Page 14 of Broken Trails
He sighs, and I can almost hear him shaking his head. “I’m not going to say that, Zoe. You’re beating yourself up enough without me adding to it.”
The fight drains out of me, leaving behind exhaustion. “I miss her, you know,” I say, my voice softer. “Mum. Before all of this.”
“I know. And she misses you. She just… doesn’t know how to show it.”
“Yeah, well, neither do I.”
“You always have been stubborn, Zoe. Unyielding, even,” he says, a hint of pride threading through his voice. “But you’re also soft inside. Even though I know you’ll figure this out, don’t shut us out completely, okay?”
“I’ll try,” I answer, though the words taste false in my mouth.
“I’m always ‘ere, you know that?” he adds. “A phone call away.”
“I know, Dad.”
“Good. Love you, Zo.”
“Love you too.” I hang up and stare at the phone in my hand. For now, the worst of the emotions is buried, packed away in some hidden corner of my mind. But the question lingers, sharp and unrelenting.
What the fuck do I do with myself now?
7
Looking Up – Lauren Spencer Smith
The last place I want to be is here.
But Mum called this morning, her voice tight and careful, asking me to come by. No details, just that we needed to talk. Which tells me everything—because if she’s the messenger, Dad’s the one pulling the strings. And his words from yesterday’s call are still lodged under my skin, impossible to shake.
Mid-morning sun glares through my windshield as I pull in. The house looks exactly the way it did yesterday—pristine, controlled, untouched by anything messy or imperfect. But this time, I notice the perfectly trimmed hedges, the spotless driveway, the symmetrical rows of flowers—all mocking me intheir perfection. Nothing out of place. Everything is carefully curated, the way Mum likes it.
She hasn’t worked a day since before I was born—whether that was her choice or not, I’ll never know. Dad made sure we never went without anything, and I know plenty of people would call that privilege. But privilege in this house came with strings, and those strings were tight.
Expectations were so high, they were suffocating. The older I get, the more I realise I’ve been carrying them my entire life. And I’m done.
I don’t bother knocking. My key still works, which unsettles me more than it should. The door gives a soft creak as I push it open. My heels click against the polished timber floors that Mum is obsessive about.
“Zoe?” Mum’s voice carries from the kitchen. I step into the doorway, and she turns, her eyes flicking over my face, searching for something.
“Thanks for coming.” She steps forward, and there’s the briefest pause before she leans in. The hug is awkward, unsure, the kind you’d give a stranger you haven’t seen in years, not your own daughter. For a moment, I wonder if she feels it too—that we’ve crossed a line we might not be able to uncross.
“I’m sorry for yesterday,” she says quietly, pulling back. “But I’m glad you’re here now. Sit.” She motions to the dining table, and I sink into one of the upholstered chairs, too stiff, too formal. Her lips tighten, but she doesn’t press. “You’ve let your hair grow long.”
I wince before I can stop it. Three years ago, it was shorter. Back then, I was too swept up in Liam’s orbit to notice, let alone care, that it had been almost five years since I’d seen them before that.
“I think shorter suits you better.”
Of course. She’s started already. Can’t help herself, can she?
“And your freckles.” She leans in slightly. “They’re more prominent. Don’t you use sunscreen? The dermatologist said you must. With your skin, so fair, you’re prone to—”
“Mum, stop.” I grip the edge of the table. “I don’t need the lecture. I use sunscreen every day. This is just how I look. Now, why did you actually ask me here? Because if it was just to nitpick, I’m leaving.”
She presses her lips together, like she wants to argue but decides against it. “I’m only trying to help.”
A heavy sigh escapes me. “Sure.”
“How about I make us some tea?” She stands abruptly, heading back to the kitchen. I don’t argue, just sit there in silence as she bustles around, fetching cups and saucers. When she returns, she sets a cup in front of me.
