Sophia stilled. "You weren't supposed to remember that."

"Is it true?" Finn asked.

Panic thrummed through every part of her body. She wrapped the stray thread around her finger, pulling it until it hurt. Finn winced, although whether that was because of her silence or because he'd recently shattered several ribs, it was hard to say.

"Sophia," Finn murmured. "Look at me, please." Reluctantly, she met his gaze, and Finn's face softened. "I don't understand. You broke things off. For six months, I heard nothing from you, and now you're telling me that you love me?"

She sucked in a breath. "It's hard to explain."

"Try. Please."

Sophia released the thread. Her finger was throbbing, the blood pooling in the tip, and she welcomed the sensation. Anything to distract her from the look on Finn's face. From what she was about to say.

"The morning after the barn dance," Sophia said, "I went to check on Opus. Callie Winthrope called me. She's—"

"The Estrella lady. I remember."

"Right." Sophia cleared her throat. "Well, she gave me a choice."

She launched into the story of the phone call. How Callie had asked her to choose between the Estrella campaign and Finn. How Sophia needed the money for university. Kit's gambling debts. Their platonic relationship. By the time Sophia had finished, Finn was sitting upright, his shoulders a stiff line.

Sophia swallowed. "Finn?"

He shook his head. Her pulse shot into overdrive.

"Say something," Sophia whispered. "Please."

Finn's jaw tightened. "I would have stayed with you. If you had told me all that six months ago, we'd still be together. I would have fought for you, Sophia." His voice broke. "You have no idea how hard I would have fought to keep you."

"But I did know." Sophia's throat was tight. "That's why I couldn't tell you the truth."

Finn's blue eyes were hard. "So that's it, then? You're done with me?"

"Does it matter? You have a girlfriend."

Surprise lanced across his face. "What?"

"A girlfriend," Sophia repeated. "I saw you with her in Ponoka. You were, uh..." She mimed stroking someone's hair. "Anyway, I'm happy for you. She's pretty." The words tasted like iron in her mouth. "Really pretty."

Finn tilted his head. "You think so?"

"And she seems nice."

"She is."

"And into you." She was choking on the words, now. "She seems into you."

"I hope not," Finn said mildly, "considering that Jenny's dating Dustin. I'm not sure how happy he'd be to hear that his long-term girlfriend seemed into me."

Sophia's breath caught in her chest. "She's...?"

"Not my girlfriend," Finn said.

His blue eyes were clear July skies, so bright that it was painful to look at them. Sophia's heart hammered at her chest.

"Well," she said, dropping her gaze, "it doesn't matter, now."

Finn tensed. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Sophia rose from the bed. "It's the truth."

"You're choosing Kit?"

"I'm choosing my career." The words tasted bitter, the sludge at the bottom of a coffee cup. "I'm choosing a future, Finn. I swore to myself that I'd never choose a man over my career. I'm keeping that promise."

He met her gaze. "And this is the career you want?"

"It's the only one that I'm good at."

"No offense, Toronto," Finn said, his voice rising, "but that's bullshit. I've seen you work with Gemma. I've listened to you discuss KPIs and click-through rates and a million other things that I'll never understand. You're brilliant." To her alarm, Finn swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Anyone that spends two minutes in a room with you can see that."

Sophia crossed her arms. "People will never take me seriously. The way I look—"

"Has nothing to do with it!" Finn's voice was fierce. "Fine, you're gorgeous — so what? It's a part of you. But it's not all of you, Sophia." There was a pulse hammering at his throat. "If you feel like the world has put you into a box, then break the goddamn box. Show them what you can do."

She looked away. "You wouldn't get it."

"You're right," Finn said. "I don't. Soph—"

The door flew open.

"We're here!" Tabby burst in, a nurse wielding a stethoscope on her heels. "How is he feeling? Is he talking? I— Oh." She paused, taking in the scene. "Did we interrupt something?"

Sophia swallowed. Every part of her was coiled tight, a spring about to release. She needed to get out of here. Now. She crossed the room, stuffing her crossword puzzle into a bag. Finn leaned forward.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Back to Calgary."

"To Kit." His voice was hard. "Just tell me this, Soph: are you in love with him?"

She glanced at Tabby. "Finn..."

"Are you?"

His gaze never wavered from her own. Sophia adjusted the strap of her bag.

"I need to go," she said.

"Don't you dare," Finn said, his voice low. "You've already run away once." He half-rose from the bed, and the nurse put a bracing hand on his shoulder. Finn shook it off. "You can't keep running. Not when I can't chase you."

"And what do you want me to say?" Sophia's voice was sharp. "That I'm in love with you? Because I am. I love you so much that it makes me feel physically sick, and I'm tired of pretending that I don't." She looked away, her jaw working. "Well? Did that make you feel better?"

There was a terrible silence. Tabby was staring out the window. The nurse was tactfully rearranging pillows. Only Finn was looking at her, his face hauntingly beautiful, a study in shadow and light.

"Be with me," Finn said softly. "I know you're scared, Sophia; I'm scared, too." He held out a hand. "But I'm telling you that the only things worth having in life are the things you're terrified to lose. So stay. Please."

Sophia looked at that hand — at the space between them — and felt every inch of it, every molecule of air that separated them. Then she forced herself to step back.

"I need to go," she repeated.

His hand dropped. "Sophia..."

"I'm sorry." Sophia turned blindly for the door. "Feel better soon, okay?"

She pushed it open, slipping out into the empty corridor.

Sophia made it as far as the lobby before she broke down.

She collapsed in a chair, her hands shaking, her heart racing in time with the click-click of gurney wheels. An overhead message blared. Sophia couldn't make out the words. There was a terrible ringing in her ears, and she felt like she might be sick.

What the hell had she just done?

The sharp smell of antiseptic drifted towards her, accompanied by a sickly-sweet medicine. No. She was definitely going to be sick.

Sophia pulled out her phone.

She'd scroll through Instagram. Yes; work always took her mind off things. She'd answer a few comments, check her insights, and then get in a car and drive back to Calgary. Because that's what she did, Sophia thought; she got on with things.

She opened the app.

Comments flooded in. Her latest post — a playful photo of her and Kit making pancakes, with batter flying and flour everywhere — had over 80,000 likes. She scrolled through the top comments.

You and Kit are SO CUTE.

When are u getting married??

Omg this is legit #couplegoals

Sophia blew out a breath. Nope. She still felt sick. She opened another post, then another, firing off replies automatically. She'd made it to a post from the week before — an advertisement for protein powder — when a comment caught her eye.

Will this help me lose weight? I tried ur exercise programme and lost 3 pounds and now my crush is talking to me! Thanks, Sophia <3

The sick feeling intensified.

Sophia clicked on the profile. The girl — and she really was a young girl — had posted pictures of lemon water, running shoes, and a #TransformationTuesday picture where Sophia could see her ribs. She'd captioned it, "work in progress!"

The phone slipped from her hand.

Sophia reached for it, but her hands were trembling so hard that she couldn't hold it properly. Oh, god. When had things gone so wrong? When had this become her life? She could remember being that girl, following an Influencer's diet plan and painstakingly looking up the calories in a boiled egg.

Sophia swallowed hard. She hated going for morning runs. She hated putting on a full face of make-up every day, and smiling for cameras, and always ordering colorful lattes because they performed better on social media.

She hated this.

A sob caught in her throat. What the hell was she doing?

Sophia picked up the phone.

Her hands shook as she pressed it to her ear. The phone rang once. Twice. Sophia was resigning herself to hanging up when there was a click.

"Hello, darling," Jenna Huntington said. "You're up late."

Sophia closed her eyes. "Mum?"

"Yes?"

"I want to come home." Her voice broke. "Please. I need you."

There was a long pause. Sophia could hear a kettle whistling, followed by the dull drone of a television. Her mother let out a breath.

"Okay, darling," Jenna said. "Let's get you home."