by Fiona Keane
“Sophia.” I rattled the knob, shaking the door within its closed hinges. “Open the door…Soph, please…Soph…Soph…please…”
I rattled harder, more aggressively the next time while my nerves stung with panic. My body began filling with fervor, desperate to break down the door.
“Dammit, Soph,” I cursed, pounding against it. “You have to let me in. Please. Let me in.”
I hated to curse at her. I never wanted to show her that side of me, but I was beginning to panic. The second the words slipped from my tongue, I was filled with remorse, regretting everything.
“Please, Soph. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell…I just…I’m so lost, Soph. I need you. I’m terrified…”
The door swung open, a fiery angel was glowering at me, her blue eyes lost and filled with a hopeless abyss of sorrow and fear.
“It isn’t about you anymore, Jameson,” she said. “You’ve had time to grieve your parents. You’ve had privilege. You’ve had people you can trust. Me?”
“You?” I swallowed, in awe of Soph’s courage.
Her body was trembling and I could hear in her voice that she was close to tears. I wanted to hold her, even wrap my arms around her and push her onto the bed where I could lovingly restrain her until her panic dissipated and we could talk like we had a day prior. I wanted to hold her like I held her hours ago.
“I have had none of that,” she admitted. “And here I am, being told once more that the life I’m in is a mistake. Please let me go, Jameson. It’s best for you. Nobody knows that I know about you. Not even Simon. He has no proof.”
“No.”
“I’m going.” I noticed the bag of clothes in her right hand, heavy enough to force her weight to shift while she avoided my eyes.
“Look at me, Soph,” I pleaded. “Please, Soph.”
Her hair hung around her face, damp from her bath, and her complexion was lost; a pale ghost of a smiling girl who was now wrought with grief. I didn’t know how to make her stay.
My heart hurt, a physical pain radiating through my chest, reminding me of the agony I placed upon Soph when I followed Thomas’s demand and abandoned her at Michelle’s. Not this time. My hands clung to her arms, probably piercing her delicate skin but not caring because all I wanted to do was hold on to her and keep her there, with me.
“Sophia,” I choked, “please don’t leave me. Don’t do this.”
“Please let go of me,” she mumbled, her face pulling away from my gaze.
I lifted my hands and cupped her face. “Will you come back to me?”
I could feel my own tears burning against the corners of my eyes. Soph blinked, pondering my words as she meticulously examined my face as though she was burning a memory…as though we would be a memory.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SOPHIA
Would I come back?
I would go wherever he was. I would foolishly follow this boy I had only known for five weeks, but to whom I felt so profoundly connected, anywhere. But right now, orphaned, overwhelmed, emotionally exacerbated and raw, I had nowhere to be. I needed to be before I could go.
I couldn’t trust Simon. I didn’t know what Jules knew or what she was too naïve to consider, but what I understood was that I wasn’t safe. The more I thought about the cyclone of my life, the last few months of which left my soul battered and blue, the more I slipped from reality. I wasn’t deserving. I wasn’t worthy. I had to escape.
“If I let you go,” his voice cracked, losing the confidence he so often exuded, “will you come back, Soph? I…I need you, Soph. I need to be with you. You ground me. You…you make the nightmares stop. You make the fear go away. You make me breathe, Soph. Please…”
His confession briefly paralyzed my mind while I stared at his soft, wet eyes. I’m hurting him.
“I need you too, Jameson, but there are some things that even you can’t protect me from. Right now, I’m one of them. I’m one of those things you can’t prevent from hurting me. You can’t protect me from myself.”
I stepped by him, spinning from his grasp and leaving him to stand outside of the bedroom while I nervously ran from a gaping Thomas and Elizabeth. The only thing I could blame this newfound moxie on was the adrenaline and my empty stomach. I just needed to breathe. I ran to the elevator, struggling with the bag of clothes in my hands, frantically pounding the button. When it arrived, I flew in and repeated the same pounding in hopes of speedily getting away. I didn’t belong in the Ritz. The sparkling crystal water glasses in the bathroom and lavish oils in the bath were enough to remind me that I wasn’t at home. I had nowhere.
“Ma’am,” an employee nodded as I jumped out of the elevator.
I didn’t have the strength to smile politely. I didn’t smile politely. Ever. That was too invasive of a social expectation. Keeping my head low and my feet moving, I tumbled down the massive front steps and into the parking lot. The expensive cars, untouched by the hurricane and overflowing the capacity of the parking lot blocked my quick exit while I tried to weave out of there.
“Soph!” His voice tore right through my panting chest, tingling down my arms in a weakening pain that loosened the bag from my hands. I watched it spill onto the pavement and knelt to frantically gather the clothes.
“Sophia,” Jameson called, closer this time.
I told myself not to look up, not to see the hurt I knew was there, but I didn’t listen to the wimpy voice inside my mind. I listened to my heart and his voice instead. He was feet away, approaching with hesitation, and his hazel eyes were hauntingly void of the magnetic golden sparkle that beckoned my heart.
“Soph.” Jameson’s fingers wrapped around my shoulders, slowly shaking me to reality. He was crying. His eyes were moist, threatened by tears.
“I…I’m sorry.” I fell into him, my body crashing against his with such a force that we nearly tumbled onto the pavement.
His arms tightened around my back, adhering us to one another. It was a bittersweet suffocation because I knew I still had to leave. I needed to breathe.
“Please don’t go,” he whispered above my head, lifting a palm to press my face against his chest.
I was beginning to sniffle, more tears obstructing my vision, when I struggled to wiggle from his hold.
“Please let me,” I replied, lifting my head back to see his face. He had aged in the last hour alone, fearful, unsure, and lost. Just like me.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere.” I inhaled, absorbing what I could of him while tightly closing my eyes.
The soft, crackling hum of his anxious voice flowed into my ears, torturing my confidence. “Let me come with you.”
“Not this time, Jameson.”
“At least let me take you somewhere so I know you’re safe.”
My head shook, a heavy sigh trembling from my lips. “Jameson?”
“Yes, Soph?”
“This might sound strange, but do you remember the first time we touched one another? Like when our hands…”
He interrupted me, his eyes knowingly scanning mine. “At school. I was leaving late because I had to finish an art project and you wouldn’t let me drive you home. I tried to take your hand. And…yes, I remember.”
“The feeling?”
“Yes.” He nodded, swallowing in anticipation of my words.
My lungs slowly steadied, only a few ragged hiccup breaths dribbled from my throat. I blew some air out, steadying my nerves before continuing.
“I can’t forget it. It’s like an electric current that just runs through my body now, like it’s part of my bloodstream and part of some system that keeps me…”
“Alive.” His expression softened, comprehending my words entirely.
“And,” I continued, blushing through my damp cheeks, “when you promised you’d keep away my nightmares, the first time you spent the night in my room. You let me sleep on you when you barely knew me.”
“I wanted to know you. I told you that, Soph.”
Jameson released his hold around my body and lifted his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks tightly. “You broke down my walls, Sophia Reid. I can’t move forward without you as my foundation. I won’t.”
“I was terrified when I met you. I’m terrified now,” I admitted, looking into his eyes, “I just need some space, Jameson, space from my heart and my mind. I just need a little while to be without our reality.”
Our reality. Something we shared together, a precious, sacred secret binding Jameson and I until we decided to break it.
“Please hold on to those memories, Jameson. For now.”
“Only until I can hold you.”
My head fell, shaking against his chest, “Stop saying that. Stop being so perfect. You’re being so incredibly selfish right now, Jameson!”
“Soph, this is just like our date,” his voice raised. “Please don’t run.”
“Give me time, Jameson! Give me air! You’ve become my oxygen, my addiction. You’re this…this…chemical to my heart and now…”
“I get it,” his trembling voice sighed, his right hand running through his wild hair. “You’re that to me, Soph. You’re my home. Take me with you.”
Jameson’s hand lifted tentatively, slowly resting against my heart. I could feel the magnetic, electric response my body had to his touch as waves rippled from his palm and radiated throughout.
“I have no home,” I reminded him, lifting my hands to hold the wrist pressing against my heart.
“You always will when you’re with me, Soph,” he whispered. “Always. Why won’t you see that? Stop running.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JAMESON
She stepped back and I couldn’t hold her any longer. I let her go. I didn’t want to restrain her, but I just wished she could feel secure enough to cope with me.
“I don’t have a phone,” she mumbled, lifting her bag. “So…maybe I can use Jules’s to call you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Jesus. That is an eternity, Sophia. Maybe she would call?
I needed to say something. I needed to do something to stop her from running without her feeling controlled. She was an incredible storm, a beautiful wild wind, but Sophia was also so internal, so introverted. She wouldn’t allow a soul to tell her what to do, yet she feared not being supported.
What am I supposed to do? Carry her back into the hotel? Yes. Pick her up like you did during the hurricane, and get her back inside. We can figure it out inside. Figure it out, fight it out…who cares?
“Maybe,” her words barely shook from her mouth, “…don’t follow me.”
“Don’t follow you? Then don’t run! I will always follow you, Sophia. Always. You’re part of me now. I’m part of you. We’re together.”
I couldn’t comprehend Soph’s fear of herself. Soph didn’t need to be prevented from herself. She needed to be protected, cherished, and admired for who she was; exactly who she was, even with the beautiful trauma that shaped her, because of the beautiful trauma that shaped her.
“Are we?”
Damn Thomas. I was going to murder him for putting such doubt in Soph’s mind. I slowly reached for her wrists, wrapping my hands around them while I searched her face for anything that would indicate a settled heart.
“We have been,” I assured her. “Since the moment you walked up the steps at school. From the second you smiled at Olivia and I was standing there. We’ve been together since then. We will be together, Soph…”
Soph wiggled from my hold and raised on her toes to my face. Her left palm cupped my right cheek, radiating its electric warmth into my skin.
“Give me a head start. Please,” she whispered as her soft, warm lips pressed against my cheek, searing her mark onto my soul.
I could feel the pulse drive straight through me, and all I could think of, the only thought I could process, was how my being desired nothing but to consume Sophia Reid.
Both of my palms combed through my hair, fisting knots as I grudgingly watched Soph walk away from me. I stood in the baking sun, squinting to follow the speck that had become her figure, hoping she would turn around.
“Did she leave?” Elizabeth whispered behind me, causing me to jump.
I glared at her, resenting her choice in spouse and irritated she followed us out there. Thomas should be thanking whichever deity he prayed to that he hadn’t come down to get his ass kicked.
“Thanks to your husband.”
Her hand reached for my bicep. “She won’t stay away. Even Thomas knows that.”
I looked at her, impassively observing the pretentious atmosphere surrounding Elizabeth. How overwhelming for Soph. None of this was her.
“Where would she go?”
“What do you care, Elizabeth?”
“I care about you, Jameson. Believe it or not. I know that…I know I told you before it was best for her to let her go, and I still think it would’ve been, but now…your heart is aching, isn’t it?”
“Screw both of you,” I snarled, storming away from her.
I heard Elizabeth follow, her squealing voice demanding as eloquently and politely as possible that I turn around to her. It was pathetic. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene at the Ritz. You moron. She doesn’t want attention on either of you.
I stopped mid-jog, halfway up the front steps and turned around. She was so close and determined that she practically crashed into my chest.
“Jameson,” she panted, “where are you going? We need to talk about this. You know exactly what Thomas is going to say. He’ll panic that she’s out there, somewhere, with your secret.”
“And you think,” I lowered my voice, aware of the nosy eyes glancing around us as traffic meandered in and out of the front door. “You think Sophia would actually tell someone anything that would put herself at risk? You two are so self-absorbed, Elizabeth. Seriously. If you knew half of what Soph has been through, you might actually realize and accept the fact that I’m in love with her and let us move on. Jesus Christ.”
Wait. What the hell did I just say?
I think Elizabeth’s heart stopped just as quickly as mine did, because she looked at me as though I had just grown a fourth head, covered with horns.
“Ma’am,” an employee approached Elizabeth, tentatively placing his arm on her shoulder to gain her attention, “there’s a phone call for your husband at the front desk and we…we’re unable to forward it to the room.”
“What?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes still stuck on me, probably repeating my admission in her mind like I had been doing since it blurted from my tongue.
“I’ll t-take it for him,” she stuttered, shaking her head. “Jameson, follow me in, honey.” Honey?
“Such formalities, Auntie Liz.” I smiled at Elizabeth, a little too wide and cheerful.
Her eyes quickly narrowed in response before spinning on her heel and entering the lobby. I was slow to follow her, apprehensive to continue creating distance between Soph and me. Soph.
Elizabeth was leaning over the marble counter of the front desk when I finally entered the lobby. It smelled as pungently odorous as when I arrived ninety minutes prior, the stench of chlorine and cleaning supplies filling the crowded space.
“What is it?” I questioned, watching the way her eyes flickered around the room while she listened to the receiver.
“I see,” she whispered in response to her conversation. “No. I don’t know where he is. You see, my husband is in the shower right now. It has been a great ordeal for all of us to go through this hurricane, so he might be a while calling you back. Yes. That’s my number. That’ll be fine.”
“What’s going on?” My arms crossed, frowning at Elizabeth while I waited for her response.
She handed the vacant receiver back to an employee and turned to me, releasing an irritated sigh.
“You need to find Sophia,” she mumbled. “And between you and me, you need to leave.”
“What?”
“I’ll help you. I’ll contact one of Th
omas’s friends at the DOJ. I’ll get you a passport, Jameson.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Twenty minutes ago, Thomas was telling me to leave her and now you’re telling me to take her somewhere?”
Elizabeth’s eyes closed, sealing tightly before she glanced at me again. This time, her eyes were drained of emotion.
“That was Celine Pembroke.” Elizabeth took my arm, beginning to guide me toward the front door and out onto the pavement, where I had just watched Soph run away from me. “She’s an associate of Thomas’s. She works for the DOJ.”
“Why did you lie and tell her he was in the shower?”
“That wasn’t a lie. The shower is on,” she pressed. “I don’t know if he’s in it or not. He likes to turn it on when talking on the phone so someone can’t eavesdrop. That’s not important, Jameson. Celine had a message for Thomas. For you, actually.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SOPHIA
The trolley ride was a tediously long two and a half hours back to Bradenton, back to reality. I was surprised it was even running after the hurricane, but once it picked me up and accepted the change I used for my fare, I didn’t ask questions.
I sat alone, cradling my bag of clothes from Elizabeth, trying to focus on the peace my mind struggled to find. All I could think about was the lost, hopeless hurt in Jameson’s hazel eyes when I left the Ritz, leaving him standing in the parking lot with too many questions for my heart to answer.
I got off at one of the exits along Manatee Avenue, prepared to carry my bag of clothes to the wealthy neighborhood in which Jameson and Simon lived. However, it was in my plan to avoid Simon and Jules entirely.
I was standing on the narrow sidewalk, blocks away from the extravagant part of town in which Simon lived, but I turned around, facing the opposite direction. The notion of returning anywhere near Jameson’s house, approaching Simon, all of it…it made my stomach twist.
I was so hot. I didn’t have a hairband and the early evening sun was beginning to wreak its havoc against my covered skin. I hate the sun. But I had to go the other way. I needed to go back to Jameson’s house before he found me.
