I pull my hand out of his harshly, feeling like he is just slapping me in the face. My tight knot of pain in my chest constricting harder and triggering my angry response to shield my heart from more pain, aggressively. This is nothing I don’t already know, haven’t already mulled over on the drive here over and over. Expecting the second when he will have to leave; yet coming out of his mouth the way it is, and looking away instead of at me, it hurts 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, standing to stare out the window at that familiar ocean view in the distance, but it brings me no sense of peace like it used too. Instead I just feel like I am 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, hands resting on my shoulders, dwarfed by his hands, as he leans into me. I twitch at his touch, that inner, deep hurt, anger, instinctively moving to reject him, but I stay put, some little tiny inner 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. Sophie, 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 into and it doesn’t bare thinking about how many close calls you have had already.’ He turns me back to him with a slow even movement. My stubborn lift of the chin hides the deeper terrifying fear gripping inside of me, building up from my toes as it tries to slowly consume me, threatening to claw my insides into oblivion. My 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 and making 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 close and searching 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 high tails 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 has seen a million times before. Sophie of old, pushing 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 round long enough to do it and the fall will hurt.
‘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…….See. When you’re around, I can think straight, I can rationalise and feel 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 am doing.’ I bite my lip as emotions try to force to the surface against that wall I am building, looking down between us at my fiddling hand, which is now joined to my other to focus. A swirling cloud of feeling inside of me, battling to see which one will be victorious.
‘You’re not alone here. You have your parents, Leila is close by and Emma. Both of them 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 has made it loud and clear that he has no intention of sticking around and helping me get through this at all. He is passing the buck to my sister and my god mother, hoping to wash his hands of the problem that I have become and it just 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 could deliver me home.
‘Neither of them were raped and beaten by their father for fourteen years, while their mother turned a blind eye.’ The harsh biting tone that evicts the words from my mouth lands heavily between us. Lashing out viciously because of how raw the pain is making me, how his admission he’s leaving me has hit my heart like a blunt dagger.
Arrick smooths a finger down my cheek as a stray tear manages to squeeze out unpermitted, ignoring my outburst as something I do when I am in pain and he has seen it all before. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying hard to curb the urge to push him away. I don’t want his hands on me if all he is going to do is let me down again.
‘Don’t let that bastard take your life Mimmo, don’t let what he did ruin any chance of a future. You’re stronger than this. You always were and this is just a bump in the road.’ Arrick’s tone remains unchanged, he knows every sordid detail about my past, he’s been the one to hold my hand in therapy when it got tough and is the one who distracted me through years of healing. I keep trying to remind myself of how much he has done for me as the rage bubbles and twists deep down, that insecure scared little fiery demon that I possess, who just wants to wipe away the sorrow and replace it with anger. Trying to give myself reasons to not jump to anger with him, but it’s hell on earth when all I feel is the overwhelming ache of loneliness.
‘Say I do what you ask? Say I go to therapy again? I play nice and stay home and do what you say. How long do I have to stay out here?’ I look up at him with big eyes, swallowing down the growing tide of bitterness, my throat beginning to ache with the effort of not losing my shit right now. A frown hits his brow as he slides back down with me onto the seat, pulling me down to it, facing him again. Sighing heavily. My body just feels heavy and numb right now and so very torn as to how to behave, I just feel like my emotions are all over the place and my control is slipping by the second.
‘Why are you being this way? This is where you belong, where you’re safe and I don’t get why you don’t want to be here.’ He goes in for calm and mature again. I bite back with whiny, irritating, childish and insecure.
Way to go Sophie of old.
‘Why don’t YOU want to be here?’ I throw it back at him, a fiery spark inside of me, hitting out as my inner stubborn and irrational self, sparks up. I feel hemmed in and caught against the wall, biting back in the only way I know how. That girl who saved me from cruel insanity at the hands of my sperm donor, pushing her tough face and prickly attitude out front to shield me. Becoming defensive and argumentative, despite telling myself that I am being dumb and that he doesn’t deserve this side of me, ever.
‘I do want to be here, but I live in the city because I work there. I need to be there Soph’s and I can’t just drop everything. I’ll come back and forth.’ He shrugs.
‘Jake works in the city, and so does your dad, but both of them live here.’ I point out snootily, willing him to see that I need him to stay with me, brimming with simmering anger and heartbreak all at once, heart beating faster and breathing hitching as panic creeps through me. Pulling myself out of his embrace and picking at the hem of his hoody which is still on my body like a warm hug. I turn away and look across my room to find a point of focus to calm myself from an all-out breakdown of epic proportions.
‘They fly to work like twice a week at most, I don’t like flying and would have to do it daily. I also train to fight in the city, so it won’t work. Sophie. This isn’t about me needing to be here, this is about you needing to be here until you’re emotiona
lly stronger.’ He tries to angle his body to meet my eye, leaning in and forward to look at me, but I only move further around to avoid him. Like a child. So many warring emotions going off inside of me like a firework display and just poised on the edge of full on explosion. I just feel like I can’t breathe, that deep growling ache is now a chest crushing weight.
‘I’m just fine, so what? I like to party? I like to get drunk and hang out with people in clubs and bars. All of you did it, Leila was the absolute worst at it and no one gave her this hard a time.’ I move out of his reach, pacing to my vanity and shoving cuddly toys and childish trinkets aside before slumping down to look at myself in the mirror, free from makeup, fresh faced and clean from using Arrick’s shower this morning and looking about fifteen years old once more. I rifle through the make up on the top and pull out a mascara to at least bring some age to my face.
That all-consuming feeling is turning black in my soul. I am losing the ability to control it and where heartbreak was, anger is now devouring instead. I spent so many years turning my anger into healthier avenues of outlet and learning to not impulsively let it jump out front when I feel pain; but the last months in the city seem to have undone all of that and like a knee jerk upper cut reaction. Anger is reigning supreme. Anger at him, the guy who has never deserved it, yet dealt with it so many times in the past.
‘Sophie, I am trying to get through to you, trying to make you see that we all did dumb ass things and it wasn’t the way to handle it, hence why none of us do it anymore. You’re lashing out at the wrong people, and hurting yourself in the process.’ Arrick is behind me once more, leaning on the back of my chair and watching me apply a liberal coat of mascara expertly; his eyes on what I’m doing intensely. I resist the urge to glare at him in the mirror and try my best to avoid looking at him at all. Loving him more than life, and yet hating him more than anything right now. Body aching with the effort of just breathing and he is looking at me so expectantly, like somehow spending five minutes with me would have fucking fixed everything.
‘Maybe I just need to get it out of my system, the same way you all did, stop treating me like a kid and give me some benefit of the doubt for a change.’ I slide up past him, pulling off his hoody coolly, in a bid to appear nonchalant, revealing the strappy top from the night before, open at the back and held together with dangerously thin straps. It’s low at the front and I’m braless; moving to my cupboard, rifling through to find a skimpy vest top emblazoned with an old punk rock logo that’s currently trending again. Focusing on clothes is the only thing I can do right now, to stop that boiling pot of mine inside from blowing the lid. Bringing me to a simmer instead of a rolling boil, clothes have always been like a weakness that soothes and reels my focus in. I have never understood why I get so much joy from them.
I keep my back to Arrick as I haul my top off over my head and pull on the new one, brushing out my hair with fingertips and pulling myself back into rebellious mode, that mask of indifference sliding on and ‘City Sophie’ who needs only herself, pushing in place. I have never any qualms about changing in front of him, I trust him and know he isn’t the type to ‘perve’ on me or try and get an eyeful.
‘You know, you used to listen to me? I used to be the only one who seemed to get through to you and I loved that I could. I loved that we had a bond. What’s happening to us Mimmo?’ Arrick hasn’t moved from the chair by the dressing table, instead he is leaning heavily on it and regarding me sort of wistfully, unphased by my half naked change of clothes a moment ago. His voice is soft, his face just looks sad and I hate that he’s making me feel guilty again. That pang of something going off inside of me just draws out that rage once more.
I am not the one bailing on a friend in need. He is.
‘You up and left me for some big city life and a girlfriend who doesn’t want me hanging out with you. You left me! So I found my own way and now, because you don’t like it, you think I should stop.’ I smart, biting hard and sounding like the catty bitch I have become over the past months.
‘See the funny thing is, you want me to go back to being your little sidekick, but you’re not even going to stick around more than forty eight hours to even see that I make it. Doesn’t sound like you really have any intention of seeing me through anything.’ I throw my shoes off into the open walk in closet, rifle through the display of shoes distractedly and pull out some high black stilettos studded with mini spikes from two seasons ago that will work with this top. Trying to keep my cool so very painfully. Sliding them on my feet then pulling out a matching belt and sling it around my low rise jeans. Glam rock, to suit my ‘piss off, I fucking hate you’, mood of right now.
Arrick frowns as he watches the outfit taking shape before his eyes. His whole body language responding to the change in me and I can literally see the evolution from caring and understanding, to getting pissed with how this is going. I no longer care, I am beyond trying to reel in that inner crazy in me and shoes and clothes are no longer having any effect.
‘So, you’re just going to dress up and go out to get wrecked, right? Handling it so fucking well. Four-hour drive home for absolutely fucking nothing Soph’s, round of applause.’ He snaps, that cool demeanour breaking once more and at super-fast speed for him. Eyes raging and jaw squaring as he grits his teeth to curb the temper. I straighten up and meet his scowl, face on, glaring right fucking back at him with the rage of a girl who has been trampled on one to many times and just disappointed that her one life line turned out to be a big fat nothing.
Despite Arrick’s cool outward persona there is no doubt he has that hot Italian Carrero blood in there somewhere, and I always figured his time in the ring, beating opponents, helped to disperse it enough to maintain calm everywhere else. He obviously needs a good boxing match soon or else he is in serious Carrero explode mode. Part of me wonders what that would ever look like; years of cool control dissipating and letting that underlying fierce out. Part of me is edging me stupidly to push and see.
Yup, inner self-destruct mode initiated!
‘You wanted me back here… I’m back! Now you get to go sail off into the sun set, patting yourself on the back for the sterling job of delivering me home. Go!…Go back to New York and Natasha. I don’t need you here, I don’t need you anymore and I never will. I’m fine by myself and I can handle my own shit from now on, without you running interference anymore.’ My voice is raised, heart beating fast as anger floors me internally and my head seems set on poking the bear with a big stick. I obviously have internally decided that if I can’t have his support then I want his reaction, and even though mature Sophie is screaming at me at how stupid this is, childish Sophie is egging me on. I want to wound him the way he is wounding me.
I only have two reactions to an angry Arry; either I cry and revert to wounded child, or I hate him and lash back with any weapon I can. Right now, it’s the latter, and the words tumbling out of my mouth are not even close to what I really mean. I’m mad and hurt, that he is fucking leaving me again. Just like he did two years ago when he moved to the city!
‘Yeah right, until the next drunken call to scrape you off another club floor, or stop some asshole taking his violent tendencies out on you?’ Arrick sneers, anger simmering under that beautifully glaring face, losing his own ability to keep it all calm and icy like Mr Control always does, but I only sneer back. Never phased when head to head in battle with him and right now giving less than zero fucks about how this is going to turn out.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t be calling you anymore. It’s pretty clear that I am more hassle than I’m worth and dumping me back here is a sign that you don’t want to deal with me anymore. I get it loud and clear…. I am not your problem anymore!’ I pull off bitch in so many ways; stance, frosty tone and sneer. If it was any douche in New York getting this side of me then I would high five myself with a sense of flawless achievement, but because it’s him, I just get a resounding sense of nausea clawing up inside of me. That tiny inner v
oice trying so hard to remind me that this is Arry, my Arry; this is my heart, and clawing at it crazily will only wound me in return. I block it out.
Despite all the cold and bitchy words pouring from my mouth, deep down I am in heart wrenching panic and I feel like my insides are going to self-implode, I can’t breathe. The effort of holding myself in check and the tears at bay are excruciating beneath that solid block of forming ice. I stamp it all down as best as I can, so that the surface stays unchanged.
I don’t want him to leave me, I want him to stay with me and take care of me like he always does. I want him to help fix me and find the root of why everything has been falling to shit around me. I need him. I always needed him.
‘You’re a piece of work Soph. I see now that you’re not the same kid I adored. She had the sense to take help when it was offered, and she did it gratefully. I don’t know where this version came from, but I don’t like it; maybe we have just grown apart and this isn’t going to work anymore. You obviously changed in the time you stayed away and this girl facing me now is not someone I want to know, or even know how to get through too. ‘ Arrick straightens up, fixing his shirt and smoothing his jacket down in that infuriating, regaining control, manner that makes me want to stab him with my fucking shoe. He is disconnecting from me emotionally. Putting that barrier back up, like he has done a million times in the past months. Putting problem child Sophie on the other side of the fence so he doesn’t have to deal with her anymore.
‘Well I’m not keeping you here, there’s the door…. Pretty sure you already displayed great skills at using it the last time you fucked off.’ I stand with my hands on my hips, venom on show while my heart disintegrates, pushing him away; all the while my soul is screaming at him to see through this bullshit and just help me. I lift my chin defiantly and can feel the angry scowl across my face aching with the effort of holding it. I won’t show weakness.
The Carrero Heart - Beginning: Arrick and Sophie. (The Carrero Series Book 4) Page 12
