Page 29 of Broken Trails
He holds up a single hand in mock surrender, the gesture only making me more annoyed. “Easy there, tiger. You’re one hard woman to track down.”
“And for good reason,” I snap, the air between us thickening. “I’m going to ask you again—how did you find out where I live?”
Michael’s shoulders rise and fall with a slow breath. “It’s a small town, love.” My eyes narrow further. “A little birdy told me.”
The words lodge under my skin, and my mind instantly spins. Who the hell told him where I live? He must notice because he’s quick to reassure me.
“Relax, Freckles,” he says, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Isla, from the animal hospital, and I pieced ittogether. Turns out she knows your mother, and one thing led to another, and… here I am.”
My stomach knots, but before I can reply, he shifts, cradling something in the crook of his arm, behind his back.
“I come bearing gifts. A peace offering.”
“I don’t need a peace offering. And you better not have flowers behind your back. I’ll throw them right—”
My words are cut off when I see it. Tiny paws, a soft mewl, and the familiar patch of white above its eye. My kitten. The one I rescued.
“What the—”
“So you recognise this little one?”
I blink, lips parted, the brush still in my hand. He smiles, and I hate the way it looks good on him. “I—I dropped it off at the vet a couple of days ago. How did you even know?”
Michael shrugs, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “I didn’t. This is purely a coincidence.” The kitten lets out another meow as if to contradict him. He runs a hand over his buzzed hair. “I saw it and thought of you.”
Something in me wavers. My hands twitch by my sides, my chest tightening with something that feels far too tender. I feel it then—the wall, the familiar armour—starting to slip, and I force it up again.
“Okay, and? Why don’t you keep it?” I don’t mean for it to sound so bitter, but the words cut through the moment like glass.
“Because I don’t need the company, and—”
“And what, I do?” I snap, sharper this time.
I’m tired of people deciding things for me, assuming they know what I need, like I’m incapable of making my own choices.
He doesn’t flinch. “Yeah, Freckles. I think you do.”
There it is again—that nickname. It grates at me, like fingernails dragging down my spine. He continues talking,something about his mum being severely allergic and only just finding out, but I don’t buy it. Not entirely. He steps closer, gently placing the kitten into my hands. It stares up at me, soft and small and impossibly trusting, letting out a meow that feels like a string tugging at my chest.
“Oh, would you look at that? Best buds already.”
He peers behind me into my space, his eyes roaming the small lounge, the blanket on the armrest, the stack of unopened mail on the bench.
“Nice place.”
“It’s temporary.”
“Not anymore. Not while you’ve got this little gem.”
“Michael, I am not keeping the cat.” He places a bag by the door and starts to turn. “Wait—Michael.”
He pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll be waiting for you to bring your car by. And trust me, you’re gonna want do it sooner rather than later.”
The sudden shift in topic catches me completely off guard. “And why would I need to do that?”
Inside, I already know the answer. I’ve just been avoiding it.
“Because it’s leaking fluids again,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
