Damaged Heart (A San Diegan Novel Book 3)

by S. M. Soto

I look down at the clean, comfortable clothes I’m wearing and the corner of my mouth twists ruefully. Ever since I found that bag of clothes in my locker, I’ve softened around Alex. Dangerously so. I just couldn’t wrap my head around him and his selflessness. After the way I treated him at the mall and the shit I’ve given him for caring, he still went out of his way to do something for me. To buy me something I didn’t have. It did things to me—did things to my heart that I wasn’t familiar with.

  I’m not usually an emotional person. I don’t get choked up over small acts of kindness, but this time I did. I wanted to thank Alex in so many ways. I just didn’t know how, or where I should even start.

  It’s been a week since he’s gifted me with the bag of much-needed clothes, and I still haven’t summoned the courage to thank him. I no longer believed a simple “thank you” would suffice. He deserved more than that. He deserved it all, and that was my dilemma. No matter how badly I wanted to, I’d never be able to give Alex everything he wants. I’m just a broke girl from Boston, who ran away with no clear plan. I have nothing to offer, other than myself, and I’m not even sure he’d like the real me if I laid it out on a platter for him.

  In a sense, I can see where Victoriana’s anger toward me comes from. She’s right. I am trash. There’s no denying her son can do way better than me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try to be someone deserving of his love.

  On one hand, I know any involvement with Alex would ruin any chance he has at a bright future. I’ve seen first-hand the way he drops everything to be with me. I can’t even imagine what it would be like if we were a couple. He’d spend every waking moment trying to fix me, trying to mend the broken pieces of my life together, completely forgetting about himself. And I don’t want that for him. I don’t ever want to weigh him down for my own gain. I love him too much to do that. I’m not afraid to admit it.

  On the other hand, I wanted to be with Alex more than I wanted my next breath. Even if I was offered mere scraps of his friendship or a relationship, I’d take it, because that’s how much I’ve grown to care for him.

  When I see his friends slowly trickle away down the hall, toward their next class, I push off my locker and stride toward Alex. My heart pounds violently in my chest with each step closer to him. I wring my hands together nervously, trying to find an outlet for all the anxiety suddenly roaring through my veins.

  He turns to face me, as if sensing my presence. His eyes widen when he gets a good look at me, almost like he’s shocked to see me. I swallow thickly and come to a stop at the locker next to his.

  We stand there staring at each other in silence for a long time. The world goes on around us, but we’re unware of what’s happening, too focused on each other to even give a damn. Finally, I shift restlessly on my feet, ready to break the silence.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice shaking with nerves. Alex’s lips quirk into a crooked grin and I have to fight back the urge to throttle him.

  Doesn’t he know how difficult this is for me?

  “Firecracker,” he says, by way of greeting, with a smile in his voice.

  For a second, I get lost in his eyes and the warmth I feel radiating from them. Sometimes they are like the sun: stare too close, for too long, and it feels like you're going to go blind.

  I clear my throat loudly, snapping myself out of it, and run my fingers nervously through my hair.

  “I just wanted to thank you for the clothes. I…I-I know I’m not the easiest person to be around and I know I’ve given you a lot of shit, but I just wanted you to know that I appreciate the gesture.” Alex stares down at me intently, his face the picture of seriousness as he digests my words. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me in my entire life,” I whisper hoarsely. I feel bare as the words leave my lips.

  Shifting awkwardly on my feet, I avert my gaze, too chickenshit to look him in the eyes. Alex’s warm hand suddenly captures my trembling one and he squeezes. I flit my gaze back up to his, surprised by the small show of affection. He closes the distance between us and gently tucks stray hairs behind my ear. His warm fingers send a thrill down my spine, eliciting a deep-body shiver. With his thumb, he slowly caresses my cheek like I’m prized doll, so fragile, he’s afraid to break me.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispers, his whiskey gaze burning holes through my skull. “I care about you, Sam. Way more than I should.”

  I smile. “Me too.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he says in a gravelly voice that has my heart toppling in my chest. I brush his comment aside and stare up at him soberly, needing him to hear my next words.

  “I’ll never be a relationship kind of girl, Alex, but I want you to promise me something. No matter how bad things get, no matter where life takes us, promise me we’ll always have each other.” My eyes tear up, but I fight them back. Alex’s face softens instantaneously, like my words have just plowed through his heart. “You’re the first guy who wasn’t just interested in me for my body. You’re the only person I consider a friend, Alex, so promise me, promise me I won’t ever lose you, no matter what.” Staring up at him, I implore him to give me this one promise. It’s the only thing I’ll ever ask for.

  “I promise,” Alex says as he continues to run his fingers through my hair.

  It’s not soft or luxurious like other girls’ hair, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, and that little fact makes my heart crave to let him in even more.

  “You’re so much more than you think of yourself, Samantha. You’re a wild card. You’re the only girl I’ve ever felt so damn protective of.” He grips my face in his hands and my mouth parts in anticipation, needing to feel his plump lips against mine.

  “Just to clear a few things up,” I whisper, “I’m still going to fuck your brains out any chance I get.”

  Alex chuckles against my lips. A warm gust of Big Red gum blows across my mouth, tickling my lips.

  “God, firecracker, you’re going to be the death of me.” He groans, making me laugh.

  A growl erupts from his chest as he leans down, taking my mouth in one fatal swoop. His tongue teases open my lips and strokes me to perfection. Our lips and tongues glide over each other’s in a heated dance.

  It’s a pact.

  It’s a promise.

  It’s the start of something devastatingly beautiful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Present

  Things between Natalia and me have been strained, to say the least. We avoid each other at all costs and even when we are near each other, we make no move to speak or share any eye contact. It fucking stings, getting the cold shoulder from your best friend, but I can’t say I don’t deserve it. I did this. I only have myself to blame.

  For the last three days, my finger has hovered over Aliza’s contact, but for some reason I haven’t been able to hit call. Why would she want to speak to me? Especially after all the things I said. She should hate me. I know I would. I already do. I’m so angry at myself for hurting one of the few people I love. There’s a very short list and I’ve been plowing through it without a care in the world, it feels like.

  Natalia strolls into the kitchen, avoiding me. Again. She flips through the overflowing pile of mail at the table and releases an exasperated sigh.

  “You have mail.” She tosses a plain envelope toward me without another word.

  Lifting it off the counter, I stare down at the handwriting and narrow my eyes. There’s no return address, just my name and address. My brows furrow.

  What the hell?

  The front door closes, alerting me to Natalia’s departure. She probably left for work or just slipped out because she can’t stand to be around me. Most likely the former. Maybe the latter. I can’t even tell anymore.

  I weigh the letter in my hands with my face pinched in contemplation. Who the hell could it be from? It’s not like I have any friends left that I haven’t pissed off.

  Nibbling on my lower lip in worry, I decide to throw caution to the wind and op
en it. Sliding my finger under the seal, I tear through it, shakily pulling out the single piece of yellowed binder paper. The paper still has the frilly edges from where it was ripped out of a notebook. My heart hammers in my chest and a shiver wracks my body. Swallowing thickly, I unfold the paper and my breath catches, lodging in my throat. Like the earth is tilting violently off its axis, I grip the kitchen counter for support, willing my pounding heart to slow. Bile rises up my throat and I grimace, swallowing it down.

  I haven’t seen or spoken to my mother in fourteen years, but I know without a shadow of a doubt, this is her handwriting. I feel it in my bones. My heart stutters violently in my chest as my eyes trek across the slanted words.

  Dear Samantha,

  I know this letter may come as a surprise to you and you may not want to read anything I say, but I need to at least try. I hope everything in your life is going well. I’m not sure where to start, there’s so many things I’ve wanted to say to you, but I’ve just never had the chance. If it wasn’t for that handsome man that came by, the one with the dark hair and striking brown eyes, I’m not sure I would’ve ever had the guts to contact you, but finally, by the grace of God, it seems I have.

  I don’t know much about you, or anyone in your life, but I do know that man loves you enough to try to fight all the demons and ghosts in your closet for you. I know life wasn’t easy on you, and I hate that I’m the cause and root of all your pain.

  I need to start off by saying I’m sorry—

  I immediately stop reading, and crumple the letter into my fist. White-hot anger that’s all-consuming roars through my veins. I grind my teeth together so hard my jaw aches. My nostrils flare, and my body vibrates with fury.

  How fucking dare he?

  I storm into my bedroom, tossing the stupid and useless letter onto my bed, and pace my bedroom floor. Raking a rough hand through my ratted hair, I release a pent-up growl. The sound is less angry and more wounded. It sounds like something that would come from an animal.

  Suddenly, my stomach does a violent flip that has me sprinting down the hall and bursting through the bathroom doors. I heave into the toilet, spilling the contents of my stomach into the porcelain bowl. I sob brokenly into the toilet, shaking my head, wondering why I had to have her as a mother. Why this had to be my life.

  Why couldn’t she have been normal? Why couldn’t she just love me?

  That last question breaks me down, piece by miserable piece. A ragged sob shakes my body, rattling my chest. Wetness coats my face and drips down my chin.

  When the tears have finally dried, I push to my feet and stride into my bedroom. I pick up the crumpled letter and stare down at it with fear. Fear of the unknown.

  I unfold it, picking up where I left off.

  I need to start off by saying I’m sorry. I was never meant to be a mother, Samantha. My mother was a druggie and sadly, I followed in her same footsteps. I wish I could say I was strong enough to turn away from the drugs after I had you, but I wasn’t. I used the drugs as an escape to forget my past, but I realize now, I should’ve paid more attention to you. I should’ve been a better mother. And for that, I am so sorry.

  After you were born, they tried to take you from me. You were this poor, helpless little baby who was sick because of the drugs I was putting in my system and feeding to you. I should’ve let them take you when they tried. But I couldn’t. I was so weak. I believed I could do it.

  When I looked at you, I seen the promise of a better future. For the both of us. You’ve always been strong, Samantha. You’re a fighter, even from birth, you fought to stay alive. You battled the drugs in your system. Please, wherever you are in life, don’t let your past define you. Be the woman I wasn’t strong enough to be.

  I hate myself for exposing you to the life a child should never have to see. For allowing all those horrible things to happen to you. I’m sorry I was too weak and strung out to stop it. I tried. But every time I tried to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I couldn’t find it. I wish I would’ve known then what I know now: you were that light at the end of that dark tunnel.

  I can only imagine what you’ve gone through after they took you from me. I know what life is like in the system and even if you don’t believe me, I tried to keep you in my custody for as long as I possibly could. I hope you have somehow made peace with the past and what has happened. I know it isn’t easy, but even I have tried to make peace with my past and all the mistakes I’ve made along the way.

  On the fifteenth I will officially be three months sober. I know it may not seem like much, but for me, it’s a start. I’ve relied on drugs for so long, I’ve lost sight of what’s truly important. My daughter.

  There hasn’t been a day where I don’t think about you, Samantha Faye.

  I miss you.

  Whenever you’re ready, or open to it, I’d like to see you.

  With love, from your mother,

  Margaret.

  Tears trail down my cheeks as my eyes scroll down to the small line of writing at the bottom of the page.

  Please don’t let the past ruin your bright future. You have a man that loves you enough to find me, even if it was against your wishes. Don’t lose that, Samantha.

  As I toss the letter on my bed, a frustrated sound tears from my throat and I pinch the bridge of my nose. Instead of feeling thankful for his meddling, I’m furious at Alex for speaking to my mother behind my back. I didn’t want this. Her excuses for my fucked-up childhood. None of her sorrys mean anything to me. They don’t change what happened to me in the past. They don’t suddenly change the person I’ve become today. They’re just useless words. I never wanted to hear any of this and now, because of his need to fix everything broken in my life, he’s trying to mend the pieces of my irreparable, broken family—my broken fucking life.

  I slip into jeans and a loose V-neck before I snatch my keys off the counter and I’m flying out of the house. I only have one thing on my mind and that’s wrapping my hands around Alex’s throat to throttle him. Anxiety and disbelief still course through my body as I drive through town like a bat out of hell. When the Bar and Grille comes into view, I manically weave through the lot, throw the car in park, and cut the engine.

  I stomp through the entrance doors and when my eyes finally land on Alex, I. See. Fucking. Red. With his back to me, I stomp toward him, ready to kill.

  “You motherfucker!” I shout. Alex whips his head around with wide eyes. The normal buzzing of voices slowly quiets to whispers, then stops altogether. All conversation in the restaurant ceases and all eyes fall on us.

  “Sam, what are you—”

  I don’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. My arm swings out, connecting with his cheek. I slap him across the face so hard, the sound echoes around the large expanse of the restaurant. The sensation of pins and needles stings my hand, causing the flesh to throb.

  “You had no right,” I grind out, fresh tears swimming in my eyes. His shock morphs into realization. His face softens a fraction and his honey eyes bore into mine, pleading with me to understand.

  “Samantha, I was just—”

  “You were just what, digging into my past? Speaking to my worthless mother without my permission?” I seethe. Alex’s lip curls and he takes a smooth step toward me.

  “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy right now, Sam. You and I both know there’s too many unresolved issues there. I was trying to help.”

  “Well, you’re not helping, fuck-wad! You’ve fucked everything up, royally. After everything I shared with you, why on earth would you ever think I want this?”

  His lips thin, and slowly, the calm Alex is replaced by the aggressive Alex.

  “Because you have deep-seated problems, Samantha. You hide under this guise of cuss-words and fucking, but I know that’s not you. It's a fucking front you’ve put up because of her! I was trying to fix that for you. You think I don’t know why you lock yourself in the bathroom while you take a shower alone? I can fuckin
g hear you sobbing over the water!” His chest heaves to accommodate his heavy breathing.

  My heart constricts. It feels like someone is jabbing a ragged blade through the dully thumping organ. I blink away the tears that are fighting to fall. The pressure behind my nose and the pain in my chest are unbearable.

  “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” I whisper coldly. My lip trembles with the force of my emotions. Steeling myself, I straighten my shoulders, wanting nothing more than to rip his heart out the same way he did mine.

  “For almost nine years, you’ve just been a convenient fuck and that’s what you’ll always be. See what happens when people’s feelings get involved? This fucked-up shit right here, Alex. You’ve screwed it all up, just like I said you would,” I say, wanting him to feel the flaying pain in my heart.

  “So because I’m in love with you, that makes me the bad guy? I’m sorry I care about you, Samantha! I fucking wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t have to worry about you and your goddamn problems every day!”

  “And I don’t care about you!” I scream hysterically. The dam finally breaks and tears course down my face as I lie through my teeth to the only man I’ve ever loved. “How many times do you need to hear it? Are you fucking stupid, or just mental? You mean nothing to me.” I sob. “If I hadn’t made it clear before, I’ll make it clear now: I’m never going to want you. I’m never going to love you. I can’t even fucking stand the sight of you.” I suck in a lungful of air and make a wounded noise as I try to gather myself.

  Alex’s lip curls in anger, but his eyes are shrouded in pain. I know my words have gotten to him. A heavy hand lands on my shoulder and tightens a fraction. Turning around, I meet CJ’s hard stare.

  “Get out, right now. I won’t have you disrespecting my friend, or my workplace,” he growls.

  “Fuck off.”

  Tossing his hand off my shoulder, I flip the bird to all the patrons staring at me with wide eyes on my way out.