Page 69 of Broken Trails
“I’ve seen broken,” he says, voice like gravel now. “And I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I know everything about what you’ve been through. I don’t. I’m not asking for it.” He takes a beat. His eyes flick to my hands, then back up again. “But I know what it feels like. To think you’re past saving. To feel like no one sees you unless you’re being useful. Or quiet.”
My stomach twists. Something flickers at the base of my spine. Recognition. Maybe even understanding.
“You’re not broken, Zoe,” he says again, softer this time. “You’re just… stuck. At an impasse.”
An impasse?
Something about that word sticks in my brain. Like he’s naming the thing I’ve been avoiding. Like he’s peeled back a layer I didn’t even realise I was hiding under. He’s not trying to fix me.
He’s not even trying to help. He’s just seeing me.
“I have a habit of pushing people away.” My voice drops as I speak.
He shrugs. “Then push. If that’s what you need.”
That throws me, and my brows pull together. “What?”
“You heard me.” His tone softens. “You can push, Zoe. Shove, snap, bolt, do whatever it is you think you have to do. I’m not gonna take it personally.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re not?”
“Nah.” He grins. “I’ve been called worse than whatever you could throw my way.”
That pulls a breath of a laugh from me, unbidden. The kind that makes my ribs ache in the best kind of way. Goddamn him.
“But just so you know,” he adds, his tone more serious now, “there are decent people out there. People who give a shit for no reason other than the fact that you exist.”
“I don’t need anything from you, Zoe,” he continues. “I’m not here to save you. Or fix you. Just know that I’m here.”
“As a friend.” It’s not a question. Just a quiet agreement. A truce drawn in the silence between us . “I’m not looking for anything. Not now. Not… probably ever.” I add quickly, needing to make it clear.
He holds my gaze for a second, then nods once, extending his hand out. “As friends.”
“Do we really need to do this?”
That shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “Fucking oath we do. Now, shake my hand, Freckles.”
I roll my eyes—because of course he’d ruin the moment with that—but somehow, I find my hand slipping into his anyway. His palm is so large, it engulfs mine in an instant. It’s rough.Warm. And for some reason I can’t explain, I feel lighter. Just a little. Like letting even the tiniest part of my guard down was enough to ease the weight I’ve been dragging around, and the cherry on top?
Michael’s words linger in my head. They shouldn’t affect me the way they do. I shouldn’t feel something tighten in my throat.
I don’t know what terrifies me more. The fact that I’m changing, or that all of this doesn’t feel… entirely wrong. No. It’s neither of those. It’s the way this place is softening the edges I worked so hard to sharpen.
I told myself I hated Wattle Creek for everything it once brought and still brings.
But the truth is, I’m not so sure anymore.
23
I Know She Ain’t Ready – Luke Combs
Iwake up slower than usual.
Not groggy, exactly. Just… heavy. Weighed down by something I can’t shake. The sun’s rays light up my room through the crack in the blinds, and I toss my forearm over my eyes, trying to ignore the thrum in my chest. It’s not anxiety. Not really.
But it’s sure as fuck not peace either.
“I’m not looking for anything. Not now. Not… probably ever.”Right. That.
