Page 54 of Broken Trails
So, I do the only thing I can. I stay. Her hand stays in mine, and I sit there until her breathing finds a rhythm again. Until the tension in her shoulders eases. Until she knows she’s not alone.
Not anymore.
20
Control - Halsey
I’m tucked in. Properly.
The doona is pulled up to my collarbone, my body gently folded between layers of pillows and throws, like someone took the time to wrap me in. It’s warm beneath the covers. Too warm, but not uncomfortably so.
Just enough to make me feel… cocooned. Protected.
Each pillow pressed against my sides feels intentional, as if someone placed them there to stop the world from getting in. Or maybe to stop me from falling apart again. The ache behind my eyes is dull but persistent, a reminder of the tears that have now dried. They’ve left behind a tightness on my cheeks and crustededges on my lashes. I swipe at them, blinking as the room slowly comes into focus. There’s no way I did this. No way I climbed into bed and tucked myself in so neatly. Which means—
Michael.
My heart lurches. He was here. That much I remember—barely, but enough. My stomach twists at the memory of his voice. The steadiness in it. The way he said my name when I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The fact that he actually came, without hesitation, and stayed.
Is he still here?
I glance around, but the bedroom is empty. I shift to sit upright, brushing the throw from my chest, and it’s only now I realise how heavy my limbs feel. Not exhausted, but… wrung out.
I’m still wearing the same clothes, though my shirt’s creased now, and the neckline is stretched, probably from where I must’ve curled into it. I swing my legs off the bed, my feet brushing the timber floor, and sit there for a second.
Breathing. Grounding. Bracing.
It’s almost peaceful in the room, apart from the low buzz of noise somewhere in the house. It’s faint but unmistakable. A deep, familiar voice.
I pad down the hallway, towards the lounge, and as I round the corner, I freeze. Four bags of cat food are spread out across the bench. Bright colours. Large labels. Cartoon cats grinning at me with overzealous energy. Four bowls also line the floor, each containing a pile of kibble.
All untouched.
“What the hell is all this?” Movement catches my attention, and I glance over to see Michael mid-crouch as he puts the cat down. I hadn’t even realised he was in the room. His brows lift as he straightens, a smudge of grease marking his sleeve, the collarof his navy work shirt creased. He runs a hand across the back of his neck and shrugs. “Uh… It’s food. For the kitten.”
“Yes, I can see that. But why…?”
“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. I couldn’t find her stuff, and she kept meowing, so I figured she was hungry. I downloaded this pet store app, and it had, like, a hundred brands of food. I panicked and picked the first four with five-star reviews.” He gestures to the scene in front of us like he already knows how ridiculous it is. But he also looks… sheepish. Not in an obnoxious way. Just a little too earnest for someone who clearly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. I don’t mean to stare, but I do.
He looks so out of place in my house. Freakishly tall, broad, covered in oil and dressed in work gear—and yet, for some stupid reason, the sight of him makes something in my chest shift.
“You do realise these are for adult cats, right?”
He glances at the labels, squinting. “Well, fuck. That explains why she didn’t want any of it.”
I glance at the bowls. Four of them, each carefully portioned out, untouched on the floor. “She didn’t even want to taste it?”
He shakes his head. “Not even a sniff.”
With a sigh, I kneel down and open the cupboard beneath the bench, pulling out a storage tub filled with her things. The moment I open the container, the cat appears—trotting with her tail high and hopeful eyes.
“Everything’s in here. I keep it organised so I don’t lose anything.”
He watches me quietly as I scoop her actual kibble into a clean bowl. I set it on the ground, and she immediately starts eating, purring with satisfaction.
“Well,” he mutters, “that’s just great.”
“You’ve never owned a pet before, have you?” Not that I’m one to talk. I guess we’re both new to… whatever this is.
