She didn’t know how long she sat on the floor, but eventually she picked herself up and made her way to the bedroom, grabbing the first bag she found and throwing clothes inside. Her gaze darted to the clock, and she hurried, knowing he would be home soon.
The front door slammed. “Sophia, why aren’t you packing? I told you to have the living room boxed up before I got home.” The anger in his voice carried down the hall, and she quickly buried the pregnancy test in her bag.
“Where are you going?”
She could smell the booze on him and she spun around, wishing she’d moved faster.
“We’re moving to New York next week and the house needs to be packed, and you’re in here packing a duffle bag? Why?” he barked out.
“I’m not going with you, Tony,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He stalked across the room, grabbing the half-filled bag. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m not going to New York,” she said, steeling her weakened spine. She could do this. Break free. The last place she wanted to be was on the other side of the country with a man she shouldn’t be near, and her family so far away.
She had to do this.
“You’re not leaving me. We have plans. A life,” he said, tossing the bag on the bed and emptying the contents over the comforter.
The pregnancy test bounced on top, and he spun on her.
“Are you pregnant?” he asked, grabbing the test and staring at it. “You’re fucking pregnant and you think you’re going to leave me? What would our parents say?”
“It’s for the best, Tony.”
He dropped the test, advancing on her as she inched back toward the wall. He grabbed her, slamming her into the wall, the edge of the doorframe digging into her spine.
“Tony, stop,” she cried.
“You think you’re going to leave me? Take this baby from me?” he growled.
“Tony, please. The baby.”
He paused, looking down at her hand splayed across her stomach. He dropped his tight hold on her upper arms, relaxing and pulling her into a hug. She did not return the embrace.
“I’m sorry, baby. You know I love you. I can’t breathe without you,” he said, pressing his forehead to her hair. “I’m really tired. Come to bed and we can talk about this in the morning,” he said, guiding her to the bed and lying down next to her. She stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the booze to do its job and put him to sleep.
That hour was agonizing, but finally only his snores could be heard. She slipped out of the bed, padding softly from the room. She grabbed her purse and her phone, and her slip-on boots. Everything else could be replaced.
Within twenty minutes, she was at her best friend’s doorstep, and the next morning she woke up in Claire’s guest room with blood on the sheets.
Her doctor told her that miscarriages were common, especially with first pregnancies.
Sophia had gone back to Claire’s refusing to see Tony again. He might not have pushed her down the stairs, and her miscarriage could’ve been completely unpreventable, but she’d had one thing to protect and she’d failed.
To this day, she still didn’t understand why he’d been so shocked when she’d ended their relationship.
And then the threats had started. She’d calmly told him she’d photographed all of her bruises and if he didn’t let her go, she would tell her parents—and the cops—everything.
He’d finally left, and Sophia had picked up the pieces of her life, moving in with Claire and seeing a therapist. Claire had urged her to tell her family, to report Tony to the police, but Sophia hadn’t. She’d been so ashamed that she’d let it go on for that long. And Tony was on the other side of the country, and the damage had been done.
“Hey.” Claire’s voice was soft, cutting through her worst memories. “You okay?” she asked, wrapping her arm around Sophia’s shoulder and guiding them toward the edge of the bed.
Aside from Sophia’s therapist, Claire was the only one who knew everything Sophia had gone through. She’d had no choice but to fess up when she’d shown up at Claire’s apartment that night. Her friend was horrified and pissed, partly at Sophia for keeping her pain a secret.
“I’m fine, just…” she trailed off, staring at her hands. She hated that he still did this to her. That she couldn’t just take a deep breath, burn that damn dress, and move the fuck on.
“I want to kill him. Can I? I mean, I bet I could make it look like an accident,” Claire said, her frustration clear. At least it wasn’t pity. Her best friend had never shown her pity and for that, Sophia was grateful.
Her laugh was shallow. “You can’t kill him. Orange would clash with your hair.”
“I just hate that he still has a hold on you.”
“Me too. But each day is better.”
“Damn straight. But if you ever want to tell your family, I’m here for you. And I want front row seats when your father and cousins go after him. I bet Grant would destroy the weasel.”
“Are we going out?” Sophia asked, needing a subject change before she spiraled down that shit rabbit hole that was her ex.
“Yes,” Claire said, squeezing Sophia’s hand before she stood up. “But, if you ever want to talk to your family, I’ll be there. And then we’ll come home and drink all the wine.”
Sophia smiled. And this time it was real.
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Of course I do,” Claire exclaimed. “Now, I think I have the perfect outfit for you.” She held up the dress in her hand.
“I love you and all, but I’m actually a fan of breathing, so I’ll go with this,” Sophia said, ducking into her closet and coming out with her favorite wrap top that accentuated her curves.
Claire eyed her up and down. “It does make the girls look spectacular. Now finish your makeup and let’s get out of here before you change your mind.”
Sophia laughed, and pulled on a pair of jeans, her exhaustion fading with Claire’s excitement. Not that she didn’t want to curl up on the couch with a good book, but it would be good for her to do something besides eat, sleep, and work. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done anything outside of those three.
***
Twenty minutes later, they walked into Crash and Byrne and made their way to the bar. Claire had wanted to go to Adam’s other location, Byrne’s, in the city, but Sophia preferred C&B, which was on their side of the bridge. Not that it was quieter, being just outside the city with the after-work crowd flooding the place on their way home on Friday nights.
Adam was smart. A bar on each side of the bridge, capturing the lunch crowd and people living in the city at Byrne’s and everyone else outside of it at C&B. Sophia liked to think that her cousin Lily, master realtor, had a hand in that when she’d helped him find the location for Byrne’s last year.
“Whoa, who gave you the night off?” her cousin Lily called out from her perch at the bar.
“Shut up. I don’t work every night,” Sophia said, ignoring Claire’s scoff at her side. “And what are you doing out? Auntie Rose have the kids?”
“Yes. She gave us a date night,” Lily said, her gaze darting back to Adam, who leaned in to brush a kiss across her lips before he pulled back to greet them.
“Hey ladies, what can I get you?” he asked.
“We would like two lemon drops, and keep them coming,” Claire said, squeezing in next to the guy on the barstool next to Lily.
Sophia laughed. “Maybe don’t keep them coming. Let’s start with one for now.” She had no desire to end up on her ass tonight, or be useless in the morning.
“Coming right up,” Adam said, getting to work on their drinks.
“So…a date, huh? You do realize that normal dates in bars involve both parties on the same side of the bar,” Sophia teased Lily.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know how dating works. What you don’t know is that he takes frequent breaks to make up for working on our date,”
she said softly, wiggling her eyebrows.
“La, la, la. I don’t need to know where his hands have recently been while he’s making my drink.”
“Now who’s the dirty one?” Lily asked, grinning again.
“Anyway,” Sophia drew out.
“Really, Uncle gave you a night off—a Friday night off? What magical powers did you recently inherit?”
“Hey, I get nights off every week,” Sophia muttered.
“Yes, but not a Friday in ages,” Claire interjected.
“Well, it happens. And I’m here to have fun and drink away my stressful week, so stop getting on my case,” she said, then took a sip of the martini Adam had just placed in front of her. “On second thought, Adam, keep them coming.”
“Now that’s what I want to hear,” Claire said, with a fist pump.
“I’m heading out, man,” the guy on the barstool next to Lily said as he raised his hand to Adam.
“You take it,” Claire said, gesturing to the now empty stool.
Sophia slid onto the stool and Claire stood between them.
“How’s the new job going? Mom said you’re loving it,” Lily said.
“It’s great. Just what I wanted, and I’m learning a lot.”
“And she gets to help injured athletes. Like hockey players,” Claire said, and Sophia glared.
“Really? Anyone we know?” Lily asked.
“Yes, her favorite, in fact,” Claire offered up. Sophia resisted the urge to elbow her roommate in the stomach.
“No way. That injury was pretty bad. I hope he’s back on the ice in time for the season.”
“Hey guys, the usual?” Adam called out.
“Yeah,” a familiar voice replied. Sophia turned to watch Finn head toward the bar. Shit, he looked good. His hair pulled back, the longer strands brushing his shoulders. His arms looked amazing in his slightly fitted shirt that hinted at everything she—and anyone else familiar with Google—knew was under there. He hadn’t seen her yet. She took a gulp of her lemon drop and coughed as the tart liquor hit the back of her throat.
“Tonight just got interesting,” Claire teased. There was probably a gleam in her friend’s eyes, but Sophia couldn’t break her gaze as it collided with Finn’s.
Why did he have to show up here tonight? Of all the nights she’d agreed to go out. Of course, she had suggested C&B in the first place.
Deep green eyes stared back at him. Eyes he couldn’t shove out of his brain no matter how hard he tried. And he’d tried—repeatedly.
Why was she here? Of all the times he’d been to C&B, he’d never seen her at the bar, which made absolutely no sense because the guys were here a lot, and she was basically Adam’s family. And he refused to believe that he just hadn’t noticed her before. He wasn’t prepared to see her tonight, to prep himself to tamp down the urge to kiss her. He could fully admit that it’d been a close call during their appointment yesterday.
Now he wished he’d ignored Sully pounding on his door less than an hour ago, convincing Finn to go out tonight.
“You moving?” Sully mumbled from behind Finn.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he said, heading toward Sophia. There was no other direction his body wanted to go, no matter how many times he tried to reason with himself.
“She looks familiar. Who is that?” Sully asked.
“The redhead?” Finn asked, knowing he was caught.
“Nope. She is smoking, but no, I’m talking about the one next to Lily, the one trying not to stare at you.”
Sully was smirking behind him. Finn didn’t need to turn around to confirm.
“Don’t know what you are talking about,” Finn said, still moving toward her.
“Sure, buddy. Then you wouldn’t mind if I hit on her. She’s really hot,” Sully said, and Finn spun.
“You will leave her alone. Why did I agree to come out with you?” he muttered, pinning a glare on his teammate. He could be home right now, with a beer in hand, and not thinking about her.
Sully chuckled and skirted around Finn, his strides eating up the distance, until he was steps away from Sophia. Finn shouldered his way through the crowd, but Sully was a slippery bastard.
“Lovely to see you, Lily. Want to introduce me to your friends?” Sully asked just as Finn reached the man’s side.
“Not really,” she teased.
“Aww, Lil, that hurts.” Sully clutched his chest.
“Don’t be an ass, Sully,” Adam said, placing a beer in front of his old teammate.
“This is my cousin, Sophia, and her friend, Claire,” Lily said.
“Sophia Lanzi,” Sully said, looking over his shoulder to grin at Finn. The bastard.
“Yes. Hi, Sully, right?” Sophia asked, her gaze darting to Finn so quickly he almost missed it.
“Yes. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Sully said.
“Really?” she asked, looking at Adam.
“Don’t look at me,” Adam said, depositing Finn’s beer on the scarred bartop.
“Finn talks about you all the time. How mean you are to him. Always scolding him for not doing his exercises.”
“Really?” Sophia arched a brow as she looked at Finn.
“Don’t listen to Blarney, he’s not a fan of the truth,” Sara called out as the kitchen doors swung behind her and she dropped off plates of food to a couple further down the bar.
“Don’t listen to her,” Sully muttered, his eyes focused on Sara’s departing back.
“I always wondered why you changed your nickname when you joined the Strikers,” Sophia said.
“My old team gave me the nickname because I’m one hundred percent Irish, and Sully was already taken. I was never a fan of the name, so I convinced my new teammates to call me Sully when I joined the Strikers,” he said, then took a long pull on his beer.
Finn didn’t miss the way Sara’s eyes met Sully’s before she disappeared back into the kitchen. What the hell wasn’t his friend telling him? But he couldn’t grill the man about that now. He focused on Sophia, her eyes sparkling under the low light as she assessed him.
“So, let’s get back to me being mean,” she said, before looking at Adam over her shoulder. “I think I need another one.”
Adam laughed. “Of course.”
“I’m mean, huh?” she asked, shifting on the barstool, and he tried not to salivate. She looked amazing, and the bow that held her shirt together drew his gaze. He wanted to unwrap her and tug her close. Screw all the people in the bar. Or the fact that he was her patient. He just wanted one taste. Or a million.
“Hello Sophia,” he said, ignoring the gravel in his voice. He swore she’d just shuddered, as she gripped her new martini glass tight. “Are you cold?”
“What? No.” She frowned.
“Oh, I thought you just shivered.”
“It’s the tart martini,” she shot back, and he didn’t hide his grin as her cheeks pinked.
Hell, he wanted to tease her all night. Maybe into the morning.
Not helping.
“I like him,” the redhead said. “Hi, I’m Claire. Sophia’s best friend and roommate.” She held out her hand.
“Hi Claire. Nice to meet you,” he replied, and shook her hand.
“You’re her favorite, you know,” she said.
He swore the breath vanished from his chest. “What?”
“Claire, seriously?” Sophia gasped.
“What? You didn’t tell him that you have his jersey?”
Lily laughed. “You do?” she asked, looking at Sophia.
“Maybe. So what,” Sophia grumbled.
“Of all the players, you have my jersey?” He was genuinely shocked. Cheesy’s jersey was their top seller, followed by Baz, and Dom, their superstar rookie. People wore his, but it wasn’t usually a popular pick.
“I have a few,” she muttered, focusing on her drink again.
“But she likes to wear yours,” Claire whispered.
“You might be the wo
rst friend I have,” Sophia shot back.
“What’s the big deal? You know she’s a hockey fan, right?”
“Yeah. But we never discussed jerseys,” he said, still shocked, and stupidly happy about the direction of this conversation.
“He’s my patient, and he doesn’t need to know whose jersey I wear—I mean…have.”
“Do you wear it every game?” This just kept getting better.
“Of course not.”
“She can’t wear it at the restaurant when she’s working,” Claire said.
“I think I need a new roommate. No more shells for you,” Sophia growled.
Shit, that was hot.
“Whoa, that’s a serious threat, Claire. Might want to rein it in,” Lily said through her laughter.
“Sorry. I’ll stop,” Claire said. Finn wanted to grill her for more, but he’d let it go—for now.
“We haven’t been introduced,” Sully said, flashing Claire a grin just as Sara walked out of the kitchen. Shit, he was asking for it.
“You are trouble, aren’t you?” Claire asked, shaking hands with Sully.
“The good kind,” he assured her.
Claire laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Finn turned his attention back to Sophia. “I could sign it for you, if you want. My jersey.”
“Ugh. Just stop. I can’t believe she told you that,” she said, shaking her head. “And the way you played at the end of the season, I seriously considered going out and getting Baz’s. Minus seven at the end of the season. And only twenty-eight points.”
“Wow. I’m not sure whether to be ashamed or impressed that you’re rattling off my stats.” The answer was impressed. So fucking impressed. “And I had a nagging injury in my hip last year.”
“No excuses.”
“Have you been talking to Bugsy?” He couldn’t stop his laugh.
“Of course not. And, yes, I might be a bigger hockey fan than I let on. I’ve watched it all my life. And it was part of the reason I wanted this job so badly. To help you guys rehab so you can bring home a Cup,” she said.
He’d never been more turned on in his life.
“We’ll do our best for you, Ms. Lanzi,” he said, saluting her with his beer.
Delay of Game (San Francisco Strikers Book 3) Page 8
