Page 131 of Broken Trails
Sunlight floods the living room, spilling through the sheer curtains as if the world outside isn’t shifting beneath my feet. My pulse thuds behind my ears, a rhythmic reminder of everything that’s changed since the last time I stood in this doorway. They’re both in the living room.
Mum’s curled up in her usual spot, cardigan sleeves rolled to the elbows, knitting in her lap. Dad’s nursing a mug of tea he probably reheated twice.
“Zoe.” Dad’s voice is cautious. Measured. “How are you, love?”
I force a breath. “Fine.”
A lie. But there’s too much here to unpack. I flick my gaze to my mother, and that fire in my belly rises. “Why would you talk to Liam?”
She sets her knitting down slowly. “Zoe…”
“No. I need an answer. Why would you tell him where I fucking live?” My voice cracks, rising despite my best efforts. “I can’t fucking believe you gave him that information. After everything.”
Her shoulders droop. “He said he wanted to make amends. That he was sorry. He told me he didn’t want conflict anymore. He seemed—”
“Genuine? Actually sorry?” A hollow laugh breaks in my throat. I shake my head, stunned. “And you believed him? After everything I told you?”
She doesn’t answer.
“What if he did something? What if he’d shown up angry or worse? You’re lucky I wasn’t alone.” I feel the heat burning behind my eyes. “You’re lucky I had my friends with me.”
I don’t mention what actually happened. The tension. Michael throwing the first punch. The venom Liam literally spat at me,his smugness. The rage I barely choked down. I leave it all unspoken.
Her voice softens. “Zoe, I didn’t think—”
“No. You didn’t.” I pause, swallowing the lump clawing at my throat. “You told him to never contact you again. That’s what you told me, right?” My tone comes out sharper than I mean it to, but I don’t take it back.
Her lips tighten. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve handled it differently.” There’s a sliver of silence before her expression shifts, eyes narrowing slightly.
“But Zoe,” she says, “why didn’t you tell me about going to Sydney? Why didn’t you say you were going to face him again?”
Dad’s eyes narrow as he speaks. “And you went alone? Jesus, Zoe. The least you could’ve done was tell us where you were.”
“I don’t need to tell you everything I do.”
Mum opens her mouth, but I don’t stop. “I warned you about what happened. I trusted you with that. And you still gave him a way back in because you thoughthecould suddenly be genuine? That he wanted to make peace?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Cheaters are never sorry, mother. Abusers don’teverchange. They manipulate, twist, make you question everything until you’re the one apologising for bleeding.”
She looks like she wants to say something, but I barrel forward, adding, “And I didn’t goalone. I had a friend with me.”
The word hits my tongue wrong.Friend.That’s not what he is. Not anymore. Whatever this thing between me and Michael is, it’s past that. It’s deeper. Scarier.
Dad raises his brow. “And this friend of yours? That wouldn’t happen to be that boy? The mechanic?”
My stomach tightens. “Why does it matter?”
His jaw flexes. “Because he’s a boy. A little too young for you to be prancing around with.”
My breath hitches. “Why does it bother you who I spend time with?”
“I don’t think you should be hanging around him.”
I let out a low, humourless laugh. “Last time I checked, Dad, I’m not a child.”
“Exactly!” he snaps, his voice louder now. “So start acting like an adult.”
The words slice straight through me. Mum flinches, turning to him. “Hank—”
But I can’t look at either of them. Not now. My chest aches. My hands are fists at my sides. “I came here trying to do the right thing. To talk, to fucking show up,” I say, breath trembling. “You think that’s easy for me?”
