Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SOPHIE
It’s ten forty-five, and the brewery is closed.
Dottie went home soon after the brouhaha, saying her work here was done, but Hannah and Briar both poured drinks with me, Dylan, and the other staffer on shift until the bitter end. Rob and the guys from the band stuck around too. Even though Rob didn’t feel up to singing with a swollen face, they played their instruments for a while for the very full brewery. My whole body had heated up at the sight of his guitar. God help me, he was wearing the homemade strap I’d sewn for him for Christmas.
At one point in the evening, Hannah had surprised us all by offering to sing a cover with them, and she has an amazing, sultry voice.
After closing, Hannah, Briar, and the guys in the band helped us clean up, and Dylan, who had to go home to his wife and stepkids, said we could stay and drink for a while if we wanted to.
Now my friends and I are sitting around a high-top table, drinking pints of The Bitter End while we chat with Rob and his bandmates, Travis and Bixby.
Because he kissed you.
Because he took a punch from his brother for you.
Because you asked him to lie for you.
Because you acted impulsively, and someone got hurt. Again.
Okay, maybe there are many reasons I’m hesitating, but it’s the first one that makes me feel hot all over, even behind my ears. He’d gathered me in his arms like I weighed nothing and then lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss lasted no longer than a few seconds. But feeling the brush of his lips and seeing his face so up close and personal—those wolfish hazel eyes and that perfect-length stubble—did something to me. It’s like a switch was flipped, and I can no longer look at him as just Rob.
You lost that ability days ago , a voice in my head argues, and I take a sip of my beer to silence it, trying to return my attention to the conversation.
Rob’s watching me, his eyes pulsing heat into me, and I almost fumble my beer. His focus is disconcerting and deep—so different from the way other men have looked at me. It’s like they saw only what I showed them, and he sees all the layers beneath.
Hannah would tell me I’m making myself sound like a Tootsie pop if I told her that, and I suppose she’d be right. The thing is, part of me actually wants to let him down to that last layer.
The rest of me is determined never to let anyone down that deep, so I pointedly look away.
Travis is telling us about his past. He went on tour with a major band just under eight years ago, after their drummer dropped out last minute. He’d decided to stay in Asheville for reasons he won’t share, but he says there was some sign he should stay.
“What kind of sign?” Briar asks, getting caught up in the story.
“A literal one,” Travis says. “I asked the universe for a sign, and there was a road blockage directly in front of me. They were just putting it up as I rolled to a stop. A tree had fallen.”
Briar gasps. “No.”
“Maybe the universe was trying to kill you,” Hannah suggests with a low laugh. “Or the sign was meant for someone else, and you changed the whole course of your life because of a mistake.”
Travis smiles mischievously. “So let’s call it a happy accident.”
“Nope,” Rob says, lifting the fresh drink I made for him. “We’ve already got one Pollyanna in this group. We’re not taking auditions for a second.”
“You still think I’m a Pollyanna?” I ask, finding the courage to look at him again. The sight of his swollen nose makes me flinch. “Should you apply that cream Dottie gave you?”
“I’ll do it later. It’s not your fault,” he says gently. “I punched him a few weeks ago, and he was paying me back. Karma at work. Honestly.” He reaches across the table like it’s nothing and pats my hand, the calluses from his playing brushing sensation across my flesh.
I draw in a sharp breath he misinterprets.
“We’ve probably punched each other hundreds of times.”
“Boys,” Hannah groans.
“What, you didn’t punch your sisters to keep them in line?” Travis asks her, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. “I’m not sure I believe that.”
“Because I’m a fiery redhead?” she asks, rolling her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that before. What a lazy stereotype.”
“What a way to avoid the question,” Travis says with a wry smile.
“I have two brothers, thank you very much, and I had no problem controlling them without resorting to physical violence.”
“I’ll bet,” Briar says with a sigh. “I can’t seem to stop listening to your advice.”
Hannah bumps shoulders with her, nearly toppling her from her stool. “That’s because I give excellent advice. Admit it.”
“If I say yes, I’ll only be proving my point.”
Bixby says something, but it barely registers in my brain, because my gaze has settled on Rob.
He smiles. “Yes, love of my life?”
Rob’s joking, obviously, but I feel my cheeks burning. “We should probably talk about this some more.”
“Probably,” he agrees. “It’s not every day a woman claims me in public.”
I can feel Hannah smirking at that, and the heat in my face amps up, but I nod toward the booths. “Let’s go sit.”
He leads the way, then slides into the one where I made my stand, literally, earlier.
“Do we have to sit here?” I ask, immediately regretting it because I sound like a sulky baby.
“Yes,” he says as he sets his drink onto the surface. “I have fond memories of this booth. It’s where our relationship first started.”
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I know he’s kidding, but a part of it feels…
Don’t let a kiss turn you into a blithering idiot. Remember what happened last time you let yourself believe a man could save you.
“You’re not going to make me stand on the seat, are you?” I ask.
“I’m not going to make you do anything,” he says pointedly.
I believe him, and guilt pulses through my veins, because I kind of made him play along, didn’t I?
This is what happens when I let myself be impulsive.
I slide in, setting my drink on the table’s surface, and find him watching me intently in a way that disconcerts me.
“You didn’t make me do this,” he says, reading my mind. “Like you said, you’d be doing me a favor. Emil too.”
“What about your father?” I ask, avoiding the impulse to chew my lip. It’s a bad habit, one the bullies at Rosewood Academy made sure to mock me for.
“My father cheated on my mother with Patricia,” he says flatly, leaning back on his side of the booth. “And then he started a family with her before the divorce papers had even been drawn up. He took me from my mom, because she was sick and needed help. It may not healthy to blame other people for your problems, but I’m happy to blame him for hers. I don’t care if he’s pissed. In fact, I hope he is.”
“What if he thinks?—”
He brushes his fingers across my hand splayed out on the top of the table. “I mean it. I don’t care what he thinks.”
“What about the money?” I ask. I know their father is loaded and has given Rob money in the past.
“You know about the trust fund?”
I nod.
“My mother needed to go to rehab again when I was in high school. I asked my father for help, and he said he’d let me use my trust for that instead of my education, but he wouldn’t recommend it.”
“And you did?” I ask with a gasp.
“Of course I did. I haven’t gotten another penny from him, and I wouldn’t take one. I don’t need his money. Don’t want it either.”
“And when you were the one who needed help?”
He works his jaw. “My mom brought me to meetings with her, and Travis helped a lot too. More than my sponsor. He still helps me when I need it.”
I’m tempted to ask him why he bothered going to any family functions at all, given the way he’s been treated, but I don’t. I recognize from the stubborn look on his face that he won’t tell me. I also know how complicated family can be. How you can resent someone down to the marrow in your bones but still want them to love you.
“I’m—” I cut myself off before I can apologize.
“You were going to say sorry, weren’t you?” he asks with a half-smile.
“You’ll never know,” I deflect, my gaze settling again on his swollen nose. “But I really don’t like that you got hurt because of me.”
“Jonah got hurt because of you a few weeks ago. Did you mind then?”
I decide on honesty. “No, not really. But you’ve made a point of being straightforward with me, and I shouldn’t have backed you into a lie. Especially a lie that got you hurt.” I gesture to his face as exhibit A, feeling my heart beat faster.
“I’ll lie for you,” he says.
“I don’t want you to have to. Pretending we’re together might be helpful to you, and I really do want to get back at Jonah, but I know honesty means something to you.”
He shrugs. “So we can start sleeping together to make it truthful.”
“Very funny.”
“Oof.” His lips curve into a smile that’s devastating to my nervous system. “You know how to slice through a man’s ego. Hold onto that for Jonah.”
He must be able to tell I’m still feeling guilty because he reaches for my hand. I give it to him, my heart pounding now. “I don’t like lying, but it’s a little white lie. It’s not going to hurt anyone, and it might do some good. Jonah lied about me, and to counter that lie, we have to stretch the truth a little.”
“That still sounds a lot like lying,” I say, remembering all the times he’s told me he values truth. Am I corrupting Rob ? I wouldn’t have thought it was possible a few weeks ago, but now I’m a person who stands on booth seats and makes public spectacles. Plural.
He squeezes my hand. “Take a few slow breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
I take his advice, breathing in a pattern that helps calm my heart, or which should. He’s still holding my hand, and there’s a bundle of confusing feelings squirming inside of me.
“What happened to you, Sophie?” he asks, holding my gaze. “You think you were at fault for something. The thing you said you’d change if you could.”
“I know I was at fault,” I say in a harsh tone. “Jonah was right. My aunt and Otis are the only people in my family who think I’m worth anything. My parents sent me off to boarding school”—reform school—“and moved to Florida to get away from me.” My pulse speeds up again. “They only call me on holidays. I’m pretty sure they didn’t want a child in the first place, and once they had me, they decided they definitely didn’t want more. But that doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past.”
“It does matter,” he protests. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be practically hyperventilating.”
“But it doesn’t have to mean everything. I don’t want it to.”
He shrugs, but his expression is a bit disappointed. Like he hoped I’d level with him, but I built a wall instead. That’s true, I guess. But I don’t know how to be any different.
“So,” I say, “let’s talk a bit more about…you know…”
He squeezes my hand and releases it, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Our fake relationship?”
I nod. “It was impulsive.”
“It was worth it for the look on Jonah’s face.”
I study him, taking in the satisfied gleam in his eyes, and realize what I should have caught onto a long time ago. “He did something bad to you, too, didn’t he? Other than repeating your father’s mistakes, I mean.”
He watches me for a moment before slowly nodding. “Yeah, he did.”
I pause. “Aren’t you going to tell me what?”
He smiles. “How about this, Sophie? I’ll tell you as soon as you’re ready to tell me what happened in your past. A past for a past. Then we can decide whether or not the past matters.”
His words shake me. It feels like I’m on the edge of some greater truth, and one misstep could be fatal.
“Okay,” I say through a dry mouth. “Should we shake on it?”
He extends his arm across the table. I shake his hand, feeling those strong, callused fingers against mine. Feeling…I don’t know. Just feeling .
I clear my throat as I pull my hand back, trying not to do it too quickly. “What happens next? Will someone want to interview me? For Emil, I mean. I want to do everything I can to help. I mean it. It’s my fault?—”
“It’s not,” he maintains. “You want to blame anything else on yourself while you’re at it? Climate change? Rising gas prices? The wart on Patricia’s nose?”
I laugh, then reach across the table and shove his arm, the action feeling natural and comfortable until it doesn’t. Because his arm is hot and hard, and I suddenly want to encircle it with my hand. I pull back instead. “She does not have a wart.”
“But it would be fun if she did, wouldn’t it?”
“It would,” I agree. “She’d probably sell her soul to get it removed.”
He snorts. “As if. The devil’s already got that locked down.”
“She’s not going to like this,” I say, feeling a tug of worry, not for myself but for him.
“Good.”
“So…?”
“So I’ll call my caseworker and let her know. She’ll tell me what comes next, but if they do want to talk to you, we should discuss what we’ll say first. Thank you, Sophie.”
I smile at him. “Do I get to meet Emil?”
He pauses. “You want to?”
“Of course I do.”
I’m desperate to, actually. I want to see more of this hidden side of Rob. Rob, the musician who’s good with kids and teaches them music.
“We’ll make it happen.” His expression darkens. “Jonah had no right to say those things to you earlier. He didn’t mean them either. If he didn’t want you back, he wouldn’t have shown his face tonight.”
Hurt wells in my chest. But it’s not really hurt specifically caused by Jonah. All he did was stir up old feelings, the pain of a little girl who was rejected by everyone who was supposed to love her. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he insists. Then he surprises me by taking my hand again. “And I think we should make a point of parading our happiness in front of him. I know where he likes to hang out.”
“Maybe,” I say, biting my lip this time. “He would certainly deserve it. But do you think it would even upset him? You heard what he said about me.”
“He was trying to save face. You’re beautiful, kind, and smart?—”
My laughter cuts him short.
He tilts his head in silent question, his hair tumbling a bit. “Did I say something funny?” he asks.
“You don’t think I’m smart.”
“Oh? What else do I think?”
“You don’t,” I insist. “You’ve always treated me as if I’m as dumb as a bag of rocks.”
Guilt passes over his face. “I didn’t think you were stupid. Just…basic.”
“Ouch,” I say, laughing.
“I was wrong, obviously. There’s nothing basic about you.”
“And you’re not nearly as much of a bad boy as I thought you were.”
He gives me a wicked smile. “You might want to reserve judgment on that one, Pollyanna.”
I huff out a sharp breath. I thought we were done with this Pollyanna business. “Why are you still calling me that? You just admitted that I’m not basic.”
“No, but you’re still inclined to think well of people until they prove otherwise. It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“ One of the things?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments. What would Mrs. Ginnis think?”
My mouth falls open.
“Am I allowed to touch you in public, Sophie? If you were my girlfriend, I would.”
I search him for signs that he’s teasing me. It’s impossible to tell. He’s looking at me like he could devour me whole, and the thought makes me squirm a little. Especially since I can still feel the brush of his lips against mine and his arm circled around me.
“You just did, didn’t you?” I ask, straightening.
“I did,” he agrees. “It felt pretty natural, didn’t it?”
It had felt… phenomenal .
“You can’t kiss me again,” I blurt, even though part of me wants to ask him to do it again, right now, while our friends are distracted talking at that table. Kissing him was so confusing and exciting and?—
“No, probably not,” he says, straightening up. His eyes lose the gleam they had, and I’m sorry for it. “But I’ll need to hold your hand, to touch your lower back. Little signals to show everyone you’re mine. That’ll drive Jonah crazy.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him Jonah never touched me like that. Not really. He’d put an arm around me sometimes, when we were at parties together, but he hadn’t treated me like I was someone he cherished and wanted to protect.
Emotion clogs my throat. “Okay.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” he says with a smile. “It’s going to be okay, Sophie. It’s all going to be okay. Someday this’ll be a story you’ll tell your kids. And they’ll know, like I do, that there’s nothing basic about Sophie Ginnis.”
He gets up from the table, leaving me staring at him, my whole being arrested by him.
“Why do you care?”
A gust of air escapes him, like a laugh that didn’t quite come into being. “You don’t need a reason to care about someone. You of all people should know that.”
It hurts, and I can’t help but wonder if he meant it to. But he’s wrong. I had plenty of reasons to care about Jonah. They were just the wrong reasons. I don’t want Rob to care about me for the wrong reasons.
He waits for me to stand, and when I don’t get up, he asks, “You need me to pick you up again?”
Yes.
“No,” I say abruptly, standing so quickly I probably look like a jack-in-the-box.
He laughs softly to himself as we walk back to the high-top table, where Hannah is arm-wrestling Travis. She loses, obviously, but he seems impressed by the effort she put in.
“How’d it go?” Briar whispers to me as I slip onto my chair. Her hand encircles the crystal at her neck.
“I honestly don’t know,” I answer.
“Touch your crystal,” she says in an undertone, but not enough of an undertone, because Hannah says, “Yes, stroke it really well. Dottie’s convinced the one she gave Jonah can improve his personality, and if a crystal can do that, I’m sure they can do anything.”