Introduction 2

He knew he wasn’t around as much for Sophie as he had been in the past because of it, and lately, all he did was pick her up from bars and clubs and take her home to recover when she was a mess. They barely talked about anything at all when he saw her.

He was too old for this shit now. He was turning twenty-six in a few months, and the last thing he needed anymore was all this drama, every week of his life with her. He missed the Sophie who used to be happy to go out with him, go away together or hang out doing normal stuff, like jet skiing, playing Xbox, snowboarding, watching foreign cartoons, and vegetating or any other pastimes they had shared in the past few years. He missed the small things before she started dating assholes and living on the edge of wild. He just missed her - endlessly.

What he wouldn’t give for a sober call and that sweet voice on the other end just asking him how his day was instead of crying for another rescue. He had no clue how they had even got here.

“Are you mad at me?” Her crestfallen tone and the start of tears made him instantly guilty, that ache in his stomach and pang in his chest. Sophie wasn’t much of a crier unless she thought Arrick was pissed at her, and he never understood why she fell to pieces when he was mad. She sure didn’t give a shit if any of her adoptive family got pissed at her, especially not her sister or Mom, whom she had been closest to. To his recollection, she didn’t get upset when her friends did, but then Sophie found keeping friends outside the family hard, especially with her past and all the demons it held. She didn’t trust people enough to form real bonds, so he knew how important it was that he stayed in her life, even when she was behaving like a train wreck on a path to destruction. Not that he had a choice; life had a way of feeling empty when he didn’t hear from her for weeks, and thankfully he had only endured that a couple of times.

“No, Mimmo, I’m not mad, Sophie. Go inside, stay warm and wait for me.” He tried to soften his tone, gently soothing her drunken ruffled feathers to coerce her to do as he wanted. When she was like this, she was an overgrown child he needed to manage carefully; her internal spitfire was ready to overreact and bite, even if it only hurt herself.

Sophie was someone who was easily pushed into the defensive, closing up and lashing out at those who mattered when trying to protect herself, and being drunk escalated it tenfold. She had always been that way, and very few had his skill at knowing how to handle her. Too stubborn to think logically or realize she was cutting off her nose to spite her face sometimes.

He upped his speed, putting his new car through its paces to get to her quicker as the tension in his body escalated. It was late, almost ten p.m., and the city was aglow with the usual never-ending illumination of New York as his sleek steel gray Mercedes slid through the night effortlessly. He was biting his lip as his eyes roamed the traffic impatiently, checking his mirrors as he shifted in his seat.

She always made him feel anxious when she was like this, so many scenarios running through his head of what could happen to her and his inner body twisting the tango of uptight anxiety. Sophie was naive at the best of times, but drunk, she was completely oblivious to danger, considering her past, and seemed to have a knack for attracting it.

“I’m sorry … Arry?” She started to sob, and he just felt worse. He hadn’t even yelled at her this time, so he had no idea why she was crying. He had stopped yelling at her months ago when he realized it no longer had any effect on her behavior, and he hated Sophie crying; it made him feel like a shitty human being when those hurt doe eyes hit him right in the stomach.

He had seen enough of her tears over the years in connection to what her sick, perverted father had done to her, and that’s all he saw now. That vulnerable, broken face, racked with scars and pain from a childhood that could have destroyed her. Arrick stiffened as that stab of rage spiked inside like a fiery hot spear.

Whenever he thought of that asshole, he wanted to kill him; the fact he could take someone as innocent and sweet as her and ruthlessly abuse her for years made him want to rip the guy’s spine out and ram it down his throat. He was fiercely protective of her, knowing everything he knew, being there for every therapy appointment, and tearful outpouring when she needed to talk.