“Yeah,” she admitted. “Much better.” They sat in silence while they finished eating, and she leaned back against the couch cushions with a small sigh.
“Thank you,” she breathed, “For the food, and for taking me in and agreeing to help me with my Peter problem.” He couldn’t help his smirk, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“Luca shrugged. “You don’t have to thank me,” he insisted.
“I do,” she said. “When I asked for your help, you didn’t hesitate. You just took me in and promised to help. Not many people would do that for me.”
“That’s what people do for family,” he said quietly. He cursed himself for saying that because right now, she felt like more than family to him. And the last thing he wanted to do was think about her like the little sister she once was.
“So,” she said, breaking him out of the spell that she seemed to put him under every time she stared him down. “I guess we should talk about what happens next.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “We should.” He leaned back, resting his forearms on his knees, and every protective instinct he had came flooding back. He needed to focus on keeping Sofia safe, and that would help him keep his mind off other things.
“You’re safe here,” he promised. “Tomorrow, we can talk to a lawyer and file a restraining order against Peter. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep him away from you. And if he shows up anywhere near you, I’ll—” he wasn’t sure if he should say out loud what he wanted to do to Sophia’s stalker.
She reached out and brushed her hand over his arm, grounding him. “I trust you, Luca. I know that you’ll keep me safe.” He nodded, knowing that her trust in him was the dangerous part of the situation. He trusted her, too, and sitting in his family room with Sophia safe on his couch, looking at him the way that she was, Luca realized one thing—letting her stay with him was the right thing to do. But letting her under his skin was going to be a problem. Luca didn’t really care, though, because he was good at solving problems, and having Sophia under his skin was a problem he’d lived with for a damn long time.
“You know, you never told me about your parents,” Sophia said.
He shrugged, “There’s not much to tell,” he said. He didn’t think about his parents very often because if he did, he’d end updredging up his painful past, and those were memories that he was trying to repress—deep, deep down inside of him.
“I mean, did you know them?” she asked. He knew that Sophia wouldn’t give up the topic—not without some answers. When they were living in the same foster house, she talked his ear off. They would hang out after school at a local park, and she’d tell him every single detail of her day. His favorite part was when Sophia would say, “Long story, short,” and he couldn’t help but laugh. No story was ever a short one when she told it, but that never really bothered him. Even back then, when they were just two teenagers talking on a park bench, he felt something for her. Sure, he had no idea what that was or what to do about it, but now that she was in his place, he was beginning to feel all those same damn feelings again.
“They died when I was six, so I don’t remember much about them,” he admitted, hoping that would be enough to get him off the hook with Sophia. She smiled at him, and he knew that she was going to want more from him. “My dad had dark hair, like me, and my mother’s hair was long and blond—I think. You know, I’m not really sure what color my mom’s hair was. I don’t know what color their eyes were, either. I mean, what six-year-old notices that kind of stuff? I do remember that my dad had a mustache because it would tickle my cheek when he kissed me goodnight.”
Sophia smiled, “That’s a nice memory, Luca,” she almost whispered. “How did they die?” she asked. This was the question that he hated answering. When he got to a new foster home, all the kids would pester him until he gave them his back story. Once he told them about his parents, they either backed off or pressed him for more answers.
“Um, they were shot and killed in a bank robbery gone wrong,” he said. Luca was always careful about how he worded that, and most people seemed happy with his answer, but not Sophia.
“Oh, that’s so sad. Were they someplace that was being robbed when they were killed?” she asked.
He let out his breath and nodded, “Yeah, actually, they were robbing a bank. I try not to include that part in my story because I hate the way people look at me when I tell them that my parents were bank robbers. I guess they assume that if they were criminals, then I must be one too. Hell, telling my parents’ story sometimes even got me kicked out of a few homes.
“That’s awful, Luca,” she breathed. “I’d never think those awful things about you. I’m sorry that others did, but you aren’t your parents.”
He reached over and grabbed her hand, needing contact with her. She was a calming force in his life during the three months that they lived in the same home.
“Thanks for saying that, Sophia,” he said. “They were robbing a bank in the town where we lived, and one of the tellers pushed the alert button that called the cops. They were on their way out of the building when they were stopped in a back alley, just feet away from their car. I was sleeping in the backseat, but when the gunshots went off, I woke up and watched my mother and father fall to the ground. They were both instantly killed, but I didn’t know that. I kept begging the officers who took me to Child Protective Services to take me home to my mom and dad.”
“Oh, that’s heartbreaking,” Sophia said, squeezing his hand, reminding him that he was still holding her.
“Yeah,” he breathed, “I’m not trying to defend them in any way, but they were broke, and just trying to get enough money for food. That’s the one thing I do remember—being hungry. Isn’t it sad that I can’t remember my parents’ eye color, but I can remember being hungry?”
“I understand the hunger part. A few of the foster homes that I was placed in didn’t serve the three-square meals that we were supposed to get every day. I’m sure that they were pocketing the money that they were getting from the state instead of buying us food. The last home that we were both in was notorious for doing that. The more kids they got, the less food we got.” Sophia slid a little closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder. He knew that his heartbeat shouldn’t have started racing—but it did. Luca dipped his head to smell her hair, and kissed the top of her head to mask his sniffing her.
“Did you just sniff my hair?” she asked. He could hear the humor in question.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It smells like peaches—just like when you were younger.
“You never told me about your parents,” he said, trying to quickly change the topic.
“I know that you’re trying to change the subject, so I’ll allow it, but we’re going to circle back to you smelling my hair, Luca.” With any luck, she’d forget all about circling back to him, sniffing her, but knowing Sophia, she probably wouldn’t.
“I never knew them. I was told that my mother was an addict, and I was born an addict, so they kept me in the hospital for a while, and when my mother was released, she took off and left me there. I used to pretend that she was just on a tripsomewhere and was coming back, but that was just a little girl’s fantasy.”
“How about your father?” he asked.
“As far as I know, I don’t have a father. I never saw my birth certificate, but I was never told anything about having a dad, so I’m assuming that he never showed up at the hospital.” She snuggled into his side, and he wrapped his arm around her body, loving how she fit against him.
