Page 143 of Broken Trails
Isla:Call us when you see this, please.
Imogen:Why the fuck is your phone off?
Imogen:Call me back. ASAP! Please, Zoe.
My pulse spikes. I hit Imogen’s name and press the phone to my ear.
“I’m sorry—” I start, but her sobs cut me off. My chest goes cold.
“It’s Michael,” she chokes. “He… he got into an accident last night.”
Last night.
The words crash over me like ice water, knocking the breath clean from my chest. My mind scrambles, replaying every moment I spent here in Sydney—fighting Liam, signing papers, pretending I could keep him out of my thoughts—while somewhere, he was… God.
My breath catches. “Oh my God. Is he—”
“He’s alive. Thank God, Zoe, he’s alive. But he’s in critical condition. They had to operate. He’s in the ICU, sedated, still asleep.”
Dani and Jeff freeze, their eyes locked on me. Dani mouths,What’s wrong?
“H-how?What happened? And please don’t tell me he was on his bike.”
Imogen’s voice cracks as her sobs spill through the line. “He was. Some fuckwit pulled out of nowhere, said he didn’t see him, ran him clean off the road. Please, just get here when you can.”
“I’m on my way,” I manage, but my hands are shaking so violently the phone slips from my grip, clattering against the floor with a clang that echoes far too loudly in the small space. Dani’s moving in an instant, scooping it up and pressing it back into my frozen hands.
I can’t breathe. My chest feels like it’s caving in, my ribs straining around a heart that’s pounding so hard it hurts. The room narrows to a pinpoint, sounds muffled under the rush of blood in my ears.
Jeff moves in closer to me. “Zoe, darling. Breathe. You’re hyperventilating.”
Beside me, Dani’s hand comes to my shoulder, rubbing gently. “Tell us what happened,” she urges.
I force out the words. “Michael… accident… ICU.” That’s all it takes.
Dani’s gasp is sharp and audible, her hand tightening on me.
Jeff doesn’t even blink. “Then what the hell are you still doing here?Go.We’ll handle the rest.”
I nod quickly, the movement jerky, and throw my arms around both of them in a desperate, grateful hug. “I’ll be in touch,” I manage, voice cracking.
They’re already ushering me toward the door, Jeff waving me off. “Go, go!”
I rush to grab my things, my hands clumsy, heart still hammering. As I sprint for the exit, I hear Dani’s voice behind me, quiet but fierce. “God, make him be okay.”
It’s the last thing I hear as I run out into the street.
I drive, but I couldn’t tell you how. The streets blur past—just smears of colours and headlights in my periphery. My grip on the wheel is so tight my knuckles ache, but I barely notice. This is the same road that dragged me back to Wattle Creek months ago, the samebrokenroad I’d sworn I’d never set eyes on again.
Back then, I’d told myself it was the town that had pulled me in against my will. That it was some twisted fate or bad luck.
But now?
It’s not the town. It’s him.
It’s always been him.
Somewhere along the way, Michael stopped being the complication I didn’t ask for and became something else entirely. A place I don’t want to run from. A place that now truly feels like home.
