Of all the shit luck in the world, Sophie is sitting on her porch when I pull up to my house after work. She never sits on her porch. Is she waiting for me? She texted me earlier asking if I was busy and I lied and said I was. She asked me to call her when I was free, but I never did. Maybe she needed help with something. Now I feel like a dick for not calling her back. But if she needed help, why not call the guy who stayed with her last night?
She waves at me as I ride past her to my garage. As I open my back door to let Dopey out, she calls my name. At the sound of her voice, Dopey charges after her. I take off after him, but I’m no match for his speed. “Shit! Dopey, stop!”
Without slowing down, he leaps into the air and knocks Sophie to the ground.
“You all right?”
“Yeah.” When she moves to sit up, she bites her lip and sucks in a breath.
I wrap my arms around her to help her stand before handing her the crutches. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” she says, but she’s wobbly on her feet. She flashes a smile. “Really.”
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you. It was a busy day.”
“No worries.” She shrugs.
She stole my line. How cute is that? I can’t help but smile. “So, what did you need earlier?”
“I don’t remember now.”
If you don’t remember, why were you out here waiting for me? “Oh, okay.” An awkward moment passes. “How’s the ankle?”
“Hurts like hell. I can’t do much of anything for myself.”
“Miranda helping you?”
“When she can, but she has her job and school. She hasn’t had time to even get to the grocery. Which reminds me why I texted you earlier.”
Great. She probably texted me because she was hungry and I ignored her. I’m an asshole. With my hands in my pockets, I rock back and forth on my heels. “Yeah?”
“Would you mind running me to the grocery store?”
Miranda’s car is here so I assume she’s home. She can’t be so busy that she’d send Sophie to the store on crutches. What kind of best friend does that? Bear and I aren’t roommates, but if he was on crutches, I’d do everything I could to help the guy out. “Miranda isn’t able to go?”
Sophie shakes her head. “She’s completing an exam online and midnight is the deadline.”
I know I told her to call or text if she needed help, but am I really the only person she can ask? I’m trying to forget about this girl. How can I do that if I’m granting favors and spending time with her? Besides, she has other friends. What about the guy from last night? If they’re close enough to sleep together, she can ask him for help. “I’m kind of busy, Sophie. Is there anyone else who can help you?”
“Not really, but if you aren’t able to, I understand. No worries.”
There she goes using my words again. She’s so damn adorable. I can’t say no. “Okay. I’ll take you.”
“Thank you so much!” she squeals. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
I chuckle at her exuberance. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m just taking you to the grocery.”
“There’s literally no food in my house, so yes, this is a very big deal.”
I pull my eyebrows together in a frown. “No food? Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
She must’ve known this yesterday. One doesn’t run out of food overnight. Couldn’t she have asked her boyfriend, or whatever he is to take her? They spent the night together doing God knows what, but she couldn’t ask him to take her grocery shopping? I can’t hide my resentment.
“Why didn’t your,” I clear my throat, “friend, take you shopping last night?”
Caught off guard by my question, she pauses before answering. “He brought me dinner.”
“Well, at least he did that much.”
She doesn’t respond, but the corner of her mouth turns up diminutively.
Being in the confined space of my truck with Sophie has me on fire. Her sweet, floral scent is driving me out of my mind. I can’t stop staring. Her upswept hair reveals a long, graceful neck that I bet tastes as good as she smells. And her thighs in those short shorts… I’m going to die if we don’t get out of here soon. Then again, it wouldn’t be a terrible way to go. If only I could lean in, just once, and breathe her in and taste her skin…
Sophie busts me for staring and I snap my attention back to the road.
I try to make small talk to distract myself, but it hardly helps.
Finally, we arrive at the store. As soon as I’ve parked the truck, Sophie clutches her door handle. I reach across and place my hand on hers to stop her. A spark travels from my fingertips to my chest. “Wait here,” I tell her and slowly pry my hand from hers.
I hop out of the truck, still reeling from the feeling of her hand in mine. How can such an innocent, insignificant touch affect me in such a powerful way? I take a deep breath and remove her crutches from the truck bed before opening her door.
“Turn and face me,” I instruct. “Wrap your arms around my neck and I’ll lower you to the pavement.”
She drapes her arms around my neck and I place my hands on her hips and pull her close. Her body is flush against mine as I ever so slowly lower her to the pavement. This may be the last opportunity I have to hold her this close, I might as well enjoy it.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her face flushed.
Inside the store, our first stop is the produce department where Sophie meticulously searches through every package of strawberries for the very best one. After double checking each and every package, she narrows them down to three. She takes one last look at each before finally making her selection. I hold my hand over my mouth to suppress my laughter. When we move on to the apples, she does the same thing. Then again with the grapes, and so on. We spend twenty minutes just picking over the fruit before moving on to vegetables. But I don’t mind. It’s entertaining.
In the international food aisle Sophie comes to an abrupt halt and her face contorts into an expression of pain.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
“I should’ve just taken the damn list and come for you.” Not long ago I was lambasting Miranda for making Sophie come to the store. I’m no better.
“I’m okay.” She gives me a small, forced smile. “I prefer to do my own shopping. I’m picky about brands.”
I reach into the cart and hold up store brand mini wheats and generic Hamburger Helper. “Really? Because everything in this cart is generic.”
“Not everything.” Her face turns scarlet as she points to a block of Velveeta cheese and a six pack of Stewarts Root Beer.
“Pardon me.” I can’t contain my laughter. “Let’s make sure to get brand name processed cheese.”
Sophie joins me in a fit of laughter, but the moment of levity is ruined when an impatient asshole hits Sophie’s injured ankle with his cart. Sophie whimpers in pain and I grab a hold of the guy. “What the fuck, man? You hit her.”
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your girlfriend, I was just trying to get by.”
“The words excuse me exist for a reason shithead.” I squeeze his shoulder with all my strength causing him to grimace.
“I’m sorry. Really,” he says.
“You’re sorry?” I ask. “Did you not see her crutches or didn’t that matter to you when you rammed your cart into her?”
Sophie touches my shoulder and says she’s okay.
“No, you’re not!” I grit my teeth.
The guy’s bottom lip quivers as he apologizes again.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” I ask. “She’s the one you rammed with your cart!”
He turns to Sophie. “I really am sorry, Miss.”
“It was our fault,” she says, which infuriates me even more. “We were taking up the aisle.”
This was not our fault. “Do not make excuses for him, Sophie!”
“I could’ve said excuse me,” the guy says.
“Yes, you could have,” I growl.
Sophie squeezes my shoulder. “It’s done now. Let him go.”
“Watch where you’re going from now on.” I let go of the pot-bellied dipshit and watch as he hurries away.
“You act like he took my leg off,” Sophie chides me. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“It was to me.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Why?”
“Because it was inconsiderate.” I point at her crutches. “He saw that you’re on crutches. He could’ve said excuse me.”
“Maybe he thought he could get by.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale sharply. She might be okay with people disrespecting her, but I’m not. I refuse to allow it to happen while I’m around. “He fucked up and deserved to be called out on it.”
“The guy was scared to death. I’m surprised he didn’t piss himself.”
“Now that would’ve been funny.”
Unimpressed, Sophie spins around and walks away. Panic smacks me square in the chest and I reach out and stop her. “I wasn’t going to hurt him, Sophie. I was just trying to teach him a lesson.”
“I’d say you succeeded,” she says flatly.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I appreciate you standing up for me, but you took it a little too far.”
“I’m sorry.”
She arches a brow and tilts her head. “Really?”
I can’t lie to her. “I’m not sorry about calling him out. But maybe I went a little too far. It’s just that he hurt you… It was inexcusable.”
“Well, thank you for coming to my rescue.” She smiles. “Again.”
When we get back to Sophie’s house, Mike is sitting on the couch. His eyes flit to mine. He’s clearly unhappy to see me, but too scared to say anything.
“We gonna have a problem?” I ask.
“No,” he croaks.
I turn to Sophie and tell her I’ll be right back. I grab a load of groceries from the truck and as I reach the front door, I overhear Mike talking to Sophie.
“…Miranda was going to the store tonight because you aren’t supposed to be walking.”
Sophie lied about Miranda being busy? Why? To get me to take her? At first, I’m flattered and even a little smug. But my flattery quickly turns to annoyance when I remember she spent the night with another guy. To my knowledge, he’s the first guy she’s been with since her ex. She’s never brought anyone home and no one, not even her ex ever stayed the night. She must be in a relationship with this new guy. Why go to all the trouble to get me to take her? She should have asked him. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate his girlfriend making excuses to spend time with another guy. And frankly, I don’t appreciate it either. If she’s with someone else, she needs to leave me alone.
Sophie shuffles into the kitchen behind me. Burning with curiosity, I turn to face her.
“So, you lied to get me to take you to the store?”
“Rooter, I’m sorry. I just…” Her voice trails off, and she looks to the floor.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the only thing I could come up with to get you to hang out with me.”
I laugh at the absurdity. “What?”
She peers at me, eyes full of shame and embarrassment. “You’re dead set against me getting to know you, so it wasn’t like I could call to chat or ask you to come over.”
I pinch the space between my eyes and exhale. “Sophie, it’s for your own good. Deep down, you know I’m right.”
“No, I don’t and you won’t give me a chance to prove you wrong.”
I’m damned close to asking why she’s so concerned with proving me wrong if she has a boyfriend? I opt for a different tactic. One that’ll hopefully convince her to leave me alone. “What you saw in the store tonight… That’s who I am. Do you really want to be around that?”
“You were defending me.”
“Why do you constantly make excuses for people?”
“I’m not making excuses,” she stands firm. “It’s what I believe.”
Exasperated, I blow out a breath and back away. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow her to chase after me when she belongs to someone else. “You know what I believe? You need to forget about me. Forget about me and focus your attention on the guy who woke up in your bed this morning.”
I need to get out of here. With impeccable timing, Miranda enters the kitchen. I bark something to her about helping with the groceries and storm off.
Sophie shouts in a panicked voice, “Rooter, last night wasn’t what it looked like! Rooter!”
“It really doesn’t matter!”
Once I’m inside my house I collapse onto the couch and blow out a deep breath. Rocking back and forth, I drag my hands up and down my thighs, trying to get a grip on the contradicting thoughts spinning through my mind.
I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m the one who decided I can’t be with Sophie. Why the hell am I so bent out of shape over her being with another guy? I am not this guy. I don’t get worked up or jealous over girls. I don’t obsess over them and I sure as hell don’t stalk them. Women throw themselves at my feet all day, every day. What is it about Sophie Holt that has me bound by the balls? She’s just a girl for fuck sake.
This has to stop. Right this instant. If I don’t get away from her and put some real distance between us, I’ll lose my damn mind.
Perhaps I already have.
Twenty minutes later Sophie’s face lights up the screen of my phone—a picture I took of her sitting in her backyard. She was reading a book and must’ve come across something funny because she threw her head back in one of her full-bodied laughs. It was beautiful. I wish I had captured it on video. Rather than letting the call go to voicemail, I hit reject hoping she’ll take the hint.
As soon as the ringing stops, I go to my phone’s camera roll to look at the picture again. I stare at it for several minutes before scrolling through the rest of the pictures I’ve taken of her. My second favorite is one of her in her room looking at my window.
My phone rings. Yet again, I press reject. A few seconds later I get a voicemail notification followed by a text. I don’t bother to check either message. The sound of Sophie’s voice would break me. I’d just end up calling her back and who knows what that could lead to.
Who am I kidding? I know exactly what it would lead to. It’d lead to me marching over there and telling her to ditch what’s-his-name because I’m making her mine.
The voicemail notification on the screen taunts me. I press delete and immediately regret it. Now I’ll never know what she said. And if she calls back now, I’ll definitely answer. If I answer I’m sure to do something incredibly stupid—something along the lines of ruining her life.
I go to my phone’s settings to block her number. Better safe than sorry.
To put the cherry on top of my already stellar evening, Pop calls to tell me Big Boy, the V.P. of the Double H Detroit charter passed away of a heart attack. We are all leaving for Detroit first thing in the morning.
I’ve known Big Boy since I was a young boy. He was one of the original Halsey members before starting a charter in Detroit with Marx, another former Halsey member. But Big boy never took care of himself. He smoked like a freight train and lived on a steady diet of fried chicken. Last time I we spoke, he was so out of breath he could barely talk. His lungs were so congested he couldn’t laugh without choking. Recently, there had been talk of him handing over his VP patch due to his condition. Although I knew his health wasn’t the greatest, I never imagined he would die so soon. He was only fifty-one years old. Yet another reminder that life is fragile and fleeting.
I toss my phone and it makes a loud clunk when it hits the coffee table. Clutching the back of my head with both hands, I let out a long breath and fall back onto the couch.
Normally when I go out of town, Mama or Isa takes care of Dopey for me. But Isa is in Chicago with a friend. Mom and all the Club wives will be attending the funeral. It’s too late tonight to arrange boarding and I won’t have time in the morning. Dopey is my main man, my buddy. I don’t trust him with just anyone.
As I wrack my brain for ideas, my phone pings with a text. It’s Candace. I hadn’t considered asking her. While she isn’t my first choice, I trust she wouldn’t put my boy in harm’s way. She’s watched him in the past when I’ve been in a pinch.
Candace: Hey sexy. I know u miss me. Come over.
Me: Can’t. Headed to Detroit in the AM. I was wondering if I could hire u to watch Dopey for me while I’m gone? $100 a day. Shouldn’t be more than a few days.
Candace: I’m happy to help, but I can’t bring him here. My new landlord doesn’t allow dogs.
Under normal circumstances, I’d never allow anyone other than family or Club members to stay in my house. But these aren’t normal circumstances and I’ve known Candace forever.
Me: Stay at my house. I’ll leave keys under the mat on the front porch.
Candace: I can come by tonight.
Me: Big Boy died today. I’m heading out at first light. Got a lot to do between now and then. If you can get to Dopey by late morning, that would be perfect.
Candace: I’m so sorry, Rooter. I know he meant a lot to you. I’ll be there in the morning. And don’t worry about your boy. You know I’ll take good care of him.
I don’t remember falling asleep. Last thing I remember is putting the TV on after texting Candace. I check my watch for the time. It’s late, or early depending on how you look at it. Dopey lies in front of the stairs like he always does when he’s ready for bed. He won’t go up without me. With a groan, I stretch and push myself up from the couch to finish off the night in the comfort of my bed.
I walk into my room and flip on the light. Sophie’s bedroom light is on. I’m surprised to see her awake at this late hour. The instant she sees me she throws her window open and hollers that she needs to talk to me. The entire neighborhood can probably hear her. I consider opening my window, but decide against it. It’s the middle of the night. I’m physically and mentally exhausted and in a few hours, I’ll be on my way to Detroit to say goodbye to a dear friend. I walk over to my window and snap the blinds shut. I know it’s rude, but I just can’t talk to her right now.
The mattress shakes as Dopey circles round and round at the foot of the bed trying to get into the perfect sleeping position. “Dude, pick a spot already.”
As I try to fall asleep, Sophie’s words play on repeat, “Last night wasn’t what it looked like.” What the hell does that mean? That she didn’t fuck the guy? Even if she didn’t, she must be seeing him. Why else would he spend the night? I grab the pillow next to mine and smash it against my face and groan.
If Bear was acting like this, I’d tell him to man up and grow a pair. Either stake his claim on the girl or drop it. Stop with the drama. But it’s easier said than done. If I was deciding based on my own desire, I’d pursue Sophie, but I’m trying to do what’s best for her.
As upset as I am over Big Boy’s death, this trip couldn’t be coming at a better time. Maybe time away will do me some good. Hopefully I can return with a fresh perspective and with my thoughts and emotions in check. I can’t continue to drive myself crazy with this back and forth nonsense. While I’m gone I will decide, once and for all, what I’m going to do. Either I’ll stake my claim or I’ll drop it.