War of Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 2)

“Don’t boss me around, King. I’m not my mother,” I snap.

His jaw clenches. “No, but you’re my daughter, regardless of whether you have my blood or not, and I’m not letting this go. Make the appointment or I’ll do it for you. And I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to make sure you show up for it. I refuse to watch you slide thanks to some asshole who had no business being anywhere near you. I also refuse to allow you to become a victim. We don’t do that shit around here. You know that.”

His phone rings, a call he has to take, but it doesn’t matter because he’s said everything he wanted to. He’s made his point loud and clear.

I watch him walk away, feeling all kinds of things I don’t want to be feeling. He’s damn right that I’m trying to numb myself with alcohol. I don’t want to think about any of this; it’s a lot easier just to get drunk and forget. But if I know one thing for sure in my life, it’s that King never backs down.

Looks like you’re either fleeing the country or making that appointment.

Ugh, that bossy man. I take back every good thought I’ve had about King today. Right now, I just wanna stew over his demands and the way he’s going about them. Doesn’t matter his reasons. He could have given me longer than a day to wrap my head around this.

“Zara, I’m leaving,” Holly calls out from the garage. “You’re not going out tonight, are you?”

“No, I’m staying home tonight.”

“Okay. See you then. Have a good day.”

Well, it can only get better from here on out. That’s for sure.

“There’s my girl,” Tommy says a couple of hours later when I arrive at my best friend’s house. He’s lounging by the pool, his tanned abs on full display. His entitled attitude is also on display when he reaches for my leg as I walk past him. It’s not so much in the way he reaches, but in the way he touches me, like I’m here solely for him. Like I’m here to please him however he wants.

I smack his hand away with “I’m not your girl, Tommy” and continue on my path to my best friend Marissa who’s on a sunlounge next to Puck, Tommy’s friend and the guy she currently wants to sleep with.

“Fuck,” I grumble as I drop down onto the lounge next to Marissa. “Why are they here?” I already know the answer, though, and if we were having this conversation two months ago, it would be a whole lot different. I’d be completely on board with her reasons. Hell, I’d share her reasons. But we’re not, and I’m not on board. Not anymore. I wish Tommy and Puck weren’t here.

She looks at me over her sunglasses, questions wrinkling her forehead. “I see you’re just as grumpy as always. What gives?”

“I’m not always grumpy.”

“Well, you have been for a few weeks now.” Her gaze drops to my body. “And what the fuck’s with your new wardrobe, Zar? Why am I always seeing you in these ugly, baggy dresses?”

I stretch my legs out in front of me and wrap my arms around my body as I attempt to ignore what she said. That’s never possible, though; Marissa is the kind of friend who pushes and pushes until she gets what she wants. We’ve been best friends for three years, so I know the ins and outs of how she is, but lately I’m not feeling it. I’m not feeling her. And so I’ve started pushing back.

Without answering her, I check my phone for a text. I’m waiting to hear back from Holly about whether she wants me to grab something for dessert tonight.

Marissa sits forward before swinging her body around to face me. “Are you seriously ignoring my question?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Did you ever think maybe I’m wearing clothes I like? That your question was rude?”

“Oh, come on, Zara, that’s some bullshit and you know it. You’re the queen of bikinis and tight, slutty dresses. This baggy shit you’ve got going on is so not you. I wanna know what’s going on.”

“She’s right, Zara,” Tommy calls out. “I’m missing your tits and ass.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” I throw back, irritation flooding me. And not just at him, but at myself for having ever liked him. For ever wanting a guy like him as my boyfriend. I look at Marissa. “I didn’t come here for an interrogation. Can you just accept me for once and let me be me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she lashes out, the venom I only ever hear directed at other people, now directed at me. “Can I just accept you for once? What the hell does that mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it means, Marissa.” I stand. “I’m sick of always having to measure up to who you think I should be, and I’m done with bikinis and slutty dresses.”

She pushes up off the lounge. “I’m sick of your crappy attitude. Maybe you should just go.” The venom in her voice is now ice, and I wonder how this conversation escalated so fast. But I shouldn’t because we’ve been walking on eggshells for a while now.

Marissa likes surrounding herself with people who hang off her every word and do whatever she tells them to do. That’s been me for too long, but since we finished school a year ago, I’ve been slowly pulling away from her. I’ve opened my eyes, finally. And since the night I was mugged, I haven’t been able to switch off my thoughts that maybe we just shouldn’t be friends anymore.

Am I really ready to walk away from the people I’ve had in my corner for all these years? Because that’s what I’ll be doing if I choose to walk away from Marissa. Once you’re out of her life, you’re out of the group’s life, too.