t know what happened, not yet, but it isn’t a secret either. When the time comes, he’ll know who pulled the trigger on Brock. And I don’t want him to live with the hate that rattled in my gut, the hate that drove his father to lose everything. It eats you alive, consumes you from the inside, burns a hole in your chest, a void you fill with dark desires, with revenge that haunts you. The kid doesn’t deserve it. One day, this kid will be a man. That version of him doesn’t deserve it either.

I will tell this man that I didn’t kill his father to avenge mine. I killed his father to protect the beautiful woman who makes him pancakes every now and then and has sunshine in her laugh, even when she faces the storm. Even when it was the coldest summer ever recorded in Boston.

So now I see Sam every other weekend. We go to fast food joints (all Sparrow’s fault), Patriots games, and we even decided to take this trip to Miami while Cat stayed in Boston to look for a new apartment, just for her and Sam.

Red rolls on the sand until her shoulder bumps into mine. She is laughing hysterically, and even though I keep a stoic face, I’m anything but. God, I fucking love this girl.

“So…” She nuzzles into the crook of my neck, her arms flung over me. “Are you taking me to that fancy restaurant you booked for us last time we were in Miami?”

“Hell no,” I snort. “That was before I realized you’re a McMeal kind of girl. I can treat you to a hot, sexy dinner date at Wendy’s if you’re up for it.”

“Make it IHOP and you’re on. They have pancakes
and
hot chocolate.”

“Classy girl. And I bet you’ll still put out afterwards.”

“Damn right I will. I’m only using you for your body, Mr. Brennan.”

“And for the cash. Don’t forget the cash.”

“Nah, I make my own money, thank you very much.” She plants a kiss on my jaw, and I beam like an idiot, because she’s right. Red’s rolling in it nowadays. Her business won’t make us millionaires, but her pancake business is pretty solid.

I lean on one elbow, diving in for a deep kiss. I snake one hand to her taut stomach, still flat and gloriously pale despite the Miami sun.

“How is my little guy doing?”

“Could be a girl.” She cocks one eyebrow.

“I kind of wish it is. Boys are such a headache. You should know.” I’m just messing around with her, though. I have no preference either way. All I know is that I wasn’t ready to be a dad until she told me I would be, and now? I can’t fucking wait.

Even villains have a happy ending every now and again.

“Sparrow Raynes, anything you’ll give me, I will happily take.” I sound like a sappy dipshit, but sometimes you gotta pour some of the love in your heart out to make room for the next wave of joy. Ours is coming next fall. October 11
th
is the due date, by the way.

“I’m Sparrow Brennan now,” she corrects. “I was only Sparrow Raynes when I used to be your nightmare.”

“You were never a nightmare. At first, you were business…” I smirk, my fingers spreading wide on her stomach. “And then, at some point, you became my pleasure.”

“And what am I now?” She covers my hand in hers over her stomach, squeezing it hard.

“Now, my lovebird, you’re my home.”

THE END

There are so many people who made Sparrow happen, and I just know I am going to screw up and forget a few of them, but I’ll try and name every single person who helped me through this journey. Love, thanks and hugs to the following people:

My husband, who lived on In N’ Out takeouts for five months straight. I’m so sorry, I bought you a gym membership to show my appreciation.

My son, who put up with a messy, all-over-the-place mother (I may have invented a new game called “Let’s go over mommy’s manuscript one more time”. It wasn’t a big hit, though).

My crazy-awesome street team, who actually did all the marketing for Sparrow for me, including Lin, Sabrina, Hen, Avivit, Donna, Dana and Mandy. Also, to my PA, Amanda Faulkner, for being patient and supportive, even through my meltdowns and anxiety attacks. You the real MVP, girl.

I’d like to thank my beta readers, who made this story so much better than it initially was. To the amazing Cat, Amy, Eliya, Bree and Ilanit. Special thanks to Lilian, who has read this book a gazillion times and was still patient enough to go over every single small detail. Thank you all for the great input and helpful suggestions. You put so much heart and soul into Sparrow and Troy’s story, and it shows. I will never forget that.

The wonderful people who sprinkle magic all over my books – Karen the editor, Sofie the illustrator, Cassie the formatter and Cat the proofreader. I don’t know what I would have done without you, and I sure don’t want to find out.

Most of all though, I’d like to thank you, the readers, for making my dream come true. If it wasn’t for you, I’d need no street team, no betas, no editor and no formatter. You make it happen by purchasing my book. Each and every one of you counts.

I started writing Sparrow when I fell pregnant. I wrote every night and plotted every morning. I had time, plenty of it, and I used it to obsess and tweak every single word.

Then the baby came out, and time became a precious luxury I didn’t have anymore.

But I still kept writing. And editing. And stealing moments – rewriting and obsessing.

Why am I telling you this? Because after giving up my life, sanity and sleeping hours, I need to know what you think. What you
really
think. Writing books is a lonely job, your only companion are four walls, a keyboard and lukewarm coffee. So now I’m dying to know what went through your mind when you read it.

Please leave an honest review if you have the time. Not just for this book, but for all books. The author appreciates it.

A lot.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have approximately seven hundred hours of sleep to catch up on.

Love,

L.J. Shen

Contact me on my author page -
https://goo.gl/e7m8n0

You can also join my reading group and discuss my books, Tyed and Sparrow, freely -
https://goo.gl/IszvvG

Coming up:

August 2016 - California Love #2 – “Mr Left”, The story of Izzy and Shane