Page 113 of Broken Trails
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In My Veins - Andrew Belle
The car finally pulls up to my place.
It felt like that drive took twice as long as it should’ve, and I’m convinced Isla dragged it out on purpose. Michael groans. “I can’t move. I’m sleeping in the car.”
“No, you’re not,” Isla retorts.
He pouts. “I’m too—”
“Michael.” I’m already at the door, hand on the handle. “Out. Now.”
He salutes with a grin. “Yes, ma’am. You can boss me around any day, baby.” Imogen and Isla burst into identical fits of laughter.
“Oh my God,” Isla says. “It’s like dropping off a toddler after a birthday party.”
Imogen puts her window down to call out, “Use protection.”
Isla smirks. “And maybe use this as a sign you’ve finally moved on from that fucking jerk.”
Michael stumbles out of the car, wraps an arm over my shoulders, and we start toward the house. It’s pitch black. One thing about Wattle Creek at night? Unlike Sydney, there are no streetlights, washing the street in gold. Just one or two lampposts are struggling to stay alive.
The rest is pure darkness. I try to lead him carefully, watching my footing, his weight dragging into me as he stumbles with each step. He leans down, breath hot at my ear. “When we get inside, I’m gonna spread you open and––”
“The only thing you’re doing is showering and going to bed.”
His mouth drops open like I’ve just cancelled Christmas. But then my stomach flips. No, my heart fucking drops to the ground. Because parked out front, half-hidden in shadow, is a white Audi. No.
No, no, no.
I step out from under Michael’s arm, instinct pulling me backward.
My breath catches. “What are you doing here?” The figure leans against the car. Calm. Too calm. Liam. “At this fucking time of night?”
“I needed to talk to you,” he mutters. “I was hoping to—”
“To what?” My voice cuts him off sharply. “To stay? That I’d just let you inside?” My blood is boiling now, rage simmering inside. “How the fuck did you even find me?” I demand.
“Your mother,” he replies with a smug smile, “told me where to find you.”
The words gut me. She didwhat? That betrayal stings worse than anything else. Michael shifts beside me, his body instantly becoming rigid. I stand my ground, despite myself.
“You need to leave, Liam.”
But of course, he ignores me. Instead, his eyes narrow in on Michael behind me.
“She asked you to leave.” Michael’s voice surprises me. As always, it’s calm. Raspy. Controlled. Liam tilts his head, recognition dawning slowly. Then a cruel laugh slips out.
“Oh, I see.” His gaze sweeps Michael up and down. “Moved on already, huh? That’s cute.”
“Don’t,” I warn.
Liam grins wider, taking a step forward. As he does, Michael steps in front of me, and the sensor light flicks on from the movement. Everything is exposed now—Liam’s twisted smirk beneath the glow of the porch sensor light, Michael’s jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might crack.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Liam’s eyes stay locked on Michael.
“None of your fucking business.”
