Page 65 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

Sophia took the empty barstool next to me as the bartender approached us.

The bartender’s dirty blonde hair was pulled up high, and her face was meticulously made up—the kind of make-up where you couldn’t distinguish which features actually belonged to her.

“Hey, handsome, can I get you a drink?” She used her breasts to point in my direction.

I suppose it was entrepreneurial of her to use her assets accordingly.

She leaned over, laying her assets on the bar in front of me. “You know, we don’t get many guys like you in here. I’m happy to take care of you all night.”

“Hi, Theresa,” Sophia grumbled beside me.

A wave of recognition washed through me: Theresa, Sophia’s boss—the one who slept with Landon.

Oh, this was awkward.

“Oh. Hey Sophia, I didn’t notice you there. I thought you were still at table 27 with that adorable snack.”

I felt my body stiffen at the mention of the curly-haired hockey boy Sophia was just with. I practically lunged across the barroom when he wrapped his arms around her.

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned and whatever Sophia wants. We have a lot to discuss.” I focused on Sophia as I placed the order.

Theresa stood still, assessing us, perhaps wondering how I knew Sophia’s name and why she was sitting next to me now—or maybe just wondering what we were to each other.

A thought I wondered myself .

“Gin martini,” Sophia ordered, her eyes locked with mine.

In my periphery, I noticed Theresa step away with a little less perk in her chest.

“What would you like to discuss, Mr. Buescher ?” The way she said my name sounded accusatory.

My eyes narrowed on her.

“How was your date ?” I asked, my tone sharp, laced with my own accusations.

She tilted her head. “I’m not sure why that matters.”

Her expression was cool and unbothered, but something was telling in her eyes.

“I guess it doesn’t,” I admitted, though the words felt like ash on my tongue.

Because it did matter.

The problem was that Sophia did something to me.

She made me want to cross lines I’d spent years carving into stone. She was like wild ivy, creeping through the cracks, burrowing into every hidden weakness until she wasn’t just breaking through—she was becoming part of the structure itself, fortifying it in ways I couldn’t control.

Theresa set our drinks down and turned away without another word.

The silence between Sophia and me grew heavy, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of me.

“I didn’t realize we were seeing other people,” I admitted, exposed, vulnerable.

I took a sip to hide my nerves.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” She picked up her drink and took a big gulp.

I paused mid-drink, certain that I had misheard her. I slowly lowered the glass back down on the sticky bar top.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Sophia sighed. “Nothing, forget I said anything. I’m being…” She stared at her martini, spinning it slowly in front of her. “This is just harder than I thought it would be.” She gestured between us.

We both admitted something, each of us losing ground slightly.

But it opened something.

“Screw the drinks. Come with me.” A plan had formed in my head, and I wasn’t going to waste time executing it .

Her brow furrowed, her lips parting slightly. “What?”

“Leave with me. Right now,” I repeated, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

She blinked, stunned, but there was no hesitation in the way she grabbed her coat. That simple act told me everything I needed to know—we were in deeper than either of us wanted to admit.

“One sec.” She held up a finger. “Hey, Theresa!”

Theresa eyed Sophia from behind the taps as she filled a beer glass with foamy liquid.

“I’m not coming in tomorrow. I quit!” Sophia yelled with a huge smile on her face.

I smirked as I threw a fifty down on the bar and grabbed her hand. We quickly escaped Boomer's and slipped into the freezing night air.

The drive out of Misty Springs was meant to be a relief, an escape from knowing looks and whispered judgments. There were too many prying eyes at Elijah’s, so I left with a different destination in mind.

I knew a Hilton property was a few miles away because I considered staying there during several of my early visits to Misty Springs.

Whatever it took us to sort things out, whatever we needed to say to each other, we would do it tonight without any distractions.

The sky was inky-black, the stars and moon blotted out behind a thick layer of clouds, and the road ahead was illuminated only by the car’s headlights.

The hum of the tires on the asphalt was soothing, almost hypnotic, but I couldn’t relax—not with her sitting so close, her scent lingering in the air, and the weight of unspoken words filling the car.

Sophia broke the silence first. “Where are we going?”

“To sort things out.” The vague response was not telling, but it was honest. “I think we have a lot to discuss, and everywhere around here feels too… crowded.”

Silence stretched between us for just a couple of beats.

“Who is Cindy?” she asked.

I barked out a laugh, the question catching me entirely off guard.

“Cindy? She’s a bit… hard to describe.” I collected myself before continuing, the concern on Sophia’s face urging me to clear the air qu ickly.

“She was a mistake years ago, and now she is an incessant thorn in my side that I can’t seem to extract. ”

Sophia’s lips twitched. “Oh, God.” She threw her head back against the headrest. “I admittedly saw she texted you the other day. She seemed pretty excited about your dinner together in New York.”

I grimaced. “Cindy’s excited about anyone who can help her climb another ladder rung. Trust me, she’s nothing to me.”

Without thinking, I reached over and took her hand. Her fingers were soft and hesitant at first, but then they curled around mine reassuringly.

“That dinner was with Cindy and about twenty other people. I sat as far away from her as possible all evening.”

She let out a small huff of a laugh, but I could see doubt swirling in her features from the low light of the dashboard.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard or what you’ve thought, but I haven’t been with anyone else after I met you. Not since that day you called me an asshole in first class.”

That earned me a bellow of laughter, and my heart swelled at the sound.

“You’re the only one who has been in my bed, in my mind, damn near everywhere I go. It’s only been you,” I admitted.

Her hand gave mine a soft squeeze, and I pulled it to my lips, brushing them against her smooth skin and inhaling her floral scent.

For a moment, everything felt right.

And then it didn’t.

It started as a faint vibration in the steering wheel, a subtle tremor I might’ve ignored if it hadn’t quickly escalated. The car lurched slightly, and I tightened my grip on the wheel.

“What’s wrong?” Sophia asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, releasing her hand as I tried to keep the car steady.

The vibration worsened, becoming a violent shudder that made the steering wheel almost impossible to control. The car swerved, and I slammed on the brakes, but the pedal felt off—soft, spongy, and unresponsive.

“Hold on!” I shouted as the car veered toward the shoulder.

The car jerked violently as I fought to keep it on the road. The brakes were nearly useless, and the steering wheel felt like it was fighting against me. We were on a stretch of highway bordered by a steep embankment on one side and a dense line of trees on the other.

“Look out!” Sophia’s voice was sharp and panicked as the car fishtailed.

The next seconds unfolded in chaotic fragments: the tires slipping, the car spinning out of control, the sickening sensation of weightlessness as we veered off the road.

A deafening crash erupted as the front of the car collided with the embankment. The force threw me forward, the seatbelt biting into my chest.

Glass shattered, and the airbags deployed with a suffocating whoosh.

Everything was silent and still except for the sound of the engine sputtering and the faint ticking of the cooling metal.

“Sophia?” I rasped.

She didn’t answer.

Panic surged through me as I twisted to look at her.

Her head was lolled to the side, her face pale under the blood smeared across her temple.

My stomach dropped.

“Sophia!” I reached over, shaking her gently, scared to jostle her too much.

A groan escaped her lips, and relief coursed through me. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, before closing again.

“You’re okay. Just stay still.” My voice shook as my eyes raked over her.

I glanced down and saw the dark stain spreading across her tan coat—blood.

My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, dialing 911. The operator’s voice was calm, but mine was anything but as I explained our location and Sophia’s condition.

It felt like an eternity before I saw the flashing lights of an ambulance cutting through the darkness.

The paramedics worked quickly, stabilizing Sophia as I hovered nearby, helpless.

“She’s losing a lot of blood,” one of them said, their tone urgent.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” My voice cracked with fear .

The paramedic didn’t answer, which only tightened the knot in my chest.

As they loaded her into the back of the ambulance, I felt like my entire world had just crashed, along with that car.