Chapter 215


    Sophie grabs my wrist and tries to yank me to the side, but I cannot tear my eyes from her. I want to tell


    her I made a mistake, that she is who I want, that she is all I can even think about. I want to wipe away


    the memory of that asshole on her body, and rece it with memories of kissing her softly, cherishing


    her always. No one should ever touch her, except me.


    “Natasha.” She snaps at me and ps my hands down from her face harshly, bringing my focus back


    to reality again. I tear my eyes from her and nce up as I see Tasha heading our way, looking


    completely non-plussed and again the apanying guilt is like a constant shadow with her, and


    wracks me to the bone and almost smashes me in the skull. Nothing hits home and drills to my shame


    brain, like Natasha’s appearance.


    It makes me feel shit for even thinking what I just did. That same doubt and uncertainty hitting me with


    equal force, and I sigh hard. So much for fucking choosing.


    “What happened? What’s wrong?” Natasha is a momentary distraction, pulling my mind away for a


    fleeting second of doubt. That’s before the overwhelming realizationes back at me that Sophie


    could be really hurt, or he could have touched her some ce that has messed her up, and that is why


    she is pushing my touch away. It’s all I can think about.


    Impulsively I pull her back into my arms and pull her face to mine, nose to nose so I can get back to my


    calm ce against her. Too drunk for this shit, head spinning, and I need her to keep me grounded.


    Sophie has always been my safe sane ce in life, but right now she looks scared, agitated and I know


    it’s because that fucker must have done more than just kiss her. She’s trying to hide it, hide something


    about the encounter that has all my rms ring off crazily in my head. Sophie looks distraught,


    antsy, and I immediately assess that he has done more to her, rage erupting epically again. I will


    destroy him.


    “I want to fucking kill him.” I growl into her face, ovee with aggression once more, as my blood


    pulses at rate through my veins and reignites my inner devil. Sophie pushes me away a little more


    gently than before and turns her head towards Natasha, who is the least of my concerns right now.


    “Some guy tried it on. Forcefully.” She exins to her, yet all I can think about is what would have


    happened had I not found her. She was immobilized, caught in his embrace, choking her, and he


    wasn’t exactly weak. A dark corner under a shady ceiling, in a ce no one noticed her attack. It


    doesn’t bear thinking about. This is why I should never leave her alone. “Arrick hit him, a lot. He’s out


    cold, pretty fucked up. Arrick needs to get upstairs and out of sight until it calms down.” Sophie is


    talking to Natasha, but my eyes are scanning the room behind us and searching out the dick head. I


    want another go at him to just make sure he neverys a fucking finger on her again.


    “You don’t fight in bars!” I hear the usatory tone of Tash and re her way. If she thinks I’m not


    going to defend Sophie against some hands-on sadistic sleaze, she’s deluded. I will break him into a


    thousand pieces, and she can cry over the improperness of my public fighting if she likes.


    She is dating a fucking fighting pro, what does she expect?


    “Natasha! Take him upstairs, I can find my own way home. Now, Natasha! He needs to be up there with


    friends who can back up that he was not down here when this went down. If there’s anyeback


    from this it will fuck up his fight career.” Sophie shoves me towards Natasha, and I don’t catch what she


    snapped at her at all. I just realize she is walking away, without me, alone as she lets go and Natasha


    takes me arm instead. Still so drunk, still half immersed in the surreal mist of what happened and not


    quite with it, not fully in control of my faculties.


    I panic, throwing a look at Tasha, wondering what the fuck I am doing and grab Sophie in a bid to keep


    her close while I shrug Tasha’s hand off me at the same time. No way in hell is she going anywhere


    without me after what just happened. He’s still here and could be looking for round two, much like I am.


    “Wait. Where are you going?” I turn on Sophs, confused that she even wants to go without me,


    enraged that Tasha is helping in this, and wounded that she would even try and leave me.


    “Home. Bring my jacketter when youe back, I’ll get a cab. I have my bag here and money.” She


    points at her tiny bag and I stare at her in disbelief, stubborn head fully in ce, on both of us it seems.


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    “No, Sophs … I’m taking you home, I’ming with you. I take care of you! I always take care of you.”


    The intensity of that statement hits me right in the heart and there is no way she gets to leave here,


    without me to protect her. That’s what I do. Arry and Sophs, always together, always taking care of


    each other. Isn’t that my whole purpose in life?


    “I’m fine, I can handle it. Please, go with your girlfriend and I’ll go straight home.” Sophie gives me a


    stern look, that ‘go away’ re and I can only stand and numbly stare at her. Hurt that I am not what


    she wants right now in this. I get the ‘girlfriend’ jibe too and right now in my head, there is no fucking


    girlfriend. We agreed to try dating again, nothing more. After this I am not sure that’s how it will even


    y out; my head is all on throwing my life in the fire and going after Sophie in all ways, because in


    one night, I realized that I do give a hell of a lot more than a shit about her, way more than I do about


    my rtionship with Natasha.


    Sophie always wants me when she needs someone, that’s how it goes. That’s how it has always gone,


    and yet here she is telling me she doesn’t need me. This is not how this works, ever. It’s not how I want


    it to be. It won’tpute in my messy brain that she can even reject me in this way.


    It hurts like a bitch, heart wing and breath hitching as she turns and walks off and I’m left to stand


    here like a moron watching her go. Stilled in the disbelief that for the first time ever, Sophie doesn’t


    need me to look after her. My head finding it hard topute that my little warrior is choosing to take


    care of herself and I’m being left on the side-lines with every other person around her.


    No, not happening. I don’t like it at all.


    Natasha yanks my arm after her and like some dazed kid I follow her, tripping on the steps because I’m


    too damn drunk, and my head is still reeling in the aftermath of adrenalin, violence, and Sophie leaving


    me. The fact she is doing this to us, after a million times I went out and picked her up and took her


    home from a million sleazy bars. I swooped in and rescued her more times than I care to remember,


    and not once did she ever tell me to stay behind, so she could go it alone.


    What the fuck is happening to us right now?


    I pull myself free at the top of the stairs and stare at Natasha nkly. Not sure what’s going on or how


    she even got me up here without a fight, all I know is my girl is headed the other way and I don’t like


    this. I am not about to stand here and do god knows what, while she’s down there trying to get a cab


    and fending for herself. I never agreed to this shit and I am not about to follow through with it.


    Sophie always needs me; I need her. I lurch forward to the booths among my friends, grabbing my


    jacket and Sophie’s, from earlier and a lot of crap falls out of my pocket that I do not stop to pick up.


    Something ck skates across the table and dives to the floor with Natasha chasing after it hopelessly,


    but I’m already turning and fleeing back in the direction I came from on unsteady legs. No word to her


    on where I am going, I just go, with a mind, set on one task alone.


    Hot on Sophies tracks, because no way in hell is she leaving me, and no way in hell am I sitting here


    while she does so. I almost fall down the stairs of the club as the full hit of drunkenness consumes me,


    weakened from my adrenalin wearing off and I know I shouldy down and sleep this off. Pulling on my


    jacket as I run, my head is on one girl, one focus, and I am out in the street scanning both directions


    quickly with her jacket in my hand. I see her a few feet to my left, walking onward, head down as she


    rummages in that micro bag around her body and dart to catch up without hesitation.


    Heart bursting through my chest with the effort of my sprint in my state. She’s in that tiny little dress and


    it’s freezing out here already, so I slide her coat over her body to warm her up, impulsively pulling the


    slight sexy body to me and just want to embrace her with the relief of being back with her.


    “You’re really okay?” My eyes lock with her, she looks a little startled at my appearance, but I don’t


    care. She has no chance of getting rid of me, even if she throws a Sophie rage and throws something


    at me. I’m hers. I’ll follow her always, to the ends of the world on my knees if I have to.


    Well, I know I’m drunk right now, but in theory I will always follow her when she needs me.


    “I’m really okay, now go. Go back in.” She attempts to push me off, still in the defensive Sophie mode


    that makes me want to hold her closer and push it all away for her. She’s shivering, despite her jacket


    and I want to warm her up with my body and wrap us together safely. Nothing else in my head, apart


    from the need to shelter and protect my girl. Sophie is and always will be my girl.


    “I’m taking you home, I always take you home, Sophs.” I follow her, like a needy puppy dog; she’s fast


    on her ridiculously high heels, impressively, and I’m itching to touch her again while being this close.


    “This is different. I’m not even drunk, and I’m going back to your apartment. You have Natasha in there,


    probably wondering where you are.” She sounds distant, agitated and I hate it. I lean out and catch her


    shoulder in my hand, wanting to be close to her, to take care of her. I want to wipe out the bad


    memories and still the fear in her head, like I always do.


    I know I’m acting weird, probably because of the amount of alcohol I consumed, but for the first time it


    feels like my heart is acting over my head. If I could do this all the time, then my life would be so much


    easier. Drunk Arry only has his mind set on his Sophs.


    “She’ll understand … she always understands when ites to you.” I answer her and pull her close,


    wrapping her up in my arms this time and making it clear she won’t get away from me without a fight. I


    need her against me to make all of this okay again.


    “Wait. She doesn’t even know you’re out here. Did you even tell her you were leaving?” Sophs blinks at


    me usingly, beautifully indignant, and that tiny absent guilt sort of tingles through me in a little


    rming way. It’s like being scolded by my mom.


    Yep, I ditched her to run after you, Sophs, and right now, drunk as I am, I don’t care that much.


    “I’ll call her when I get us in a cab. I’ming with you, Sophs, whether you want me to or not. I want


    toe home with you. Take care of you. That’s my job, my sole purpose in life.” I gaze at her


    intensely, focusing on those gorgeous tropical blue eyes and that wless face. She is all that matters


    to me right now and I’m in headstrong and decisive mode. Heart over everything, for once.


    Sophie sighs in defeat and I know I still have her, mad as she might be at me right now, she isn’t about


    to send me packing and I get a tiny lift in my stomach, a bit like flutters. She still needs me after all, I


    haven’t lost that anyway.


    “Okay... But when we get home, we go to bed, and we don’t talk about this. I need a shower and some


    alone time, so leave this until tomorrow, okay? I need to process this.” She answers me sternly,


    expression stubbornly serious and voice low with fatigue. We’re both tired, drunk, and so over this


    shitty night.


    My knuckles are starting to throb with the bruising and cuts, and all I want is to take her home, back to


    our safe warm and quiet space, where no one else can hurt her. I run a thumb over her soft delicate


    cheek tenderly, needing her close and needing some normal between us in this moment. I need to


    know I can still touch her, that earlier, my decision hasn’t ended that part of us. When I feel this messed


    up, I can guarantee her touch is enough to calm me. As it does right now, in the same way her wishing


    me luck before a fight keeps me focused and assured that I can do it. She’s my lucky charm.


    Sophie catches my hand in hers and pulls it from her face steadily but doesn’t let go. She turns, pulling


    me with her and leads me to look for a cab and I can’t ignore the shift in us like this. Her taking control


    and leading the way, being the carer and getting us home. I’m not sure I like this role reversal, but I’m


    sort of d of it too right now. I’m beyond hammered, shattered, and emotional and I want to zone out


    and go home with her and think of nothing else but keeping her safe.