Sophie was someone who was easily pushed into the defensive, closing up and lashing out at those who mattered, when trying to protect herself, and being drunk escalated it tenfold. She had always been that way and very few had his skill at knowing how to handle her. Too stubborn to think logically or realize she was cutting off her nose to spite her face sometimes.
He upped his speed, putting his new car through its paces to get to her a little quicker as the tension in his body escalated. It was late, almost ten p.m. and the city was aglow with the usual never-ending illumination of New York, as his sleek steel gray Mercedes slid through the night effortlessly. He was biting his lip as his eyes roamed the traffic impatiently, checking his mirrors as he shifted in his seat.
She always made him feel anxious when she was like this, so many scenarios running through his head of what could happen to her, and his inner body twisting the tango of uptight anxiety. Sophie was naive at the best of times, but drunk, she was completely oblivious to danger, considering her past, and seemed to have a knack for attracting it.
“I’m sorry … Arry?” She started to sob, and he just felt worse. He hadn’t even yelled at her this time, so he had no idea why she was crying. He had stopped yelling at her months ago when he realized it no longer had any effect on her behavior, and he hated Sophie crying; it made him feel like a shitty human being when those hurt doe eyes hit him, right in the stomach.
He had seen enough of her tears over the years in connection to what her sick perverted father had done to her and that’s all he saw now. That vulnerable broken face, racked with scars and pain from a childhood that could have destroyed her. Arrick stiffened as that stab of rage spiked inside like a fiery hot spear.
Whenever he thought of that asshole he wanted to kill him; the fact he could take someone as innocent and sweet as her and ruthlessly abuse her for years made him want to rip the guy’s spine out and ram it down his throat. He was fiercely protective of her, knowing everything he knew, being there for every therapy appointment and tearful outpouring when she needed to talk.
Sophie had let him in in ways that no one else had been allowed, and the depth of her dark confessions ripped his soul out repeatedly, at the misery she endured. Listening to it almost ended him, so he had no idea how she ever endured it and stayed sane. He vowed long ago that he would always protect her, that he would destroy any guy who dared to ever lay hands on her against her will again, and it was an oath he would uphold for an eternity.
Sophie was his warrior! Despite all of it, she had risen through the memories like an invincible flame, and she had blossomed despite that asshole. He had never known anyone as strong as her; pride washing through him at her achievement as he thought of how much she overcame in a bid to move on. Arrick inhaled heavily, calming his outward persona as affection for her reigned supreme.
“Come on, Sophs. Don’t. You know I can’t handle it when you cry. I’ll be there in twenty minutes or less. Go, be a good girl and get back in the club for me.” He could make out the noise of the street around her and the tell-tale shake of her voice that she was shivering. Frowning hard again, at something else she was doing to herself with zero care for her own wellbeing-, and it just angered him crazily. She had probably come out without a jacket again, wearing something way too short and skimpy, and not giving a crap that it was late in the season and exposure was something that could kill her.
The girl needed constant supervision. Her love of current fashion irritated him when trends were all skimp and skin. Right now, women were wearing less and less, and he hated that Sophie followed the trend of leaving little to the imagination. She was a complete fashion addict; clothes were her life, even when they were barely scraps of fabric on her.
She had a body that attracted eyes, long legs, and a perfect petite frame with curves that even someone like him couldn’t ignore. She was growing up way too fast and seemed to hit puberty from the second he met her. No matter how hard he had tried to not see the changes and ignore how much she was becoming a head turner, he had to admit, Sophie was irresistible to most men. He could only imagine how many sleazy perverts had been scoping her out already.
“Okay … I’ll be at the back, in the booths lying down.” She sniffed some more, gaining control again, and he cursed internally, frustration biting hard and stilling him from snapping. Biting down to curb the urge to yell at her as anger bristled.
“Don’t lie down near the back, stay up front.” He ground out through gritted teeth, fighting to sound normal and cool. He knew only too well what kind of men preyed on young girls like her in the shadows at the back of Randy’s club. It was a place he used to frequent with Jake, his older brother, a long time ago, and had completely gone downhill in recent years with the clientele becoming seedier. The crew Sophie hung around with seemed to favor it, despite both Arrick and Jake telling her repeatedly to steer clear, and it only made him flatten metal to the floor in a bid to get there faster, his pulse quickening. He didn’t care if he got a ticket; he couldn’t stand the thought of her passing out in a dark corner of a club that was notorious for women being assaulted.
“I’m tired, I need to lie down.” She slurred again, all tears gone, and he could recognize the noise of the club approaching as though she was walking back inside. Arrick’s panic rose in his throat at her complete lack of any sense in this, heart hammering and dodging cars on the road as he drove a little erratically.
“You can sleep in my car, Sophie. I’m warning you. Stay out near the front where I can find you, and on your feet. I’m almost halfway. Do not lie down!” He was stern; his tone less controlled and huskier at the thought of anything happening to her, praying to God she listened tonight. Trying to keep his temper because he knew she could be a boiling pot of childishness like this, and the last thing he needed was her telling him to fuck off and disappearing on him. She had a habit of up and running when she couldn’t deal with something, and it had spurred her to leave home months ago.
Sophie sighed dramatically and then was obscured by the sudden thumping noise of the music surrounding her before it was disconnected. The club had an awful signal inside and he had just lost her as she went back to the dance floor.
Shit.
Arrick flinched with the cold pulse that ran through him, anxiety, and fear colliding with every worst-case scenario in his head. He tried her cell again quickly, but got nothing but her answer machine, cursing out loud this time.
He would lecture her when he got there, shake the shit out of her. No doubt he’d have to carry her out like last weekend and this time he was sitting her down for a serious heart-to-heart. He was done with whatever this was. Done with the drunken calls, putting herself in constant danger, the argumentative stroppy behavior and difficult attitude of late. He understood that her past sometimes meant she was hard to handle, even at her best she had always been hard to handle, but this lately was beyond a joke. His nerves couldn’t take much more of this and his relationship with Natasha was falling to pieces because of it.
Tonight, she was coming home with him and sobering up to get the third degree. Enough was enough, and if anyone could get through to her and convince her to go home to her family, then it was him. He had been avoiding this conflict for too long and he couldn’t avoid it anymore; that stubborn mindset hitting him hard that he wasn’t going to keep going through this anxiety over her safety anymore. The agony.
She had up and left home a few months before, after a heated fight concerning her drunken lifestyle; another night he scraped her off a sidewalk and taken her back from the city to the Hamptons. Her family had lost all control by then, and Arrick had been the only one left she still clung to in any way. He had been treating her with kid gloves ever since, in fear she would cut him loose too, and that had been his biggest mistake. He had listened to Natasha over his own gut; he should have trusted that he had always known how to handle Sophie and not gone for the softly, softly approach at her bidding. Natasha only knew the bare facts and nothing more, she only saw Sophie as a broken child and had convinced him to go against his own reasoning in every way. Arrick should never have listened, he knew her better than anyone. She needed his stern side back.
Sophie needed real help and understanding, someone to reel her in a little before she got herself into a situation that only ended badly. Arrick knew, that despite Natasha’s feelings on the matter, that the only person with a chance of pulling his girl back out of whatever this was and bringing back some of the girl he missed crazily, was him. His way.
Sophie and he had a bond like no other, and even though the past months had seen them changing towards each other, he knew his girl was still in there somewhere, and he needed to find her again. For his own sanity, as well as hers, as all of this was slowly killing him. He hated seeing her messed up and unhappy, and he knew he had to do something before he lost her too. Despite always calling on him, he felt like he had been losing her for a long time and was the root of his stress for months now. The possible stomach ulcer too.