Damaged Heart (A San Diegan Novel Book 3)

by S. M. Soto

  God. I sound like a bitter bitch. When the hell did I become this person?

  Sucking in a lungful of air, I square my shoulders and focus on the task at hand—serving these drinks and getting through the rest of the night without tearing my hair out. Each was a feat in itself.

  Scooping ice into a cocktail shaker, I add juice then syrup and shake the damn thing violently. I let my anger out while shaking the canister. The ice cubes rattle wildly against the tin. I huff out an exhausted breath for my effort, feeling the burn in my arms from rattling the damn thing so hard.

  This must be what having a shake-weight feels like, I think to myself idly.

  “Shake any harder and your arms will fall off.”

  The deep cadence of the voice freezes my movements. My heart stops mid-beat and my breath gets caught in my throat. Lifting my gaze up, I find Alex leaning against the bar with a neutral expression on his face. When his honey eyes collide with mine, my heart wildly trips to life in my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve felt those beautiful eyes on me, I almost fall apart at having them on me now. My stomach churns like an overworked loom, raging with stress and adrenaline. My heart collides with my ribcage, bruising, hurting at his proximity. So much pain came from being near this man, I wanted to run and never look back at the life I started for myself here. I couldn’t contain the sorrow when I was this close to him, unable to touch him like I wanted to. Ultimately, I only had myself to thank and to blame.

  Pulling myself together, I inhale a calming breath and yank a frozen cocktail glass in front of me, pouring the concoction from the shaker into it. Most of the glass, if not all of it, is filled with foam and bubbles from my aggressive shaking. Growling under my breath, I pinch my lips together in anger as I dump the liquid in the sink, and start the process all over again.

  “Instead of a cocktail, maybe this time you’ll make a smoothie with all that shaking.”

  My mouth quirks in response to his playful tone. This time, as I make the drink, I’m careful with my shaking, not interested in creating a smoothie. I slide the drink across the bar to a patron and turn to Alex with raised brows.

  “Is there something you needed? I don’t take my lunch for another hour or so.” I say, thinking that would be the only reason he’s standing before me. He must be ready to take over my shift. He hasn’t so much as talked to me in two weeks. Why the fuck would he start now?

  Alex blows an aggravated breath. His brows dip into a frown and that adorable crease forms on his forehead.

  I’ve always loved that crease.

  It reminds me of our high school days. It reminds me of all the times he looked at me, deep in thought and that crease would appear, warming my heart to no end.

  “Sam…” His voice trails off as he shifts his gaze away from mine. “I don’t like this.”

  His words strike a chord. I slam a bottle of vodka down on the countertop in front of me with more force than necessary, bringing his attention back to me. His honey eyes bore into mine, and this time instead of being greeted with no emotion, I see sadness. The same sadness that mirrors my own.

  “What do you want from me Alex, huh?”

  I place both hands on the bar for support, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

  “I want things to go back to the way they were. I want to be your friend again, Samantha.”

  “I don’t think that would sit well with Masie,” I say, not bothering to hide the disdain in my voice.

  “Actually…” He trails off his words again, giving me pause.

  Hope blooms in my chest. I know it’s wrong, getting excited over the possibility of a broken relationship, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting it. Alex clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in front of the bar. “Masie is okay with us being friends. She thinks it’s good for the both of us. I’ve told her everything, so she understands.”

  That hope is crushed beneath the weight of his words. Pressure builds behind my eyelids and my nose. My heart shatters into a million pieces. Each jagged, contorted piece feels like it’s being smothered beneath him as he stomps all over it. I inhale a shaky breath, fighting past the pain lacing through my chest. It spreads through my entire body, leaving me feeling numb. I shift my gaze away from his pleading eyes and force myself to get back to work.

  “Yeah, okay,” is the only response I can manage. It’s the safest bet.

  I turn my back on Alex, focusing on refilling the taps or doing anything else that will keep my hands busy. I hear Alex’s sharp exhale from somewhere behind me, but I make no move to turn around and give him a sign as to what I could possibly be thinking. Resting my hands against the counter, I clench my eyes shut against the onslaught of tears. The barstool squeaks under his weight as he stands to his feet and I listen to his fading footsteps as he walks away, taking my whole heart with him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Past

  With an irritable sigh, I shove my books in the locker haphazardly and slam it shut. The metal clangs around me, prompting me to grimace at the vexing noise.

  “What’s up with you, firecracker?”

  I slump against my locker and fight the urge to roll my eyes at the sound of his voice. Shifting toward the source, I find Alex leaning casually against the locker next to mine. My gaze is drawn to the dark smatter of stubble along his jaw line and his plump lips quirked in that infuriating smirk that never ceases to piss me off.

  “Just having a shitty day,” I grumble. As if on cue, Marlene, San Diego High’s biggest bitch struts past, glaring daggers at me.

  Here we go.

  “Hope you’re headed to the cleaners after sixth period, Paisley. Isn’t this the fourth time you’ve worn that shirt? I swear you’ve had on the same outfit almost all week.” She fights the smile that threatens to spread across her face.

  Normally, her dig wouldn’t bother me. I couldn’t really care less if people know I’m broke here. So the fuck what if I’ve worn this shirt four times this week? When it’s all you have, you make shit work, regardless of what others might think.

  I feel the heat of Alex’s stare at the side of my head and it makes me angry that he knows first-hand just how rough things are. Turning toward him, I find him glowering at Marlene with his jaw grinding back and forth in anger. His show of anger over me and my circumstances makes me bitter. He has no right to me pity me or feel bad for me.

  I narrow my eyes at Marlene and smile coldly, “Why don’t you eat a dick, Marlene? We all know that’s the only thing you’re good for. And would you look at that?” I say, gesturing to Alex. “Here’s a worthy candidate. Have fun, dick-breath.”

  With that, I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk past Marlene and Alex, deciding to skip sixth period all together. Fuck it.

  I fume all the way out of the parking lot, toward the bus stop, ignoring the wide-eyed glances I receive in my hasty departure.

  “Sam, wait!”

  I growl under my breath and quicken my stride. Fucking Alex.

  “Christ, will you slow the fuck down?” he asks as he jogs up beside me.

  I shoot him a nasty glare that makes him pause.

  “Unless your rich, over-privileged ass is going to ride the city bus, I suggest you head back to sixth period, or hop into your car and leave me the fuck alone.”

  Mouth thinning into a grim line, he snatches my hand, halting me in place. His grip tightens around mine. “Fuck that. We’re spending the day together.”

  “Like fuck we are,” I say incredulously.

  Alex growls in exasperation. “Fine. Let me give you a ride.”

  “I don’t need a ride from you,” I sneer.

  “But you’re okay with riding my dick?”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re not cute.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. C’mon.”

  I follow Alex back to his sleek black Audi and slouch in the front seat like a petulant child with an attitude. The scent of leather and the distinct smell of Alex’s essence lingers thickl
y in the air.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as he pulls out of the parking lot.

  “The eatery at the mall.”

  Food, seriously? Is that all he can think about?

  I shift away with a scoff, focusing my attention on the scenery whipping past. Thick, gray clouds hang heavy along the sky, covering any opportunity for the sun to shine through. The weather is bleak and dismal, just like my current mood. It’s all fitting, really.

  In the fast lane on the freeway, we whip past other cars as I stare intently at one of the many beaches here that glide past the window. Waves crash violently against each other, creating whitecaps that I long to hear. When we pull up to the mall, Alex easily finds a parking space, forcing me to get out and spend time with the jackass.

  After eating sandwiches and a shitload of fries, we walk through the mall together with no clear direction. The silence is unsettling but as I look over at Alex, he doesn’t seem to mind—casual as ever. We spent most of lunch arguing about who would pay for my meal. Obviously, feeling bad for me, Alex thought he would offer to pay but I told him exactly what to do with his money and where to put it. Right up his ass.

  “Come on, let’s go in here. I need a new jacket,” he says, waltzing toward Nordstrom.

  I roll my eyes and glower at the lean muscles in his back. “Whatever.”

  I follow dutifully behind him as he expertly weaves through departments. Once we finally reach the men’s section, he turns to me with a question is his eyes.

  “Need a jacket or a cardigan? Whatever the fuck you chicks wear. It is kind of cold today, looks like it might rain.”

  “No, thanks. A little rain never killed anyone.”

  “Suit yourself,” he mumbles, thumbing through the racks. I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for him to make a damn decision already. I get the sudden tingle in my bladder, alerting me I drank too much iced tea at lunch. Shit.

  “I’m headed to a restroom. I’ll be back,” is all I say before spinning on my heels in search of the bathrooms.

  When I come back, my steps falter the second I see Alex and one of the employees in a deep conversation. She has short, brown hair that shines against the fluorescent lights in the department store. The ends graze the edge of her sharply defined jaw. The bob cut is sleek, and demure looking. If I had better bone structure, that’s definitely a hairstyle I wouldn’t mind rocking. The girl continues to stare up at Alex with googly eyes. I watch as she juggles a handful of clothes while trying to hold a conversation. I scoff.

  How pathetic.

  As soon as I’m in hearing distance, their heads swing toward me and their conversation ceases, prompting me to lift a brow in question. I watch in slow motion as the employee transfers the armful of clothes into Alex’s arms and turns to me with a warm smile on her face.

  “You’re a lucky girl.” She darts her eyes from the clothes to Alex and that’s when the realization hits.

  My gaze shoots to Alex, and that’s when I notice the clothes are all women’s clothing. Jeans, shirts, sweaters, you name it. My stomach bottoms out and my body vibrates with barely restrained anger.

  How dare he?

  He thinks because I’m poor, I need a rich asshole like him to buy me clothes, all for what? Because we fuck each other? I’m not a goddamn whore. I quicken my strides, closing the distance between us, my face pinched in rage.

  “Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

  “Stop, Samantha.”

  “You stop,” I shout, unnecessarily loud.

  Alex blows out a resigned breath, his gaze darting warily around the men’s department for any onlookers. “It’s not a big deal, Sam. Just take the clothes. You need them more than I do—”

  My hand suddenly rears back, striking Alex across his cheek. Tears of anger cloud my vision, threatening to spill over.

  “Don’t you dare,” I whisper hoarsely, close to breaking. “You had no right.”

  “Sam, please.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I say with a growl and a shove to his chest, prompting him to drop the clothes to the floor. Alex’s face morphs from shock to anger, then sadness as his face falls.

  “Sam, I didn’t mean it like that…” He takes a step toward me, but I dodge his advances, narrowing my eyes on him.

  “Fuck you,” I grind out as the first tear slips.

  I storm out of the overpriced store, ignoring the shocked stares from the lingering customers and the girl who helped Alex gather the clothes while I was in the restroom. Angrily, I wipe at the tears on my face, and quicken my stride.

  I push through the heavy department store doors out to the cool breeze of the parking lot. The chilly October air whips my hair around my face, slicing my damp cheeks in the process.

  “Sam.”

  I grind my teeth together at the sound of his voice. My fists open and close as I rein in my temper.

  Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him.

  “Let’s get back in the car. It’s cold out here.”

  My feet don’t move. They stay planted on the cement, refusing to take a single step.

  “I said get in the fucking car, Samantha,” Alex suddenly barks.

  I jolt at the tone of his voice and find myself moving in step with him back to his car.

  Once inside, we sit with the heater running, doused in silence. Neither of us dares open our mouths. I stare unblinkingly at the filled parking lot of the mall, refusing to acknowledge his presence. I haven’t looked at him, not once, since I slapped him in the store. I can’t help but wonder if I left a mark. One can only hope.

  “Samantha, look at me.”

  Grinding my teeth together, I inhale a deep, calming breath. I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting my body’s need to look at him.

  “Look at me, please.”

  Slowly, I shift my gaze to his. I’m taken aback by the look of torment in his honey eyes. This close, I can see the small specks of caramel and onyx.

  “What happened to you?” Alex whispers, staring at me intently, his voice tinged with sadness.

  “Life,” I say in a soft voice.

  “Why are you here alone, Sam? Where the fuck are your parents?” he asks, getting angrier by the second. “Let me help you,” he pleads, eyes filled with sincerity.

  I smile sadly. “My parents? Well, let’s see. My mother is a doped-up crack whore who wouldn’t even know who my father was even if he was right under her nose.”

  His jaw clenches in anger. He nods his head ever so slightly, indicating for me to go on. I steel myself, drifting my gaze to the never-ending line of palm trees outside of the mall.

  “My mom,” I clear my throat, correcting myself, “I mean Margaret, loved drugs more than me for as long as I can remember. Even as a little girl, I knew going to her ‘happy place’ was the only time she was happy. When she wasn’t high as a fucking kite, she was always angry and bitter. She looked at me with such burning hate in her eyes, I could feel it even though I was just a kid. I shouldn’t have understood the concept of hate at such a young age, but Margaret made sure I knew what hate was.”

  I shake my head and chuckle darkly to myself. “I was exposed to things no child should ever be. Hard drugs, groups of random men always coming in and out of the house. Margaret was always so worried about her next hit, she never once worried about how hungry her daughter was. She never once questioned my well-being. She just didn’t fucking care. And I hate her for that,” I whisper. “It went on like that for a while. It wasn’t until Social Services stepped in and saved me from her. I was so relieved when they came. Most children would be devastated, being taken away from their mother or family. But not me. I was so…relieved. I was over it—over her and her self-destructive ways. Too bad I didn’t realize I was being moved from one hellhole to the next.”

  I lift my gaze to Alex’s and feel his anger for what happened to me in the past hanging thickly in the air. Beneath the anger is pain—pain over circumstance, and life. The air aro
und us reeks of melancholy. I shift uncomfortably and lift my shoulder, feigning a helpless shrug.

  “So now you know why I’m here.”

  Honey-brown eyes search mine so deeply, I feel it in the depths of my core, behind my ribcage, and I feel it squeeze my heart so painfully that I forget to breathe. His eyes swirl with an abundance of emotions. Not used to being around so many emotions, I suddenly feel like an empath struggling with Hyper-Empathy Syndrome. I feel everything Alex is feeling, tenfold.

  “I hate her.” He grates out the words, prompting me to smile sadly.

  “Me too,” I whisper, fighting against the tears.

  The next day when I open my locker, tears spring to my eyes. Shakily, I place my hand over my mouth to stop any noise from escaping. Taking up all the space in the locker is a Nordstrom bag filled with clothes. My hand trembles violently as I place it over the plastic of the bag and close my eyes.

  “Thank you,” I whisper aloud.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Present

  After stopping for a quick breakfast with Aliza, we head to the Bar and Grille, the car filled with irritating silence. She’s been fidgeting and acting strange all morning. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what the hell is wrong. Expelling an aggravated breath, I turn to Aliza with a questioning glare.

  “Start talking, Ohio. You’ve been acting weird all morning and I don’t like it.”

  She lifts her shoulder in a careless heap and tucks her golden blond strands behind her ears. “I just couldn’t help but notice these past few weeks that you and Alex have been talking again. It looks like things are slowly starting to get back to normal,” she says with hope lining her voice.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out how to reply.

  Since our last talk at the bar a few weeks ago, Alex has been making an effort to be cordial with me, but it just isn’t the same. There’s this new tension that hangs between us now. It leaves an awkward taste in my mouth whenever he’s near.

  I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and focus on getting us to work safely. Any line of thinking regarding Alex is bound to be dangerous—especially while driving.