Finn wasn't normally caught off guard.

He rode bucking horses for a living. Every sharp jolt, every jarring kick, every unexpected twist... it was Finn's job to anticipate these things. He was used to molding his body like silly putty, shaping it to whatever the world — his intemperate sculptor — demanded.

But right now, Finn was scrambling.

He was on the dirt. Being trampled by horse hooves. Unable to tell which direction was up, and which was down.

A terrible ringing began in Finn's ears. "Sophia's your..." The words tasted metallic in his mouth. "You're dating her?"

"Yup," Kit said.

"Right."

"And I hear you're the fake boyfriend," Kit said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks for stepping in, bro."

Like Finn was the understudy in a play. Or a painting thrown hastily over a crack in the wall until the owners could afford to pay for it to be plastered over properly. Finn had the sudden urge to run Kit over with his truck, possibly while smiling and saying, "Thanks for cleaning my tires, bro."

But he didn't.

Obviously.

Instead, Finn looked at Sophia. She was winding a piece of hair around her finger, over and over again, until the tip of it turned eggplant purple. Tabby said something in her ear, but Sophia just shook her head.

She looked upset, but then again, who could say? She was a damn good actress. Or maybe she wasn't. After all, Finn thought darkly, she hadn't looked particularly fussed by their kiss at the fairground the other day. Maybe she hadn't been. Maybe last night hadn't meant anything to her, either.

She had a boyfriend.

A boyfriend.

Finn felt suddenly sick.

"Can I talk to you?" he said, turning to Sophia. "Alone?"

She nodded.

"Anything you need to say to Soph," Kit drawled, "you can say in front of me." He lounged against the wall. "I'm sure we're all dying to hear this."

Finn's grip tightened on his car keys. It would be so easy to lunge across the room and cut Kit's pretty face open. So damn easy.

Tabby gave him a warning look.

Don't, she mouthed.

Finn reluctantly lowered the keys, wiping his grease-stained hands on his jeans, just to piss Kit off. The bastard looked like he lived exclusively in Ralph Lauren. Or Vineyard Vines. Or whatever other designer brands posh boys wore.

Sophia gave Kit a pointed look. "Just give us a minute."

He frowned. "But—"

"Remember the boy I mentioned earlier?" Sophia interrupted, cutting her eyes to Finn. "This is him."

Kit's face changed. "Ah. I see."

He took a step back, holding out a hand towards the corridor, as if to say, off you go, then. Finn was increasingly tempted to cut that hand off with a blunt knife. Sophia touched his arm lightly. "Come on," she said. "This way."

Finn trailed her into the kitchen. The smell of cooked bacon hung in the air, mixing with fresh flowers. A dog was curled up near the hearth, its chin resting on a paw. One ear perked up as they entered, but the animal made no move to greet them. Just as well. Finn's hands were shaking in a way that wasn't conducive to petting animals.

"So," he said.

Sophia swallowed. "So."

An awkward silence fell.

"Just tell me this," Finn said. "Did last night mean anything to you?"

Sophia's head snapped up. "It meant everything to me." Her voice was forceful. "Finn, you must know by now how I feel about you. You make me happy. So happy. Every time I'm with you, I feel like anything is possible. You make the world possible for me."

He swallowed. "But?"

"But..."

She fiddled with a bangle. The silence stretched on, a terrible, torturous thing. Finn couldn't remember ever feeling so anxious. Not even when he was thrown from a horse.

"Oh, come on, Sophia," Finn said. "You don't seriously want to be with that guy, do you?"

Her gaze was fixed on the carpet. "Kit understands me."

"Kit," Finn said, his temper unravelling, "strikes me as the sort of person that cares more about his hair than human decency."

"Maybe that's why he understands me."

"Are you joking?" Finn demanded. When Sophia didn't answer, a hot flare of anger went through him. "You're nothing like him, Sophia. You're brilliant. You've built an empire from nothing. Do you know how hard that is to do?"

She bit her lip. "Finn..."

"Just tell me it's not true." His voice was hoarse. "Tell me you're not with him."

Sophia twirled the bracelet. She seemed to be weighing something up, her face scrunching up the way it did when she was puzzling out a problem. Normally, Finn found it endearing; today, it was terrifying.

"I'm with him," Sophia said finally. "I'm with Kit."

Finn felt the words like a blow to the stomach. I'm with him. His brain couldn't seem to process them. For god's sake, they'd slept together the night before; how had everything changed in less than twelve hours?

"Is this some sort of joke?" His voice was flat.

"No."

"You're really with him?"

"Yes."

"Do you..." Finn's throat was dry. "Are you in love with him?"

"I am."

Sophia's voice was unbearably soft. Scratch your nose, Finn thought urgently. Do it. Please. It was her tell, the one thing that he could rely on; but Sophia's hands remained by her side, her back very straight.

She was telling the truth.

She loved him. She loved Kit.

"I don't believe you." Finn's hands were shaking, but he didn't know how to stop them. "Not for a second. What's actually going on here, Sophia?"

Sophia met his gaze. "I told you before, Finn. He understands me. Kit gets what it's like to be in the public eye; he's used to it."

"I don't understand," Finn repeated.

He felt like he'd had a chair pulled out from beneath him. Like he'd bitten into a chocolate chip cookie only to find a raisin. As a competitor, Finn relied on his gut instinct all the time. How could he have felt so right about something only to be so wrong?

"I think you should go," Sophia said.

His chest tightened. "So that's it? You want to break up?"

"Finn..."

"Just answer the question."

"We were never really together," Sophia whispered. "Remember?"

Finn flinched. Just for a second, Sophia's expression faltered, but then the walls were back up, her eyes steelier than ever. She looked like a stranger. Finn took a step toward the kitchen door, and then paused.

"The thing about me," Finn said, "is that I don't look back. I can't, in my line of work; a second of hesitation can get you killed. One moment of indecision. That's all it takes." He met her gaze. "If I walk out this door, Sophia, then that's it. Do you understand?"

She hesitated.

For an instant, Finn felt a flicker of hope. But then Sophia slumped against the counter, her eyes half-closing. Shadows smudged her eyes. She looked tired, Finn thought in concern, before realizing that it wasn't his concern.

Not anymore. She'd made that clear enough.

"Take care, Finn," Sophia said softly.

Finn swallowed. Then he stalked out of the house, pushing blindly into the frigid winter sunshine.