War of Hearts

by Nina Levine

  Good God, no.

  “No, you get going. I’ll walk to work. It’s not that far.”

  “Zara, it’s raining. And cold. No one wants to be out walking in this weather.”

  I do.

  “I’m fine, Fury. I lived in Melbourne for four years; I got caught in the rain often.”

  His features settle into the bossy expression of his I’ve never forgotten. “I’m not leaving here without you. Go sort your shit.”

  It slams into me that while the years sit between us, unknown, it feels like no time has passed. And that scares me because he’s too familiar. Too intimate. Too much of what I’ve never stopped wanting.

  “You’re really gonna boss me around, aren’t you?”

  His lips twitch ever so slightly. “Really.” He gives me that word again, and I don’t miss the reference to earlier, which means I’m reminded of how it felt to have his eyes on me.

  God, it’s settled.

  You’re officially on my shitlist.

  “Jesus,” I mutter as I walk away. Letting him in was definitely the worst decision of my day.

  I dry my dress and put it on. I then fix my make-up and hair quickly because I don’t want to keep Fury waiting. I should, though, because this was his idea, not mine.

  When I finally join them in the living room again with “I’m ready,” Fury’s appreciation of my appearance stirs butterflies in my tummy again. I shouldn’t have bothered with the make-up and hair.

  He switches the television off, ignoring Noah’s protests. “We’re gonna drop Zara off at work and then I’m gonna take you to see Jane,” he says.

  The mention of Jane delights Noah, who smiles so big it makes my heart happy. “Jane!”

  Fury returns his son’s smile. “Yes, Jane.” He then grabs his toolbox and pulls his keys out. Motioning for Noah to come, he says, “Let’s go, little man.”

  The way the words “little man” fall from his lips hits me in the feels. Is there anything sexier than a good dad? I think not.

  Five minutes later, we’re all settled in Fury’s ute. Fury’s busy replying to a text he just received. Noah’s talking to himself in the back. I’m trying desperately not to commit any of this to memory. It feels too good being with him and Noah. I do not need to replay any of this morning later on.

  “Okay, where to?” Fury says, placing his phone in the centre console.

  I give him directions and he starts the car.

  “Holly told me you work in marketing,” he says as we get stuck in morning traffic. “You love it?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I worked for this company in Melbourne and jumped at the chance to move to their Sydney office when it came up. They’re good to work for and are teaching me a lot.”

  Don’t look at his arms.

  Don’t do it.

  Jesus, you did it.

  Fuck.

  You are going down, sister.

  I can’t not look at his arms. Or his legs for that matter. God is a fickle god. She forsakes me often, but she blessed Fury with far too many good features when he was born. One of his arms rests casually against the window ledge, extending to the steering wheel. His other arm rests on the centre console with his hand on his thigh. He didn’t put his jacket back on, and the sleeves of his blue T-shirt barely cover anything, leaving me with a whole lot of muscle and ink to stare at.

  I’m also drawn to his beard. His face was clean-shaven four years ago, and if my preference were to be asked, it would be a big yes for the beard.

  Fury is the epitome of masculinity. It undeniably blazes from him. And I’m helpless but to appreciate it.

  He turns silent while he navigates the traffic. When we come to a standstill, he hits me with a question that I know isn’t small talk. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

  The butterflies that still reside in my tummy flutter uncontrollably as I meet his gaze. And boy is he gazing at me. “Umm, no, but—”

  “You either are or you aren’t, princess.” His voice is all gravel as he continues to look at me with intense scrutiny.

  I smooth my dress, trying like hell to calm my wild attraction to him. “I’m not.”

  Those beautiful blue eyes of his smile.

  His features relax.

  “Good,” he says, and the way he says it tells me my heart is about to win this war we’ve been battling. There’s no way he won’t boss me into whatever he wants. Not when he speaks the language of my heart.

  33

  Zara

  * * *

  I survey the clubhouse bar. It’s Friday night and filled to the brim with men and women who are here to celebrate the coming birth of Texas’s baby. His old lady, Mindy, is sitting on his lap while he tells the story of how he finally managed to get her pregnant after two years of trying. She catches my eye and waves. We’ve always gotten on well and I’m so happy they’re getting the family they always wanted.

  “Zara!” Mum comes towards me, eyeing the cakes I’m juggling. “You have cakes!”

  “I told you I’d make them.”

  “I know, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to. You know, with just having moved in and all.”

  This week has been a blur of moving in, getting my stuff from storage, unpacking, trying to get my head around my new workplace, and making cakes for my mother. She called and begged me on Wednesday to do it, and I couldn’t say no. Not when she seemed so intent on holding this club get-together. She might have called it a baby shower, but I’m pretty sure it’s her contribution to keeping morale up.

  She ushers me towards the kitchen. “Holly’s on her way with more food, and Monroe and Tatum are finishing up the decorations out the back.”

  “Decorations?”

  We reach the kitchen and I deposit the cakes onto one of the counters.

  “Yes,” she says. “You can’t have a baby shower without decorations.”

  “And King’s down with this?” I can’t even begin to imagine him allowing her to decorate his clubhouse. She’s never done it before.

  She gives me a look. “Let’s just say we had a discussion and he realised what was good for him.”

  As she pulls packets of plastic plates from the cupboard, I reach for her arm and stop her. “Are you guys okay? I’ve been worried about you.” Being busy all week, I’ve had no opportunity to dig deep with her on this.

  She sighs. “We will be.”

  “What does that actually mean, though? Are you working through this?”

  After Travis was born four years ago, Mum had her fibroids removed so they could have the last child King pushed for. They started trying to fall pregnant two years after Travis was born, and it took a little while for her to conceive. Unfortunately, more fibroids developed and she miscarried. The doctor then recommended a hysterectomy, which she had nine months ago. Before the doctor’s recommendation came, though, King had already decided he didn’t want her to try again. Not after he’d watched her endure so much with the fibroids already. Mum was devastated, however. After fighting him on another child, it turned out she was the one grieving the end of her childbearing days. Between the stress of all this and the stress of club stuff, their relationship has been under pressure in a way it never has.

  “King isn’t in a place right now to get into this with me,” she says. “The last thing he needs while he’s dealing with club stuff is for me to say ‘hey, let’s sort our shit.’ We will, though.”

  “King’s always dealing with club stuff. It never ends.”

  “I know, baby, but this is the worst I’ve ever seen it. Trust me, he needs me by his side without question right now. He knows we have work to do, and he’s let me know in his own way that he’ll deal with it when he can.”

  “Okay.” I ease off her; it sounds like they’ve got things under control for now. Then, glancing around, I say, “Tell me what to do.”

  She shoves plastic plates and cutlery at me. “Can you please take these outside to Monroe?”

  As I’m exiti
ng the kitchen, she calls out, “Oh, and Zara, can you go spend some time with everyone? We need some of your positivity out there.”

  I smile at her. I love how she looks after King. She might drive him crazy with her crazy, but she has his best interests at heart. And because his club is everything to him, she works hard behind the scenes to help keep the club united and the members happy. God knows, if that shit was left up to him, his club wouldn’t be half as strong as it is these days. They’ve faced a lot of attacks over the past eight years and Mum has been right behind him, a strong queen who always has her man’s back.

  Stepping into the hallway, I make my way outside where I find Monroe rattling off a list of jobs to Hailee and Evie that she needs them to do. “Zara!” She stops with the list for a second as she takes the plates from me, and then goes straight back to it. When she’s finished, she says to me, “You are looking good, girlfriend. Did you get your hair done since I saw you last week?”

  “You always know how to make me feel good, Roe. I didn’t get my hair done, but I did spend some time on it this morning. I’m surprised it’s lasted all day.”

  “Oh, it’s lasted, sister. Keep that shit up. Now,” she says, glancing around us, “do you mind helping Tatum finish up?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Tatum’s working on the balloon decorations that have been set up around the tables they’ve readied for food and gifts. “Hey, Zara,” she says as I approach. “You can blow balloons.”

  I spend the next half hour helping them finish with the decorations. Holly arrives with food and we set it all up. By the time everything’s done, more club members have arrived with their families, and the present table is full with gifts for Texas and Mindy.

  Leaving the girls to it, I head inside to the bar so I can chat with everyone like Mum wants me to. Fifteen minutes pass, in which I chat and laugh and catch up with everyone.

  I’ve missed this, and happiness settles deep inside that I’ve come home to Sydney. The first couple of years in Melbourne were hard, but I knew I was in exactly the right place. Away from the source of my heartbreak. It would have been too hard watching him with Lynette. When I broke up with Angus, I was already feeling a sense of wanting to come home; the break-up was the perfect time to make plans to do that.

  “Zara,” Holly says from behind me. “Mum wants you to come and help her with the cakes.”

  I spin to face her, catching sight of Fury as I do so. He’s sitting at a table with Devil, his eyes trained on me while Devil tells him something.

  “Zara,” Holly says again, pulling my attention to her. “Shit,” she says, noticing Fury. “What’s going on with you two?”

  I don’t look at him again. He’s been on my mind constantly since he came to my place on Wednesday and I’m exhausted thinking about him. “I don’t know.”

  “You haven’t heard from him again this week, have you?”

  “No. And I’m not going to talk to him tonight. I need to keep my distance.”

  “Good idea.” Holly is super protective after everything that happened between Fury and me years ago, and while she likes him, she isn’t keen to see me go down that path with him again.

  “I’ll go and help Mum and then I might get out of here,” I say, leaving her.

  King is with Mum when I get to the kitchen. They’re discussing something quietly, and I’m happy to see her smiling.

  When he sees me, he reaches for her waist and drops a kiss to her lips. “Don’t wait up for me,” he says. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”

  She nods. “Cade has soccer in the morning. I can organise Mum to look after the kids while I take him if you’ve got stuff to do.”

  “I’m aiming not to have shit to do in the morning. I want to take him,” he says.

  “I can help out if you need,” I say.

  King nods at me. “I appreciate that.” Then, with one last kiss for Mum, he says, “I’ve gotta go.”

  She watches him walk out, worry in her eyes. “If I don’t take smoking back up, it’ll be a bloody miracle.”

  “Has King taken it back up?” King finally quit the smokes three years ago.

  “No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he does.” She looks at the cakes. “Okay, let’s get this done. Mindy is hanging out for your cake. She was so excited when I told her you were making it for her.”

  Together, we get the cakes ready. I made three: a white velvet buttermilk cake, a chocolate Oreo cake, and a mocha toffee crunch cake. I remembered that Mindy used to love Oreos, so I hope she still does.

  I’m halfway down the hallway with one of the cakes when I run into Fury.

  “Here,” he says. “Let me carry that.”

  “Thank you.” I pass the cake. “Can you just put it on that main table outside? The one with the balloons on it.”

  He nods, and I turn to go back to the kitchen to grab another cake, but he stops me when he says, “This is some cake, princess. You made it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You baked instead of drinking?”

  He’s watching me closely, but that’s not what slows me. It’s what I hear in his voice that does that. It’s an ache of pain and regret, and I know what he’s saying even though he’s asking me a question. I’m sorry I hurt you.

  “Yes,” I say softly. “And I took up boxing.” I smile. “That shit was good for what I needed.”

  He doesn’t smile. And oh God, I wish I could soothe his ache. He might have hurt me, but he didn’t do it intentionally. “I hope you kicked his ass.”

  We’re talking about a “him” as if I kicked some guy’s ass, but he’s talking about his own ass, and I can’t help but allow him further into my heart for this. For caring about me like this. “It wasn’t his ass that needed kicking. It was the universe’s ass I kicked.”

  His gaze shifts to look behind me and I turn to see Mum coming our way carrying one of the other cakes. I look back at him. “There’s still one more cake I’ve gotta get. Thanks for taking that one.”

  I hurry back to the kitchen to retrieve the cake. And to escape him. However, we meet again on my way out. He takes this cake from me, too, but we’re surrounded by people on their way outside, so we don’t get into another conversation.

  I stay at the clubhouse for another twenty minutes before slipping away. I tell Mum I’m tired after a long week and because she’s busy with everything, she lets me go without argument.

  When I arrive home, I know it’s a night for a long bath. After seeing Fury, I have a lot of stuff to work through, and a bath is the best place for that.

  Just after 10:00 p.m., my intercom buzzes, dragging me off the couch where I’ve been watching Friends reruns. Figuring it’s Holly, I press the intercom button and say, “It’s late, Hols, and I was too snuggly warm on the couch for this, but if you brought me cake leftovers, I’ll let you in.”

  A deep rumble surprises me. “It’s not Holly.”

  Shit.

  Fury.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “You gonna let me in or you wanna keep talking through the intercom?”

  Double shit.

  I press the button to let him up and then run into my bathroom to check my hair and face.

  Of course I do.

  Ugh.

  Why do I care how I look when I don’t want to encourage him?

  There’s only one answer to that and I avoid thinking about it.

  He knocks on the door and I open it, but I don’t let him in.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, only allowing the door halfway open.

  His eyes don’t leave my face. “Why do I get the impression you’re avoiding me?”

  “Because I am.”

  “Why?”

  I want to forget the pain of the last four years.

  I want to tangle my fingers in his hair.

  I want to reach out and pull him inside.

  But I do none of those things. “I can’t do this, Fury. Not again.”

 
He puts his hand to the door and opens it further. His eyes search mine, pushing me for something I’m not sure I have to give. “Things are different now.”

  “I know, but still….”

  “There’s nothing that will get in our way this time.”

  “You don’t know that. We can’t know the future.”

  He cups my face, unleashing a torrent of need in me. “I do know that and I can predict the future. I’m not a perfect man, and I make many mistakes, but I won’t make the same mistake I made with you last time, Zara.”

  My heart beats faster. I want to believe him so badly. I grip his forearm. “I won’t survive you twice, Fury.”

  He angles his face closer. “Baby, you won’t have to.” His lips crash down onto mine as his hand slides into my hair, and I abandon myself to him. I can’t resist what I desperately want for another second.

  His other hand comes to my waist and he grips me tightly like he never wants to let me go again. Walking me backwards, he enters the apartment, kicking the door shut as he goes. He keeps his lips glued to mine the entire time while our tongues show each other our need.

  My heart is winning this war, but my head isn’t surrendering yet. Putting my hands to his face, I push him away. “No.” The word falls from my mouth breathlessly.

  Fury’s face twists with worry. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He drops his hands. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

  My thoughts are a racing mess, but I realise he misunderstood. Shaking my head, I say, “No, it’s okay. I don’t struggle with being touched anymore.”

  His worry eases and he reaches for me again. “You want this, Zara. What’s stopping you?”

  I hate how easily my body moves into his. I do manage, though, to put my hand to his chest and slow him down. “Four years of heartbreak are stopping me. I know you’re saying you won’t make the same choice again, but I’m not sure I can take that chance.”

  “I was being deadly serious when I said that.” Ignoring my hand to his chest, he backs me against the kitchen counter. He slides one hand around my waist and cups the back of my neck with the other, all before I can stop him. “There hasn’t been a day go by in the last four years that I haven’t thought about you, princess. I won’t put either of us through that again.”