War of Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 2)

I glance around at the house that’s been my second home for three years and a tumble of memories flash through my mind. Good memories. Fuck, maybe all this shit I’m feeling is just because of everything that’s happened in the last couple of months. Stuff that Marissa had no part in.

I run my fingers through my hair and blow out a long breath. “Fuck,” I mutter before pushing past her and stalking into the pool house.

Thank God she doesn’t follow me; I need some space to get my head sorted. Locking myself in the bathroom, I place both hands to the vanity and force out another long breath while staring at myself in the mirror.

Why am I so fucked up over shit at the moment?

I’m trying like hell not to think about the mugging or about anything that happened that night, but it seems the more I try not to think about it, the more I do think about it. Or at least, the more hold it has over me.

Maybe King’s right. Maybe a shri

nk is what I need.

I pull out my phone and search for one.

Holy hell, there’s so many to choose from. I narrow the search to my suburb, but there’s still more than I know what to do with. I mean, how does someone decide which shrink will be the one who can fix them?

I’m sitting on the toilet, deep in thought, scrolling through websites when Tommy bangs on the bathroom door, scaring the crap out of me. Not as badly as the noise this morning, but enough to get my heart racing again.

“Let me in,” he demands.

The small amount of panic I feel eases as I breathe through it, and I continue scrolling. “Go away.”

“Babe, I just wanna talk. Open the door.”

I roll my eyes. Tommy never wants to just talk. “No.”

Silence for a moment and then—“God, Zara, what the fuck is with you? I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately you’ve turned into the biggest bitch.”

I fling the door open and glare at him. “Fuck you, Tommy. And fuck your “getting somewhere” bullshit. We both know that just means you thought you were getting in my pants, and since that’s not a place you’re ever going to get, you should stop wasting your time.”

He scowls, but it’s quick and gives way to him entering the bathroom and coming so close to me that it forces me back against the vanity. With one hand to my hip, he says, “Why you gotta be like that, baby? I like you. A lot. I thought we could hang out this summer and get to know each other better.”

I put my hands to his chest and push him away, thankful that he doesn’t fight me. “I don’t wanna get to know you, Tommy.”

He cocks his head. “You did. Two months ago, I was all you were about. What happened?”

My chest tightens again as the memories of what happened two months ago rush forward. I push him again. Harder. Enough to be able to get past him and out of this room. “Life happened, that’s what.”

I’m out of the bathroom and halfway to the door to exit back outside when Tommy grabs my hand and pulls me back to him, flush against his body. “Whatever it was, I can make it better. Whatever you need, I have it.”

Yeah, he does. Tommy deals in whatever anyone needs to make a whole lot of shit better, but I don’t want any part of that. Not anymore.

“How about you leave me alone and go find some other girl to string along? I’m done with guys like you.”

As I exit the pool house, he calls, “You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re done with guys like me, Zara. You were born for guys like me. Just like you were born to wear a fucking bikini. When you figure that out, come find me; I’ll have what you need.”

I head for Marissa, finding her on top of Puck, his tongue down her throat. “I’m leaving.”

She drags her mouth from Puck’s. “Already?”

It strikes me how fast Marissa moves on from an argument with a friend. We’ve never really had a fight or a huge disagreement, but I’ve seen her fight with a lot of people. Sometimes it’s the end of a friendship for her, but more often than not, she puts people in their place—the place she wants them—and then acts like nothing happened.

She’s the cattiest person I know, and I’ve always just ignored it. Mostly because it was never directed at me, but also because I didn’t want to see it or deal with it. Life was easier when I lived in a bubble of blissful ignorance. These days I don’t seem able to ignore anything. It’s like life has screeched in, horn blazing, and demanded my attention.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“You still good for tomorrow night?”