The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Arrick’s POV

~ Sophies love confession ~

I wander across the street towards the Huntsbergers, that knot of anxiety that has been plaguing me since Sophie and I fought a couple days ago, and I’ve been unable to leave to go home without fixing this. I hate fighting with her, hate when we’re mad and brooding apart, but sometimes we need time apart to simmer. Sophie can be hard work at the best of times, especially when she is closed up in her usual defensive, keeping everyone at arm’s length, manner. I was tired, lack of sleep had me short with her and I acted like an asshole who should have known better than to bite when she is pushing me away. This is what she does when she needs people the most and I’m a complete ass for not recognizing classic ‘Sophie in pain’ mode.

I guess because it’s been a long while since she pushed me away so viciously. The last couple of days I have pulled her name up in my cell a million times, but my gut told me I owed her a face to face. She’s all I have thought about. Guilt eating away at my stubborn mood and a longing to make things right with us. I can never stay mad or distant with her, ever; the overriding need to reach out and feel her presence always consumes me. The truth is, I can’t ever have her mad at me, because I love her, and I hate fighting with her. Life sucks when Sophs is hating on me.

The Huntsbergers new housekeeper Olivia lets me in, and she motions upstairs when I ask for Soph’s whereabouts. The house seems eerily quiet and I’m glad. If we are about to have an all-out Sophie rage, then I would rather not have an audience. The girl knows how to throw a tantrum and a half, and she can be pretty verbal when she’s pissed at me. I know I deserve it. I dumped her back home, got snide with her and fucked off for an entire day while I simmered.

I don’t even know why I was so mad at her, but I was. A stupid reaction, and it took twenty-four hours minimum, to stop being that pissed. Lately I seem to get so easily mad at her and I don’t know why. It’s not me, it’s not how I have ever been with her, but these past few months she ignites it somehow. It’s almost like the harder she gets to handle, and the wilder her lifestyle, the more she gets inside my head and I react emotionally instead of facing what she needs from me to be okay again. It fucks me up that I can’t fix her.

She needs my help, not my moods and I know I am letting her down by acting like a prize idiot and avoiding her the last couple of days, instead of facing this head on like I used to. I pulled her through worse, handled things more calmly. I need to get back to that, it’s what she always needs.

I woke up this morning and it was clear as the sky. Stop fucking around and go be the best friend she needs. Stop dismissing her when you don’t know how to deal with her; you used to be her everything and now you’re never there for her. Sophie isn’t the problem here, I am. I stopped being her rock and this is my karma.

I scale the stairs at speed and come level with her bedroom door, surprised to see it’s wide open, which is unusual for her. She values her space and privacy a little obsessively sometimes, and I wonder if this is just another sign that she is desperately reaching out for her family to guide her. Welcoming people in easily, without hindrance, and I feel shittier that all the signs are there, and I have been missing them for god knows how long.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, pull on my most appealing expression to grovel for forgiveness I stride into her room with a confidence I definitely do not feel. Sophs mad at me is the same as being scalded by my Mom. It matters a hell of a lot more than it should.

Sophie is curled up on her bed, looking small and cute, her favorite fluffy Unicorn she named something crazily stupid, like ‘Princess Sparkly’, or some shit, is over her face with her arms wrapped around it tightly, blocking out the world. The Sophie pose of self-soothing, and I feel worse that she has needed a hug and I wasn’t around to supply her with one. My stomach sinks with the sight of her; back in kid mode, sweats and ponytails, and cuddly companions. Vulnerable and tiny, not doing so well in her battle against the big bad world and I fucking left her here. My stomach hits the floor with the weight of douchebagness, heart sinking and emotions heavy. This is the girl I’m powerless against. The girl who needs a protector.

Sophie yanks the teddy down and glares at me with half shock, half outrage, and I have to suppress the urge to smile at that adorable little face she pulls. Even after all these years, that angry little rabid kitten face does crazy things to my insides. Powerless to ever feel anything but infatuation when she looks at

in love with on her and even now they still hold a crazy amount of power over me. She looks away from me, sits up

little Madame.

see if I should come in. I’m hesitant and wary, knowing she

we are not okay even more. It makes me feel like crap too and the ache in my gut reminds me what a shithead I’ve been with her lately. Sophie deserves a lot better from me. I’ve been neglecting her and letting her down far too much these past

before she looks away again, crazily evasive for her and wounding my soul. I wonder if she is still

not mad at you, Mimmo.

into her stomach and squeezes tighter. Childlike and irresistible, she knows how to make every part of me feel the full

resist it any longer, moving from the doorway and crossing to get on the bed beside her. Every part of me needs to console her and fix this weirdness between us. We never go long periods without making up, we rarely fight to the point that one of us walks away and I hate this distance, hate how little and hurt she looks like this. It has the same effect as gripping

a glare. Still pissed then. “Don’t stay mad at me.” I implore her, moving in closer to try and angle around to catch her eye. Face to face I can usually read her a

her words, still avoids me, and then slides off the bed fast, leaving Princess Squishy, or whatever its name discarded

Shit.

of sorts and evasive maneuvers usually mean

doing nothing for her figure, yet she looks exactly how I always think of her. In casual clothes, young and

directly related to our fight. The past has taught me that our tiffs affect both

rising as I watch her move to the window and gaze out forlornly. She seems so distant and closed off and I don’t like it at all. I hate not knowing what she’s thinking, hate when she won’t talk things out with me and get up to close the gap between us. Inner gut tense and nerves a little on edge with how she is. I walk up behind her and slide my arms around her slight figure, fitting against her like a second skin. It’s so easy to cuddle Sophs, she’s always felt natural within my arms and I gravitate to touch her anytime we are close by, almost instinctively. I

I’m sorry. I know I walked out after saying I would be here for you, but I’m trying to make things right. I hate when we fight. We we’re both tired and emotional and being shitty and impulsive and letting nonsense fall out of our mouths. Can we just start over?” I hold her a little tighter, content in being with her,

behind her and gawps at me like she is about to burst into tears. Terrified deer in the headlights comes to mind and completely confuses my already shell-shocked state. My heart constricts, and stomach tightens achingly at her reaction. She has never weirded out from me touching her before, well not in a long, long time. The way she spun out disrupted the small vanity to