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Braxton was torn, he could see it in the man’s eyes. They were waging war with what he was paid to do, and what the right thing to do would be.
While Nox had no doubt the bodyguard cared about Sophia, he doubted the man knew how to actually show it. He’d spent a good chunk of his adolescence around people like Braxton. Closed-off. War-torn. Fighting to free themselves from the gilded cages in their minds.
He refused to let Sophia be a causality of the man’s inadequacies.
If only Nox could find her. Figure out why she took off.
He knew that she misunderstood his quietness, and that was on him. He had every plan to grovel, to tell her he’d been so shocked he couldn’t comprehend what she was saying until it was too late.
Love is when the other person’s happiness is more important than your own.
The cool breeze had Sophia shivering as she sat on the front steps leading into the church. She’d figured out that she was quick to jump the gun when she’d run from Lennox. A fact she was regretting the colder it got.
It felt like her emotions were controlling her every thought and move. Whenever Sophia felt like she was getting a handle on someone, her common sense went out the window. While she contemplated how she was going to get home, she heard it. The svelte rumble of a familiar engine she’d only been acquainted with one time.
As the red beauty rolled around the corner, she watched as he searched the street slowly passing any place she could be hiding. When he came to a stop in front of the church, he didn’t notice her at first. She could see the wildness in his gaze, the messy tousle of his hair like he’d been pulling on it. Stress lined his mouth with a frown as he looked in every direction.
As their eyes finally collided, she saw a multitude of emotions work through him. Relief that she was safe. Anger that she’d run. Happiness that she hadn’t exactly left.
His door opened without a sound as he exited the beautiful machine. His steps were purposeful as he walked towards her. His gaze intent as he searched her for injuries.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered when he was close enough to hear her.
Sitting beside her, he didn’t hesitate in gripping her small hand in his calloused one. “Me, too.”
“I shouldn’t have left.”
“You shouldn’t have.” He agreed.
“I wish I knew why I am the way I am,” she admitted. Having never said it out loud before, she did wish she knew why her emotions were always so close to the surface. She wished she understood why she couldn’t let someone in without having so much overwhelming doubt that she was often left hurt more from her own actions than theirs.
“Soph.” The single word was full of so much emotion. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Her head swiveled to find him watching her carefully as she processed his words. “Of course, there is. How can there not be? I’m so overly emotional I think I’m stunted. I’m sure there’s a word or phrase or something for it, but I don’t know it because I’m just too dumb.” Her heart rate was skyrocketing as she stressed over it.
“Sophia,” he responded. This time he was full of rage. She could see the way his pulse flickered in his neck, the way his brows furrowed, and he clenched his free hand. “You aren’t fucking stupid. You have to stop thinking that.”
Not wanting to anger him further, she thought her words through carefully before answering. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”
“Christ, sugar.” He sounded so frustrated. “She really fucked you up.”
And what was she supposed to say to that?
The she was clearly her mother.
She didn’t have an answer for him. How could she deny it when she was so irrevocably screwed around in the head she didn’t know how to defend it.
Standing, she honestly thought he was giving up with her. She wouldn’t blame him, either. She was contradiction after contradiction and not necessarily in a good way.
“Let’s go home, Soph.” His words shocked her.
“Home?” she questioned, unable to hide the fear in her voice.
“Mine,” was the only answer he gave.
Following along behind him, she hoped he wouldn’t give up on her. She knew she was a hot mess but couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like she could just erase nineteen years worth of degrading remarks. Much as she’d like to.
The cool leather of the seats soaked through the coveralls she was still wearing as they left the church. She didn’t pay attention during the drive, yet again, until fifteen minutes later when they pulled into the picture of every middle-class American home.
