Page 82 of All Of My Heart

“I can’t find Zoey and—” I hear a rustle indicating the phone has been dropped or…

“You can’t find her? What do you mean?”

“Max called me after she had a big fight with her dad and now we don’t know where she is.”

“Shit.” Nora echoes my earlier frustrations. “Maybe she went to a bar?”

“She didn’t tell me she had a favourite bar, though. Does she?” I ask, but don’t wait for an answer. “It could take too long to find her.”

“Where would she go after a fallout with her dad?” Nora mumbles to herself, and as I listen to her, a switch flips in my head, I know exactly where she’s gone.

“Nora, I’ll let you know when I find her.” I hang up and make my way back down to my car.

When I pull up at the shelter, the place is dark, the only light is the distant street lamps. If she isn’t here, I have no idea where she would be. I tense to keep the hope inside me flickering as I open the car door and sprint towards the building.

And that’s when I see her. A tiny figure slumped against the front porch, holding a bottle, glistening in the light from the moon.

I quickly pull out my phone and text Nora and Max to tell them I’ve got her.

As I get closer, her red rimmed eyes meet mine, and she dips her head back into her propped up knees. My heart drops to the floor with a splat. “Zoey, sweetheart,” I say softly.

The need to comfort her overwhelms me as I sink down next to her and scoop her into my lap. Her sobs harrow through my soul as she leans into my chest, and I want nothing more than to absorb her pain. “Sssh, I’ve got you. You’re okay,” I whisper into her hair, holding her against me.

“He took it, Harrison. He’s f-f-fucking it all up,” she sobs. The defeat in her voice damn near shreds me apart because this isn’t my Zoey; she’s strong and resilient.

“Sweetheart, tell me what happened,” I beg, needing to soothe her. She doesn’t respond straight away, sobbing and babbling into my chest. The vice grip she has on the tequila bottle doesn’t let me see how much she’s had to drink, but I can’t smell that much on her, so I’m wondering how drunk she actually is. If at all.

Minutes pass as I hold her. Letting her break in my arms.

When she quietens and stills, I briefly wonder if she’s fallen asleep on me, but then her blonde head lifts. Her usually bright blue eyes have lost the sparkle that I love. Her cheeks are wet with her tears. I lean toward her without thinking and kiss the tracks on her face. The salty taste coats my lips, but I don’t stop. I want to make her feel like she isn’t alone. I feel her body sigh against mine as her heart rate evens slightly against my chest.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, but is there anything I can do to help?” I murmur, stroking her hair.

She takes a long, deep breath. “He sent a business proposal over my head, straight to the board of trustees, Harrison. He’s trying to take it from me.”

“Your dad?”

She nods.

“There’s no way in hell I’ll let him take this place from you, sweetheart.”

“I emailed the board telling them that my father and I are no longer in contact, and the proposal wasn’t approved by me.”

“And how did they respond?” I ask, shoving down my anger for her father.

She sniffles and shudders against me, so I wrap my arms around her more to keep her warm. “Lance called me straight away to say he understood and if I wanted to change my mind, he has contacts, but I haven’t heard anything from Maggie, although I’m guessing she’s on Team Lance.”

“That’s good news,” I say, but as I feel the deflate in her chest, my own heart breaks wide open for her.

The sounds of the quiet night drift around us; the buzz from the motorway, the rustling of the trees, the beating of our hearts.

“How have I made such a mess?” she says quietly. I’m not sure if she wants an answer to that question, but I refuse to let her feel like this is all on her.

I soothe her by moving my hand to the tip of her shoulder and rub my fingertips in circles over her jumper. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Thisismy fault. He said I dragged you into my mess and he’s right. I mean, look at me. I’m the definition of a mess.”

“Zoey, don’t—”

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