Page 62 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

“I am so glad that sneaky little fox is slinking out of here today,” Andi announced as she dropped dramatically into the purple chair in my office.

“Who? Davis?” I asked, setting my pen down. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I got a bad feeling about him, too.”

Davis had been here for three days. His eyes always seemed to be scanning, assessing—and every time they landed on me, it felt like they were trying to claw through me, digging for something I wanted to keep buried.

I avoided him at all costs, offering only polite conversation when he cornered me near the coffee station or lingered in my office doorway.

“ A bad feeling? No, no, he gives more than a bad feeling. He gives off whole body heebie jeebies.”

I laughed.

“I’m serious. I don’t trust him. And he kept talking to nasty Ned, which means I double don’t trust him.” Her voice was loud enough that Ned probably heard every word.

Not that she cared.

Since I started, Andi and I had spent a lot of time together, and I’d grown to adore her blunt, unfiltered personality. She was unapologetically herself, and I admired her for it—hopeful even, that some of her strong traits would rub off on me.

She sighed as she inspected her long, manicured nails. “Anyway, let’s change gears. Tell me about this Will guy.” She leaned in, propping her chin on her hand and wiggling her eyebrows underneath her black-and-white, checker-patterned glasses.

“There’s not much to tell,” I admitted. “My friend Devyn set it up. And it’s not a date . It’s just a drink. Mostly to get Devyn off my back.”

Andi snorted. “You’re lucky to have someone looking out for you.”

“Speaking of dates, I have one this weekend with Stacy…”

I gasped, spinning my chair toward her. “Stacy? Who is Stacy? Dish! Please!”

Andi opened her mouth to respond, but a deep, familiar voice cut in.

“Andi, a moment?”

I tried to pretend that the sound of his voice didn’t send a thrill through my body.

His eyes flicked briefly to me. “Morning,” he acknowledged with an emotionless voice.

My stomach tightened. Had he heard us talking about Davis? Or worse—about Will?

“Morning,” I managed to reply.

Corbin’s attention moved back to Andi. “Meet me in my office.”

He turned and left without another word.

Andi wrinkled her nose at me as she stood. “I don’t want to face him right now. He’s going to be so cranky today. I can feel it.”

“Stay strong, Andi,” I whispered with mock seriousness.

“Oh, you know it,” she replied, flipping her hair dramatically over her shoulder. She strutted out in her flawlessly coordinated navy suede outfit.

As the office wound down for the day, I saw Ned wrestling with a stack of papers.

I curiously peeked at them, not thinking anything of it.

When he noticed me watching, his head snapped up, and he quickly shuffled the papers into a folder.

“Something I can help you with?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Nope. Just finishing up,” he snapped, his eyes darting away as he tucked the folder under his arm and walked briskly toward his desk .

Ned’s previous advances towards me, which were just slimy enough to make me feel uncomfortable but innocuous enough to be plausibly deniable if I presented anything to HR, had halted abruptly.

Now, he barely spoke to me or even looked in my direction. Not that I was complaining, but the sudden shift in behavior was… oddly timed.

I stuffed my laptop in my bag and grabbed my coat, stopping by Andi’s open door on my way out.

She was leaning over her desk, scribbling furiously on a notepad, her ever-present coffee mug within reach.

“Hey,” I said, stepping inside.

“You heading out?” she asked without looking up.

“Yeah… hey, have you noticed anything… weird about Ned?”

She straightened, her pen paused mid-air. “Weird, how? Other than his general Ned-ness?”

I let out a soft laugh, brushing it off with a shake of my head. “It’s nothing. Probably just me reading too much into things.”

I didn’t feel like explaining that I’d been watching him closely after he walked in on Corbin and me in the proofing room a few weeks back.

“Keep your eyes open. Ned’s been cozying up to Davis, and we know how to feel about Davis,” she said, snapping her jaws shut.

I set my laptop bag on her chair and began pulling on my coat.

“Have fun on your date, ” she teased.

And because timing had a cruel sense of humor. Corbin chose that moment to walk through the door.

I froze, getting my coat only halfway on, catching the slight twitch in Corbin’s jaw when he placed a stack of papers on Andi’s desk.

His eyes flicked to mine, sharp and unreadable, before returning to Andi.

“I need you to package these and mail them to the New York branch. Stephanie’s attention,” he ordered firmly.

“You got it, boss,” Andi said, unaware of the silent storm crashing around her.

Then he turned and left. No words, no more glances my way .

The breath caught in my chest finally loosened—the entire exchange only lasted a few seconds, but it left my heart pounding frantically, like I’d just sprinted up a flight of stairs.

I finished pulling on my coat, slung my bag over my shoulder, and waved goodbye to Andi as I strode out of her office.

I was a bundle of nerves as I walked down the hallway.

Why was I so worried?

I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Corbin and I knew we wouldn’t work. Besides, he had Cindy and who knows who else on rotation back in New York.

I steadied myself with each step, fortifying the walls I had tried to build around my heart.

“Have fun on your date.” Corbin’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks as I stepped into the lobby.

I spun to face him.

He was standing near the coffee maker, absently stirring a tiny straw through the steaming cup in his hands. His eyes were solely focused on the task—nowhere near me.

“Thanks,” I answered, my voice cracking slightly.

His eyes snapped to mine, searching for something—what, I wasn’t sure.

For a moment, I was caught in his gaze—warmth building beneath my heavy coat. I took a steadying breath, locking those walls around my heart into place.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Buescher,” I said firmly before retreating with my head held high.

I thought I saw a flicker of hurt on his face, something that dug through my hardened heart, like roots digging into stone.

But I couldn’t focus on that look or whatever I wished that look meant for me, for us.

Because no matter how hard I wanted it to happen, there was no us.