39. Sophie
39
Sophie
M y eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, the world was a blur of soft white light and shadows. My head pounded with the rhythm of my heart—fast, erratic. I tried to focus on the sensation at my fingertips, sharp little stabs that pulled me further into consciousness. Then, I heard it—the steady, electronic beep that told me I was alive.
“Ah, there she is,” a voice said, clinical but not unkind. My vision cleared enough to see a doctor by my bedside. His fingers were cold as they pressed against my wrist, counting the beats of my heart while his other hand held an instrument to my finger, the source of the little pricks of pain.
I turned my head, searching for something familiar, something grounding. I spotted Maverick, his tall frame tense as he paced near the bedroom door of our suite. He had a tendency to do that: pace when stressed. I found it endearing.
At the sound of the doctor’s voice, Man whipped around, desperation written all over his face. When our eyes locked, relief washed over him, softening the hard lines of worry. But for me, shame flooded in like the tide.
Memories crashed through me—the last time this happened, the hospital room, the judgment. The eating disorder, my silent demon, always clawing its way back. How people whispered about seeking attention when all I wanted was to disappear. My mother, my sisters, their concern crushing me, and they didn’t know the full extent of how deep it ran. And now Maverick, caught in the crossfire of my personal hell.
“Your vitals are looking good,” the doctor continued, oblivious to the storm inside me. “How’s your water intake?” He glanced at a device, then back at me. “Blood sugars are dangerously low. When did you last eat?”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to look at Maverick as I forced the truth out. I had lied through my teeth so many times before, about meals I never ate, because I loved the reflection in the mirror too much. But now the what-ifs paralyzed me. What if I’d been chasing down a suspect? In a shoot out? Driving? What if I collapsed on a perp’s doorstep? What if it was the reason I was on the wrong side of a gun? The possibilities were endless. The risks I took were unforgivable, and I saw that now. And this was impacting him now.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, a bitter promise forming in my mind—I needed space. Time to sort through this mess in my head, the chaos that never stopped. Time to separate the love I felt for Maverick and the hate I felt for myself. To chew on the ugly truth that he might never trust me enough to visit Newark. Dios mio, Sophie, get it together before you spiral out of control.
The doctor droned on about next steps and left with a final warning about the dangers of not eating. But I was done listening to broken records—done letting this thing ruin my life.
I tugged the thick white comforter up, just to give myself something to do, just to avoid seeing the inevitable disappointment on Maverick’s face. My stomach twisted with guilt, and I mumbled an apology, but it felt hollow.
“Why did you lie about what you’d eaten? Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling this much? I thought you had it under control. I thought I was helping .” He raked his hands through his hair, his shoulders bunching in frustration.
He was right for questioning my lies, my silence about the invisible battle I’d been fighting alone for all these years.
I shrugged, fingers tracing the patterns on the blanket, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. “It’s my battle,” I murmured, my eyes stinging.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he confessed, his voice breaking. It was quite possibly the most vulnerable he’d ever been with me. “I thought you were dead. I thought I killed you. Do you have any idea how fucking terrified I was?”
Guilt surged through me tenfold, snaking through me like poison. “I don’t need babysitting, okay? I said I’m sorry. I’ll get better, be more transparent or whatever.”
Maverick sat on the edge of the bed, looking torn. “We need to talk about us, Soph. Our future—”
A bitter, mocking laugh escaped me. “Really? Says the man who can’t muster the courage to set foot in Newark to come see me? Yet here you are talking about futures .”
He recoiled. “Don’t do this right now. You want to take your anger out on me? Be my fucking guest, Sophie,” he snapped, the fire in his eyes replacing that godforsaken pain that I never wanted to see again. “But do not try to run away from us now. I will not let you. You can try, but you can bet your ass I will hunt you down and drag you back.”
When the hell had he figured me out?
“I love you, Sophie. So yes, I want to talk about our fucking future and how we can get you the help you need.”
It was my turn to be taken aback. Love. The very thing I’d just come to terms with feeling, but to hear it from him…
“Love me?” I whispered, my vision blurring from tears that I could no longer prevent. “You don’t even trust me, Maverick.” The realization cracked something inside me. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably for the first time in so fucking long. I was desperate to believe in the love he offered, but my head was telling me that he couldn’t possibly. How could someone love me when I couldn’t even love myself?
“That’s not true. It’s more complicated than that—”
A knock interrupted his sentence, startling the both of us.
“Not now!” Maverick yelled, making me flinch.
Paulie’s head popped in, his eyes full of apology. “Sorry, man, but there’s an emergency. We need you.”
“It can wait,” Maverick growled, but Paulie’s eyes held a gravity that even I couldn’t argue with.
“You know I wouldn’t be here if it weren't serious.”
With a defeated sigh, Maverick tried to meet my eyes. I chewed on my lip. Deflect. Detach. You’ll be fine. My father had been the same way—always pulled away by duty. The irony that I was following in my mother’s footsteps was hilarious.
“Soph,” he said softly. I conceded and raised my gaze. “I’ll be back soon to finish this conversation.”
I gave him an insincere smile and nodded numbly, watching his retreating form.
Alone again, with me on his territory. How long would this go on for? Indefinitely?
I rose to my feet on shaky legs, careful to go slow so the head rush didn’t make me pass out again. Without thinking, without hesitating, I moved throughout the room robotically. Changed out of Maverick’s shirt, not knowing when I was put into it, then stuffed clothes into my bags, packing the new stuff I’d bought today. My hands trembled the whole time.
Maybe my bad mood coming into this trip had been an omen for what it would hold for my and Mav’s relationship. Maybe we weren’t meant to be, and he was just a stepping stone to me getting the help I needed, or to opening myself up to someone.
Even as I thought it, I knew it wasn’t true.
My eyes snagged on Maverick’s credit card on the kitchen counter. The metal glinted in the light, taunting me. He must’ve left it behind for me for a reason. The bag of jewelry was beside it, a symbol of how he wanted to give me the world, and here I was pushing back. Which was so backwards because I’d wanted to dive headfirst only a few weeks ago. What had changed?
“Fuck it.” I swiped the card from the counter and opened the airline app on my phone. He could come fucking find me when he was ready to trust me. I wouldn’t even make it hard on him. He just had to come to me.
I booked the first flight out which would depart in two hours and braced myself for an exhausting trip home. There was a bowl of fruit on the counter, and I relented, swiping a banana. It wasn’t much, but it was fuel. I shoveled one in my mouth as fast as I could. The sooner I was done, the sooner I could leave.
I knew at this point that whatever “emergency” there had been, he’d be gone a whole lot longer than two hours. So, I completed my online check in, called an Uber, and stepped out of our suite, surprised to find no bodyguards outside that I’d have to explain my way past.
I left and didn’t look back as the Vegas heat greeted me. The anonymous comfort of an Uber gave me peace in my mind. The bustle of the airport kept me distracted. And finally, the hum of the plane’s engine soothed my frayed nerves until I felt nothing at all.
I closed my eyes, forcing away images of the man who’d stirred feelings I never thought I’d feel, and slouched in my first-class seat.