SOFIA {SAMPLE}

4

I got as far as the top step, both seeing and feeling the encroaching darkness. Eric, on the other hand, took off, hopping down the stairs. How nice it must be to not have a care in the world.

"Sofia?" he called, stopping midway on the steps below. "I promise you won't get your heels dirty!" He laughed, mocking me as if I was that ridiculous.

I backed off the stairwell, immediately bumping into someone behind me, then another—the panic making my head spin.

"Sofia? Wait!"

No. I hurried over to the crosswalk, joining the group waiting on the street corner.

"Sofia!" His voice grew closer; a hand tugged at my arm—the reflex automatic, yanking away from him.

I swung around. "I don't give a shit about my shoes and don't—"

"Whoa!" He stepped in front of me, blocking my way. "I was kidding! Why are you taking off? Because I joked about your shoes?"

"I don't want to go with you. I have better things to do."

"Oh, okay." He shrugged, eyes downcast as he took a step back. "Maybe another day."

"No! I won't be riding the subway or eating street food or doing any of this bullshit!"

"I'm sorry. I thought since you'd never ridden."

I had. That was the problem. "I rode it once." Almost thirteen years ago. "And I never want to ride it again!" I looked up, daring to meet his eyes, finding them fraught with concern.

"How about we skip the subway," he offered. "Grab lunch? No street food." He lifted my arm, hooking it through his. "Who would have thought the New Yorker was more sheltered than the Virginia boy."

I stopped, shaking my arm free while turning to face him directly. "I'm not afraid to get my shoes dirty... I'm just afraid." The admission was involuntary; declaring my weaknesses didn't come easy.

His brows furrowed. "You don't seem like you'd be afraid of anything."

He was wrong. "You have a lot of assumptions about me. I can assure you there's more than meets the eye."

"You have a bad memory from the subway?"

I shook my head, gaze falling to the dirty concrete. "Not a bad memory—the worst memory. I was alone, scared, and then I went down there and felt trapped, alone and scared. It's a night I never want to relive."

"You're not alone now, Sofia." His tone was sincere. "We have two options. One, we head to the park and eat, or two, we go down there together. Look, you live in New York. At some point, you might need to take the subway. Maybe you need to face this fear or this memory, so next time it won't be so scary. I know I'm not as massive as Luca, but I can keep you safe. Well shit, knowing him and your family's reputation, it'd probably be you keeping me safe."

He was endearing, his sincerity obvious, filling me with a trust I didn't understand. Perhaps it was time. "Just one stop."

"Let's try this again." He gestured back towards the stairs. "Need me to hold your hand?" he teased, the offer giving my fingers foolish hope.

He stayed at my side as we walked, each step closer bringing the memories to life—that night, the blizzard, the bar, laughing with Claudia over drinks, begrudgingly flashing her my phone, showing her the many missed calls from Giorgia, who was babysitting Gav.

I finally answered her call, annoyed. "I'm with Claudia. I'll see you tomorrow, Giorgia!"

"Sofia," she cried, sobbing. "Sofia, Mamma e Papà. Accident—come home—please." She hung up just as the breaking news flashed across the TV, above the bar.