“They didn’t follow you back here. They don’t know where you live.”
“But you do.”
Those words. They hit harder than a baseball bat to the head, and I’d had my share of those.
“Do I scare you, Sophie?”
She cocked her head to the side, the faintest sign of her control returning.
“I don’t know yet, Ry. You’ve changed so much. I don’t know you anymore.”
She was right of course. I’d been in the club a decade, and over half of that in prison. Whatever version of me she remembered, it wasn’t the one standing in front of her now.
“Yet you’re still the same.”
A smile touched her mouth. Faint. Sad. Filled with something heavy.
“You know nothing about me, Ry.”
“Then tell me, Soph. Tell me what I’ve missed.”
She stared at me, an unfathomable storm building in those grey eyes. I didn’t know whether I’d angered her or upset her. But then something shifted.
“Come in, and I’ll tell you.”
She turned her back on me. Not trust. Never that. But a risk she was obviously willing to take. I’d always been that to her.
I followed her up three flights, the sound of her feet just a little too fast on the steps. Not quite calm. She didn’t look back once. Didn’t slow. Didn’t speak. At the top, she paused at the door, shoulders tight as she slid the key into the lock. Even that small movement wasn’t smooth, just enough tension there to tell me she felt it. Me. Behind her.
The lock clicked. She pushed the door open and stepped inside without waiting. I gave her a second. Then followed. The space hit me first. It opened out in one sweep. The kitchen bled into living space, light pouring in from wide windows that looked out over the street below. Everything in its place. There was no clutter. No chaos. Nothing like anywhere I’d ever lived.
It smelled different. Not stale beer or smoke or engine oil soaked into walls. Not the lingering weight of bodies and baddecisions and weed to get through the nights when I couldn’t sleep and my mind wouldn’t still. It was clean. Almost too clean, like she never really lived in it.
I stepped further in, boots sounding heavier than they should’ve been against the floor, out of place, like I didn’t belong there. I didn’t. I never had. People like Sophie, they grew up with this. Clean lines. Safe streets. Doors that locked and stayed that way. People like me learned early that nothing stayed yours unless you fought to keep it. And even then, some fights you just couldn’t win. I gazed at her. She’d never been small. Average size for a woman, but now her figure was full, like she’d finally grown into her height. Her hair was wilder today, thick, tight curls held together in a ponytail.
Her jeans clung to her hips and her thighs. Curvy, not thin. Strong. Firm. I didn’t need to take her clothes off to see that. Shit. I winced, thankful that she couldn’t see me, and shifted my gaze elsewhere. I scanned the rest of the room, marking off entry points, exits, sightlines. Habits dying hard. There was nothing off. No sign of anyone else. No disturbance. Just her.
She stood a few steps ahead of me now, not quite turning to face me fully, not putting her back to me either. She was being careful. I felt the small smile pull at the corner of my mouth. Good. She should be.
“No point offering you a coffee, no?” she asked, still angled slightly.
“Unless you’ve got beer in that fridge, then I’m good.”
“Actually. I have lager.”
“That’ll do.”
She stopped mid movement, poised over the top of the coffee machine, a little pod in hand. Then she put it down. She still didn’t completely turn her back as she moved from one side of the kitchen to the other, glancing at me before she opened the fridge door and obscuring her view.
When the door closed, there were two bottles in her hand, and she levered the top of each against the metal plate mounted against the side of the bench top. She brought them across, holding one out to me and then sitting on the smaller sofa on the other side.
“Nice place.” I took a long swig from the bottle, the liquid cold and refreshing over my tongue.
She nodded. “It will do.”
I detected the note in her voice.
“Until you up and leave again?”
