Page 108 of Broken Trails
Shortly after, someone called an Uber, which is how we ended up here, at a place called Vinette, a rooftop bar in Clifftop Haven with overpriced cocktails and staff who look allergic to dust.
Bradley’s nursing his third drink. Xavier’s halfway through telling some story about a goat and a police cruiser. Harrison’s already abandoned us to get another round.
And me?
I’m staring into my scotch, thinking about Zoe.
Thinking about that call. The sound of her wet arousal through the phone, her breath catching when I told her what I’d do to her if we were together. Those little noises she made—fuck—they’ve been on repeat in my head. I’ve had three women approach me tonight. All flirty. All persistent. The last one even touched my arm when she laughed. Six months ago, I would’ve leaned in. Said something smooth. Maybe walked out with a number I had no intention of using.
But not tonight.
Not when my head is already full of her voice. Her eyes. Her fucking mouth.
I keep hearing that soft whimper she made when she came apart on my tongue. The way her fingers dug into my shoulders. The taste of her. The way she looked at me after—eyes wide, chest heaving. And now she’s in my bloodstream.
“Mate, what’s with the face?” Sebastian kicks my foot under the table. “You look like someone just told you the V8 Supercars got cancelled.”
“Just thinking.”
“That’s yourjust thinkingface?”
Xavier leans across the table. “You’ve been quiet all night. Not even glancing at the girls. Who is she?”
I glare at him, and he adds, “Better yet, is it someone we know?”
Bradley looks up, too. “Oh, fuck.”
“There’s no one.”
Harrison returns to the booth. “Did I miss something? Are we grilling Michael now?”
Xavier grins. “We’re trying to figure out who’s turned our emotionally dead mate into a reformed man.”
“Bullshit,” Harrison scoffs, collapsing beside me. “Mikey boy doesn’t do feelings.”
He’s not wrong. I don’t.
Well,I didn’t.
But Zoe’s changed something. I don’t know when it happened. Somewhere between the panic attack and the silence on the back of my bike. Between her avoiding me and the way she kissed me when she finally stopped fighting it. She’s a fucking contradiction. Tough as nails, but something in her eyes always looks ready to run.
And yeah, maybe I get that.
I shrug. “I’ve just had other shit on my mind.”
Bradley lifts a brow. “Like what? Spark plugs? Or are we finally admitting you’ve got it bad?”
I brush it off, shifting my weight and looking out over the balcony. “Would you look at that view?”
They groan in unison. The rooftop bar’s perched on a cliffside, overlooking Clifftop Haven’s glittering coastline. The ocean stretches endlessly, waves catching moonlight in soft silver streaks. Fairy lights line the glass balustrade, flickering above groups of well-dressed people sipping cocktails and pretending they’re not freezing in this breeze.
A waitress in heels delivers drinks to a table of women with long hair and longer legs. Sebastian spots them immediately. “Alright, lads,” he says, eyes gleaming. “Ten bucks says I can get at least one of them to laugh in under five minutes.”
“You could,” Bradley deadpans, “but it’d be at you, not with you.”
Sebastian raises his glass. “You doubt me too much, Mitchell.”
A laugh rumbles from my chest at the same time my phone buzzes.
