I smiled back. He is right; my mom is going to be happy as hell I am settling down, but she is going to flip because I haven’t told her anything. I know my mom will love Sophie, and it kills me every time I have to go to my parents’ without her.
I’m brought back to the present by Daisy, who’s jumping around at my feet. “Hey, girl.” I drop my bag to the floor before crouching down to scoop her up. “Were you a good girl while I was gone?” I ask, flipping her onto her back so she can get a tummy rub.
When I walk into the kitchen, I see the note Sophie left on the counter. Like always, if she knew I was coming home late, she would leave a note letting me know where I could find dinner.
“You’re home.”
I turn at the sound of her voice to see her standing at the opening of the kitchen. She’s wearing one of my shirts, her hair is up, and her face is makeup-free. I love that she stays here when I’m out of town. I love even more that she wears my tees to bed when I’m gone.
“I am.” I turn away from her and start the microwave.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I take a second, trying to think of a way to answer that question. Am I okay? Fuck no. Do I want to talk to her about why I’m not okay? Again, f**k no.
I turn to look at her. Jesus, she is so f**king beautiful that just looking at her makes my gut get tight. I want to do what she needs. I always want her to be happy. She told me she needs time, that she’s trying to work through some things from her past. I understand that. I know her mom died when she was young, and I know it had to have left a scar on her. She opened up to me about some things, but a lot of information she shared about her past is either from before her mother’s death or after she left home and went to Job Corps. There’s a huge chunk of time she always skims over. I know that whatever it is she’s holding in is the thing keeping us at a standstill.
I want to be with her; I want a future with her, but I need her to want it too. That’s why last night, after getting off the phone with her, I called Justin and had him do a hard run—also known as an extensive background check—on her. What I never expected was for him to tell me about a police report from right before she was emancipated from her father shortly after her mother’s death.
“Come here,” I tell her, setting Daisy on the ground.
“What’s wrong?” She shuffles her feet, not looking at me.
“Come here, Sophie,” I repeat more firmly this time. I hold out my hand, and she finally walks to me, her steps slow and unsure.
“I feel like something’s wrong,” she whispers, searching my face when my hand wraps around hers pulls her to me.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh no,” she whispers.
I pick her up, placing her on the counter, where I stand between her legs, not giving her any room to run when I say what I have to say. “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.” She nods, her hands balling into fists on her thighs.
“I had your background ran a few months ago. And again yesterday.”
“What?” she breathes, her eyes widening.
“You won’t open up to me, Sophie.”
“I cannot believe you did that!”
“You didn’t give me much choice,” I say calmly.
“I didn’t?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
“No, you didn’t,” I growl.
“You can’t just force me to talk to you.” She pushes my chest.
“I’m not forcing you,” I argue, not budging.
“You had my background ran, you jerk. What do you call that?”
“I needed to know what I’m dealing with,” I explain.
“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to deal with it anymore!” she yells, shoving my chest, trying to get off the counter.
“Stop.” I grab her wrists, bringing them around her back and caging her in. “No more bullshit, Sophie. Talk to me. I need you to tell me what happened,” I say, softening my voice.
“I think it’s stupid,” she says quietly, her body finally sagging against mine.
“What?” I ask surprised.
“Now that I’ve been going to my group and hearing stories from other women who have really been hurt, my story seems stupid,” she says quietly.
“It’s not stupid.” I pick her up off the counter, and her legs wrap around my hips as I carry her down the hall to my room.
“What are you doing?” she asks as I lay her on the bed then climb in next to her.
“We’re going to talk. You’re going to tell me what happened,” I state.
“You know, I really don’t like it when you completely ignore what I tell you.”
“Okay, baby. Talk to me,” I tell her, adjusting her so that we’re face to face.
“Gahhhh, you’re so annoying,” she whines.
“Talk, Soph.”
“Fine.” She sighs, closing her eyes.
I listen quietly, running my hand through her hair as she tells me everything I already learned from her police report. Hearing it from her mouth has me ready to kill someone, and by the time she’s done talking, I have mentally planned my trip to Seattle.
“So, you see, it’s really not that bad,” she says, looking up at me.
I know it could have been much worse, but I also know that what happened to her changed the course of her life even more than it had already when she lost her mother. And even if she doesn’t want to admit it, I know that the loss of her mom when she was so young has a lot to do with her avoiding any type of relationship with people.