Page 51 of Friends That Heal Us
I walk back to my truck, start it, and haul ass out of there, leaving squeals in the distance.
Adrenaline surges through me; beads of sweat drip down my face. My muscles are trembling, making my hands shake against the steering wheel. It’s making it impossible to focus on the road, let alone think straight. Every thought of what I could have done and wanted to do shakes me to my core. I held back for so long, and even now there were so many more blows I wanted to give him. But I still held back.
I spot a parking lot up ahead, swerve in, and slam on the brakes once I reach a parking spot far away from other cars. Ineed a moment—a moment to catch my breath before the anger causes me to crash. I turn the air conditioner on full blast. The cool air hitting my face causes goosebumps to rise on my arms. The mix of adrenaline and cool air causes a huge shiver to run up my spine.
Once my body feels more regulated, I ease my grip off the steering wheel, rest my head against the seat, and let out a huge breath.
I know I’ve thought about it a lot, but I don’t recognize Zayn anymore. The guy I grew up with, my best friend, my brother. The one who had my back no matter what. Even in the years I questioned our friendship, I never thought he could turn into this. An asshole who thrives on bringing Violet down. All for what? Because she’s putting her foot down and not letting him walk all over her. What a pussy. It’s shocking what he’s turned into and how fast he’s turned into it. I never saw any of this coming. The manipulative, deceiving lies he’s telling people now. Not just random people but Violet’s parents.
I let out a sigh and try to release my thoughts of him because if I keep letting them consume me, I’m going to end up going back there and kicking his ass even more because I let him off easy.
I glance out my window and notice the bank I use up ahead. And before I know it, I’m opening up my door and sliding out of my truck. I pull out my phone and call my dad.
An hour later, I’m walking out of the bank with a smile on my face because my next bright idea will help Violet get what she wants. What she deserves.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
VIOLET
I’ve been bakingand doing laundry all day, and then I cooked dinner. The moment I sit down, I sigh in relief at finally getting a break.
Ashley told me she washes all her bedding and a pair of pajamas so she gets in bed with fresh-smelling bedding. It helped her with her sleep, so I want to try it. I haven’t had many problems with sleep ever since Ez moved in, but I still want to see if it relaxes me more.
I sip homemade tomato soup. The warm sweetness coats my tongue, reminding me of my childhood when my mom used to make grilled cheese and tomato soup.
The sound of the front door opens, and for once I’m not consumed by dread because I know it’s Ezra and no one else. We’re the only two with these new house keys. Thank God.
“Hey,” he says, entering the kitchen.
My eyes trail over him. I notice the way his shirt clings to him, streaked with oil and sweat, and how his muscles flex with every movement. There’s something undeniably attractive about his roughness—the kind of man who looks tough on the outsidebut is sweet on the inside. Butterflies take over my stomach as I reply, “Hey. How was work?”
“Work…work was good.”
My brows pull together at the way he answers like he’s hiding something.
He takes a big inhale. “Something smells good.”
“It’s homemade tomato soup.”
His eyes grow wide in excitement, eyeing my plate. “And grilled cheese.”
I nod.
“Holy shit, that’s the best meal ever,” he says, walking to the stove and inhaling the scent. My eyes follow him. He halts his steps and turns back around. “Wait…can I have some?”
“Of course. I made it for the both of us.”
His grin turns wide. “I’m going to go hurry and shower. I’ll be right back.”
He’s out of my sight in a flash. I giggle to myself as I get up and make him a grilled cheese. At least someone is thankful for my dinners. A lot of the times Zayn bitched about it.
“You didn’t have to stop eating to make me a grilled cheese,” Ez says as he walks back into the kitchen. His hair is still wet from the shower.
“That was fast.”
“I’m starving, and this smells and looks really good.”
His earthy scent floods my senses.
