Damaged Heart (A San Diegan Novel Book 3)

by S. M. Soto

  “Just ruin the entire night, why don’t you, Ohio?” I turn on to the freeway, toward their place.

  ***

  Pulling one of the oversized shirts on my body, I pad toward the bedroom window and wrap my arms around Alex’s waist from behind. His body instantly warms me up. I run my fingers over the grooves of his abs and rest my cheek against his broad back and inhale deeply. The distinct smell of Alex and sex wraps around me, making me smile.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Trying to get warm,” I mumble into his back, making him chuckle. He turns, facing me, and cups my face in his big hands. Honey eyes search mine thoroughly, and I swear, I feel it all the way down to my soul.

  “I found a new place.”

  My brows crease together in a frown.

  “I’m thinking about selling this place. I found something better. It’s a three-bedroom with a bigger back yard than I have here.”

  “But I like this house. This is like my home away from home,” I say, pouting my lips up at him. He chuckles, brushing my wayward red hair out of my face.

  “This new home can be your home away from home, too. We can start from scratch there and build new memories together.”

  I take a hesitant, mental step back at the word “we”. Cocking my head to the side, I raise a single brow.

  “We? I thought this was your place?”

  His lips pinch together and he heaves a deep, tired sigh as he scrubs a rough hand down his face. “You just said this was your home away from home, Sam. I just want you to feel as comfortable at the next place. I wasn’t asking you to fucking move in with me.”

  “Really? Because that’s what it sounded like to me, Alex. When did we get here?” I ask tossing my hands in the air helplessly. "Discussing buying houses and shit? This isn’t us,” I say in exasperation, pulling my hands through my hair. I’m on the verge of hysteria. There’s too much happening, all too soon. First, connecting with his family, and now this: I don’t know how much more I can handle. I’m not cut out for stuff like this. A good time in bed? Sure. You bet. But the domestic shit? Hell no. Never going to happen.

  This is all my fault. I should’ve pushed him away when I had the chance. I’ve let things get out of hand. I’ve given him hope when there’s no hope of us ever having a future, not like the one he wants.

  “This isn’t us?” Alex scoffs, narrowing those honeycomb eyes at me. “I thought we agreed on no fucking rules, Sam? We were just going to roll with things? You’re having a heart attack and I haven’t even invited you to see the new place yet!”

  “You agreed!” I yell, my composure snapping. “I never asked for any of this, nor did I want any of it, Alex. You keep pushing me and there’s only so much I can handle, and this? It’s too fucking much.”

  “Let me guess, you’re going to run now, aren’t you? Not everything is about you, Samantha. This new house, it isn’t for you, it’s for me. Do I want to share memories with you, sure, but did I ever ask you to move in? No. You’re jumping to conclusions again, finding any excuse you can to run.”

  Spinning away from him, I gather my discarded clothes and my purse. Slipping into my shorts and sandals, I turn back to a fuming Alex.

  “I won’t be coming Sunday, either.” I toss the words over my shoulder before grabbing my purse and leaving.

  Just like I always do.

  The last thing I hear before I leave is Alex’s fist colliding with the wall. My heart stutters painfully in my chest, but I tamp the heaviness down, locking it away where every other emotion is. Once safely in my Jeep, I clench my hands on the steering wheel, closing my eyes shut tightly. I blow out a ragged breath. My bottom lip trembles and a tear threatens to escape. I slam my fists down on the steering wheel angrily, internally berating myself for being so fucked up. A wave of self-loathing envelops me whole.

  Why the fuck am I so damaged? I silently ask myself before peeling out of the driveway.

  When I walk into the quiet apartment, a sense of loneliness settles heavy on my chest. It’s so overpowering, it weighs me down, and I almost forget to breathe. With Natalia gone, visiting her boyfriend Luke, and Aliza off with CJ, both my girls are getting their happily-ever-afters while I’m still here in the same predicament I’m always in. Everyone’s moving on—everyone but me. And that realization has never made me feel more alone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After another one of my childhood nightmares, I power on the TV and scroll through my phone. When I’m finished checking Instagram and scrolling through fattening recipes on Pinterest, I search through my contact list until I find the person I’m looking for. Indecision clouds the air as my finger hovers over the contact name while I debate what to do. I want to talk to him, hear his voice, and have him tell me everything will be all right, but my inner self will never let that happen.

  And I hate myself for that.

  It’s been three weeks of no contact from him. It fucking hurts, but I only have myself to blame. He avoids me at all costs when we’re at work. I think I’ve seen him three times at most, and those were quick instances where no words were said.

  Natalia won’t get the fuck off my back about making things right, and I know Aliza feels the same way. She has to. Alex is Chase’s best friend, so of all people, she sees him the most. I hate all of this.

  For some reason, Alex makes me feel. I’ve gone most of my life blocking everything out, avoiding any attachments or feelings, but once I stepped foot in San Diego, that all changed. When the hell did I become this girl? With best friends, and a back-and-forth relationship with a guy?

  Shaking my head in anger, I lock my phone and squeeze it tightly in my hand. I count to ten in my head and breathe deeply until my mind is no longer conflicted. At the count of ten, I open my eyes, and stupidly unlock my phone and dial Alex’s cell number. With my bottom lip pulled into my mouth, I chew on it nervously, waiting for him to answer. Just when I think I’ll be sent to voicemail, the ringing stops, and the line connects.

  “Hello.”

  I jolt at the sound of a female voice. Disbelief courses through my body, throwing me off kilter. I wasn’t prepared to hear this voice. No, I was expecting Alex.

  “Izzy!” I hear Alex shout in a faraway voice. “Who’s that on the phone?”

  I lick my dry lips and open my mouth to say something, but my vocal chords refuse to cooperate. Instead of staying on the line, silently stunned, I hurriedly pull the phone away from my ear and hang up on the woman who answered Alex’s phone. My heart feels so heavy in my chest, it beats a dull and painful thud.

  God, how stupid am I? To think I was actually turning to him for comfort. I guess he’s too busy comforting someone else. I compartmentalize the aching in my heart and use that pain to fuel my anger.

  With my cell phone hooked back up on the charger, I crawl into bed, and let the anger fester. It simmers on low as I’m falling asleep, but well into the night, that simmer grows into a boil. And by the next morning, I’m raging mad, ready to set hell-fire to anyone that even dares to get in my way.

  Just as I’m sliding a row of shots across the bar, Natalia and Aliza perch on two empty stools. I wage an internal battle with myself over telling the two of them to fuck off, but they’re my best friends, and I don’t want to take out my irrational anger on them. They’re also all I have at the moment.

  “Alex invited us to his place tonight. It’s supposed to be a house-warming party. Are you coming? If so, we can all ride together,” Natalia says hopefully.

  “No.”

  I ignore their lingering stares, and continue busying myself with making drinks. I drop an olive into a glass of vodka, and move onto the shots of tequila that need to be poured next. For once, I’m actually doing my job, something the two of them need to get back to.

  “C’mon, Sam. It’ll be fun. We can leave whenever you want,” Aliza offers. “There’s free booze, and food,” she says in a sing-song voice.

  I feel my lip twitch, itching to bre
ak out into a smile.

  “Are you bribing me, Ohio?” I stop what I’m doing and cross my arms over my chest in what’s supposed to be an intimidating manner.

  “Yes,” she says without second thought or preamble.

  I furrow my brows and drop my arms. Jesus, I’m either getting less intimidating in my old age, or Aliza has become immune to my antics. Most likely the latter.

  “Fine,” I relent. “But we leave when I say. And if the food fucking sucks, we’re out of there, got it?” I narrow my eyes between the two of them, making sure they understand my stipulations.

  “Got it!” they both chime in giddy unison.

  Turning my back on them, I roll my eyes and hope I’m not making a huge mistake by agreeing to go. Booze and Alex are one hell of a mixture that is sure to lead to bad decisions.

  ***

  I give Alex the cold shoulder all night, even if my blatant disrespect does give him that burning pissed off look in his eyes.

  Serves you right, asshole.

  I’m being a hypocrite about all this, I know, but no one ever said I was perfect.

  Thankfully, I don’t run into Victoriana the entire night. Apparently, she had a prior engagement, which is code for: she doesn’t approve of Alex’s choice, so she’s not here to support him. Bitch.

  I’m downing shot after shot at his espresso wood makeshift bar. Alex loves to build shit. He’s an amateur carpenter. He makes his own dining sets, bars, and chairs. You name it, and he’ll make it. He’s talented, I’ll give him that. But he doesn’t deserve any of my good praise—not today.

  I can’t lie. His new place is nice, a lot nicer than the last, and that’s saying something, because I loved that house. The back yard is so big it’s stupid.

  What the fuck does he really need all this space for, anyway?

  I didn’t bother touring inside with the girls. I felt more comfortable outside, near the alcohol, where I was sure I could make a quick escape if necessary. On the second hand, with a big-ass back yard like this, I’m not sure how quickly I’d be able to flee the scene.

  I’m on shot number eight when I sense someone come up beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see it’s a woman. She’s young, with chocolatey brown hair, and a cute little petite figure. Probably another of Alex’s whores. I huff, and down another shot, allowing the liquor to cloud my rational thoughts.

  “Hi! I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Izzy,” The woman next to me says, and the fire in my veins boils to life. I tighten my grip around the shot glass and curl my upper lip into a sneer.

  So, this is Alex’s new plaything. The same one that answered my call the other night.

  Fucking perfect.

  I pointedly look her up and down, my anger rising when I realize how pretty she is. I’ve never been one to compare myself to another woman based off her looks or figure. It’s a petty game that I don’t take part in. I’m comfortable in my own skin, but fuck me, this girl is a lot better-looking than I thought she would be.

  I grunt in distaste and pour myself another shot, blatantly dismissing her. I hear her soft chuckle, and I swing my murderous gaze toward her.

  Does the bitch have a death wish?

  “It all makes sense now,” she says with a saccharine grin on her stupid, pretty face.

  “Glad you were able to solve your case, Nancy Fucking Drew,” I grumble in irritation. I itch to reach around her neck and throttle her with my bare hands, but by the power of Jesus Christ himself, I don’t do it.

  “You must be Samantha,” she says, forcing me to glare at her.

  I expertly pour myself another shot, never once taking my eyes of hers.

  “And you must be another one of Alex’s whores. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but that would make me a filthy fucking liar, wouldn’t it?” I say with a sneer. Her sweet little demeanor falls, and she takes a step toward me. The corners of my mouth lift into a satisfied smile.

  If this little thing really thinks she can take me, this won’t end well.

  “You’re not good enough for him,” she says heatedly, her face mere inches away from mine.

  My body trembles with pure anger. The words are so familiar—and true—they scorch my heart, burning up my insides.

  “And you are?” I shoot back.

  Izzy snatches the bottle out of my hand and takes a swig straight from the Jack. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t fucking want Alex, all right? And I’ll never understand why he wants a girl like you. He can do so much better,” she growls before she shoulders past me, stomping away with the bottle of Jack I was drinking.

  Her words play on a loop over and over in my head. “And I’ll never understand why he wants a girl like you. He can do so much better.”

  I reach for another bottle of liquor and blow out a deep breath.

  “Yeah, yeah, Izzy. I know he can,” I say under my breath as the alcohol starts to take its toll. Shoving a handful of potato chips in my mouth, I lean against the bar and glower at everyone who seems to be enjoying themselves.

  I feel him before I actually see him. My body tingles with awareness, and the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck stand at attention. I refuse to turn around and give him the satisfaction, so instead, I keep my back to him and continue nursing the bottle of tequila. After the asshole, Izzy, walked off with my bottle of Jack, I needed a real drink.

  “You’re avoiding me,” he states, as he gets comfortable next to me. His spicy yet familiar cologne wafts around me, infuriating me to no end.

  “Good-looking and smart. What do you know?” I say with sarcasm lining my voice. He’s silent for a beat while he pours himself a drink. Usually, since I’m a bartender, I’d offer to do it for him, but not tonight.

  Fuck him. He can pour his liquor all night until his goddamn hand falls off.

  “What do you think of the place?”

  My only response is a disgruntled huff. There’s a beat of silence again and I hope he takes the hint that I’m not in the mood to talk.

  “So did you get a chance to meet my sister yet?”

  “Nope. And I really don’t care.”

  “Oh, come on, Samantha. Please, for one night can we just pretend to get along? Izzy would love you.”

  The large swig of José Cuervo I was just swallowing comes spraying out of my mouth all over Alex’s clothes.

  “What did you just say?”

  He chuckles, and wipes off the excess drink. “I said my sister Izzy is here. Izabelle. You remember all the stories I’ve told you about her, right? I still can’t believe we’ve known each other nine years and you guys still haven’t met each other yet.”

  “Oh, god.” I drop my head into my hands and have to keep myself from slamming my head repeatedly into the bar top.

  Fuck me. I just called Alex’s sister a whore. Great.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His question prompts me to pick my head up. I stare at Alex and all his gorgeous glory, wondering how angry he’ll be when he finds out what I did. We silently stare at each other, until I break the silence by laughing.

  Yeah, I said laughing.

  In my alcohol-induced haze, I burst into laughter like a complete lunatic. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes and I clutch my stomach at the force.

  Just as I’m getting myself under control, I see a head of familiar chocolatey hair that shuts me and my stupid laughter right up.

  “Well, look who it is. The bitter, angry troll, my idiotic brother, and me, the whore.”

  “What the fuck, Izzy?” Alex turns to his sister with an angry glare.

  “Oh, she didn’t tell you about our run-in yet? Apparently, Samantha thinks I’m a whore. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Alex turns to me with wide eyes and I take another swig from José, at a complete loss for words. The way he’s looking at me right now…I know he wants me to explain. But I won’t.

  I never apologize. Even when I know I’m wrong.

  Call me a selfish asshole, but
it’s the truth.

  Alex darts his gaze between his sister and me as we both glare daggers at each other. So much for being best friends with his little sister.

  “Someone tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  I roll my eyes, and shrug carelessly. “I may or may not have categorized your sister as one of the women in your bevy of whores.”

  “What in God’s name do you see in her?” Izzy spits in disgust, turning to her brother. “I understand the heart wants what it wants and all that crap, but her? This is the Samantha you’ve been pining over for years?” she asks incredulously, with raised brows. “I don’t usually side with Mom, but she was right about her, Alex.”

  “Izzy,” Alex scolds in a warning voice.

  “Keep being the angry, bitter troll you are because believe me, sweetie, when I say you aren’t the only woman Alex has around. You’re not special.”

  Her words sting, but I always knew there was some truth to them.

  “That’s enough, Izabelle!” Alex suddenly yells, making me and Izzy jolt in surprise.

  She shoots him a glare and he meets it tenfold. The look he gives her would even make a woman like me cower away, and that’s really saying something.

  Snatching the bottle off the bar top, I push between Alex and Izzy to walk away before things get out of hand.

  “Great party, Alex. We should do this…never again,” I toss over my shoulder bitterly, as I search for Aliza and Natalia. I could kill them for dragging me to this stupid housewarming party. I knew this would be a bad fucking idea.

  What feels like thirty minutes later, I still can’t find Aliza or Natalia. I’m sure it hasn’t been anywhere near thirty minutes, but it sure as hell feels like it. After ordering an Uber, I stumble out of Alex’s new back yard toward the street for my ride. I carelessly toss the nearly empty bottle of José Cuervo into the shrubs lining the side of his house. I don’t hear the sound of glass shattering and that, in turn, makes me pout.

  That’s too bad.