34. 34
In My Veins - Andrew Belle
T he car finally pulls up to my place.
It felt like that drive took twice as long as it should’ve, and I’m convinced Isla dragged it out on purpose. Michael groans. “I can’t move. I’m sleeping in the car.”
“No, you’re not,” Isla retorts.
He pouts. “I’m too—”
“Michael.” I’m already at the door, hand on the handle. “Out. Now.”
He salutes with a grin. “Yes, ma’am. You can boss me around any day, baby.” Imogen and Isla burst into identical fits of laughter.
“Oh my God,” Isla says. “It’s like dropping off a toddler after a birthday party.”
Imogen puts her window down to call out, “Use protection.”
Isla smirks. “And maybe use this as a sign you’ve finally moved on from that fucking jerk.”
Michael stumbles out of the car, wraps an arm over my shoulders, and we start toward the house. It’s pitch black. One thing about Wattle Creek at night? Unlike Sydney, there are no streetlights, washing the street in gold. Just one or two lampposts are struggling to stay alive.
The rest is pure darkness. I try to lead him carefully, watching my footing, his weight dragging into me as he stumbles with each step. He leans down, breath hot at my ear. “When we get inside, I’m gonna spread you open and––”
“The only thing you’re doing is showering and going to bed.”
His mouth drops open like I’ve just cancelled Christmas. But then my stomach flips. No, my heart fucking drops to the ground. Because parked out front, half-hidden in shadow, is a white Audi. No.
No, no, no.
I step out from under Michael’s arm, instinct pulling me backward.
My breath catches. “What are you doing here?” The figure leans against the car. Calm. Too calm. Liam. “At this fucking time of night?”
“I needed to talk to you,” he mutters. “I was hoping to—”
“To what?” My voice cuts him off sharply. “To stay? That I’d just let you inside?” My blood is boiling now, rage simmering inside. “How the fuck did you even find me?” I demand.
“Your mother,” he replies with a smug smile, “told me where to find you.”
The words gut me. She did what ? That betrayal stings worse than anything else. Michael shifts beside me, his body instantly becoming rigid. I stand my ground, despite myself.
“You need to leave, Liam.”
But of course, he ignores me. Instead, his eyes narrow in on Michael behind me.
“She asked you to leave.” Michael’s voice surprises me. As always, it’s calm. Raspy. Controlled. Liam tilts his head, recognition dawning slowly. Then a cruel laugh slips out.
“Oh, I see.” His gaze sweeps Michael up and down. “Moved on already, huh? That’s cute.”
“Don’t,” I warn.
Liam grins wider, taking a step forward. As he does, Michael steps in front of me, and the sensor light flicks on from the movement. Everything is exposed now—Liam’s twisted smirk beneath the glow of the porch sensor light, Michael’s jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might crack.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Liam’s eyes stay locked on Michael.
“None of your fucking business.”
He scoffs, stepping forward. “I think who my wife is fucking is very much my business.”
Michael takes a step too. “She’s not your wife anymore.”
Liam huffs out a low, mirthless laugh. But his eyes are dark, poisoned with rage. “She’s yours now, is she? I mean, really, Zoe,” he continues. “You used to have standards.”
My spine snaps straight. “No. I didn’t.” I meet his stare. “Now, I do.”
Michael’s breath is hard and uneven, his chest rising and falling like he’s holding back everything he wants to do.
“Fuck you,” Liam spits out.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” Michael growls in warning.
Liam’s lips curl. “This is what you’re throwing your life away for? A drunk teenager with no future?” His gaze cuts sideways. “You should be embarrassed.”
The audacity. He knows nothing, but I don’t care anymore about what he thinks or assumes.
Liam snarls, spit flying, before his lip curls again. “She’s useless now anyway. Just a whore.”
Before I can move, before I can even breathe—
He spits.
On me. A thick, wet glob that hits my leg and makes me flinch.
And that’s it.
It happens fast—too fast to fully process.
A car screeches into the curb. Headlights flash.
Doors open in a flurry, and figures pour out.
But I barely register them. Because Michael is already moving.
He lunges. One fist—hard, brutal—lands square against Liam’s jaw.
His head snaps sideways, body staggering back.
His spit and blood sprays across the dirt driveway.
Then another punch. This one is heavier, more savage. Liam grunts and stumbles, but manages to land one back, clipping Michael’s cheekbone. The sound of it makes my stomach twist.
“Stop!” I reach forward, grabbing Michael’s arm with both hands. “Please. That’s enough.”
I’m not saying it for Liam. Not even a little. I’m saying it for Michael. Because he shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have to bleed for me. And then I smell it. The thick, unmistakable stench of alcohol on Liam’s breath. And beneath that, sweet perfume. A woman’s.
Of course. He came here after fucking someone else. I stare at him, my entire body humming with disgust. How dare he come here, now, with her still on his skin?
Shouting rises behind me. Harrison. Xavier. Isla. Imogen.
They’re here . How?
Imogen barrels toward me, Isla close behind.
“He texted us,” Imogen says breathlessly.
“Michael. He texted before everything went down.” But I can’t process that yet.
Not with what’s unfolding in front of me.
Harrison’s got a firm grip on Michael, arms locked around his chest, trying to hold him back.
Xavier is on Liam in seconds, one fist clutching the collar of his shirt, towering over him like a shadow.
Liam, to his credit, tries to square his shoulders.
But he’s nothing next to Xavier. Puny, in comparison. Outmatched in every way.
Blood pours from Liam’s nose, streaking his face and chin.
“I warned you,” Michael growls, still held in place by Harrison. “That’s the last time you speak to her like that.”
Liam wipes his mouth. “Tell your fucking guard dogs to back off, Zoe.”
I step forward, voice steady. “No. I told you to leave.”
He scoffs, lips slick with red. “You think this is over? You’ll come crawling back. You always do.”
“No.” My voice is anything but uncertain. “I won’t.”
His laugh is cracked and bitter. “You really think this prick can make you happy? You’re too high-maintenance to last in this dump of a town.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Xavier growls, giving him a shove that sends him stumbling backward.
“Sign the papers, Liam,” I say, my voice turning ice-cold. “And get the hell out of my life.”
He spits more blood onto the ground near my feet. “You won’t last here.”
I meet his gaze, calm and determined. “Yeah? Just watch me.”
He lingers. And for a second, I think he might try again, that maybe his ego is still too inflated to accept the blow. But then, slowly, he turns. He walks toward the Audi without another word. But just before he reaches the door, he glances back one final time.
“You were always such a good liar, Zoe,” he mutters. “Pretending you were something more than what you are.” His eyes flick to Michael. “But you’re nothing.”
Michael lunges forward again, fury flashing in his eyes, but Harrison holds him tight.
“Don’t,” Harrison snaps. “He’s not worth it.”
And he’s not. He never was.
“You can have her now, mate,” Liam calls out to Michael, and I scrunch my nose in disgust. At his words.
Michael doesn’t flinch. “Already have,” he bites out. “No need to tell me.”
At that, Liam climbs into his car and slams the door shut. Tyres squeal against the concrete as he drives off, leaving nothing but the stench of whisky and bitterness behind. The second Liam’s taillights vanish into the black, Harrison exhales hard and mutters under his breath.
“Fuck. Feels like déjà vu.”
I turn slightly, catching the tight pull of emotion across Harrison’s face as he looks at Michael—like he’s seeing a version of himself. Or maybe the version of his brother he always hoped would show up when it mattered most. “I’m proud of you, mate.”
Michael doesn’t respond, not with words. He just nods, jaw tight, body still coiled. And then he strides straight for me.
His hand reaches for my thigh, for the spot where Liam’s spit still lingers, and does the last thing I thought he would do.
He wipes it away.
“Are you okay?” he asks, voice quieter now.
“I’m fine.” It comes out too sharp, too fast.
His brows twitch. “You don’t look fine.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I add, stepping back. “You’re hurt.”
He shrugs. “Don’t give a fuck.”
“Michael—”
“He doesn’t get to run his mouth like that. Not about you.”
The wall comes up so fast I barely notice it clicking into place. One blink and I’m retreating, stone-faced and stiff. My body knows how to protect itself. After years of trauma, it’s been trained to flinch when someone cares too much. He shouldn’t care this much.
“You should go.”
His whole body jerks, like I’ve slapped him. “Fuck no. I’m not going anywhere. Not after that.” He’s sobered up completely. His eyes are alert now. No longer glassy. Anger still burns behind them, but it’s grounded in something else.
Harrison glances between us, like he already knows this isn’t his place. He gives a short nod. “You sure you don’t need anything?”
“We’re good,” Michael replies, gaze locked on mine.
Xavier calls out from the drive. “We’ll call tomorrow.”
“Text us,” Isla adds. “You better.”
Imogen flashes a smile before she climbs in.
“And, Zoe? You’re not alone, alright?” The door slams. The engine fades.
And then it’s just us. I didn’t want this.
But the silence they leave behind isn’t empty, it’s loud.
Loud with Liam’s words, still echoing, still cutting.
I hate how they cling. How they sneak in and unravel me, even when he’s long gone.
My eyes blur. Damn it.