She shakes her head.
“Then I’m coming for you.”
I take two steps, closing the distance between us, and then I have her in my arms so fucking tightly I’m sure she can’t breathe. Her body trembles as she cries against my chest.
I pick her up, carry her to the couch, and sit with her cradled in my arms.
I am holding the girl who, at sixteen years old, was attacked by an illegal immigrant, the son of a man hired by Roxy Charles as a gardener for her home. Roxy was arrested by the FBI in a sting operation that sent her to prison for running the biggest drug ring in the history of the state of Ohio, though the charge was later dropped to dealing.
Sonya was apparently living with her aunt in the family home when she went to meet the asshole who got her pregnant, and she was stabbed in the stomach just outside the gates of her home and left for dead. The entire attack was caught on video surveillance and broadcasted nationally in the hopes of finding her attacker.
As fucked up as I was back then, I remember. It was like something straight out of Hollywood, something you would never expect to happen in real life.
“Shhh,” I say to calm her sobs as I rock back and forth, though it’s also to calm myself from the image I can’t get out of my mind.
I don’t know how much time passes as I stare at the wall, holding her, but she falls asleep. I stand up with her still in my arms and carry her in my room, lay her down, and lie right next to her.
She opens her eyes and looks at me. Mascara is smeared under her bloodshot eyes, and her face is red and puffy.
“I don’t want anyone to know,” she whispers.
“No one will ever hear it from me. Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”
Tonight, I can’t sleep. Hell, I’m surprised I can breathe. My mind races with thoughts of taking care of her, wanting to take care of her. Thoughts of how the hell she has managed for four years and thoughts of finding that sick fuck who did this to her and tearing him apart limb by limb.
She is in my arms, sobbing, crying, and holding her stomach, and then she falls asleep. She mumbles his name and no, please, and repeats it over and over. Then she says my name. My. Name. I don’t understand it, but I hope in her nightmare I am killing the motherfucker with my bare hands.
When she is quiet, I remember every horrific detail. That story was what made me stop watching the news. I couldn’t handle it. It made a dark time even darker.
***
I look up when she walks out of my room. “I ordered breakfast. Wasn’t sure what you liked so … well …” Fuck, I’m nervous. “I ordered a little bit of everything.”
“Thank you. It really wasn’t necessary, Finn.”
As she walks past me toward her room, I reach out and take her hand.
“Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” I ask, taking her other hand. She doesn’t say anything else. “Forgive me for being a dick last night. I wouldn’t have if—”
“If you knew who I was? If you remembered seeing me dying on TV or the video that went viral on YouTube or the story plastered all over the damn newspapers? That doesn’t work for me, Finn.”
“No,” I half-lie. “If I hadn’t overheard a phone conversation that was none of my damn business.”
She looks at me curiously.
“Was I awful to you at dinner?”
She shakes her head.
“Before dinner?”
“No,” she answers.
“And before that?” I ask, smiling cautiously.
A small smile appears and is gone quickly. “No.”
“Good. Let’s forget the fucking past. It’s ugly and doesn’t make us who we are today or want to be tomorrow, right?”
“You’ll never look at me the same.”
“I can guarantee I will.” I make another promise I can’t break.
“How many times did you watch the video online?”
I shrug. “I was really fucked up back then.”
“Promise me you’ll never watch it again.”
I nod. “Deal.”
“I like French toast without syrup, with strawberries and cinnamon.”
Shit. I didn’t order French toast.
“All right, we can order it up.”
She smiles and looks at the ground. “Promise me that, after the tour, you won’t hate me.”
“Why would you say something like that, Sonya?” I ask, pushing her hair behind her ear.
She shrugs. “Just a gut feeling.”
“That’s a hungry feeling in your tummy, girl. Let me call and order—”
“I was messing with you. You know, I used to be a spoiled, rich—”
I tug her to me and quickly kiss her hard, then pull away.
“Why the fuck would we ruin the here and now with shitty talk about our past?” I kiss her again the same way then pull back. “The here and now feels damn good, Sonya.”
“Yeah, it does.” She looks up, and I can see in her eyes what she wants, so I bow down and give her another kiss. When I pull back, she smiles, a real smile. “Did you order bacon and eggs?”
“Sure did.”
“Good. That sounds really good.”
We pull up to Stereo Live on Richmond Ave in Houston. Outside, there are at least a hundred people lined up, waiting to get in, and it’s only nine o’clock in the morning.
“ ’Da fuck?” Memphis laughs and looks at the guys, his smile beaming. “This is off the hook.” He turns and pulls Tally close to him, kissing her so hard I am pretty sure we can all feel it.
I feel eyes on me, deep brown eyes that are clear today, because when River came in at eight and nodded to the balcony, Finn shook his head.
Finn looks at me. “Gotta eat faster.” Then he glances at River. “Sit and eat, man.”
River’s eyes narrow a bit. The way they look at each other fascinates me. An old-fashioned duel comes to mind. Who will draw first?
“You got pancakes?” River finally asks.
Finn gives a satisfied smile. “With blueberries.”
“Aw, man, I feel the love. You remember,” he says playfully.
Finn smirks. “And Captain Crunch.”
“Fuck, man, I love you. If you and I are single when we’re fifty, I’m gonna marry you.” He walks over and gives him a hug.
“Not gonna happen, fucker. Go eat.”
“You two would make a nice couple,” I say quietly.
“Wow, she’s got jokes,” River says as he walks over, messes up my hair, and sits next to me. “You’re funny.”
“You stupit,” I try to joke.
“Aw, I love her, too.” River chuckles. “Three some?”
Finn sits next to him. “Hell freeze over?”
“Been done a few times, man.” River chuckles.
I feel my face burn. Is that something he would want with me?
“You into that kind of thing, Sonya?” Finn asks.
I look at him, unable to mask the shock. “Um … um …”
River laughs. “Guess not.”
Finn looks at my eyes, my lips, then smirks. “Didn’t think so.”
“I feel mayhem ensuing,” River says as he taps on his knee that hasn’t stopped bouncing since breakfast.
“You’ll be okay, man. Let’s roll.” Finn opens the door with one hand then looks at me. “You ready, little media chick?”
I nod. “Yep.”
Everyone piles out of the limo and the crowd cheers.
I hate crowds. I hate being in the spotlight. Nothing good ever came of it, not for me, anyway.