It would be so fucking easy to move one hand from her back, cup it around her neck, and pull her down for a kiss.
Except… I have no clue if she’d even want that. Her face is frustratingly impassive, and I don’t want to ruin something that might only ever be a friendship.
But then again, no risk, no reward. Maybe I should make the move and see if something is there, as I suspect there might be. If she’s not into it, I’ll apologize, and we’ll move on.
I’m not able to imagine any more scenarios because my phone, tucked inside my coat’s chest pocket, starts ringing. It’s enough to break the mood, and my arms loosen. Sophie rolls to the side and then awkwardly manages to pull herself to standing. I stand up a little more gracefully and hold my hand out to her, ignoring the ringing phone. It’s my day off, and I have no one to answer to.
“We should probably get off the ice. Our clothes are wet.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs.
Holding hands, I pull her along slowly to the gate. We turn in our skates and put our shoes back on, and then I treat her to a watered-down hot chocolate.
Back in my rental car, I take a moment to check my phone. “Detective Gilmore called,” I say to Sophie as I tap the voicemail icon. He didn’t leave a message, so I dial him back.
As I put the phone to my ear, I see that Sophie seems to be ill at ease. She confided in me before that the whole photo-lineup process stressed her out because she couldn’t identify our attackers.
I switch the phone to my other ear and reach across the console to take her hand closest to mine. I give it a quick, firm squeeze, and she manages a smile.
The line connects on the second ring. “Gilmore.”
“It’s Baden Oulett,” I say by way of greeting. “Sorry I missed your call.”
“No worries,” he replies. “I’ve got an update for you.”
“Let me put you on speakerphone. I’ve got Sophie Winters with me.”
If Gilmore is surprised by this, I wouldn’t know because I pull the phone from my ear and tap the screen to put it on speaker.
“All right… we’re both here,” I say.
“Hello, Sophie,” Detective Gilmore says. “Hope you’re doing well.”
“I am,” she replies softly. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, and she looks like she would rather be listening to fingernails scrape a chalkboard.
“Good, good,” he replies. “The reason I’m calling is that the last man you identified, Baden, gave up the third guy. In fact, he’s willing to confess and testify against the others for a reduced sentence. So all three have now been officially arrested and charged as of this morning. Assault, attempted rape, attempted murder, attempted kidnapping. They all entered guilty pleas, but the one defendant, Henry Camarino, is going to enter a plea deal with the district attorney. I just wanted to update you and let you know that we could have some resolution—at least on one of the men—soon.”
“That’s great news,” I say, glancing over at Sophie. Her gaze has moved out the side window as if she’s not at all interested. “Will we have any say in the sentence they receive?”
“Given that both of you are living in Pittsburgh now, I know it might be tough for you to be here at any plea deal and sentencing hearing. I also know the Titans are playing the Vengeance this coming Sunday. The DA is trying to grease the wheels to get this plea deal on Camarino before a judge ASAP, and we’d like to get your victim impact statements while you’re here in Phoenix.”
My eyes never leave Sophie as Gilmore speaks, and I can read the distress in her body language. It’s painful for her to be reminded of that day, and I’m not sure if she’s up to such a thing.
“I’ll be there,” I say to Gilmore, not committing Sophie to anything. But I don’t give him the opportunity to pester her about it. “Sophie and I will talk about her desire to travel.”
“I understand,” Gilmore says. “Let me know what you decide.”
When we disconnect, I reach for Sophie’s hand again. It snags her attention, and she looks at me. “I don’t know why they’d even want my statement. I’m not the one who was hurt.”
I take in a breath and release it slowly. “I get you don’t want that victim mentality, but damn it, Sophie… you were a victim of violence.”
“I wasn’t hurt—”
“You were hurt. Physically and mentally. I really think it would do you good to confront this.”
“And you got your psychology degree from where?” she snaps, trying to pull her hand free.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I rebuke, holding on tight. “I get you’re scared and don’t want those reminders, but we’re a team in this. Have been from the start. I want you to go with me to Phoenix next week. It’ll do you good to get back on a plane, and you’ll be with me so you should feel safe. You can make the decision whether to do the victim impact statement later, but at least make the trip. That would be a good first step.”
Sophie sighs, her head drooping as she focuses on our clasped hands. “Let me think about it?” she asks.
“Sure,” I reply gently, giving her hand another squeeze before releasing it. I’ll let her think about it.
But I’m going to hound the shit out of her to make this trip with me.
CHAPTER 18
Sophie
Baden steps out from his first-class aisle seat and grins down at me as he opens the overhead compartment. He’s quite pleased with himself that I’ve accompanied him to Phoenix.
He retrieves our suitcases and then steps back to make room for me to exit before him.
As I stand, he murmurs, “Doing great so far.”
I debate whether to point out that I’m only doing great because he’s with me. But that would sound ungrateful, and I’m not ungrateful in the slightest.
On the contrary, I’m happy that Baden had been relentless in his pursuit to get me on a plane to fly out west and confront my fear.
His hounding started not long after we got home on Sunday from the house shopping turned ice skating day. Given that we had settled on Baden becoming my permanent roommate rather than him purchasing his own place, we worked on a game plan to get most of his stuff moved into storage and his essentials shipped here.
As we ate dinner—homemade pizza we made together with pepperoni, sausage, olives, green peppers, and onions—we considered the mechanics of shipping his clothing and other personal effects as quickly as possible, how much we could store in my garage as I have great shelving in there, and if he should store the remainder in Phoenix or have it shipped here.
Not sure whether he manipulated me into it, but that led to a natural transition in our conversation about his need to visit his house in Phoenix this coming weekend when the Titans play the Vengeance. He chatted about the people he was eager to see, and I satisfied my curiosity by asking a million questions about the life he just recently left behind.
And then with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “You should come with me… meet my friends. It would be a lot of fun, and you can help me figure out what I need to ship back to Pittsburgh.”
I cocked an eyebrow across the table at him. “Let me guess… it would also be perfect timing for me to go with you to the district attorney’s office and give our victim impact statements.”