Page 13 of Saving Sophia

“They’ll want to know what happened,” I said. “And they’ll want to make sure you’re okay. Make sure you’re not hurt. I’ll feel better knowing that too.”

She sniffled and shook her head into my chest. “But … I’m not …”

“They won’t hurt you,” I said, trying to ease her fear. She might not have the most trusting feelings toward cops after being hauled into the police station earlier.

“I’m not dressed,” she whispered. “I’m in my pajamas.”

And she was. Baby blue, terry cloth short shorts and a cropped T-shirt with Eeyore on it. Not revealing, but thin enough to see she wasn’t wearing a bra. She must have been getting ready for bed when she was attacked. I forced myself not to notice the sweet curves of her body so close against me, or the cuteness of her pajamas compared to the costume she’d been wearing in the police station.

“Can you stand? We can get you decent before they come in.” Keeping my arm around her, I pulled her gently to her feet.

4

SOPHIA

The paramedic gave me a skeptical look before her eyes swept around my bedroom, taking in the numerous fashion dolls on my dresser, my desk cluttered with paints and supplies, and my smiling unicorn face comforter dangling from my unmade bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? You’ve had a traumatic experience and it might be?—”

“No. Thank you.” I didn’t have insurance since my father removed me from his plan, so a hospital visit was out of the question. “I’m fine.” I was about a million miles from fine, but a trip to the hospital wouldn’t do anything to fix that. It would only make things worse.

“Well, don’t hesitate to go in if you start feeling not fine.” The paramedic packed up her medical kit and left.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ethan leaned against the door frame of my room, his deep gray eyes scanning over me before pausing on my legs. “You’re bleeding.”

I looked down at a small cut on my thigh that the paramedic missed. It wasn’t major enough for concern, just another embarrassment.

“Let’s get something for that.” He moved quickly down the hall. The hinge of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom let out its signature squeak, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice my bubble gum toothpaste.

This was the worst night of my life, and somehow the universe decided the most attractive man I’d ever met needed to witness it all. He was being so nice, even when I crawled in his lap, cried like a baby, and wiped my nose on his once-crisp shirt.

When he returned with cotton balls, Bactine, and a box of Princess Band-Aids, my cheeks burned. The universe wasn’t done embarrassing me yet.

“This should fix you up.” He opened the box. “Belle? Or Ariel?”

I pointed to Belle, speechless as he cleaned the cut, peeled back the paper and applied the cheerful bandage on my leg. My tummy fluttered when his fingers touched my thigh.

Detective Valero, coincidentally Ethan’s brother, was talking to a uniformed police officer in the hallway. The universe might be determined to humiliate me, but apparently it wanted me alive. Thanks to Ethan and his brother showing up so fast, Mr. Roscoe’s henchman hadn’t had time to finish me.

And I knew for sure that’s who it was. I recognized his voice. The moon-faced security guy from the VIP room, with the cat-torturer voice, growled all the awful things he was going to do in my ear, his jutting chin digging into my neck before the door kicked in.

I shuddered, and Ethan scanned my face, a frown of concern tugging his lip down. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Detective Valero came back into my bedroom with his notebook and pen in hand. “Okay Sophia, walk me through it.” Ethan stood up but stayed by my side, his hand barely touching my shoulder. The detective glanced at his brother’s hand before looking at me. “Don’t leave anything out. No detail is too small.”

What could I say? I lied about not knowing anything before—did that make me an accomplice? “I’m sorry, detective,” I said, resigned to my fate. “There’s not much to tell. I was brushing my teeth, and I heard a noise …”

“What kind of noise?” he prompted.

The sound had been soft. If the water had still been running from the faucet, I would have missed it. A tiny, metallic snick, followed by the barest hint of a creak. I knew it wasn’t Callie. She never made a quiet entrance. When I heard that sound, I simply knew. He was coming for me.

“Just … the door,” I said. “It creaks.” I shivered. Ethan brushed the edge of my shoulder with his thumb. My skin raised up into tiny, pebbled goosebumps at his touch.

Detective Valero sighed and tapped his pen on the notebook.

“So, the intruder came in. What did you do?”

“I—I grabbed my bag and hid in the closet. Called you.”

So stupid. I should have called 9-1-1. I’d be talking to a random cop who might not make the connection between me and the club … and Tommy Roscoe.

But adrenaline drove my brain and coincidence put the detective’s card in my hand. Maybe it was a good thing after all, though. If I called 9-1-1, they might be here dealing with a murder scene.

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