Page 46 of Between Regrets and Promises

SOPHIE

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

I still can’t believeWeston asked me to move in with him so soon. Although I’ve lived with Maria since moving to Sacramento, I knew it was time to go. She’s talked about starting a family, and it was either move out or be left with an apartment I couldn’t afford. When Weston asked me, I felt like he was proposing. It’s a big step for both of us and a step toward our forever. I’ve fallen in love with him quickly—hard and fast—and I can’t imagine him not being in my life.

I’ve only been living with him for two weeks, but so far, waking up in his arms has been amazing. I didn’t realize a relationship could be like this, but I knew it was possible. Sometimes, I think about Weston and me and wonder if we’ll have the same unconditional love Lennon and Hunter have. While he gets frustrated with me sometimes, I know it’s normal during this adjustment phase. He hasn’t lived with a woman before, and I haven’t lived with a boyfriend, so it’s a change for both of us. But honestly, I’d rather deal with him than Carter any day.

After rehearsal, I surprise Weston and pick up something for dinner before heading home. I’m so used to only worrying about myself that it’s nice to have another person to think about. Weston has filled a hole in my heart I didn’t realize was there. I pull into the driveway and notice he’s not home yet, so I grab the food and bring it inside.

While I wait for him, I clean up the kitchen and wipe down the counters. Weston’s particular about his house and doesn’t like anything to be out of place. I learned that the hard way after I first moved in. Every item needs to be put back where it was, and he can’t stand a mess, which I can appreciate after living with Carter, who was a complete slob.

This morning, I drank a cup of coffee and left my cup in the sink, so I want to wash it before he comes home. I don’t want to be the annoying roommate like Maria and Carter were for me. I’m not walking on eggshells, but I’m trying not to disrupt his habits either. The last thing I want is for him to regret asking me to move in.

I check the time and begin to worry slightly. He typically works from five to five, and it’s nearly six thirty, so I send him a text. Sometimes, he has to stay later if another one of the correctional officers is late, but that rarely happens.

Sophie

Hey baby! I picked up dinner for us. How much longer will you be?

I pace the kitchen, and after ten minutes, finally get a response.

Weston

Already ate. Having a drink with the guys. Won’t be home until later.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh. If he had communicated this earlier, I would’ve only bought food for myself and not waited on him. Instead of voicing my frustration, though, I send a quick message back and slide my phone across the table as I eat a piece of chicken and some potatoes.

Over the past few days, he’s been drinking more than usual, and I’ve tried not to say anything about it, but it’s been enough to notice. I haven’t told a soul either, not even my sisters. After I put my leftovers in the fridge, I go to the living room and watch TV, trying to occupy my mind. Hours pass as I mindlessly watch different shows. A yawn escapes me, and I look at the clock and see it’s nearly eleven.

Ever since Brandon died, I’ve had anxiety when people don’t show up when they’re supposed to. I know how much it affected Lennon, and my mind seems to always go to the worst-case scenario. I contemplate texting him again when the door swings open, slamming against the wall. As soon as he walks in, he complains how it’s dark in the house, so I turn on the lights for him.

He’s so drunk he can barely walk.

“Did you drive like that?” I ask, concerned as hell.

“Why do you care?” he throws back at me.

“Weston. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve picked you up.”

“I don’t need you mothering me.”

“I’m not. I just worry about you and don’t want anything terrible to happen.” I try to explain, but he’s not hearing me, which only pisses me off. Instead, he rolls his eyes and stumbles into the kitchen, but this conversation isn’t over. The last thingI need is to lose the love of my life after I’ve found him, but he doesn’t seem to understand that at all.

Weston opens the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and begins to drink more. When I try to pull it from his hands, he transforms into a different person. A monster. His hard fist connects with my face as he rips the bottle from my hand and slams it on the counter.

He. Hit. Me.

I’m in shock and might be seeing stars. My mouth falls open when I put a hand over my cheek, too shocked to speak. He grabs my arms as hard as he can and pulls me forward, close to him. He doesn’t seem to notice he hit me. He doesn’t seem to care. My face is pounding, but I can barely focus on it with his tight grasp on me.

“Don’t youeverfucking do that again,” he demands.

His fingers dig deeper into my skin and pain courses through me. “You’re hurting me, Weston.”

He tightens his grip like a vise on my arm and jerks me forward. I nearly gag from the smell of alcohol and stale cigarettes drifting from him. For the first time since we met, I’m scared when I see the dangerous look in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? Do you understand you don’t fucking control me? I do what I want, and as long as you live under my roof, you do what I want too. Got it?”

His words rock through me, shaking me to the core. He doesn’t mean it. He can’t.

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