12. Zoey
ZOEY
S unlight spilled through the curtains, grazing my face with the gentle warmth of a new day.
I stretched languidly and smiled. But as the remnants of sleep dissipated, so did the blissful ignorance of dreams, and I remembered why that smile had found its way onto my face.
With a low groan, I pressed my palms into my eyes and tried to rub away the memory of last night.
“Stupid,” I muttered, chastising the flutter in my chest at the thought of Noah Alexander.
He was nothing like George, thank God.George’s identity was built on his ability to flaunt his wealth and use it as a tool to define himself and his social standing.
He’d seduced me with a life so completely different from the one I’d grown up in.
George had showered me with affection and lavished me with what he claimed was love, but it was just another of his manipulative tactics.
He’d blinded me with gifts, shiny trinkets meant to impress, but they concealed a more sinister meaning.
A delicate bracelet concealed the oppressive shackle that lay beneath its shimmering exterior.
A heavy chain was disguised as a glittering necklace.
He’d promised me the world, then pulled the rug out from under me. And I’d become a hollow shell of the person I used to be.
I felt the echo of that emptiness for a fleeting second before the image of sandy blond hair and understanding blue eyes pushed it away. Noah. Even thinking his name loosened the knot in my stomach. It was strange, that feeling of comfort when I was with him. Unfamiliar. Foreign, yet... welcoming.
The pillow muffled my groan as I pressed my face deeper into it. It felt silly to even entertain the thought that I had a crush on Noah. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Everything with George had been so dark and so recent, and here I was, getting fluttery over a man who’d simply shown me kindness.
He didn’t try to impress me or shower me with things I didn’t want.
There were no pretenses, no false promises.
Just laughter, honest conversation, and moments of quiet companionship that spoke volumes without uttering a word.
The ease I felt when I was around him was a complete departure from the icy animosity that George had always created.
“Stupid,” I muttered again, throwing the covers aside with more force than necessary. I needed to clear my head. “Get a grip,” I told myself as I got out of bed.
I needed to focus, not get lost in the dangerous territory of feelings and what-ifs. Noah was a good man, sure, but good men couldn’t fix broken pasts. They didn’t erase scars that ran deeper than the skin. He carried his own burdens, which I could empathize with all too well.
While the hot water in the shower cascaded over me, I tried to wash away the lingering thoughts of Noah, but my efforts were in vain. His amiable smile and gentle concern were persistent intruders in my mind.
I had to snap out of it. As I watched the water spiral down the drain, I wished my feelings could be washed away as effortlessly.
As I dressed, I heard Heather’s phone ring and her muffled voice as she answered. When I ventured downstairs to the kitchen, Heather was staring at nothing, her forehead creased with worry.
“Heather?” Nothing. “Heather!” Still no response. It took one more “Heather, earth to Heather!” for her to finally jump, her eyes snapping to mine.
“Sorry, what?” she asked, blinking rapidly.
“I heard the phone. Is everything okay?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
“Yeah, just... a patient at work. You know,” she said, lacking conviction with more than a hint of hesitation.
“Right,” I said, not buying it for a second, but if she didn’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t push. She’d come to me when she was ready.
I put the kettle on to make a cup of tea. Heather looked exhausted. She’d been putting in long hours to make her dream of becoming a doctor a reality.
“Hey, you’re almost done with your clinicals, right?” I asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to tell you how proud I am of you.”
She gave me a small smile. “Thanks, Zoey. That means a lot.”
I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, about this patient...”
“Let’s not talk about work,” Heather said, her words rushed and slightly forced. “How about we plan something fun today?”
“Sure,” I replied, though her sudden change of subject left me with more questions than answers.
The shrill ring of my phone cut through the thick silence that had settled between us. I reached for it, glancing at the caller ID before pressing it to my ear. “Hey, Sam.”
“Morning, Zoey. Mind if I steal Ro for the day?” He sounded excited, but there was something else in his voice I couldn’t quite place.
Was I imagining things? First Heather, now Sam.
“Steal him?” I chuckled, arching an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. “What’s the plan?”
“Me and a couple of the guys are going fishing. Figured Ro could use some guy time.”
“I don’t know, Sam. He’s never been fishing before?—”
“Fishing?” Ro boomed from somewhere behind me, cutting through my response with the force of his youthful enthusiasm. “I wanna go fishing with Grandpa Sam!”
I laughed, knowing full well I didn’t have a say in the matter anymore. “Well, I guess you’ve stolen yourself a fishing buddy.”
“Great! We’ll be over soon.” Sam ended the call just as quickly as he’d started it.
Moments later, I heard a car pull up. Sam entered, his sturdy frame filling the doorway. Ro bounced excitedly beside him.
“Ready for some guy stuff?” Sam asked, ruffling Ro’s hair.
“Guy stuff!” Ro echoed, pumping his fist into the air.
Though Sam tried to hide it, I noticed his enthusiasm was lacking. Since I was accustomed to George’s ever-changing moods, it was easy to sense Sam’s underlying tension.
“Sam? What is it? What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Sam said. “Today’s about relaxing with my grandson.”
Something was going on with Heather and Sam. Had I overstayed my welcome? Was it time to look for a place of my own? I wished they’d tell me rather than let me come to my own conclusions.
“Let’s go!” Ro whined, oblivious to the undertone in Sam’s voice and my concerns. As if they’d planned it, they both called out “Fishing!” at precisely the same time.
I laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within. They both turned to look at me, surprise etched on their faces, but it was Ro’s sweet smile that caught my attention. He rushed over and hugged me tight.
“I like seeing you smiling, Mom,” he said.
“I like smiling, too, kiddo,” I said, fighting back the swell of emotions.
He gave me one last tight embrace before rushing over to Sam. “See you later, Mom. Bye, Auntie Heather!” Ro called as he tugged Sam toward the door.
“Have fun,” I called after them.
The door closed with a soft click. I stood there for a moment, the remnants of my own mirth fading into a tightness in my chest. Ro pointing out my smile meant he’d noticed it was missing in the first place. I reached up to wipe away a tear.
“Hey,” Heather said as she wrapped her arms around me from behind and nestled her chin on my shoulder. “How about we do some girl stuff today?” She playfully spun me around. “Nails, shopping, girl stuff!”
Every twirl as we danced around the kitchen had more laughter spilling out of me, louder and more carefree than I could remember in far too long.
It felt good. No, that was an understatement.
Laughing freely was truly amazing, a liberating experience, with no thought to George’s opinion or whether he considered it appropriate.
“Girl stuff sounds perfect,” I said once I caught my breath. “I can’t remember the last time I did something like that.”
“Then it’s settled.” Heather beamed at me, her support unwavering. “We’re going to have a blast.”
“Thank you, Heather,” I said, giving her a squeeze. “I really needed this.”
“Anytime, Zoey.”
As we grabbed our purses and headed out the door, I felt truly free. Leaving my prison behind had been the hardest thing I’d ever done, but at moments like these, I knew it was worth it.
As Heather drove into town, I sat in the passenger seat and relished the thought of treating myself without having to account for my time.
Without having to justify every purchase, even something as simple as having my nails done, I could choose whatever color I wanted, not something that George deemed appropriate.
As my thoughts swirled in the mire, I felt suffocated by my internal struggles. I had to gather the courage to open up and speak to someone.
I cleared my throat. “Do you know a local therapist, or should I do something online?”
Heather’s hand found mine, her touch warm and comforting. “I discreetly made some inquiries, and everyone I spoke to recommended Elaine Allen as the most skilled in handling situations like yours.”
I grabbed my phone from my purse and searched for Elaine Allen’s information.
I called the number on her website, and someone or something must have been watching over me because she had a cancellation for later in the week.
Before I could lose my nerve, I gave my details to the receptionist and booked the appointment.
“Well done,” Heather said. “You’re doing the right thing.
A problem shared is a problem halved, and all that.
Having someone neutral who won’t judge is probably for the best. Anything you tell me is filed away, so when I meet George, he meets my torture file.
I’ve decided cutting his dick off and making him eat it is too easy.
There is so much more I plan to do if I ever meet the sorry fucker. ”
I laughed, as I’m sure was her intent. I wouldn’t spend too much time thinking about the upcoming appointment. I’d done it, and now I wanted to go out and enjoy my girly day. I’d stress about when the time came.