Page 32 of Out of Control

I’ve only ever allowed my nonna to call me that and yet, I can’t bring myself to tell Sofia not to.

I don’t ever soften. What’s wrong with me?

I turn back to face her. “What? I’m abiding by your parameters. I thought that’s what got me into this mess in the first place?”

“Mess?” she asks.

And truth be fucking told, I don’t exactly know how to navigate these waters. To want a woman but to not pursue her? That just isn’t me. But then again, I heard the words come out of her mouth when she was arguing with Cruz last night. I happened to be in the right place at the wrong time and those words hit me hard. They fucked with my head. Slumming. Isn’t that the word she used? The one that’s eaten at me, has provided fuel for me to drive the fuck out of the car, all goddamn day?

“Yeah. Mess. But then again—” I just shrug.

“Can we just talk? This feels all wrong.”

“Mistakes usually do, don’t they?” I ask, not giving her a fucking inch. “But no. No need to talk. I can do my own postmortem of everything. No need to involve you in that. Later, Sofia.”

I lift a hand to wave goodbye, torn between why I’m walking away when I don’t want to and doing the one thing it seems no one in her family does for her—respect her and her decisions. But the hand I wave with is quickly grabbed by her to prevent me from leaving.

“What, Sofia? What? You can’t tell me you don’t want me, tell me to regard you as just some random woman I fucked, but then get mad when I do just that. You can’t have it both goddamn ways.”

“My brother is your teammate. My family is . . . they’re complicated.”

“Both things you knew weeks ago when we slept together, no?”

“Yes, but . . .” She scrunches her nose up as bits of the conversation I overheard ghost through my mind.

“But what? Help me then because I don’t understand how your family being complicated has any bearing on this conversation.”

“I’m a game to you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Seems someone is listening to outside voices and letting them influence her opinion rather than make her own decisions and stand by them.”

“I know you. I know guys like you. You like the chase. The game . . . and then once you get what you came for, you’re gone.”

“Right. Glad you think you have me all figured out.”

“I don’t have to look far. The internet shows the history of women you’ve been through.”

A history that may or may not be full of shit considering I was with the same woman on and off again for ten years.

“Make sure you believe everything you read on the internet. It’s the gospel. On the bright side, that means you have been looking me up, so at least you’re thinking about me.”

“No, more like solidifying what I know about you.”

“And what is that? That I’m good enough to screw around with but—”

“But nothing. The only reason you’re standing before me is because I said no, and you’re not used to hearing that word.”

I meet her eyes. See the lie in them. See her trying to believe said lies. And know there is so much more happening here that her pride won’t let her admit to.

She has no control over certain aspects of her own life. That much was true in what I overheard. I know something about that feeling of helplessness. Know how it drives you to do things you’re not proud of.

“I’m more than familiar with rejection, but think what you will. You can justify your actions a hundred different ways, but there’s only one truth. You believe what people are saying rather than trust your own experience. Trusting what you know to be true of that short time we spent together.”

“Why is this so hard for you to understand? Why were you willing to accept the parameters that night but not now?” She throws her hands up and tears well in her eyes.

“I did accept them. I do accept them. But it’s you standing here arguing a point I already thought was moot that’s making me think you’re lying.” I glance around to make sure we’re still alone. “The question you’re not asking yourself is what about you, Sofia? What are you willing to allow yourself to do or be or have? What are you willing to believe you deserve? Because it’s a hell of a lot more than what you’re allotting yourself.” I clear my throat. “Or rather, what your family is allowing you to allot yourself.”

She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. On the defense. I’d probably be and do the same. “Says the man who’d be gone in a heartbeat.”