Page 36 of Final Temptation (Alpine Peak #2)

As expected, once we got back to the apartment, Sophie and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We started in the shower, washing off the sweat and dirt from being outside in the woods, and we’d been in my bed ever since.

You’d think fucking my girl every other hour would be enough of a workout for me, but it was Saturday. On Saturday evenings, I went to the gym. It was routine.

I texted Chase earlier to make sure he’d be there.

Once he confirmed, I got my ass up, ready to hit the gym for leg day.

Paige hit up Sophie, asking her to stop by for some wedding planning shit.

With both of us having something else going on that didn’t include each other, we planned to meet back here tonight in her bed.

After a morning running around in the mountains and the afternoon spent in bed with my girlfriend, I had a bit more energy at the gym than normal.

The blood pumped through my veins, making my session at the gym unlike any other.

When Chase and I wrapped up, I came back home to a quiet, empty apartment.

I checked my phone to see if Sophie had texted me at all. Sure enough, her name popped up.

Sophie: I’ll probably be here a little later than I thought. Paige and I have a lot of catching up to do between cake tastings. Don’t wait up!

Me: Yeah? Does this catching up have anything to do with what happened today?

Sophie: Not everything. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. But she’s my best friend and I need to tell her how happy you’ve made my lady parts lately.

Me: Mmm, if my brother is in the same room as you and you need to get rid of him, definitely start talking about that. It will be a sure way to make him exit the room.

Sophie: I think the TMI is almost too much for Paige sometimes. She just said, and I quote, “Myles is like a brother to me. The last thing I need to hear is how big his cock is.”

I laughed out loud when another text pinged through my phone.

Sophie: It shouldn’t be a surprise to her, assuming your brother has the same genes.

Me: Keep it up, Soph. Keep talking about how big my cock is, and I’ll come over there and show you. Your girl’s night will be over before it’s even started.

Sophie: Okay, chill, Rebel. I’m gonna go before I have to excuse myself from being too hot and bothered. I’ll see you when I get home. XOXO

Me: Sorry in advance if I’m passed out when you get home. You fucked the life out of me today. Have a good night, baby.

Preseason football played on the TV while I waited for Sophie to come home. If I laid in her bed, I’d pass out the moment my head hit the pillow.

I knew she told me not to wait up for her, but I craved her body next to mine when I closed my eyes each night. It became a new part of my routine.

She kept the nightmares at bay.

It’d been weeks since I’d woken up from a night terror.

I felt like an imposter living my life. I was supposed to be the recovering alcoholic who struggled day in and day out.

It was how I defined myself.

I knew it was a shitty thing to do—to tell myself I wasn’t worthy of a good life. The habit of punishing myself for what happened all those months ago, almost an entire year at this point, was a habit I worked through every day to break.

I walked through life as a fraud—a phony. Myles Cooper was the guy who drank too much and fucked a new woman every night. Not the guy who had a girlfriend. Not the guy who hadn’t had a nightmare. Was it really possible that I was getting better? That I was healing and changing all at the same time?

My thoughts got the better of me, the football game just soft white noise in the background. As my body sank into the couch cushions, my eyes fell shut, feeling heavier with every second that went by.

It was an out-of-body experience. I stood on the side of Old Creek Road, headlights blinding me in the distance.

A truck to my right.

A car to my left.

A crash meeting in the middle.

A crash so loud, it echoed in the dark, empty night.

I was an outsider looking in, unable to move my feet and incapable of calling for help. I was a ghost, and this was all in my imagination.

Except it wasn’t just a thought dreamt up to haunt me, it was real fucking life.

My feet were planted to the ground, neither one able to step forward. My fingertips reached for the car door, slipping through the handle. I couldn’t get a grip on it.

My face reflected through the passenger side window—pale and terrified.

“WAKE UP, MYLES!” I screamed into the night sky.

It wasn’t a reflection. It was me. I was in that car.

“WAKE THE FUCK UP!” I cried out into the void for no one to hear.

I shook my head; the impact from the crash eventually jolting me awake. Reaching down, my hands patted my legs, the feeling in them still there.

“Oh my God.” I looked to my left. “Logan!” I shook him awake, tearing off my seatbelt in the process.

“What the fuck is going on?” he mumbled groggily.

Out the window, there was smoke. It was dark. It was clear we had been in an accident. But we were okay—just a little banged up.

What the fuck did we hit?

I shoved my shoulder into my door, opening it as I stumbled out. I wasn’t hurt from the accident. I was drunk—completely wasted—but I’d never sobered up quicker in my life than right now.

There was a truck. The front was smashed and the smoke thick.

“Logan, what did you do?” I screamed.

“Oh my God!” a terrified yelp left his mouth.

“Dude, we gotta get the fuck out of here. We can’t be here when the cops come. We’ll be fucked!”

After stumbling out of the car, I ignored every word Logan said. We couldn’t leave; we needed to get help.

I checked my pocket for my phone; I needed to call for help.

Dead battery.

I ran toward the truck. Each step beneath my feet crunching on top of broken glass and gravel. There had to be a phone in this truck. I needed to call for help.

The driver’s side window was completely shattered, the glass spread across the crash site like confetti.

The man behind the wheel wasn’t conscious. He was hurt, really bad.

There was so much blood.

Between the mix of alcohol rising to the surface and the brutal sight in front of me, I could hurl over and puke. But there wasn’t time for that; he needed help, goddammit.

“WAKE UP, MAN! WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

I rounded his truck, opening a door not caved in from the crash. My palms bled as I sifted on all fours through his back seat for a phone. This guy had anything and everything in his vehicle, and not one of those damn things was a fucking phone.

I began tossing items out of his truck, clearing up room to locate what I needed. With all the other shit thrown around his truck, it was almost impossible to find what I was looking for.

A backpack.

A lunchbox.

Water bottles fucking everywhere.

Wait….

No…

My eyes snagged on the sweatshirt. One that looked oddly familiar. Everyone at work had one of these. It was gray, the words Cooper Construction written in blue across the chest.

That was the company I worked for. That was my dad’s fucking company.

“Oh my God,” I cried, realization washing over me that whoever was in this car, the chances I knew them were sky fucking high.

Footsteps grew louder behind me.

“We gotta go, man! We gotta get the fuck out of here! Someone else is bound to drive by soon who can help.” Logan was behind me, tugging me out of the back seat.

Fighting back, I wiggled my way out of his grip, running back to the driver’s side window.

The driver was slumped over the wheel; he hadn’t moved since I started tearing through his shit like a crazy person.

His blood was everywhere. His hair was full of blood, his face hardly recognizable.

I knew you shouldn’t touch someone when they were hurt; you could risk hurting them more, but he wasn’t moving.

Grabbing his shoulders, I shook him hard. “Come on, man, wake the fuck up!” I sobbed, tears running down my cheeks uncontrollably.

Who was the guy behind all the blood?

Around the rearview mirror, a key card flickered, catching my attention. The same style key card I owned. It was one that had my name, a photo of myself, and a lanyard. I snatched the name tag from the mirror, and even through the sun-faded font, I could make out the name clear as day.

Anthony Wilson.

No.

Fuck, no.

It couldn’t be.

Anthony Wilson was a coworker, a family friend. His fucking daughter used to babysit me and Declan when we were just teenagers.

Blood drained from my face as the tears continued to fall from my eyes, my vision becoming blurry.

Throwing the name tag to the ground, I continued to shake his bloody body, praying for any sign that he was still alive.

“Wake up, man! Please!” I continued to plead. “You have a family! You need to wake up! Fuck, Anthony, I’m so fucking sorry!” Logan’s hands found my shirt once again, tearing me away with an aggressive pull.

He fisted the ID card in his hand, an evil glare in his eyes staring back at me.

“If you don’t come with me now, I’m going to have to force you.” He pulled against my shirt harder, jerking me back toward the car.

I put up a fight, shoving him back.

“You’re fucking delusional if you think we can leave this man here to die! Get fucked, Logan. You can’t be for real right now!” I spat out.

“That man in there,” he pointed to the beat-up truck, “is my fucking ex-girlfriend’s father. No way in hell I can go down for this.”

I didn’t have any time to process what he said. I didn’t even have time to turn around to see if Anthony had moved at all. The last thing I saw was Logan’s fist aiming straight for my face.

The last thing I saw was red.

Red blood.

The red truck.

The inside of my eyelids.

Everything burned red.

I could feel the punch to my face like it happened in real time. The pain. The throbbing. The wetness from the blood that streamed down my face.

Except the blood wasn’t there. I laid on the couch, my body drenched in sweat instead.

My breathing picked up—the pounding in my chest so loud it boomed—the panic setting in. How was it possible to be soaked in my own sweat but have chills covering the length of my body all at the same time? The urge to vomit sank in, the bile rising in record time.

I stood up on shaky legs, the kitchen only a few steps away. The moment I made it to the sink, anything left in my stomach from earlier came up, leaving me feeling completely empty.

Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I checked the time. It was just after midnight, and Sophie still wasn’t home.

Her blonde hair, soft tanned skin, and warm brown eyes flashed through my mind.

Everything about her was so goddamn comforting.

I knew she’d be here in a heartbeat if I called.

She wouldn’t judge me or tell a soul. But all I felt was shame.

I was so fucking ashamed. What was supposed to be an amazing day between us ended so horrifically for me.

Every time I had this same dream, it was clear as day, a memory so embedded in my head it was like living it on a continuous loop.

I got bits and pieces of the night I experienced, even though portions of it I couldn’t fully remember from all those months ago.

I replayed the same memories in my head every time I had a meeting or went to bed.

The specks of memories were always there, lurking in my mind.

But this time? The entire night came flooding back to me like it happened yesterday.

The dreams were supposed to be gone. I was a changed man. I was climbing the ladder to a better life, one step at a time.

The cries for help, the rumble of the crash, the crunch of the glass, and Logan’s voice all grew louder in my head, the silence becoming so loud I could hardly take it.

I couldn’t be this way when Sophie came home.

The need to get out of here was overwhelming.

Before I could think twice, my eyes shifted through the apartment, locating my keys and wallet. With my limbs trembling, I headed straight out the front door and right for my Jeep. The driver’s side door slammed behind me, the eagerness to get away from here growing by the minute.

I cranked up the music, hoping it would drown out every sound screaming in my mind.

My body worked on autopilot, I didn’t give a shit where I was going, all I knew was I needed to leave.