Page 66 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

I hated these machines. The rhythmic beeping should provide a sense of comfort—at least they told me her heart was beating—a heart that had been through so much loss and pain. A heart caught, slammed to the ground, and then punted by Landon.

A heart I wanted to be mine.

That realization had settled deep within me the moment we headed out of Misty Springs together.

I was ready.

Ready to tell her how I felt. Ready to step down—hell, step away completely—if that’s what it took.

But looking at Sophia now, banged up and bruised—it was hard not to think of the accident as a sign.

A warning.

Because love didn’t belong to me.

It got sick. It left. It crashed and burned.

And some twisted part of me couldn’t help but think that my love wasn’t something you wanted—it was something you survived.

I tried and failed to check emails on my phone. My eyes blurred with tears I was too scared to let fall, and my mind was too distracted by the events that had landed us here.

Sophia suffered a laceration to her side and a mild concussion, but she’d recover, according to the doctor.

Devyn walked in with two coffees in hand, her expression soft. She was Sophia’s emergency contact, and they called her right away.

I spent the night falling in and out of consciousness on a lumpy orange chair with a broken recline feature .

Devyn handed me a cup of lukewarm coffee, the small diamond on her ring catching the morning sun filtering through the window.

“How is she doing?” she asked me gently.

“She’s fine,” a familiar voice croaked.

“Gah!” I exclaimed, startled.

I turned to see Sophia’s eyes fluttering open.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to hear you sigh about eighty-seven times,” Sophia teased, sitting up slowly.

I hid a smile behind my cup.

The door to Sophia’s room quickly burst open, and the space filled with the chaos of her friends.

Cassie came in first, clutching a giant stuffed bear. Trevor followed with at least a dozen balloons, Lana carried a pink pastry box, and Brent and Sam balanced drink carriers of coffee.

“Surprise,” Trevor rasped as he shook the balloons.

“This isn’t a party, Trevor,” Cassie scolded.

“It feels like a party. There are people, balloons, drinks, cake.” He gestured toward the room.

“They’re muffins, dude. Already checked,” Sam said, seemingly disappointed.

“See? I told you we should’ve texted Devyn,” Lana said, glancing at Brent. “They already have coffee.”

“This is nasty hospital coffee, though,” Devyn declared, snapping her fingers for one of the new cups. “Gimme, gimme.”

Devyn and I abandoned our half-finished hospital brews.

Lana handed Sophia a cup first, then one to Devyn. She held up another, squinting at the squiggled sharpie writing before passing it to me with a knowing wink.

Her friends crowded the small space, trading jokes and tossing around ideas to celebrate Sophia’s survival. Their energy was infectious, and I found myself oddly at ease despite the hell I had just gone through.

Brent pulled me to the side. “Any idea what happened?” he whispered.

“Nothing. I’m waiting for the police to get back to me. Something was wrong with the car, Brent. It wasn’t just a patch of black ice. ”

Brent looked at me with concern. “We’re just glad you guys are okay,” he said, wrapping his hand over my shoulder.

The buzzing of my phone on the arm of the orange chair broke through the chatter. Davis’s name flashed on the screen, giving me pause. It was strange for him to call so early in the morning.

I excused myself, stepping into the hallway. The cold quiet of the corridor stood in stark contrast to the lively warmth of Sophia’s room. I swiped to answer.

“Where were you last night?” Davis asked without preamble.

“What do you mean? I was here, in Misty Springs. You saw me here before you left.”

“Did you forget about the board meeting?”

I either hit my head in the accident or was missing some vital piece of information. “Board meeting? What board meeting?”

“The one that neither you—nor Buzz—bothered to attend last night.”

I put him on speaker and scoured my emails for the board meeting invite. Sure enough, there it was, received and accepted by me.

But why didn’t I remember seeing or accepting it?

I don’t admit either of those oversights to Davis.

I took the phone off speaker and pushed it firmly back against my ear. “What did we miss?”

“It’s not good, Corbin. The board wants you and Buzz out. They think he’s lost his mind, and you’re too unstable.”

“Look, I know Buzz had been making some seemingly rash decisions, but this branch was a great investment. And unstable ? What gave the board the impression that I was unstable?”

Davis paused, his quiet adding to the tension in my chest. “Just make sure you don’t miss the next meeting.”

The line went dead, and I almost threw my phone against the concrete wall of the hospital hallway. My chest constricted as the walls felt like they were closing in around me.

I pocketed my phone and headed back toward Sophia’s room. The muffled sounds of laughter reached me before I even opened the door.

“Corbin, catch!” Trevor said with a grin, tossing a muffin to me.

I caught it and stole a glance toward Sophia. Her radiant smile was bright .

I couldn’t help but admire her. Tragic loss, cheating exes, working herself to the bone, and she still held on to so much beauty—hope.

She sat surrounded by her chosen family—friends who cared for her, supported her, and rallied around her with easy affection.

Sophia met my gaze, her laughter softening into something quieter, more intimate.

For a moment, the storm churning in New York seemed to disappear, the tightness in my chest began to ease.

This life was unguarded—easy, calm, and filled with laughter. A life where the weight of power struggles, boardroom alliances, and calculated moves didn’t exist.

It was as far from my world as it could be, yet it felt like home.

The bright atmosphere shifted the moment the door swung open again, and two uniformed officers strode in.

Everyone turned to the new arrivals, a collective look of uncertainty settling on their faces.

“Do you have an update on what happened to my car?” I asked, assuming that was the reason for their visit and hopeful for answers—though the looks exchanged between the officers quickly doused that hope.

One of them, a stocky man with a stern jawline, stepped forward.

His partner, leaner but no less imposing, hung back by the door, his hand resting casually on his belt.

The first officer fixed me with a hard stare. “Corbin Buescher?” he asked assertively.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“You are under arrest. I need you to come with me.” He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and began stepping closer.

“Wait. What?” I managed, shaking my head in disbelief.

Before I could process it, his hand clamped down on my arm, twisting it behind my back and stretching my muscles in an uncomfortable way. The cold steel of the cuffs bit into my wrists.

“Hey, what the hell?” Brent stepped forward.

The second officer moved swiftly, extending an arm to block Brent’s approach.

“What am I being arrested for, officers?” I asked, my voice low and seething .

Still gripping my arm, the stocky officer replied assertively. “Driving while intoxicated, attempted kidnapping, and attempted manslaughter.”

The room erupted into chaos.

“Are you kidding me?” Devyn practically yelled.

Sophia, despite her injuries, tried to push herself up. “Kidnapping? Manslaughter? I’m right here! That’s not what happened!” Her voice cracked with urgency, her pale face flushed with the effort.

Lana immediately leaned over, coaxing Sophia back down.

“Sophia, don’t hurt yourself,” she said softly before turning a steely glare at the officers. “Surely there’s been some mistake.”

The stocky officer ignored her, yanking my other arm behind my back and tightening the cuffs until they cut into my skin.

His grip was ironclad, and his tone was as unyielding as his actions when he spoke. “Not our problem. We’re just following orders.”

The words settled in my gut, twisting with betrayal, but I kept my voice level. “Who gave those orders?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gripped my arm harder, wrenching it enough that pain flared in my shoulder—a shoulder that was already on the verge of dislocating after the accident.

I let out a pained gasp.

The group surged forward, a wall of anger and desperation. “You can’t just take him!” Trevor barked, while Cassie shouted, “This is unlawful, and you know it!”

The officer dragging me out didn’t flinch, but his partner stepped between us and the group, one hand raised as if to ward them off.

“Enough!” he yelled at the rioting group.

I turned back as they shoved me toward the door, the sight of Sophia’s pale face and worried eyes carving itself into my memory.

The officers hauled me down the hall, and as they shoved me into the backseat of their squad car, I caught the name on the stocky officer’s uniform: NORWOOD

The name sent a flame of anger through me as I thought of the family I had just exiled—and the evidence I’d used to do so.

A sheriff’s deputy, tied to the same web of lies and deceit Sullivan had uncovered .

This wasn’t an arrest.

This was a retaliation.