Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
SOFEE
ONE WEEK LATER
A knock at the door causes me to nearly jump out of my skin just as I’m crowned Princess Sofee. I sit up straight and jerk my gaze toward the door, accidentally dropping my teacup full of pretend tea. The high-pitched giggle of my niece further grating on my frazzled nerves. Forcing a smile to my lips, I crinkle my nose playfully at the newly crowned Queen Elisia despite my bad mood. She waves her magic wand at me with an adorable giggle, her shiny pink crown glittering brighter than any real diamond ever could. We both turn to watch her dad, my brother, Oliver, walking into the room.
Glancing toward the locked front door again, I brace myself for yet another round of watching my heart being stomped on and crushed beneath the leather boot of my visitor.
Visitor? My inner voice scoffs. More like your stalker.
I pull the blanket in my lap up to my chest and curl my feet beneath me as I stare at the mustard-yellow door across the room. Shadows dance below the door, barely visible through the small gap between it and the floor. My stomach churns at the thought of seeing the man who lurks behind it.
Queen Elisia picks up my forgotten tea cup and thrusts it into my empty hand. “Aunt Sopee,” she whines.
I smother a smile as she mispronounces my name in the most adorable way. Grabbing the cup as best I can between my pointer finger and thumb brace, I hold it up with a grin. My thumb still aches when I move it due to the intentional dislocation, but each day it becomes a little easier. Much like the bruises and scabs on my wrists and knees, as well as the knife wound in the hollow of my throat. With each passing day, I heal a bit more than the last. And soon, I’ll be able to convince myself that it never happened at all.
Is that what you want? To play pretend for the rest of your life?
My lips part in a gasp as I ignore the internalized question and make believe the cup is actually filling with real liquid. Her face lights up as I bring the cup to my lips and sip the magical tea.
“ Mmmm ,” I hum as I rub my belly. “That is the best tea ever, Your Majesty.”
She giggles again as she sways back and forth, her shimmery blue dress waving with the motion. Her attire is much more fitting for royalty than my baggy T-shirt, short shorts, and bare feet. Then she takes off after Oliver as he saunters through the living room and heads to ward off my waiting visitor once more. A giggle escapes Elisia’s lips as he picks her up and sets her on his hip before looking back at me. His chocolate brown eyes pose a silent question as his brows climb his forehead.
This has been our routine for over a week now. Every day, there is a knock at his door. Always at nine am, like clockwork. Every single day, Oli asks if I will finally entertain the man who so obviously craves my attention. And every day, I give him the same answer.
Shaking my head in a curt jerk, I refuse Declan entry into my safe haven away from him.
It shouldn’t come as a shock that I could no longer stay at the clubhouse given what’s happened. I haven’t forgiven anyone, so how could I be expected to go back to living there as if nothing has happened? So, I’ve been staying with Oliver and his family until I can figure out my next move. And even though my chest aches at the thought of leaving New Orleans, so far, I just don’t see any other option.
I obviously quit my job, no longer able to stand the place I shared so many memories with someone I never really knew in the first place. So, not only do I not have a job holding me here, but I also still have no place to live. And apart from Oli and his wife, I have nobody to keep me here. No ties to this place that has held so much heartbreak.
I still haven’t been able to face anyone since that day. The day I watched my best friend slice an innocent man's throat right in front of me. I squeeze my eyes closed tightly as images of bright red blood spraying into the air assault my memory. Holding my breath, I ward off the images until black dots are dancing behind my eyelids and my head swims.
At the sound of Oliver unlocking and opening his front door, my eyes snap open. The small desire to catch a glimpse of the man who crushed my soul overpowers my rational thoughts. Blinking rapidly to clear the dark spots clouding my vision, I crane my neck to try and peek at the man on my brother's porch. But, instead of a mysterious man shrouded in darkness and sin, I'm surprised to see a flash of purple hair.
A jolt of panic surges up my spine, and a cold sweat breaks out on my back as I realize that Liam and Tatum are standing outside my door. I suck in a sharp breath as Oliver opens it wide, allowing the unwanted visitors entry into my sanctuary. As fast as I can, I fling the blanket off me and try to make a break for it.
“Look, babe. I told you she looked like a runner,” Tatum’s sunny voice brings my feet to a screeching stop.
Too late.
I silently curse myself before turning to face them, placing a menacing scowl on my brow so they know they are not welcome here. Oliver closes the door behind them, drawing my attention, and in turn, my scowl.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says as he steps around Liam’s bulky figure blocking the entryway. Readjusting his daughter on his hip, he shrugs. “You told me you didn’t want to see the broody one. You never said anything about Li,” he says as if this is all no big deal before leaving the room.
Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention back to the couple standing in front of me. Liam stands with his hands firmly in the front pockets of his vest as he stares at me. His eyes are softer than I’ve seen them directed at me in a long time. He shifts on his feet, as though too afraid to be the first one to speak. Though it seems Tatum has no such problem as she pipes up.
“You look good, Sof,” she says, her smile inviting and warm. Her hair is swept up and away from her face today, making her look youthful and pert. She glances around the room until her eyes lock onto the couch behind me. She nods toward it as I continue to stare daggers at her. “Is that thing comfortable? It looks n?—”
“If all you want to do is make small talk, you can leave,” I growl, cutting her off with my sharp words.
Her pretty face tenses as she cringes. “Okay, straight to the point then,” she says before glancing at my brother. She gives him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t seem to take the hint, she slaps his broad chest with the back of her hand, drawing a grunt from him.
“Shit, yeah, sorry,” he says, seemingly out of sorts. As I look at him closely, I can see how tired he looks. He has dark rings below his eyes and his normally golden complexion looks ashen. His long face makes me consider the toll of losing both his best friend and his sister on the same day.
He pulls his hands from his pockets and gestures to the couch I’ve been sleeping on for the past week. “Can we sit and talk?”
“I don’t know, Liam. Are you sure I’m not too delicate to handle this talk?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and popping my hip to the side. Raising my nose toward the ceiling, I become the embodiment of obstinance. Liam releases a long sigh as his face falls, letting me know I’ve gotten my point across.
“Okay, I deserved that,” he says “Come on, Sof. Please. I promise we’re here to tell you everything and…” he sighs, his tone dropping as if weighed down by burdon. “Look, I realized how fucked up I’ve been treating you for awhile now, and… I swear, all I want to do is apologize. We’ll even leave right after if you want,” he pleads, his brows furrowing with sincerity.
I briefly consider making him get down on his knees to grovel, even going so far as to pick out a spot on the floor for him to kneel. But, the longer he looks at me with those goddamn puppy dog eyes, the weaker my resolve becomes until I’m forced to relent.
“Fine,” I say shortly, uncrossing my arms and plopping back down onto the sofa with an agitated huff. I watch them with anger lit in my eyes as they settle into the two armchairs in front of me. The only thing separating us being the plush cream-colored rug below our feet.
Once they sit, I give them no time to get comfortable. The faster they explain every single detail that led up to the situation I've been forced into, the sooner they can leave. And then I can start planning my permanent escape from this place.
Glancing between them, I make my impatience known with one word spoken from indignant lips. “Speak,” I growl. And with one last long look at each other, they do.
Three hours and a pitcher and a half of margaritas later, Tatum and I sit next to each other on my brother's back deck, watching as Liam pushes our niece in her tiny pink electric motorcycle across the lawn. The battery died about thirty minutes ago, but she wasn’t ready for the fun to end so soon. And since she has her uncles wrapped around her little fingers, well, let's just say all she had to do was pout her bottom lip and Uncle Li was putty in her small hands.
I smile as she giggles while he speeds down the small hill in Oli’s backyard. Both of their laughter rings out, the sound warming my heart.
I glance over at Tatum, wanting to see her reaction to the love of her life playing so wholesomely with his niece. The twinkle in her eyes and the smile of adoration on her lips tell me everything I need to know.
“Careful, real easy to catch baby fever around here,” I mutter into my still-chilled margarita before sipping the sweet drink. Her smile widens as she glances at me and chuckles. She shrugs one shoulder before bringing her drink to her lips and glancing back toward her man. “Are you guys ever gonna pop out a few of those?” I ask, genuinely curious if I can expect more nieces and nephews in the near future. I watch as a distant look crosses her beautiful eyes.
“It’s fun to talk about, but Liam and I won’t be having kids anytime soon,” she admits before returning her gaze to me. One side of her lips ticks up in a half-smile. “Kinda hard to have baby fever when you lead the type of life we do.” She shakes her head as if shaking off a sad thought. “What about you?” she asks, bringing her glass back up to her lips. “Do you want kids?”
I furrow my brow. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, never really having thought about having kids with anyone before. “Maybe with the right person.” I shrug as if a ball of lead isn’t forming in the pit of my stomach created by this conversation I stupidly started.
“What about with Declan?” she asks bluntly. Sucking in a harsh breath at the mention of his name, I stand abruptly and head back toward the house while downing the rest of my drink in one gulp. Annoyance and uncertainty driving every movement as I push through the glass door and head for the kitchen. Tatum catches up to me just as I’m reaching the sink.
“I know, that was a stupid question. It’s just my assbackwards way of asking if you’re going to leave,” she rushes to say as I brace my weight against the sink. Anger and sadness churn in my core, bringing an intense heat to the back of my eyes. My shoulders rise to my ears as the thought of leaving bounces around my head.
The thought of leaving Declan.
I fight the urge to hyperventilate as I realize what a shitshow my reality has become. I'm grappling with the decision of whether I need to leave not just this city, but also the only man I have fallen so fucking hard for.
Maybe you should forgive him, as you have forgiven everyone else.
I shake myself, cutting off the streaming line of thoughts before they start to make too much sense. After hearing Liam and Tatum explain how I found myself in my current situation, I decided to forgive everyone.
Well, everyone besides Declan. For some reason, their betrayal didn’t feel as potent as his. Sure, my brother was the one who initiated all this, came up with the plan to best hold a blind over my eyes while keeping me safe from a psychopath. But Declan’s betrayal is so much more than that. His deceit devastated me on a whole other level.
Clearing my throat to fight the emotions swelling in my chest, I let my anger drive me as I face the purple-haired woman on the other side of the kitchen. A pang of guilt punches me in the gut as I realize I have to tell her something; otherwise, she’ll never drop it.
“I’m not seeing much of a choice,” I say, surprised that my voice doesn’t wobble.
Her eyes flare with something that resembles shock before she quickly schools her expression. She nods before finding my gaze. “Oh, you’re preaching to the choir, babe.” She sets her half-drunk margarita on the counter before waving me off and shaking her head. “You are looking at the queen of running, so I totally get where you’re coming from,” she says before placing her hands into her back pockets and rocking back onto her heels. She sucks her teeth before widening her grin at me.
I furrow my brows as my lips tighten into a thin line of annoyance. “I know what you’re trying to do,” I say flatly.
She quirks a dark brow before pointing to herself as if confirming that I'm speaking to her. I roll my eyes before stepping away from the sink and heading toward the living room, with the only thing on my mind being escape.
“I’m not doing anything besides relating to your situation,” she says as she rushes to catch up with me.
“ Pft ,” I scoff as I march down the long hallway with her one step behind me. “You think I’m making a mistake, you think I’m running, and you’re trying to stop me,” I growl.
My words must give her pause because her steps falter for a brief moment before she regains her momentum. I speed up, trying to put more distance between myself and one of my only friends in this world.
“Okay, so maybe you do know what I’m trying to do,” she says, following me into the living room.
“I’m not running,” I mutter.
“That’s not what it looks like from where I’m standing,” she snarks.
My temper flares, and before I can stop myself, I’m spinning around to face her. Her steps screech to a halt, and she almost collides with me before she can fully stop herself.
“Really?” I snap, my brows climbing my forehead as I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek. “Well, since you know everything, please tell me what this looks like to you, Tatum. Because to me, it looks like I’m leaving a place that has brought me nothing but heartbreak, near-death experiences, and disappointment.”
The flash of hurt that flares in her eyes has me wishing I had bitten my tongue. I shake my head and let some of my anger deflate. “I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I told you I forgave you and I meant it.” Flicking my eyes back to hers, I soften my gaze and allow a small grin to play on my lips.
I did forgive her, right after they essentially forced me to sit down with them to explain everything in great detail. And when everyone's sins were laid bare on the table before us, they both apologized, and I accepted. Although I would never condone their scheme to keep me blissfully unaware of the death threat looming over my head, I do understand their logic.
My world had just been turned upside down with the loss of my home. If I had learned about the threat on my life on top of everything else, there’s no doubt I would have gone to my eldest brother for protection. He’s a seasoned detective in his part of the world; he would have harbored me and dealt with the problem through all the correct channels of the law. But that would have only caused the loss of control for the MC.
By keeping me in the dark, it ensured that the danger was localized to New Orleans and therefore could be dealt with in-house with little to no widespread casualties. Meaning, if I had gone to Florida and let Damon handle the problem, it would have followed me, endangering not only my life but also the lives of everyone in Damon’s life as well.
Maybe it was my brush with death that made me so forgiving of their transgressions. Perhaps it was because I saw the madness in Mi–Matteo’s eyes. The madness that told me he would never stop unless he was wiped from the playing board altogether. Regardless, when I told them I forgave them, I meant it.
And, if I’m being completely honest, I forgave Tatum the moment she took a bullet for me that day in the parking lot.
“I just need a fresh start,” I mumble as I shift on my feet.
You mean, another fresh start . My inner voice mocks.
“You asked me what it looks like,” Tate blurts as she grabs my hands and pulls me to the couch, making me sit next to her. The empathy in her eyes is almost too much to bear, but I force myself to look at her nonetheless.
“You look like me almost five years ago.” She nods her chin down at me. When confusion mars my brow, she places a soft smile on her lips and slides closer to me. “You look like I did when I was running from my problems.”
I frown and part my lips to refute her accusation, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. My annoyance flares as I narrow my eyes and bite my tongue. At my silence, she continues.
“You can tell yourself you’re getting a fresh start, tell yourself everything will be better if you just remove yourself from the situation. But I can speak from experience that running never solves anything,” she says firmly, avidly driving her point home. “Trust me, Sof, your problems never truly go away just because you ignore them. If anything, they get bigger and bigger until they are so all-consuming that you can think of nothing other than what you’re running from in the first place.”
“You can’t compare your situation to mine. I’m not the one who caused this.” My chest heaves with my heavy breath, and my heartbeat pounds against my ribs so hard I’d be surprised if she can’t hear it. “I’m not the one who lied and used sex as a way to get closer to me so he could protect me,” I growl, spitting the word as it sours on my tongue.
Tatum frowns. “Is that really what you think he did? Fucked you in order to protect you from a murderer?” she asks. My lips form my agreement, but before I can say anything at all, I’m rendered speechless for some inexplicable reason.
All I want to do is say yes. Yes , I think Declan used sex as a way to get closer so it was easier to keep tabs on me. But, for some reason I can’t explain, I can’t force the words to leave my mouth. She squeezes my hands and searches my eyes.
“If Declan really wanted to use you to gain the upper hand on his enemy, why did he fight you for so damn long?” she asks, leaving me at a loss for words once again. She nods knowingly. “You can’t answer that because it doesn't make sense.” Her sympathetic smile makes it difficult to keep looking at her. “Look, I’m not going to pretend to understand why his twisted mind led him to believe that convincing you he hated you all these years was the best way to keep you safe from him. Especially when it's so blatantly obvious he has been in love with you all this time.”
Her words cause my breath to stall in my chest as flashes of violet eyes clouded with adoration fill my mind's eye. On the day everything happened, the day all the lies came crashing down around me, he looked into that one-way mirror and admitted he never meant to fall for me. I couldn’t hear the words back then, too fearful that I might forgive him on the spot as I felt his honesty with every fiber of my being.
That was the moment I crawled out of that window and into the hands of a crazed man. Embarrassment washes over me, bringing a flush to my cheeks.
“All I can say is I think you’re blurring the lines and connecting the fact that you were lied to, to Declan finally letting himself have you. He didn’t exploit you to increase his opportunities to spy on you and get the jump on Pelosi. I think he loved you because you healed something inside of him that has been broken for far too long, and he finally allowed himself to hold on to something good for once.”
I want to tell her she’s wrong. Make her see that what I’m saying is actually the truth. I want to kick and scream and stomp my feet, anything to distract from the fact that what she’s saying is making too much sense. But I can do nothing other than stare at her with my lips pressed in a tight line.
She rolls her eyes at my stubborn silence. “I mean, come on, Sof. The man literally ran into a burning building because he thought you were inside, faced a deathly skilled lunatic, and a pit full of starved gators for you. That's some serious superhero-type shit.” My lips twitch despite myself. She grins at me, her eyes twinkling with humor before she turns serious again. “How can you continue to punish him for the same sin you’ve forgiven us all for commiting?” she asks, doubt plain in her tone.
“How could I not?” I blurt out as if her question has loosened my tongue. I pull my hands away from hers and stand up abruptly from my seat before pacing back and forth in front of her. I roughly wipe my hand down my face before eyeing the beautiful woman in front of me, as if she asked me the question in a different language. “He… did something to me, unlocked something inside me.”
My lungs seize as I say the words, making it difficult to get a full breath. I place my flattened palm against my chest to stop the tremors as I close my eyes briefly, trying to compose myself. Finding it impossible as the lies I’ve been telling myself come crumbling down around me.
I pat my chest, clearing my throat before opening my watery eyes again. The concern written on Tatum’s face making me want to close them all over again. “I finally accepted a part of myself that I’ve suppressed most of my life all because of the way it felt to be in his arms,” I breathe. “He made me feel safe to be me. Made me trust him,” I say, finding her dark eyes as anger and sorrow swirl together in my veins, making it hard to speak without my voice trembling. “He made me love him,” I admit, feeling a weight lifting from my chest as if the words I’ve kept to myself weighed a thousand pounds.
I blink rapidly to keep my tears at bay and swallow thickly, nearly choking on my emotion. “And then he left his fucking phone in the bathroom, and everything fell apart,” I grouse, my words garbled as they tumble from my lips.
Shifting on my feet, I start picking at my fingernails with my uninjured thumb. I’ve never been this open, this raw, with anyone. I’ve always held myself apart, until now. My brush with death served as a wake-up call that I desperately needed. It allowed me to learn exactly who the people I should be letting in are.
So, I can tell myself all I like that I hate Declan, that I want nothing to do with him. But when the cards were laid on the table, he was the one who showed up for me. Logically, I know I shouldn’t be punishing him for what I’ve already forgiven others for. But that broken and lonely part of me, that part that still bristles and snarls at the thought of forgiving him, never wants to give him the opportunity to crush me again.
I swipe angrily at my eyes, clearing away my tears of hurt and frustration. “I want to hate him for lying to me, for humiliating me,” I growl even as my eyes fill with more liquid fire.
Pulling my watery gaze away from Tate, I stare down at the plush rug below my bare feet. I can’t look her in the eye as I speak my next truth. “But even more so, I want to hate him because even though he did all that, I still can't stop loving him.”
I feel like crumpling into a ball on the ground as my honesty sits between us. But Tatum would never allow that to happen. A fact she proves by standing from the sofa and pulling me in for a hard hug. I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in the crook of her neck, ignoring the small voice inside my head whispering for me not to let my guard down again.
“So stay and let’s hate him together,” she says as she pulls away, taking her warmth with her. I sniff as I meet her dark gaze. She shakes her head as she grabs my hands again. “Don't do him the service of leaving. Let's go back there and beat his ass. Spit in his eye and kick him in the dick. You can never go wrong with a solid throat punch,” she says, drawing a snort of laughter from me. My lips part with a watery smile as she shakes me. She chuckles as she continues. “Kick, scream, cry. But don't just fucking give up and leave. Stay and fight.”
Her expression turns serious as she stops moving my arms. I stop breathing and try to calm myself. I have a feeling that what she’s going to say next is something I need to hear.
“Because believe it or not,” she says, rubbing her thumbs against the back of my hands. “He's not the only one you're punishing by leaving. He's not the only person here who loves you and needs you to stay.”
My lips tremble, and more tears leak down my cheeks as I nod my head, no longer able to form words. I’m the one who pulls her in for a hug this time, needing my friend now more than ever.
It may seem like I’m agreeing to do what she’s asked. It might look like I’m going to stay right here and fight for the life I want. But the truth is, I still have no idea what I’m going to do. I don’t know if I will be able to face Declan again. I don’t even know if I will have the courage to open that door tomorrow when he comes knocking.
Right now, the only thing I am certain of is that, regardless of whether I choose to stay or leave, my life is never going to be the same.