The Carrero Heart 1: Beginning

Sophie

“Am I? Really?” I burst out suddenly, anger breaking in my throat. I wriggle myself awkwardly in the smooth leather upholstery back into an upright position as my full rage and sadness collide in the middle of my chest from his criticism.

Frustrated with how he’s being, emotions bubbling from the last few hours of my life, and general hostility at everything. Of all people, I can never take anything negative from Arry. It devastates me. My raging hot temper flashes up to stick its nose in, whether I want it to or not.

“Because where I am, it looks a hell of a lot like no one gives an actual shit about what I am worth anymore,” I cross my arms churlishly, tears slipping down my cheeks and a full-on pity party hitting home as my voice croaks. Thinking about dickheads who cheat and the so-called friends they fuck. Best friends who treat you like minor annoyances, insult your fashion sense, and seem only intent on dropping you home to get away from any real conversation.

I lose control of that inner wave that I have been trying to hold in, becoming completely drunk and dramatic, and it starts pouring down my face hurting way more when it’s let loose. I screw my face up to try and gain control of that stinging pain that consumes my chest and throat. Feeling stupid for even getting this upset so easily. Over nothing! A fucking wardrobe criticism!

Arrick grits his teeth, glares in his mirror, and swerves the car over to the side of the road, curbing a sidewalk and slamming to a halt dramatically, especially for him of late. He turns to me suddenly, so angrily that it makes me jump in fright. It’s so unexpected. I scramble down in my seat, recoiling in mild shock at his sudden outburst, winded into silent submission.

“What the fuck, Sophie? Really? No one gives a shit?” He yells at me, eyes blazing with rage under furrowed brows, looking like he wants to choke me. It comes so completely out of nowhere that I’m too stunned to respond. “So, me, your family, Jake, and Emma? None of us gives a shit, right?” He unclips his belt aggressively. I try to turn away, tears back to stinging my eyes as pain, which was momentarily muted, hits me even harder. My heart is beating a little too painfully as the atmosphere clouds the car between us.

“If I didn’t give a shit, then tell me why I drop everything in my life the second you need me, huh? Why your family has been trying to get you home for weeks after you walked out on them and never gave up trying to contact you? Why Leila, your sister, has been crying nonstop over how wild and reckless you fucking are nowadays, despite the fact she went through a phase of being as bad? No one knows what the hell is going on with you anymore, Sophie. No one can get through to you, not even me, and you have the nerve to pull this bullshit right here? Grow the fuck up!” He barks and slumps back, one hand hitting his wheel hard, so I flinch and stay put as he stares out of the windscreen to let himself simmer, breathing hard with the exertion of shouting all that in my face.

I know he will try to reel his temper back in fast. He hates being this way with anyone, especially me. That in itself pisses him off … that I have pushed him to yell at me like this, to be this angry, even if I deserve it.

I don’t know how to respond; I never do when he snaps, which is rarer than rain in the desert. It’s like that inner child in me gets scolded, and it hurts more than I can ever explain when it’s him that does it. He’s the only one who pulls this from me.

My heart bursts with raw agony, and tears trickle down my face involuntarily. I feel stupid and immature as my lip trembles, and I want to be anywhere but near him anymore. Reeling back as though I have been slapped and doing what I do best.

Running.

“I need air. I’ll walk home,” I manage to whimper out through muffled sniffs, heart well and truly bruised. Not waiting for a response, I unclip my belt and slide out quickly. Arrick moves to catch me across the center console, but I’m quicker. Dodging his outstretched grasp and leaving his door open, I move fast along the grassy edging to the road.

I’m an expert in heels on all terrain, so don’t even blink at the soft surface or how it threatens to upend my stupidly high shoes. I tuck my head down, determined to walk.

Arrick catches up to me quickly, easy strides for someone with legs like his. I don’t hear him approach and inhale sharply at the sudden warmth of hands on me as he catches me by the waist from behind and pulls me back to a halt. He spins me gently so I have no choice but to turn, and he tugs me against him so my crossed arms sit against his abdomen. His body, a formidable wall of muscle, becomes a firm cushion to lean against. I try to turn my face away to hide the tears streaming down my cheeks, to hide that part of me that acts like a stupid kid who has had a telling-off and doesn’t want to see him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Arrick lifts my chin back to him with soft fingers so we’re nose to nose as he ducks into my much shorter height and bridges the large gap as best he can. He frowns hard at me and studies my expression for a second before that boyish face completely calms to that softer expression I know and love. His genuine calm.

Hints of a face that is so familiar, and for a moment, I forget why I am even crying, why I’m mad at him. He sighs slowly as though to reel back and comes at me with a new tactic that is less devastating to my soul.

“Sophie? Talk to me,” he whispers, and it only pushes me that little bit further into remorse and hopelessness. I burst into painful, heartfelt tears and bury my face in his jacket’s open front. Against that expanse of hard chest, as his arms come around me protectively, the warmth of his body heat encircles me, and the smell of him that could always soothe everything away. His chin finds the top of my head and rests gently as he tries to console me. My heart aches at everything familiar in this, a million fleeting memories of this exact hold on me when consoling a thousand scars.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper hopelessly, clinging onto him and snuggling closer, wanting to climb inside his skin and feel more secure. Suddenly full of remorse. I don’t even know at what, and wanting nothing else than this here right now, him and me, like we used to be. That cool, poised version of him has drifted away, and my anxiety lessens a little.

“What am I going to do with you, Mimmo?” Arrick has lost that edge to his tone too, lost his anger when faced with me in real heartfelt tears, sobbing my broken heart out and clinging desperately to him. “Sophie, you can’t keep going on like this. You’re hurting yourself and everyone who loves you. This is hurting me.” He moves his arms down to encircle my waist so that he can angle his face down to mine as best he can, trapping my arms under his so I can’t maneuver away. Holding me so I can’t walk off when I console myself or storm away if I don’t like what he wants to say. He knows me too well.