Page 35 of Under Southern Stars
“I’ll call you later,” I promise.
“You better.”
Rodriguez waves and blows his wife a kiss, then he and I run for his car. As we peel out of the parking lot, he glances at me. “That ex is a real piece of work.”
“Yeah.”
“Mitchell handled it well, though. You see her face when the alert came through? Looked damn proud of you. That’s no fancy feat, my man.”
I had seen it. That fierce expression, the immediate understanding. No complaints about leaving, no guilt trips. Just “be safe.”
“Drive faster,” I tell him. “People need us.”
But I’m already thinking about after. About calling Sophia. About explaining…well, not the money. Not yet. But about us. About what this is becoming.
About why she matters more than anything else.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SOPHIA
I’ve been checking my phone every three minutes since Jack left. The I-95 accident is all over the news—fifteen vehicles, multiple fatalities, absolute chaos. Every ambulance in the city responded.
Madison’s team won 3-1. She scored twice, but I barely registered it. Too busy watching news updates and trying not to think about twisted metal and broken glass.
“Mom, you’re doing it again,” Madison says, stealing a fry from my plate. We’re at her favorite post-game diner, the one with sticky vinyl booths and a waitress who calls everyone “hon.”
“Doing what?”
“The worried face. He’s fine. They’re trained for this stuff.”
Troy left with Tiffany right after the game, of course. Something about a crypto emergency, which probably meant the market was tanking again. Madison didn’t seem surprised or disappointed.
“I liked Jack,” she says suddenly. “He seemed…real. Not like Dad’s new friends who are always talking about their portfolios.”
“You talked to him for thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, but he remembered my name. Plus, did you see Dad’s face when Jack had to leave for an actual emergency? Priceless. And,” she grins, “Ilovedhis accent.”
My phone buzzes. Relief floods through me until I see it’s from Maria, not Jack.
Maria: Turn on Channel 7. NOW.
I flag down our waitress. “Excuse me, could you turn on Channel 7, please? Something about the accident.”
She grabs the remote from behind the counter and changes the channel. The anchor is mid-sentence: “…remarkable rescue by Summit County Fire Rescue paramedics. We have exclusive footage from the scene.”
Shaky phone video fills the screen. The accident is worse than I imagined—cars crushed and scattered across the highway like toys. In the center, a silver minivan is wedged under a semi-trailer, the roof partially collapsed.
And there’s Jack.
