Page 45 of Between Regrets and Promises (Between Us Trilogy #2)

Sophie walks around me, grabbing items out of the fridge as she speaks.

“It was fine. We’re working on some new music, so that’s always fun.

Found a new client for some tutoring lessons and that starts in a week, which is nice.

Otherwise, same ole, same ole. Lennon and Maddie met me for lunch, I went to grief circle and then had coffee with Caleb. Oh, that reminds me?—”

Checking the time on my phone, it’s close to eight and I didn't realize it was so late. She sure kept busy, though.

“Would you mind if we did the dinner party this Saturday night? I cleared it with everyone else’s schedule, so if you’re free, I’ll make it official and get started on the menu.”

“The menu? How fancy are we talking here?” I lean against the counter as she sets a pan on the stovetop and starts cooking the meat. There’s cheese, lettuce, sour cream, and tomatoes on the counter, which means she’s making tacos, my favorite.

“I have the main course narrowed down to three items, so I’m still deciding, but I’m thinking formal wear. Not suit and tie fancy, but please take ten minutes to shower…”

As she continues talking about appetizers and side dishes, a part of me is worried she’s drowning herself to avoid her true feelings.

She’s talked about it some, but it’s been a while since she’s mentioned it.

She goes to her grief circle, but I don’t know how much she opens up there.

It’s been a month since the incident, and I wonder if she’s blocked it out of her mind entirely.

Hopefully, the meetings she’s attending are helping, especially since it’s essentially become a weekly routine for her.

I’ve done enough schooling to know this is a common occurrence for trauma victims. They go into shock or block it out, which is an avoidance tactic.

The shit that asshole put her through was enough to traumatize anyone.

Considering how things ended, I wouldn’t be surprised if she deals with it without actually dealing with it.

After she finishes cooking, she sets everything out and hands me a plate of two tacos, made the way I like them.

“Thank you, Sophie.” I reach for her wrist so she’ll stop moving for a second. She’s hell-bent on racing a million miles per hour. “You didn’t have to cook for me, but I appreciate it, especially since you made tacos.”

“Well, I was starving waiting for you and contemplated eating without you.” She grins, and it makes my heart pound harder.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I say, releasing her. “Now I feel bad.”

“Nah, don’t. I was caught up in my book anyway.” She waves me off, but I don’t miss the hint of blush on her cheeks. It’s as if being caught doing something nice has given her true feelings away.

We take our plates and drinks to the living room and settle on the couch.

“So what book are you reading anyway? And why did it make you cry?” I ask before taking a massive bite.

“Don’t make fun. I was reading a romance novel, and the main characters can’t be together, which makes my chest ache. The angst and tension are intense.” I study her as she talks about them as if they’re real people. “And before you say anything, yes, I know it’s just fiction.”

I chuckle when she rolls her eyes. “Damn, you reading my mind now?”

“I’ve learned a lot about you this past month.” She smirks. “Then I was reading it while listening to a sad song, and my heart shredded.”

Once we finish eating, I clean up since she cooked, then get in the shower.

Considering I’m living the plot of her damn romance novel, constantly fighting my feelings because I can’t be with her , my showers last until the water runs cold.

I pump my cock over and over until I release all over the wall and curse myself for feeling this way about her.

Pissed I missed my damn chance. The more time we spend together, the harder it gets to fight my heart.

By the time I’m done, it’s almost ten o’clock, and I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to miss the opportunity to watch one of our shows before bed. It’s become tradition, and no matter how tired I am, I’ll stay up with her.

I’m surprised to see she isn’t in the living room when I come down, and when I peek into her bedroom, I notice she’s fallen asleep with her book.

Walking inside, I click her lamp on and place her book on the nightstand.

Then I grab an extra blanket and cover her body since she’s lying on top of her comforter.

She looks exhausted, too. Before walking away, I brush a hand over her face and kiss her forehead.

“Good night, sweet Sophie.”

I close her door halfway before walking out.

I should go to bed too, but now my thoughts are running all over, so I sit on the couch and turn on the TV. She’ll kill me if I watch Lucifer without her, so I click on Liam’s stupid show and watch all the Southern drama on the screen.

My eyelids are heavy, and when I can’t fight it any longer, I eventually lie down.

Only a moment passes before I can no longer hear the TV, and I’m drifting off to sleep.

I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear wailing and nearly fly off the couch.

I rub my eyes and blink until I can read the time on my phone.

It’s after three in the morning, and when I hear the noise again, I realize it’s coming from Sophie’s room.

She’s groaning and grinding her teeth. I push open the door and step inside, the light from her lamp shining on her face that’s scrunched and moving from side to side.

Fuck, she’s having a nightmare.

Rushing to her side, I bend down and carefully shake her shoulders while whispering her name. I try to prepare for her to head butt me or claw at me, so I don’t get too close right away.

“Sophie, baby. Wake up,” I say a little louder, adding more pressure to her shoulder. “You’re dreaming.”

She blinks her eyes open, looking all around and then focusing on me. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and her forehead is covered in sweat.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly.

Her breathing is shallow, and I place my hand over her cheek to reassure her that she’s safe.

“Yeah, I think so,” she finally responds, pushing her palms into her eyes. “Just an intense dream that felt way too real.”

She swallows before blowing out a slow, relieved breath. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Soph. I’ll grab you a bottle of water, hold on,” I tell her as she sits up and nods.

Once I’m back, she takes it and sucks half of it before setting it down. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, cautiously.

She sucks in her lower lip, not meeting my gaze. “It was about Weston,” she answers. “When he’d drink a lot and?—”

I grit my teeth, my jaw locking tight at the thought of his hands on her. “I’m so sorry, Soph. I wish so many times I would’ve intervened sooner.”

She shrugs, finally looking at me. “I doubt it would’ve helped. I didn’t see what was right in front of me, and by the time I did, it was too late. I felt trapped and knew getting out would be hard, impossible even. I pushed everyone away because I was ashamed and afraid he’d hurt you all too.”

“None of it was your fault,” I reassure her. “I’m sorry it’s haunting you in your sleep.”

“It started last week, which is weird because they didn’t start right away. But this one felt a little too real. Makes me feel like he’ll show up and finish the job of what he wanted to do to me and you.”

There’s a tear that she tries to wipe away, but I cup her face with both hands, then kiss her forehead. “I’m here. He’s never gonna hurt you again.”

She nods, then takes me by surprise when she wraps her arms around me and pulls me close. “I’m so thankful for you, Mason.” Sophie hugs me as if I’ll disappear the minute she lets go.

Fuck, I want to say so much to her right now.

Tell her how sorry I am for treating her the way I did before, for not seeing how amazing she is, for not being strong enough to work through my own shit back then so I could give us a proper chance.

All the what-ifs, the could’ve-beens that I’m constantly pushing away.

“I’m here, Soph. Always,” I tell her when she releases me. “Move over.” I nod my head toward her bed so she understands what I’m doing. Maybe it’s selfish, but it’s for her too.

Sophie scoots to the far side of the bed, and I slide in behind her. I wrap my arms around her as she rests her head on my chest, and I hold her as though we’re more than just friends.

After a half an hour, I still can’t sleep.

My mind is way too alert that Sophie is tucked into my body.

She’s flipped over so my chest is to her back, and we’re spooning.

I haven’t done this in years…since Emma.

It brings a lot of emotions to the surface, but these are different.

I like how it feels to hold Sophie. To touch her.

My hand on her stomach rubs against her bare skin from where her shirt slid up.

She’s so soft and smooth, and my heart pounds at the intimacy of it all.

I should stop, get out of her bed, and go to my own room now that she’s sound asleep again, but I don’t.

I reluctantly leave before her alarm goes off and take another long shower before I go to work.

I’m dead ass tired but regret nothing. Holding her for hours was as much for her as it was for me.

I wanted to give her more time after Weston’s death and the shitstorm relationship he caused, but my willpower is ready to snap as I keep my feelings tucked away.

I can no longer pretend, no longer hold back the feelings screaming to come out, and can no longer pretend I don’t deserve her anymore.

But I’m not sure she’s ready to hear my truths.