I came back to it hours later, remembering how Madox had said something at the bedroom door before closing it, leaving me to sleep, and before I passed out.
When I went to sneak out, that’s when I realized he’d locked the door from the inside and closed it. I remember how it felt so wrong to unlock it and dare to step out into the hallway. I registered how expensive everything looked only in that moment. I hadn’t noticed any of it before.
It was quiet, and the house felt lonely. I found out later that it was empty. Madox had locked my bedroom door and the doors to the house, and they’d all left together. They knew the men who’d tried to hurt me, and they hurt them back.
It’s why they didn’t run after the guys while I was there. They didn’t need to. They knew where they’d be.
It wasn’t worth it though. Madox didn’t just hurt the man, he beat him unconscious at a bar and was arrested.
The fucked up thing was that after I went home that early morning, in clothes that weren’t mine and didn’t fit, without my car and still scared, I told my mother I was sorry – they found out what had happened and I confessed even more of the sordid truth – I told them everything, and it was my stepfather who bailed Madox out of jail.
I felt like I owed him – I owed both of them – more than I could ever repay.
I was a girl who was no one. A girl who knew nothing. A girl who wanted to stand up for something, but fell to the lowest low when on her own. I caused nothing but problems, and I hated myself for it. If I could take it all back, I would’ve. I wouldn’t have shut my mouth and dealt with the pain from hearing my stepfather yell cunt as he punched the window the same way I’d always dealt with them yelling... bottling it up, deep down inside. If I could go back, I’d do that still. Because all the events landed Madox in jail and I went right back to where I was told to go from the beginning.
I tried to forget what happened, but I couldn’t. I needed to see them. I needed to thank them and tell them I was sorry too. That’s all I was at that point in my life. Sorry.
I saw Madox again a week later, complete with his group of friends, when I finally had the balls to apologize but also thank them. I went back to the large house he’d taken me to, which was practically a mansion, and I waited on the porch for him.
That day changed everything. I wouldn’t be the person I am without them.
I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been walking down the street at that moment. Just the thought of that shed gave me the worst nightmares for months, nightmares where Madox and his friends weren’t there.
The nightmares went away though the day after I told Madox about them. It took me months to tell him about them, but when I did, he told me he’d change that. He fucked me against that same shed and told me that was the only memory of the shed that mattered. I stared at the fence where the men had come through and Madox whispered in my ear all the sweet nothings a girl dreams of. Their steps disappeared from my memory and all I could hear was Madox. The hand I felt vanished in place of the pleasure Madox gave me. He kissed every inch of me, made me stare at anything that reminded me of the bad, and in its place, gave me a good I didn’t know existed.
It wasn’t my first time with him, but it was one of our firsts. It was the first time he took me somewhere other than his bed, and the first time he showed me what depths he would go to in order to erase any pain I had.
He was right too. Nothing else mattered. That was the first time I wanted to tell him I loved him. But I kept quiet. I saved my words like he did, and pretended I was okay with that.
It was wrong that we were together. I knew that. He was older and I wasn’t old enough. He was wealthy and had already established himself in a career he was born to dominate. I was nothing and he was everything. I didn’t understand why he would want me, but a small part of me hoped it wouldn’t change. That was my first problem – not wanting things to change when they were so unbalanced, I would never be able to keep up.
Lying in Madox’s arms while staring up at the ceiling fan, every bit of that anxiousness, that regret… that small bit of hope, comes to the surface all over again.
“Should I pretend to be asleep so you can sneak out? Or will you let me buy you coffee?” Madox’s voice is calm and even, although his sleepiness is evident in his tone.
Has it really been seven years since all that? Has life really changed so much since then?
“As if you could sleep through me wrestling my jeans over my ass,” I mock him as I shift under the comforter, listening to it rustle and pretending like memory lane didn’t just tear me down to the girl I used to be. Laying a cheek against his chest, I peek up at him as he chuckles.
It’s been so long since I’ve kissed him, but in my head I always imagined it was everything. The heat, the forcefulness mixed with a tenderness that smoldered with desire. I thought a few months ago that I made him seem larger than life in my memory. That it was all in my head.
But it’s real. Every bit of it is real. The way he kisses, the way he does everything, is even better than I remember.
My fingers play with a small smatter of hair on his chest as I wonder if he wants me to stay a little longer, or if I should go. More importantly, I wonder if anything at all has changed.
Chapter 7
Madox
Seven years ago
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” I tell her as she stands there, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.
“I’m sorry--”
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” I command her without thinking about it. She shouldn’t be sorry. I hate that she looks at me like that.
“Okay,” she whispers, her wide, deep blue eyes seeking approval from me. I want to take that pain away from her; I want to see her anything other than the way she is now. “I just wanted to tell you, I really appreciate what you did and I’m--” she pauses to swallow and then concludes, “I wish you hadn’t gotten in trouble for it.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her, knowing how much she isn’t fine. I almost ask her to come inside. I almost ask her if she wants to, but instead I tell her to come inside and that I’d washed her clothes for her. I deliberately bring her into the game room first, so the guys can see she’s here. “You want to let off some steam and play pool or something?” Ryan asks her. I knew he would; he’s a shark. Before she can answer, I place my hand on the small of her back and tell her, “I’m only playing if we play in teams.”
I hope I never forget the way her expression changes in that moment. Where she realizes no one here wants her to be sorry.
Today
I can still feel her lips kissing down my neck as the waiter pours our coffee. The smell is rich and enticing, but it’s nothing compared to my memory of last night. I have to stare at the glass front door of the shop to keep from replaying every second with her in my bed, listening to the chimes of the bells hanging above the door as an older man wearing a newsboy cap enters, pausing to shake out his umbrella.
“The weather sucks today,” Sophie says, although her voice is sweet and airy. My eyes drift back to her as she blows across the top of her coffee. Mine’s black and hers is only a few shades darker than the cream tablecloth.
As she takes her first sip, I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“I want to see you again. Tonight.”
My words catch her off guard and she nearly spits her coffee back up. She’s frantic as she pulls the napkin from her lap to wipe her mouth.
I don’t say a damn thing, only wait for her response once she’s set down the napkin.
“Can’t we just talk about the weather and pretend like I’m not wearing the same clothes I had on last night?”
“No,” I say, and my answer is flat. I know what I want; I’m not accepting anything less. Her hesitation sends a prick of uncertainty down my spine, but I ignore it. I know she feels what’s between us just like I do. I know she does. It’s always been between us. After the four years she was m
ine the three years without her has simply been a waiting game. That’s all it was. Waiting. I’m done waiting now.
Sophie’s smile fades to nothing and she shifts nervously in her seat before glancing at the door.
“Is that so shocking? That I want to see you again?” I ask her, feeling a wretched twisting in my chest. The frustration is more than a hint.
Her eyes reach mine instantly. “That you would say it? …Yes.”
Anger simmers as she keeps her blue eyes on mine, prying and searching for God knows what.
“I found myself when I left.” A deep breath leaves her as she sighs and picks up her mug to take a sip. “I like the person I am now, and I don’t want to go back to what I was.”
“Who you were? What was wrong with who you were? You’ve always been perfect.” She softens at my last sentence, visibly so.
“I didn’t have a voice.” She stares into her mug as she tells me, “I didn’t know what I wanted in life.”
“What do you want now?”
“I don’t want to make the same mistakes as we did before… I know that much.”
“I understand. I made mistakes in the past; I know that now. I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to lose you, either.” I offer my hand to her, palm up on the small table, and just like I knew she would, Sophie sets her small hand in mine before tracing the lines on my palm with the tips of her fingers. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other. I just want to see you again.”
“I don’t know,” Sophie whispers, looking lost and I hate it. I hate it all. I pull my hand away, feeling the chill in the air against my palm. It pairs perfectly with the hollowness in my chest. “You’ll ruin me,” she answers with a dullness in her voice, a loss of fight yet complete with conviction.
Ruin her. Yes. That’s exactly what I want to do. No other man is right for her but me.
Hearing those words on her lips unleashes a part of me I don’t want to hide from her. It’s impulsive, but I grab the leg of her chair and drag both it and her closer to me. She squeals, and with the addictive sound she grins broadly. The heat, the tension, it all skyrockets as she bites down on her lower lip and that beautiful blush I love to see creeps onto her cheeks.
“People will see.” She barely gets out the excuse before I tell her, “Let them.”
“Madox,” she says and her whisper is a hushed admonishment, but her smile stays in place as she peeks up at me and then at my lips before giving me a small chaste kiss.
When she breaks away, I wait for her eyes to reach mine and kiss her deeper, cupping her jaw and kissing her the way she deserves to be kissed.
I kiss her until she’s breathless, letting the tip of my nose brush against hers and then kissing her once more, quick and soft, to seal the kiss.
“The way you kiss me…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, keeping her eyes closed the entire time.
The need to take her right now creeps up on me as she glances at her phone, and it buzzes in her hand until she clicks the screen.
With a reluctant sigh, she tells me, “I have to go; my boss wants to meet for brunch before work tomorrow.”
“I want to see you tonight.” I leave no room for negotiation in my tone. “We have a lot to talk about. A lot to catch up on.”
Picking up her purse, she brushes her hair behind her ear and settles her phone into place, leaving me waiting.
Just as I’m ready to tell her I’ve waited long enough, she speaks softly. “I’m scared it’s going to be just like how it was before.”
She’ll never know how much it fucking kills me to hear her say that. Every day since she left, I’ve coveted what we had.
“I don’t want to be some weak girl hanging on the arm of a man who’s perfectly fine if she walks away,” she says, and her voice cracks. “I don’t want to fight, Madox.”
“We don’t have any reason to fight. I’m just taking you to dinner.” I feel my throat tighten as I swallow, and the old man from earlier leaves with a to-go cup of coffee in his hand, making the bells jangle again. He steals her attention from me, but when I get it back, she offers me a kind smile.
“I don’t remember you being this … persistent.”
“You don’t know everything about me, Sophie. I was never okay when you walked away.”
She doesn’t know how I kept tabs on her when I found out she’d run away. She doesn’t know what I thought of her that very first night she slept in my clothes, in my house, either.
“Meet me tonight.” Although I’ve given her an order rather than a request, I’m not sure that she will. Her movements pause, halting the hoodie midair before she slips it on and then nods.
“I’ll meet you.” Her expression turns soft as she tells me quietly, “I was dreading seeing you, you know?” She shakes her head as if in disbelief then adds, “But somehow I knew I wouldn’t be able to set foot in this city without running into you.”
She offers me a kiss on the cheek before she leaves, bells chiming as I watch her walk away, thinking about that first night I met her, the night I saved her, and how everything shifted the first moment I saw Sophie Miller.
She may have dreaded seeing me last night, but there isn’t a damn thing I ever dreaded when it came to her except for her walking away. Since the moment I saw her, it’s always been her.
* * *
“Is she homeless?” Ryan asked me from the front seat of Cody’s Mercedes. He asked the question from between tightly clenched teeth, but she heard him anyway, stiffening beside me in the backseat. She was so beautiful. Her vulnerability though, her trusting me, it called to me like nothing had before.
Cody rolled down the windows, letting in the night air as we drove back to our place by the park. It was a smaller place, one owned by Cody’s parents, and we used it as our party pad. Brett had stayed back to play video games, but he was the only one there. She’d be safe there; we could keep her safe. I could keep her safe.
“I left my parents’ house… my car, fuck…” the small girl trailed off and whirled around to look out the back window. “My car is back there, just--”
“It can wait,” I said, cutting her off. She’d already freaked out once, but she listened to me. She trusted me. At least enough to calm down.
“I don’t want to go home.” Her words shook like her shoulders did, and when Cody looked back at her, she scooted closer to me. She did that all night, clinging to me like I was her savior whenever anyone looked at her. No one had ever looked at me like that.
She needed a shower, clean clothes and someone to look after her. At least until she stopped shaking.
“Should we call the cops?” Ryan asked, peeking back at me in the rearview mirror.
I shook my head, feeling the familiar anger rise inside. I didn’t need the police involved. I already knew what I was going to do. The anger would have taken over, like it used to ever since what happened with my father, but in that second, her side touched mine. She leaned against me, soft and warm and wanting to be held.
She needed me to.
It should anger me that I crave that moment back. She was anything but okay, and I have no right to want to go back there when she was in so much pain.
But no one has ever needed me like she did then.
It took hours before she agreed to sleep in my room at the house. I told her I wasn’t letting her sleep in her car, and I thought she’d fight back, but she was too tired. I could see it in her eyes.
I locked the bedroom door before closing it shut… I locked it because I didn’t trust myself to leave her alone that night. I wanted to sleep beside her, to be there if something happened, to watch over her. Something was broken inside of her and I recognized it. I just didn’t know what.
I wanted to kiss her more than anything. She was younger than me, she was vulnerable and it was wrong. It was fucked up that I craved her like I did. But worse than that, I felt deep inside that she’d kiss me back. She’d do whatever I asked that night, and I didn’t trus
t myself not to ask for more than she could give.
I promised myself in that moment when I locked the door to the guest bedroom, leaving her safe inside, if she ever wanted to walk away, I’d let her. What we had scared me, and I couldn’t imagine what it did to her. I thought she’d know I would still be there waiting. How could she not know that?
I didn’t take into account that we came from different worlds. She was used to running and fighting. It’s what she knew. What I knew was something completely different.
I’ve never been attracted to anyone like I’m drawn to Sophie. I want to take every bit of her, and that’s exactly what I did. Every single piece of her was mine.
She’s used to fighting; her mother made sure of that.
When I didn’t fight back, she left me.
When I did fight back, she left me.
I know how to hold her when she needs me to, and back then, she needed my touch often. I have no fucking idea how to hold on to her though when she doesn’t want it, but I’m not going to back down. I did once, and it left me desolate for three years, waiting for her to come back.
I know she wants me the way I want her. That’s the only thing that matters.
Chapter 8
Sophie
Seven years ago
I don’t want to go home, so I stay here with Madox. I’m not his girlfriend though and that makes me feel a certain way. A way that’s uncomfortable. A way that makes me feel ashamed.
I’m afraid to ask him if I can call him my boyfriend. I’m afraid to push him away. His stubble is scratchy when he kisses my bare shoulder and I have to shudder which makes him chuckle behind me.
That sound makes me smile. The sound of him happy.
“Madox?” I whisper, staring ahead at a dresser that isn’t mine but one he filled with clothes for me. “What are we?” I don’t know what he’ll think of the question.
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