Page 22 of Broken Trails
I don’t bother to answer. I don’t even glance her way as I grab my bag from the back of the chair. My mother says something, but her voice fades into the background as I step away. I let the door close behind me.
The cold air outside slaps me in the face, which is a relief from the stifling weight of being inside that house. I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs, and start walking to my car.
I wrench the door open and slam it shut behind me, and my forehead comes to rest against the steering wheel. My mother’s silent judgement clings like smoke, seeping into my lungs, curling tight around my ribs until it’s hard to breathe. No matter how much distance I put between us, no matter how many years slip by, it always finds me. Always digs its claws in.
I force the feeling down, jam my key in, and pull out onto the road. As I do, my phone rings and my chest seizes at the name on the screen.
Liam.
I stab at the decline button without thinking. Not now. Not today. The screen lights up again almost instantly. I blow out a breath, aiming for annoyance, but it slips out shakily instead. My fingers won’t stop trembling, and my pulse hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat.
I could let it ring out, but I know better. He won’t quit. He never does. With a muttered curse, I ease the car to the shoulder, tyres crunching over dirt.
I need to be still for this. The second I swipe to answer, his voice slices through the silence.
“Are you fucking serious, Zoe? I have to sit here and lie to people about where you are. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
A dry laugh slips out. “I’ll tell you what’s embarrassing—being a weak, lying cheat who can’t even own what he’s done. Who couldn’t even keep his dick in his pants at the sight of another woman. It’s pathetic, and you should be fucking embarrassed, Liam. Might actually do you some good for once.” When he doesn’t answer right away, I press on. “And there’s no need to fucking lie. Everyone already knows what happened.”
“Say whatever you want, Zoe. No one will believe you.” His sharp inhale crackles through the line. “Just get your fucking ass back home. We’re together.”
“We are definitely not together anymore. Was I not clear enough that night?”
“You think I don’t know you ran straight back to your parents? I spoke to your mother.”
Of course he did. I knew that would happen. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her.
“You can believe whatever she says,” I tell him. “You know nothing. So stop acting like you give a fuck about me. You never did. You sure as hell didn’t when you had your dick buried in your fucking assistant, did you?” My grip tightens around the phone, the plastic biting into my palm. “So, fuck you, Liam. And here’s the truth… I stopped giving a fuck about you a long time ago.”
The words burn coming out, but the worst part isn’t saying them. It’s the way my chest caves in at the thought of it all afterwards.
Seven years.
I spent seven years trying to mould myself into someone else, someone easier, more accommodating. Seven years convincing myself that if I were just more patient, more understanding, I could make a marriage built on obligation and expectation work.
No. Seven years I wasted.
That’s what hurts the most. Not the betrayal. Not the lies. But the time I will never get back.
Liam exhales hard, and his voice drops lower, almost a growl. “Enough, Zoe. It was a stupid mistake. She means nothing to me.”
“Oh, and I do? Fuck off with that bullshit, Liam.”
His control snaps. “Come the fuck home, Zoe. I’m not gonna ask you again. You’re still my wife. Stop acting like an immature teenager.”
Was.
“What?” he bites out.
I hadn’t realised I said that out loud. I clear my throat. “I was your wife. I meant it when I said I was done.”
His breathing turns heavy, as if he’s physically holding himself back. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”
I stare at the empty road ahead, hands gripping the wheel. “No, Liam. I’m finally making it easy.”
“Zoe—”
I hang up before he can get another word in and power my phone off. For a minute, I just sit there, staring at the stretch of road ahead. My chest is tight, my breathing is jagged, and the weight of it all presses in. My vision blurs, but I force the tears back where they came from.
