Page 36 of Broken Trails
The sound of engines revving cuts through my thoughts. A thrum vibrates through the air, the kind that settles into your chest and makes everything inside rattle. I head toward the noise, toward the crowd gathered along the edge of the track. Dust kicks up as a motorbike spins out in the distance, a puff of smoke curling into the sky like a signal.
“Zoe!”
My head jerks toward the voice. The sound feels too loud, too personal, in a space where I already feel like an outsider. Imogen stands with a group of people clustered by the track’s edge, waving wildly. She’s dressed in high-waisted jeans and a loose black tee with crackedBowielettering across the front, herwhite-blonde hair falling in soft waves, half pinned back with a ribbon.
Imogen’s the kind of beautiful that’s almost offensive—all glowing skin, high cheekbones, and the kind of effortless confidence you can’t fake. She reminds me of my old self. Comfortable in her own skin. Strong. Outspoken. The kind of woman who laughs with her whole chest and doesn’t care who hears. A small crowd surrounds her, men and women laughing, talking, passing drinks between them. I hesitate. Because this isn’t my world.
Well, technically, this used to be my world. But now? I’m not so sure.
They fit here so effortlessly, all tattered boots and dust-worn jeans, that easy small-town rhythm in their voices. And me? I’m standing here in platform wedges looking like I took a wrong turn.
But then there’s Imogen, waving me over like I’m expected here.Like I’m welcome.
And for a moment, I almost believe her. Almost. Can you imagine feeling like an outsider in your own hometown? It’s been so long, I’m not even sure I’m allowed to call it that anymore.
Not yet, anyway.
But right now, Imogen is the only person I know enough not to panic around. So I force my legs to move. She beams when I reach her and loops an arm through mine without hesitation. “You made it! Thought you might bail.”
“I almost did,” I admit, shifting awkwardly on my shoes and glancing at the loose gravel beneath us. My ankles are already protesting.
She gives me a once-over and her eyes twinkle. “Well, you look incredible. Even if your shoes might not survive.”
I huff a small laugh.
“Shall I introduce you to the rest of the misfits?” she asks.
I glance warily at the group.
Imogen grins. “Don’t worry. They might be a little rowdy, but they don’t bite.”
We start walking toward the group. My shoulders pull back, but my stomach twists. She gestures first to a woman stepping forward with a sheepish grin.
“Okay, you already know Isla, right?” I recognise her straight away. The vet.
Isla waves. “Yup! Glad you came. How’s the little kitten going?”
I fold my arms. “A menace. She tried to eat a sock this morning.”
Isla lets out a musical laugh. “Sounds about right. Wait till it learns to climb curtains.”
She’s wearing a black flowy dress that hangs around her thighs and a pair of worn-in cowboy boots, with a black cowboy hat tilted back on her head. Her long brown hair cascades over her shoulders in soft waves, and her green eyes catch the light. Isla gestures to the woman beside her.
“This is Amelia.”
Amelia offers a warm smile. “Hi, so nice to meet you.” I smile politely but say nothing. Only nod. She looks young. Maybe early to mid-twenties. She’s noticeably shorter than the rest of the group, with nervous energy practically radiating off her. Before I can say anything, another woman steps up, whose energy is the complete opposite.
“Hi! I’m Olivia, but everyone calls me Liv.”
Her voice carries an easy warmth, and her grin stretches wide. Olive-toned skin, bright eyes, and a tumble of long, glossy curls that frame her face, giving her an almost haloed glow. There’s something instantly likable about her. Sister vibes, but with a little mischief thrown in.
“It’s so good to finally meet you,” she says. “We’ve heard… bits.”
“Bits?” I repeat cautiously.
“Oh, nothing bad,” she says quickly. “Just that you’re staying in town. And Michael has a new cat friend.”
“Right.”
