Chapter 26
“Shut up and listen to me.” He pulls me the last stretch of stair and into the familiar room I spent the past few years growing up in. All pink, white, soft, and frilly. Everything still as it was, as though I never left. My room looks like my parents have preserved it as such from the day I walked out.
My taste in décor has never grown from childish and cute; stuffed animals litter my bed, and shelves are filled with teen romance books and trinkets. Arrick has seen this room a million times and pulls me to my silver-gray chaise longue in front of the huge window, evicting fluffy pillows and blankets as he plonks me down harshly.
“I didn’t get you home so you could up and run again. Stop being selfish, Sophs. For once in your adult life, face the shit head-on and deal with things. You can’t keep having this knee-jerk reaction to life being hard, running solves nothing.” Arrick slides down on the seat next to me, still holding my hand, his eyes trained on my face imploringly.
“Running worked for me once.” I bite back on my tears, swallowing hard to stop them, lifting my face defiantly and reminding him of the fact that running was how I escaped a life of abuse at the hands of a violent sicko. Arrick sighs, bringing my forehead to his softly, wiping my tears with gentle fingers and calms me instantaneously. That ability of his to cut through all my bull and find my feet for me reigning supreme. I manage to bring that emotional outburst to a calm trickle of sniffs instead, breathing in the smell of him while being grounded by his warm face against mine.
“That is not the same thing. They love and miss you; they would never hurt you. All this in here,” he taps my head gently, “It’s fixable, Sophs. We did it before; we got you through some of the worst years of your life. I just need you to have some faith in us, to go back to your counselor and give your family a chance to help. No one here has done anything wrong. No one wants to see you hurting like this. We just want to help figure out why you’re so lost right now.” He catches my chin and tugs my face up towards his, so I have no choice but to look at him eye to eye. Locked onto that calming warm set of hazels imploringly, my face crumbles. That inner me that struggled alone for months in the city, finding her way out again. Like a child clinging on, I push away his words and focus on the real biting issue that’s coursing up inside of me.
“It’s all so overwhelming, now I’m here again,” I sigh softly, breaking the eye contact and focusing down on our laps instead. His fingers find mine and pulls my hand into his own warm and strong one, dwarfing it, making it seem small while captured in his embrace. I watch the two of them entwine softly; one pale-skinned, dainty, and delicate, and the other tanned, large and strong. He has such man hands; they overpower mine with their strong fingers.
“It will take time, Mimmo. Getting used to being back, fixing things with your family. You’ll just need to take it a step at a time and figure this out as you go.” Arrick brings our foreheads back to touch, resting gently, but the fact he is using the word ‘you’ instead of ‘we’ has my alarm bells going off instantly. I defensively home in on such an insignificant word that has a huge meaningful effect on my soul.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” I steady my tear-filled eyes on his face, suddenly so much sadness in my heart that it instantly consumes it, and he falters. He sighs and glances down at my hand placed gently within his on his lap and seems to take a moment of pause.
“Not right now, no. I’ll stay a couple days, Sophs. I’ll make sure you’re settled here and then I need to go back. I have a fight this weekend, and I have responsibilities in the Carrero Corp to oversee with Jake this week, but I’ll call you every night, text, and we can have you come to me every other weekend, or I can come here.” He sounds less confident and comforting, more unsure and guilty, and I snap.
I pull my hand out of his harshly, feeling like he’s just slapped me in the face. The tight knot of pain in my chest constricting harder and triggers my angry response to shield my heart from more hurt. This is nothing I don’t already know, haven’t already mulled over on the drive here repeatedly. Expecting the moment when he will have to leave yet coming out of his mouth the way it is, and looking away instead of at me, it stings a hell of a lot more.
“Why bother bringing me back at all? I was doing fine out there on my own, at least I had a life,” I snap coldly, that biting ache inside of me like a wound opening up. I stand to stare out the window at that familiar ocean view in the distance, but it brings me no sense of peace like it used to. Instead, I feel like I’m in a prison, in a place that suffocates me, and my only ray of light is going to be snubbed out.
“That’s not a life, Mimmo. You were existing and living on the reckless side. I get it. I’ve been down that route and more, so has Jake, and Leila. Look at us and how much shit we put our parents through at our worst. We don’t want that for you. This isn’t you; it never has been. You’re so much more than that.” He comes to stand behind me, warmed by the hands that he rests on my shoulders as he leans into me. His breath on the back of my hair. I twitch at his touch, that inner deep hurt, anger, instinctively moving to reject him, but I stay put. Some little tiny part of me still wanting him close even if my self-defensive side has kicked in. “If you kept going on the way you were, then I’m scared about where you would have ended up. Sophs, the city is a dangerous place and you have so much to learn. You’re naïve at the best of times, oblivious to how many stupid situations you put yourself in and it doesn’t bear thinking about how many close calls you’ve had already.” He turns me back to him with a slow even movement. The stubborn lift of my chin hides the deeper terrifying fear gripping me, building up from my toes as it tries to slowly consume and claw my insides into oblivion. Anger waivers between sadness and panic attack, unsure which way it’s going to turn and clinging onto a tiny flicker that he will maybe stay for me.
“I don’t want to stay here.” A single tear rolls down my cheek as my temper breaks and lets the fear trickle through instead. He impulsively brushes it away with his thumb. His touch softly tickling the surface of my skin, a thousand tiny tingles erupt delicately as he focuses in on me intensely.
“Why? This is your family. This is your home.” He inhales slowly, bringing us closer and searches my eyes with his, looking like the boy who used to make my life better with minimal effort. Just another stab at my heart that this is not what this is anymore; this is just a moment before he hightails it back home to his girlfriend and his life, the one that doesn’t need me in it anymore.
He studies my face as I close up on him, emotions disappearing and stubbornness setting in. A sight he’s seen a million times before. Sophie of old pushes out everyone and anything in a bid to regain control, to stop herself from hurting when life gets too much. Stop myself from falling into that age-old trap of pouring myself out to him and letting him catch me, because I know, that this time, he won’t stick around long enough to do it, and the fall will hurt hellishly.
“Because you’ll go, and about five minutes after that, when I’m here alone, I’ll forget what I even came back for. Forget what is here for me. When you’re around I can think straight, I can rationalize and I’m stronger … but when it’s just me … I don’t do so well on my own, Arry. I never do well on my own. I have no idea what I’m doing.” I bite my lip as emotions try to force their way to the surface against that wall I am building, and look down between us at my fiddling hand, which is now joined to my other to focus. A swirling cloud of confusion inside of me battles to see which one will be victorious.
“You’re not alone here. You have your parents; Leila is close by and Emma. Both adore you and can help you in ways that I can’t. They have been places that you’ve been in your past. They have scars like yours and can help you through this.” Arrick’s voice is calm and steady, gentle yet firm. But his words crush me from the inside out without even meaning to. He’s making it loud and clear that he has no intention of sticking around and helping me get through this. He is shifting responsibility to my sister and my godmother, hoping to wash his hands of the problem that I’ve become, and it wounds me to the core. The last twenty-four hours have been nothing but a lie, pretending to want us back how we were, just so he can deliver me home.
