Page 40 of Final Temptation (Alpine Peak #2)

I was back at the crash site on Old Creek Road, only this time there was no smoke, no blood, and no broken glass. I didn’t wake up in a car, sitting next to Logan, with a front row seat to a smashed-up truck.

I stood on the side of the road next to a small iron cross that could withstand any snowstorm. Fresh white roses were scattered about, and the name Anthony was written across the tree it leaned against.

I wasn’t dreaming, and this wasn’t a year ago. It was real time, and the only chance I had at seeing the cross on the side of this dark mountain road was due to the headlights lighting up the exact spot. Headlights that belonged to a car looking a hell of a lot like Sophie’s.

Her car wasn’t the only one out here; she was parked behind me…

What was she doing here?

My back faced the bright lights, giving myself a better view of what she could be doing.

“Sophie,” I croaked.

She couldn’t hear me.

Why was she running away from me?

Her body ripped away from my Jeep at lightning speed. My eyes drifted back and forth between her and where I stood. A panicked Sophie came running back, her phone glued to her ear as she rambled to the person on the other end, tears staining her pink cheeks the entire time.

My hand begged to reach out, to help wipe her tears, but it was impossible.

I knew it wasn’t feasible when I looked to my left, my lifeless body slumped over the seat.

“What the fuck did you do?” I screamed at myself with no chance of anyone hearing.

The last thing I could remember was thinking of Sophie—her gorgeous smile, her bright colors, and all the little things in life that she found joy in. I texted her, telling her how badly I hurt. I hurt so fucking bad. There was so much pain that I was desperate not to feel anymore.

Not like this, though. I just needed one night. One night away from the pain, a way to shut it all off for just a few hours.

The pain kept getting worse. Just when I thought my last dream—the flashing images, the whole truth—was as painful as it could get, nothing would top what I felt right now. Seeing Sophie pound on my chest and shake my body, trying her hardest to wake me up with no success, it fucking gutted me.

As a ghost in the night, I listened in on her conversation.

“I can feel short breaths coming from his nose,” she said, speaking in a stutter.

So, I wasn’t dead?

Was I living in some alternate universe?

Was this just another nightmare?

Most nights in my mind were painted with the terrible, awful sights I’d once seen in my dreams. When Sophie stumbled along, those nights turned brighter, the darkness slipping away, replaced by her beauty and hope. With her in my life, in my bed—all I saw when I closed my eyes lately…was her.

Until tonight, a one-off night, I fell asleep without her. Now I was seeing her in what felt like the realest dream of my life, and not in the ways I craved to see her when I shut my eyes.

I fell to the gravel below me, my feet giving up.

“You’re a weak, pathetic excuse of a man.” My words came out between grunts. With each heavy groan under my breath, I beat my fist against my head, teaching myself a lesson, one hit at a time.

Physically, I couldn’t feel a thing, but the overwhelming sensation to feel the pain grew.

I gave up on myself.

I risked it all, for one night, to black out the memories.

I told myself I’d deal with the consequences later but never guessed this would be the outcome.

My body lacked color, looking completely lifeless.

Sophie was a sobbing mess, crying for help.

I could see her pain just as I felt my own.

All the feelings flooded through me from earlier—downing the rest of that bottle, ignoring her text messages like a total piece of shit—every part of it blanketed me in regret.

“What can I do? There has to be something I can do to help while I wait!” she screamed.

“You’re doing everything you can, Princess,” I answered, knowing she couldn’t hear me.

I could feel her pain growing louder than my own. I may have been reckless. I may have given it zero thought when I downed an entire bottle of tequila after being almost a year sober, but if I could take it all back, I would have tried harder. I would have called her for help before it got bad.

The only option I had now was to stay alive…for her.

“Myles, everything is going to be okay. Help is here. Please hang on for me, I love you too fucking much to let you go.”

She held me tight, and I wished with everything I had that I could hug her back and tell her how much I loved her, too. I hated that it took this moment right here to confirm without a doubt that I fucking loved that girl more than life itself.

It was only late August, and fall was hardly on the horizon in Colorado, yet it felt like the middle of winter. Her body had been ripped from mine when help arrived, the loss of her body against mine immediately blanketing me in a sheet of snow.

If tears could fall, I’d be swimming in them, each one for her.