“You heading back out there soon?” her father asked as Sophia finished up her plate of chicken Florentine. One day she was going to make it to Italy, so she could see just how her family’s dishes measured up to their home country.
“Yep, just finishing up,” she said, taking one last bite of bread. It was so damn fluffy. She tried to make it at home. Who knew you could make something both chewy and stiff at the same time? Maybe Finn could teach her how to make bread. She wanted another cooking lesson, and she wanted it to end up exactly how the last one had, on his couch, her lips locked with his, her hands in his soft hair.
She was done pushing him away.
“Tony,” her mother called out, and Sophia choked on the piece of bread in her mouth. Tony? No. It couldn’t be her Tony—not that she ever wanted to think of him as hers. No. It wasn’t possible. The name was common, but pure panic welled up in her chest all the same.
“Sophia, Joseph, get out here. Look who’s back,” her mother said when she poked her head into the kitchen.
The soft, fluffy bread sat like a lead weight in her belly as she contemplated grabbing her purse and bolting so she wouldn’t have to face him. Why the fuck was he back?
Yes, her mother had mentioned that he might be coming home, but Sophia had hoped her mother was wrong since she hadn’t heard anything in weeks.
“Come on, Sophia. I know you two aren’t together—not that I understand why,” her father said, shaking his head. “But, he’s still family.”
He held the door open for her, and she had no choice but to lead the way. She steadied her breathing, grabbing a stack of menus off the counter on her way, and clutching them to her chest. She’d take whatever shield was available. Not that she thought he’d hit her in front of her family, but holding the menus calmed her in some weird way.
“Sophia, look who’s here,” her mother said, then turned to face Tony, her smile blinding as she spun. “It’s been so long. Does your mother know you’re back?”
“Mrs. Lanzi, it’s so good to see you, and yes, she knows. I’m staying with her until I can find a place,” he said, charm oozing like an open wound that needed to be cauterized. Sophia would gladly provide the blowtorch—although him bleeding out wouldn’t upset her in the slightest.
He looked the same—slightly disheveled hair, a full smile that belied the monster that he was, and there was something in his eyes. She hadn’t recognized it as a kid, even as a teen, but as their relationship progressed, she’d figured it out—entitlement, a cocky smirk that wasn’t endearing. Fuck, she hated him.
“I’m sure you’re happy to be home. You never visited the restaurant when you came back over the years. We’ve missed you. Sophia, come say hello,” her mother said. That smile killed her—almost as much as Tony’s did.
“Hi Tony,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “I should get back to work.” She attempted to make a beeline to the hostess stand.
“Sophia Marie, don’t be rude,” her mother admonished, and she cursed herself for not telling her family the truth. Not that blurting it out right now would be appropriate, so she bit her tongue.
“Sorry. Becky looks like she needs a break. I’m sure Tony will be around for a while.” God, she hoped not. She’d managed to avoid every trip he’d made home over the years—hell, she wasn’t even sure if he’d come home, which made her want to know why now.
“Missed you too, Soph,” he said, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah, well, umm, grab a table. I’ll send someone over to take your order if you’re hungry,” she said, not knowing what else she could say to get away from him. She still had two hours left before she could go home to her empty apartment. Claire was on a date tonight, and Sophia wasn’t sure she wanted to be home alone—especially with Tony in town. She never wanted to be alone with him again.
She headed to Becky, and quickly sat the next table, avoiding Tony, who had settled in a booth with her mother. Every time they tried to get her to sit, she waved them off, and a headache blossomed behind her ears. She had to get out of here.
Twenty minutes later, she snuck back to the office. Some of the nausea had faded once Tony was out of her line of sight. She was a coward for not standing up for herself, but she had to get out of the restaurant. She couldn’t stand to watch him charm her parents, and when Elena had slid into the booth across from him, Sophia had almost grabbed her little sister’s arm and pulled her away. Not that Tony would do anything to her sister—of course, Sophia had thought that Tony wasn’t capable of a lot of things. He’d proved her wrong every chance he could during the last few years of their relationship.
She sprawled out in her father’s chair in his office, wishing she was anywhere but here. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she fished it out.
Finn: Thanks for keeping me on schedule. I’m almost back to fighting form.
Sophia grinned at the picture of Finn on the ice, his smile wider than the one currently spreading across her face. She’d done that. Everything in the restaurant faded away as she stared at the picture.
Sophia: That’s great. Told you we’d get you back on the ice for training camp.
Finn: I know you’re going to say no, but we should celebrate with a drink. What time do you get out of work?
“You going to avoid me all night?” Tony’s voice cut through her happiness, and she looked up to see him propped in the doorframe, a smile on his face that tainted everything around her. God, she hated him. And yet, he was still standing there. Free to walk into her family’s restaurant, when she knew that one word to Grant or her father, and Tony wouldn’t be walking so easy. But she still didn’t tell them.
She was a coward, and she hated it. Hated him. Everything he represented.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she bit out.
“Soph, don’t be like that. Didn’t you miss me?”
She snorted. “You’re fucking delusional, you know that?”
His eyes narrowed, and his smirk faded. “Don’t speak to me that way.”
“What do you want, Tony? Why are you here?”
Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she glanced down.
Finn: You didn’t immediately shoot me down. Is that a yes?
She wanted to say yes, and as she looked back up at the asshole that had wrecked her, she steeled her spine.
“I’m not going to play games with you. I want you gone, or I will tell my family everything.”
“If you were going to tell them, you would’ve by now. Our families are linked whether you like it or not, and I’m here to stay. I got a new job here. I’m done with New York. And, would you really end our mothers’ life-long friendship over a few tussles we had during our passionate relationship?”
“Tussles? You were abusive, and I lost our baby,” she said, wishing she could scream at him, but she held back.
“It’s not like I pushed you down the stairs. Miscarriages happen all the time that early on,” he said, and then shrugged. Sophia saw red.
“Get out. Get out right now. I want nothing to do with you, and if you come near me again, I will tell my family everything. Everything.”
“Did you forget about the pictures I took? You gave me a few bruises, too.”
“I don’t care about the pictures. I’ll tell them everything. Even about the baby.” She regretted letting him take them as soon as it’d happened. He’d held them over her for too long.
“Did you know I also took a video? One night when we were here alone. Remember sneaking in after midnight? I believe I thoroughly enjoyed you on the bartop.”
Nausea boiled in her stomach, and she sucked in a breath. She remembered that night. She’d been nineteen and stupid, but she’d never agreed to be filmed.
“You’re lying.” Please God, he had to be lying.
“No, I’m not. Viral videos are very popular, you know. A few clicks and anyone can upload stuff online. Bet your new employer wouldn’t like that.”
“I don’t believe you. And how do you know about my job?”
“Try me.” His laugh had a maniacal edge, and he didn’t answer her question.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t process the idea that he might not be lying. She wouldn’t put anything past him. And she had to escape before she burst into tears. She grabbed her bag and phone and shoved past him. Just touching him made her skin crawl.
“Sophia, honey, is Tony back there? He was looking for you,” her mother called out. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not feeling well. And we’ve slowed down. I’m going to go home. Becky can handle the front.” She refused to look at her mother. She focused on the door. On her salvation.
“Are you okay? How bad do you feel?” She heard the concern in her mother’s voice, and halted her progress, turning to face her mother.
“Hopefully I’ll be fine tomorrow. I just. I just have to go,” she said.
“You don’t look so good. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll come by in the morning to check on you.”
“You don’t need to. I just need some rest. Bye, Mom. Love you,” she said, then grasped the door and stepped out into the warm night air. Her fragile nerves collapsed, her hands shaky as she made her way to her car. She slid into the driver’s seat, and quickly pulled out of the parking lot. She didn’t want to go home. Claire was out on a date and she didn’t want to be alone. Both of her sisters were working, not that she wanted to be around her family right now.
What the hell was she going to do now? And where was she going to go?
Finn cracked open his beer and stared at his phone. Sophia still hadn’t answered the last text he’d sent almost thirty minutes ago. Maybe she’d gotten busy at work, or maybe he was drinking on his own tonight. He refused to think about that upsetting him. Dammit. He wanted her to stop fighting it.
He flipped on NHL Network. They were showing an old international juniors championship game. Those kids were fast. He remembered his junior days. Brandon had still been on the ice with him. It’d been the summer before the draft—the draft that Brandon had never made. Fuck, he was moody tonight. He switched to the Cooking Channel and chuckled thinking about Sophia watching this channel and then destroying whatever meal she was trying to replicate.
As someone who loved to cook, that shouldn’t be adorable.
Bash jumped up on the couch and settled next to Finn. He flipped through the channels and tried not to will his phone to ping.
Five minutes later, his doorbell buzzed. And then it buzzed again—longer this time. Who the hell was swinging by and not calling first? A handful of his teammates lived in the building, so they would’ve knocked. One of the idiots probably forgot his keys.
He set his beer down and walked to the door, holding down the intercom button.
“Did you check your pants?” he asked through the buzzer, and was greeted with silence.
“Umm,” a soft voice that didn’t belong to any of his teammates, but that he recognized immediately, spoke.
“Sophia?”
“Yeah, can I come up for that drink?” There was something in her voice—a hitch when she said drink.
“Of course,” he said, hitting the button to unlock the front door. She’d actually taken the initiative and had come to him. He couldn’t stop his grin as he took a brief inventory of himself. Sweats were decently clean, and he didn’t smell. He stepped into the hall and headed for the elevators a few doors down, just as they dinged and a door slowly opened.
The Sophia in front of him was one he hadn’t seen before. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she worried her lower lip and shifted on her feet.
He reached into the elevator and drew her into his arms. He felt her stiffen briefly before she relaxed against him.
“Who am I killing?” His tone was rough, and she shuddered in his arms. Murderous thoughts took a back seat as he hugged her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come here,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. She was freaking him out. “I don’t know why I came here.”
“Sophia. Please tell me what is going on. Are you hurt?” he asked, pulling back and placing his thumb under her chin to get her to look at him.
“Not physically. I just didn’t want to go home. Claire is out, and I didn’t want to be alone. I can go,” she said.
He brushed away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “You aren’t going anywhere.” She let him tug her toward his condo, and he took in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing and violent thoughts. If anyone hurt her, they would answer to him.
“Now, tell me what is going on,” he said, keeping her tucked into his side as he walked into his condo and shut the door behind him. He’d wanted her back in his home, but not like this.
“Umm, I don’t know where to start, or even if I should tell you this, since I don’t even know what this is,” she said, pulling free and waving her hand between them.
“You can tell me anything, and we are still figuring this out,” he said, echoing her hand motions. “But I will tell you that I plan on working on this for the foreseeable future.” He hadn’t planned on putting his feelings out on the table already, but it felt good to say it out loud, to make sure she knew what he wanted between them.
“Finn,” she whispered, her arms wrapped tight around his waist, and he could do nothing more than hold her. She took in a shuddering breath and stepped out of his hold. “Can I have that drink and I’ll tell you all about what a mess I am.”
“You could never be a mess, Sophia,” he said, reaching down and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Would you like wine or something stronger?”
“Wine, please,” she said, her voice still watery. His violent thoughts bubbled just under the surface, but he’d keep them in check. She didn’t need that on top of whatever was going on.
What the hell was going on?
“Oh Bash,” she said, her soft laugh wrapping around his heart and squeezing. Bash had hopped off the couch at some point and currently had his head under her hand, his tongue lolling out as he panted in happiness.
“He can make anyone feel better,” Finn said, heading toward the couch, glasses of wine in hand. “Want to sit?”
She settled on the couch, Bash snuggled up beside her, and Finn tried not to be jealous of his dog, but he wanted her to tell him exactly what was going on, and touching her would lead to no talking.
“Tell me what happened tonight? You were at the restaurant, so your family shouldn’t have reduced you to tears and panic. I hate that you’re panicked, but I can see it in your eyes.”
“My ex showed up tonight…”
“Okay.”
“I ended things four years ago, and he moved to New York. Tonight was the first time I’ve seen him in years.”
And why had that reduced her to tears? Shit. Did she miss her ex?
“The reunion made you cry?”
“Not exactly. I should probably give you the full story.” She took in a full body sigh. “My mom and Tony’s mom have been best friends since they were kids. We all grew up in the same neighborhood, and Tony and I started dating right before high school. We were always together, and our parents used to joke about us joining the families when we finally got married. Tony’s always been like family.”
Shit. He was going to lose her to her first love. Fuck. That stung.
“We dated all through high school and talked about getting married. Well, he talked about it. I said I wasn’t ready. After we graduated, things changed. He changed. Maybe I just didn’t notice, but he would make comments about my friends—he hated Claire—and he would tell me what I should wear to look pretty. When I think about it now, he tried to control everything about me. It wasn’t until after we turned eighteen that he hit me for the first time.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Finn clenched his fist and set down his wine glass before it shattered in his grip. He reached for her, but she leaned back, her hands buried in Bash’s fur as she took in a short breath.
“Sophia,” he started.
“No. I have to finish this. I never told anyone, except for Claire—and she didn’t find out until after I left him—and my therapist. Tony was family, and I’m a coward, and I don’t have a real answer for not telling anyone. The abuse got more frequent, but he’d never leave a bruise where someone could see it.”
“Where is he right now?” He couldn’t tamp down the anger any longer. That anyone would lay a hand on her was beyond him. Of course, anyone laying a hand on anyone they supposedly cared about had always baffled him, infuriated him.
“You are not going after him. Please Finn,” she said.
“Why did you stay with him? How long did the abuse continue?” Peppering her with questions and trying to soothe the panic in her eyes was what kept him on the couch and not heading for the door and to her family’s restaurant.
“I was young and stupid, and wanted to please my parents.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. We were going to move to New York. He got a new job, and he hinted to my parents about proposing. They were thrilled. But a week before we were going to leave, I just couldn’t go. I couldn’t leave my family. Honestly, even though they didn’t know what he was doing to me, I felt safer living in the same town as them. I told him I wasn’t going, and we fought. I walked out and stayed with Claire. He tried to come after me, but I told him I had pictures of the bruises he left on me and if he didn’t walk away, I was going to show my family.”
His gut churned with pain for her and violence for a man he wanted to destroy. And her family. How could she not feel safe telling her own family?
“Can I hold you?” he asked, needing to have her in his arms, to fight back the rage coursing through him.
She worried her lip again and stared at him through lowered lashes, but she nodded and scooted toward him. He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her hair.
“Give me the word and I will ruin him,” he whispered against her neck, and he felt the tension leave her body as she sank into his embrace.