But I’m not ready to write Sophie off, not when I feel so connected to her. When being with her feels so right. Not when this thing between us feels so deep and important. And honestly? It always has. I wasn’t romantically interested in Sophie that day I took her for a drive to the beach. The day of her father’s funeral. But there was a connection between us. I understood her. I wanted to be with her in her grief.
Now, in retrospect, it seems like it’s because part of me knew she was mine. That Sophie would grow up and become the woman I would lay down my life for.
Besides, if Sophie has a renewed beef with the outfit, I can’t let her walk away. She’s stuck with me.
I skip saying any goodbyes and drive straight to Sophie’s. There’s a sense of urgency to get to her. To find out why she left. Understand what’s going on in her head.
I knock on the door, but she doesn’t answer. I test the handle and find it locked. At least she remembered to secure it. Except…fuck. What if she’s not home yet? What if she went somewhere with Eddie?
My cousin’s kid is barely twenty-one, but irrational jealousy streaks through me. I’m being stupid, I know, but I can’t help it. I pound on the door with my fist, knowing it sounds overly aggressive but unable to stop myself.
I wait a few beats and repeat the pounding. “Sophie?”
I can’t hear anything from inside, but for some reason, I’m sure she’s in there. She’s not with Eddie. That was a stupid thought. No, she’s alone and upset.
Why won’t she answer? Probably because I’m banging on her door like a lunatic. Like I’m going to break it down.
“Sophie?” I call. “Just let me see your face, baby. I need to talk to you.”
After a moment, the lock clicks, and the door swings open.
“Hey,bella. Are you okay?”
Sophie blocks me from entering. “Joey, I’m just tired. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Are you mad at me? Did someone say something to you?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Let me in,bella.We need to talk.”
“I’ve been asking you to talk, Joey. But you won’t. That’s the problem.” The wobble in her voice does crazy things to my chest.
“Let me in. We’ll talk.”
She steps back, and instead of walking past her, I gently gather her into my arms. After a moment of surprise, she relaxes into me and lets out her breath with a whimper. I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the faint smell of citrus in her hair.
“Come here, baby.” I lead her toward the sofa.
She sits but doesn’t look at me. I’m gratified that she at least leans against me, her shoulder falling against mine, her head tilting to rest there.
“Was my father’s killer there?” she croaks into the silence.
Fanculo.
I don’t know how she’s even so sure he was killed. Probably because I choked when she asked me.
I exhale. I’m breaking the code of silence, but I don’t see what else to do. Maybe if Sophie has a few more facts to hang onto, it will give her peace.
“It was anaccident,Sophie. I swear to Christ. I was there. Your dad was drunk, and there was a fight, and his gun accidentally went off. No one murdered him in cold blood.”
“What?” She claps a hand over her mouth in horror.
“I’m sorry, baby. It was horrible. But an accident. Truly, an accident.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her against my side.
She wipes her tears with her fingers. “I hate that.”
“I know.”