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I finish my beer and prop my feet up when Liam comes outside.
“You okay?” He takes a seat next to me.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
We both stare out at the grass.
“Sophie was pissed, you know,” he finally says, breaking the silence.
“I know.” I turn and look at him. “Did you get a weird vibe from her boyfriend?”
Liam doesn’t hesitate with his response. “Yeah, he’s a twat. Looks like a creeper, too.”
I clap my hands together and point my finger. “I knew it. I fucking knew it! I tried to warn her about him.”
After sucking in a deep breath, Liam speaks. “She’s not gonna listen to us. She’s too blinded by new love and needs to make her own mistakes.”
“I get that, but what if he hurts her?”
Liam sets his beer down on the table, and his eyes meet mine. “If he does, I’ll kill him.”
That makes two of us.
Chapter Ten
Sophie
THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE FIGHT
I still can’t believe Weston asked me to move in with him so soon. Even though I’ve lived with Maria since moving to Sacramento, she and Carter have really gotten on my nerves lately, so I knew it was time to go. The two of them are talking about starting a family, and it was either move out or be left with an apartment I couldn’t afford. When Weston asked me, I felt like he was proposing. It’s a big step for both of us and a step toward our forever. I’ve fallen in love with him quickly—hard and fast—and I can’t imagine him not being in my life.
I’ve only been living with him for two weeks, but so far, waking up in his arms has been amazing. I didn’t realize a relationship could really be like this, but I knew it was possible. Sometimes, I think about Weston and me and wonder if we’ll have the same unconditional love Lennon and Hunter have. While he gets frustrated with me sometimes, I know it’s normal during this adjustment phase. He hasn’t lived with a woman before, and I haven’t lived with a boyfriend, so it’s a change for both of us. But honestly, I’d rather deal with him than Carter any day.
After rehearsal, I decide to surprise Weston and pick up something for dinner before heading home. I’m so used to only worrying about myself that it’s nice to have another person to think about. Weston has filled a hole in my heart I didn’t realize was there. I pull into the driveway and notice he’s not home yet, so I grab the food and bring it inside.
While I wait for him, I clean up the kitchen and wipe down the counters. Weston’s particular about his house and doesn’t like anything to be out of place. I learned that the hard way after I first moved in. Every item needs to be put back where it was, and he can’t stand a mess, which I can appreciate after living with Carter, who was a complete slob.
This morning, I drank a cup of coffee and left my cup in the sink, so I want to wash it before he comes home. I don’t want to be the annoying roommate like Maria and Carter were for me. I’m not walking on eggshells, but I’m trying not to disrupt his habits either. The last thing I want is for him to regret asking me to move in.
I check the time and begin to worry slightly. He typically works from five to five, and it’s nearly six thirty, so I send him a text. Sometimes, he has to stay later if another one of the correctional officers is late, but that rarely happens.
Sophie: Hey baby! I picked up dinner for us. How much longer will you be?
I begin to pace the kitchen, and after ten minutes, I finally get a response.
Weston: Already ate. Having a drink with the guys. Won’t be home until later.
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. If he had communicated this earlier, I would’ve just gotten myself something to eat and not waited for him. Instead of voicing my frustration, though, I send a quick message back and slide my phone across the table as I eat a piece of chicken and some potatoes.
Over the past few days, he’s been drinking more than usual, and I’ve tried not to say anything about it, but it’s been enough to notice. I haven’t told a soul either, not even my sisters. After I put my leftovers in the fridge, I go to the living room and watch TV, trying to occupy my mind. Hours pass as I mindlessly watch different shows. A yawn escapes me, and I look at the clock and see it’s nearly eleven.
Ever since Brandon died, I’ve had anxiety when people don’t show up when they’re supposed to. I know how much it affected Lennon, and my mind seems to always go to the worst-case scenario. I contemplate texting him again when the door swings open, slamming against the wall. As soon as he walks in, he starts complaining that it’s dark in the house, so I turn on the lights for him.
