27. Too Heavy to Carry – Zoe
Chapter 27
Too Heavy to Carry
PLAYLIST: “ALL I WANT” BY KODALINE
ZOE
The steady hum of the hospital’s machines wasn’t loud, but it felt deafening in the silence. Each beep reminded me of how raw my throat felt and how much my body hadn’t forgotten the damage done—not just in the past few days, but in the past ten years.
The room smelled sterile, like it was trying too hard to be clean, to erase all traces of pain. But no amount of disinfectant could scrub away the shadows stretching across the walls or the ones clinging to my thoughts.
I adjusted the blanket over my legs, my fingers curling into the rough fabric as if it could anchor me. The tension in the room felt like it could snap in half, and I wasn’t sure if the weight on my chest came from the sterile air or the knowledge of what had been done to me. To Missy. To all of us.
Then Michael Carter stepped into the doorway, and the weight doubled, crashing down on me like a tidal wave. My lungs seized, anger tightening around my ribs. His appearance felt like an insult, a ghost dragged into the light after years of tormenting me from the shadows.
I stiffened instinctively, my defenses snapping into place. I didn’t even realize I’d done it until Roman’s hand brushed my shoulder. That simple, steady touch grounded me, a reminder that I wasn’t facing this alone.
Michael looked hesitant, unsure of himself in a way I’d never seen before. That, in itself, was unnerving. Michael Carter was the poster boy for confidence—righteous, indignant, unflinching. And yet, as he stepped farther into the room, his shoulders hunched and his hands twitched at his sides like he couldn’t figure out what to do with them. He wasn’t just awkward. He was afraid.
Good. He should be.
“Zoe,” he said, his voice rough, like it physically hurt to force the words out. “I—I wasn’t sure if I should come, but I had to. I owe you?—”
“No.” The word cut through the room like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. My voice burned in my raw throat, but I didn’t care. “You don’t get to show up here and act like you’ve suddenly grown a conscience. You’ve had years to make this right, Michael. Years.”
His shoulders slumped under the weight of my words, but his expression didn’t waver. His blue eyes held something I hadn’t seen in a long time—determination. Roman shifted beside me, folding his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing with barely contained tension.
“Carter,” Roman growled, his voice low and dangerous, like a warning bell. “You’d better tread carefully.”
Michael flinched but stepped farther into the room, his movements deliberate but shaky. It was like he’d convinced himself to walk into a firing squad and wasn’t about to back down, no matter how much sense it might make for him to turn tail and run.
“You’re right,” he admitted, and the rawness in his voice caught me off guard. “I don’t deserve to be here. But I had to come. I owe you an apology.”
The laugh that escaped my lips was bitter, sharp, and a little bit unhinged.
“An apology? For what, exactly?” I snapped. “For spending years dragging my name through the mud? For letting everyone in town think I was a murderer? Or for believing Cody’s bullshit instead of actually listening to me? Pick one, Michael, because there’s a lot you should be sorry for.”
His jaw tightened, and I saw his hands twitch again at his sides like he was fighting the urge to react. For a moment, he just stood there, silent, staring at me with that same haunted look. It was a look I’d seen before, but not like this. Not from him. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked under the weight of his regret.
“For all of it,” he said, the words heavy, dragging him down like an anchor.
I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he plowed on.
“I let Cody manipulate me. I let my grief blind me. Losing Missy—” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists. “It broke me, Zoe. But blaming you didn’t fix anything. It just made everything worse.”
The hospital blanket was rough beneath my fingers as I gripped it tighter, my nails digging into the fabric. My throat burned with unspoken words, but I forced them out, anyway.
“You think that’s enough?” I demanded, my voice trembling despite my effort to keep it steady. “You think telling me this now makes any of it okay? While you were busy letting your grief poison everything, I was trying to rebuild my life. Do you even know what it felt like to hear whispers every time I called home? To know what people were saying—what you were saying?”
Michael’s eyes dropped, the weight of my words crushing him visibly.
“I do now,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I hate myself for every second of it. Cody lied to my damn face for years, Zoe. He told me you—” His voice faltered, and he looked away, shame painting his features. “He let me think it was you, all to keep his hands clean. And I believed him. I believed him, and I let my anger ruin you.”
The words hung in the air like a noose, tightening around my chest.
“And now what?” I asked, my voice sharp and cold. “You’re here because you finally figured out the truth? After all this time, you suddenly decided to listen?”
“Yes,” he said, the single word carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. “Yes, Zoe. Cody lied, and I was too blind to see it. He killed her—Missy. And he stood back while I destroyed you for it.”
Something shifted in me then, not softening but narrowing, honing in on the heart of this mess.
“Why were you so sure someone killed her?” I demanded, my voice cutting through his guilt. “The official story was suicide. Why couldn’t you believe it?”
Michael stiffened, his expression twisting into something raw and painful. His mouth opened, then closed, as if he wasn’t sure he could say it aloud. Finally, his voice broke through the tension, quiet and trembling. “Because of my father.”
The air thickened as his words settled in the room.
“Your father?” I repeated, my brows furrowing.
Michael nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “When I was seventeen, my dad… he killed himself. With a bottle of prescription pills. And Missy—she hated him for it. She thought he was selfish for leaving us, for leaving her. She swore she’d never do the same. I knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do that to me, to herself. I was so sure because… because I couldn’t lose her the same way.”
The confession hung in the air, and for the first time, I saw Michael not as the man who’d screamed accusations at me for years, but as someone who’d been broken long before I’d ever come into the picture. It didn’t erase what he’d done, but it added a new layer to the tragedy we’d all been pulled into.
The pieces clicked into place in my mind. Their family had lied to the town for years, saying he passed away suddenly in his sleep, of natural causes. Now, knowing the truth, his fixation on Missy’s death made so much more sense.
“And Cody used that against you,” I said, my voice softer but still edged with anger. “He fed your pain and made you believe the worst of me.”
Michael nodded again, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his past and his mistakes was finally too much to carry.
“I see it now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But I swear to you, Zoe, I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”
Roman stepped forward, his presence a wall of solid strength. “Words are cheap, Carter. What’s your plan?”
Michael’s head lifted, and for the first time since he arrived at the hospital, I saw steel in his expression.
“I’ll tell everyone the truth,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “Every lie, every accusation—I’ll undo them all. You have my word.”
The fight in me didn’t die down, but something in my chest softened. I studied him for a long moment, searching for the deception I’d come to expect from him.
“It’s not just about undoing lies, Michael,” I said finally, my voice quieter but still firm. “It’s about making sure no one else suffers because of you.”
“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ll make sure of it. I swear.”
For a long moment, I said nothing. Roman’s hand brushed the back of my neck, grounding me as I tried to process everything. Finally, I nodded, though my gaze stayed sharp.
“Then we’ll see, Michael. You’ve got a lot to prove.”
He exhaled shakily, and a single tear slid down his cheek. “Thank you, Zoe. For giving me the chance to try.”
Michael lingered for a moment, his shoulders still slumped, his expression worn and hollow. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for—a nod, a word, something to tell him he could leave with some semblance of dignity. I wasn’t ready to give him that. Not yet.
Finally, Roman shifted beside me, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “You should go, Carter.”
Michael flinched at the cold finality in Roman’s tone, but nodded. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, but whatever it was died before it could find its way out. His eyes flicked to me one last time, and for a split second, I saw something there that might have been hope.
He turned and left without another word, the soft click of the door closing behind him sounding louder than it should have. The weight in the room didn’t lift with his absence—it lingered, heavy and suffocating, pressing against my chest until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Roman stayed silent for a long moment, his steady presence beside me grounding me as my thoughts spiraled. Finally, he broke the quiet.
“Do you think you can forgive him?” he asked, his voice low and even, but there was an edge to it, something sharp and protective that told me he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.
I let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the pillows, my fingers still curled around the rough hospital blanket.
“If I forgive him,” I said slowly, carefully, “and I think I just might, it’ll be for me and my own peace of mind… not because I think he deserves it.”
Roman’s brows furrowed, and he studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to find some trace of doubt or hesitation.
“You’d be doing it for you,” he murmured.
I nodded, my throat tightening as I swallowed hard. “I can’t carry this anger anymore, Roman. It’s too heavy. I’ve been carrying it for so long, and it hasn’t done anything but hurt me. I don’t know if I can ever really forget what he did… but forgiving him? That’s not for him. That’s for me.”
Roman’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring at the closed door Michael had just walked through.
“I get it,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I don’t like it either,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “But I don’t want to live the rest of my life letting what he did define me. I won’t let him have that kind of power over me anymore.”
Roman’s gaze snapped back to me, and the tension in his expression softened just a little. He reached out, his hand brushing mine where it rested on the blanket.
“You’re stronger than I’ll ever be, you know that?”
I let out a soft, bitter laugh, the sound surprising even me. “I don’t feel strong, Roman. I feel… tired. Tired of all of it. But if forgiving him means I get to let go of even a little of that, then maybe it’s worth it.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of my hand.
“If you ever change your mind,” he said finally, his voice low but firm, “I’ll still be here to knock him on his ass.”
That made me smile, even if it was faint. “I know.”
The room fell quiet again, but this time, it felt a little less suffocating. The shadows on the walls didn’t seem quite so heavy, and the steady hum of the machines faded into the background. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that maybe—just maybe—I could breathe again.