Chapter 16 A Different Kind Of Addiction #2
Scarlett, leaning her back against Solomon's chest, clears her throat to get everyone’s attention.
"I know what I want to do next." Everyone looks at her expectantly, and she grabs Sol's arm, lifts it and turns it out so his tattooed brand shows.
"I want the brand. I know I'm a girl, but I want to be part of the brotherhood.
Whatever that means. Not just because Sol is my man, but because this group of people—" she halts, clears her throat, blinking hard.
"You…you're all…ew, fuck, I hate getting all fucking weepy.
Dammit." She scrubs at her face, and she blows out a sharp breath.
“I…I’ve never belonged. I could never—I never fit.
I was never one of the guys. I was respected, feared even, but…
" she blinks around at the girls. "You ladies are the first women I’ve ever been friends with.
And you guys—Sol's brothers, blood brothers and brand brothers.
You're my crew. My team. My family. So I want the brand. "
Sophia lets out a soft sigh. "Scarlett…I hope you know you don't need a brand to belong."
Scarlett nods. "I know. But I want what the brand represents."
"And what is that?" Sophia asks.
"Brotherhood." Scarlett's answer comes immediately.
"Family. Taking that brand represents leaving my past behind me and choosing a different kind of life.
I went into the jungle to rescue the man I never stopped loving.
I found him, and in the process I found way more than I bargained for.
I found something worth fighting for. I was given US citizenship for my service.
That's great. But I didn't join out of patriotism—I'm not American.
Or…well, I don't know. Maybe I am, now. I don't know.
The point is, I didn't spend all those years fighting and killing for some noble cause or for a flag or whatever.
It was a job, and one I just sort of…ended up in.
It turned out I was good at it, and that was that.
But these past few weeks, or however fucking long it's been since I got that email…I’ve…
I have a cause: you all. I've fought beside each of you, and I’d do it all again.
But I really, really hope I don't have to.
Because if I'm being honest with you guys and with myself, what I really want is to put my rifle down and never pick it up again. "
Sophia nods at her words. "Then you will receive the brand.
I must warn you, though—I don't know what's next for The Broken Arrows. Jakob has hinted at changes to come. I have no idea what that means. The brotherhood will never change, however, I do know that.” She glances at Annika.
"What I mean is that I don't know what's next—long-term, at least. I think for now we head back to Vegas and assess the situation. The Club is our home. So…we fix it."
"Wait, wait, wait." Kane frowns at Sophia. "You live in the Club?"
She blinks at him. "Of course. Where else would I live?"
He shrugs. "Hell if I know. Until recently, I thought you were…
I dunno. An outside employee the boss put in charge.
His go-between. You never wanted to talk or hang out.
You just appeared when you had something to say to us.
You showed up for work and vanished when the club closed.
I guess I assumed you lived in the city somewhere. "
Sophia looks uncomfortable at best, if not downright unhappy.
"I was afraid of letting anyone close, Kane.
I stayed away because I…I didn't think I could belong.
Much like Scarlett, I never have. I wasn't just a kid, I was the daughter and only child of Bruno de Silva.
I was his executioner. I was Rafael's wife.
I was La Víbora. Then I was…your supervisor. An outsider."
Kane absorbs this silently, and then moves to kneel in front of her. "You're not an outsider anymore, Sophia."
She tips her head back, hissing. "My god, enough already. I've cried more in the last few days than in my entire life combined."
"Feelings are meant to be felt, Boss-lady," Kane says, his voice low. "It's all good. You're among family."
She shudders. "Family. I don't know what that even means."
Naomi scooches across the bed to sit behind Sophia, arms locking around her middle. "It means you're loved."
Sophia leans her head back against Naomi's. "You started it, you know."
“Started what?" Naomis asks, confused.
"The great thawing out of La Reina de Hielo."
"How?"
Sophia shrugs. "When I spoke to you over the phone, I…I suppose I heard something in you. Fear, but a core of unbreakable iron beneath it. You are far kinder and far sweeter than I'll ever be, but I guess I felt a kinship to you."
"You gave me strength to fight when I was terrified," Naomi whispers. "You were calm. You knew exactly what to do." She hugs Sophia tightly. "And you're kinder and sweeter than you give yourself credit for. You just need practice."
Sophia barks a laugh, bitterly sarcastic. "I am a great many things, dear, darling Naomi, but sweet and kind are not among them."
"I disagree," I say, joining the conversation for the first time. "I think Naomi is right. You have shown me recently that you can be sweet. Very, very sweet."
Sophia blushes, ducking her head. "Ren, stop. That’s different. And private."
I enter the room, weaving around bodies, until I am in front of her. Kane shifts away to make room for me, settling back in Anjalee's embrace by the window. "Sophia, my love. Meu Amor. Meu coracao. I don't mean that kind of sweetness, as sweet as you are in that sense."
"Ren," Sophia protests.
"Hush, my love. Listen." I take her hands, gazing down at her; with my injured hip—which Kane patched up before we left the port—if I went down to a knee, I'd never get back up.
"What comes next, no matter what it looks like for you and for us, will not be easy.
I am a soldier. An operator. You are…well, you.
Our lives have been extraordinarily unusual.
Violence and death are the norm for us. You in particular, darling, have lived with fear and in isolation—emotional if not always physical—your whole life.
That doesn't just go away. Even with all of the breakthroughs and such that you’ve had lately, you are not just going to wake up one morning and find yourself Susie Homemaker.
I do not say that to mean being a homemaker is a bad thing—it is not.
It is a wonderful, beautiful thing with many challenges which not everyone is cut out for.
All I mean is that you are not that woman.
You can be, if you wish. But to become that kind of woman will take work and time and patience.
Even just learning how to be Sophia once more, how to let go of everything Inez is and has had to be—that will be hard.
You must be patient with yourself, my love. You must show grace to yourself."
"Susie Homemaker?" Sophia says, barking a sarcastic laugh. "I will settle for simply not being Griselda Blanco."
I pull her to her feet, sighing sadly. "You are not that, my love."
She shakes her head. "I can't just forget who I have been." She stares into my eyes, and then looks around the room, from face to face. "No matter how much I may wish to."
"See, that's where you're gettin' stuck," Chance says.
"Thinkin’ you can or should try to forget who you been.
I can't forget who I was, Sophia. I am an addict.
I'll always be an addict. I won't ever touch drugs again, but I'll always be the guy dying in a gutter that you rescued.
I can't forget and won't ever try to forget that guy, Soph. Can I call you that? Soph?"
She smiles at him, wry and dryly amused. "I suppose after all that we've been through together, I can allow a certain degree of familiarity."
Chance continues. "If I were to forget that part of who I am, I could be tempted to think I'm fixed.
I'm cured. I could try a hit now and then to calm down, to relax and have fun.
No harm, no foul, right? I ain't that dude no more, so what's the problem? Once in a while ain’t a problem.
I can control it, this time." He gently eases me aside, and I let him take my place in front of Sophia.
"You see the problem with that line of thinkin’, yeah? "
She nods. “Yes, I do. But I am not a drug addict, Chance."
"Maybe not, but it still applies to you. See, you may not be addicted to meth or coke or booze or whatever, but you are addicted to something else."
Sophia frowns, puzzled. "And that would be what?"
"Thinking the only way for you to be safe is if you push everyone away and keep them away.
" Towering over her small, slender frame, Chance exudes compassion, resting one giant hand on her shoulder, staring down at her with obvious affection.
"Everyone in your life up, until you met Jakob and the rest of us—everyone betrayed you.
Hurt you. You suffered unimaginable pain, emotionally, mentally, and physically.
The only way you could survive was to shut everyone out and become hard and cold.
It protected you against the world, which you understandably see as brutal and violent and full of pain.
I turned to drugs. Annika turned to drugs.
Kane turned to booze. The others did like you—built up walls and turned into turtles, living inside their shells and pretending they didn't need or want anyone to ever get close. "
Sophia blinks, refusing to meet his gaze. “You're not wrong about that, I suppose. But how is that an addiction?"
"Drugs didn't fix my problems. Booze didn't fix Kane's problems. Isolation didn't fix Solomon's.
But even though it was obvious that what we were doing didn't do anything but fuck us up worse, we kept doing it.
In my case, it nearly killed me. Isolation may not kill you physically, but it ain't healthy.
And you are addicted to it, in a way. Different kind of addiction, but addiction nonetheless. "
Scarlett nods. "He's absolutely right, Sophia.
I'm still working on it. I have to fight the urge to run all the time—literally run from how Sol makes me feel.
It's fucking scary. I’d rather face a dozen armed tangos with my bare hands than be vulnerable with him, most days.
Still. Even though I know down to my goddamn bones that Sol is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Letting him love me is the hardest fucking thing I've ever done.
Showing him my broken, shitty, weak, selfish, pathetic self is absolutely terrifying.
It would be easier and seem safer, emotionally, to go back to my handler at the CIA and ask to be put back on a team.
That's where I'm comfortable. I know that world.
I know how to navigate the toxic fraternity bullshit as a woman.
I know how to…inoculate myself, I guess, from the guilt of doing morally gray shit for morally gray reasons.
Just obeying orders, right? I know how to pretend I'm okay with going back to barracks alone, or a cold empty apartment, alone. "
Sophia turns away, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as her breathing comes fast and ragged. "Stop—just—just stop."
Scarlett circles Sophia and grabs her face with rough affection, refusing to let Sophia hide.
"No, hon, I won't stop. Every fucking day, multiple times a day, I have to let Sol see the real me, broken and fucked up and scared and drowning in PTSD.
It feels like standing in front of a firing squad without a blindfold, Soph.
But I'll tell you this: it's worth it. Because Sol gets it.
He gets me. When I try and fail to be open for him, he doesn't get mad.
He gives me space to figure it out. He loves me.
He accepts me. And nothing—nothing in this world feels better than letting someone see the worst of you and being totally loved anyway.
It's better than any high, better than any win, better than sex, better than medals or money or whatever else there is in the world. "
Annika moves up beside Scarlett, and Naomi takes the other side. "You think you're not sweet or whatever because you've never felt safe enough to let yourself be sweet," Annika says.
"Same with kindness or displays of affection,” Scarlett says. "It feels like weakness to be those things because in the life you've lived up until recently, they were. But they're not anymore."
Naomi leans forward and kisses Sophia on the cheek, softly, sweetly.
"That's where Chance is right about addiction.
You're not addicted to a chemical, you're addicted to thinking the only way to survive is being tough and alone.
And that's just not true anymore. What we’re saying is that it will take time and consistent effort to move past that. "
Sophia nods, letting out a shaky breath.
"You're all right. I know you are." She turns to me.
"All I can promise you, Ren, is that I'll try.
I do love you. I do want a life with you.
I don't have a clue what that's gonna look like, but I want it with you, whatever it looks like and however we get there. "
A burden falls from my shoulders, a weight sloughing off my back. I pull her into my arms and crush her against my chest. "That's all I want, Soph. It's all I care about. Let me love you. Let me see the real you. I don't care what comes next, as long as it’s with you."
She literally, physically seems to soften in my arms. Tips her head back to look up at me, chin on my chest. "God, Ren." A sniff. "You need me to love you, too, though. It's gotta go both ways."
I smile at her. "I absolutely need you to love me. And you do. You will. I'm not worried."
She presses her forehead and nose against my chest, breathing in deeply, holding it, and letting it out slowly. She steps back, and I see her reach a decision. "Let's go home."