“Happy backup birthday present,” she says, wiggling it between her fingers like a magician revealing a trick.
I blink at her. “Elena, you know I don’t smoke.”
She tilts her head, feigning shock. “What? This? You don’tsmoke? Bella, sweetie, I’m not asking you to become a full-time stoner. But look at your shoulders. They’re up to your ears. You’re walking around like someone who’s been in a perpetual fistfight with life since 2010. This ismedicinal.”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at her. “Oh, so now you’re a licensed therapist?”
“No,” she says, shrugging and inspecting the joint like it’s a rare gem. “But I am a very concerned friend who’s tired of watching you grind your teeth every time someone says ‘Mike and Peggy.’ Seriously, I thought your molars were going to file themselves into dust at that last court hearing.”
I can’t help but laugh, even though she’s not wrong. “You mean the hearing where the judge practically patted Uncle Mike on the back and called him a hero for trying to sell the housewe grew up in?”
Elena leans forward, eyes sharp. “Mike and Peggy are trash, Bella. The kind of people who’d sell Julian and Lila’s memoriesto buy a new car and still have the audacity to demand gas money from you.”
I sigh, gripping the edge of the table. “I just don’t understand how they can do this. To us. We’re his brother’s kids, for crying out loud.”
Elena’s jaw tightens, her eyes narrowing. “Exactly. You, Julian, and Lila arehisfamily. His own niece and nephew! And instead of looking out for you, he’s trying to rip away the one thing that connects you to your parents. Over what? Another used BMW he can barely afford the insurance for?”
Her words hit hard because they’re the truth. Mike and Peggy were supposed to protect us. After Mom and Dad died, they should’ve stepped up as family. But they’re more interested in using the trust to fund their latest midlife crises—fancy cars, vacations they don’t need, and upgrades to their tacky house.
And now, they want the family home, too.
“That house isn’t just a house,” I say quietly, my fingers curling around the edge of the table. “It’s the only real piece of Mom and Dad we still have. They died when Julian was 3, Elena. He doesn’t even remember them. And Lila…” My voice catches for a moment. “Lila was a baby. All she has are photos and the stories I tell her.” I blink hard, pushing the tears back where they belong, refusing to let them spill. “It’s the house where Julian and I used to play hide-and-seek in the attic, where Mom baked birthday cakes from scratch, and Dad spent his weekends fixing that loose front step no one but him ever noticed.”
Elena nods, her expression softening. “That’s why we’re going to win this, Bella. No way those two vultures are getting their hands on it. They can buy all the lawyers they want, but they’ll never have what you have—heart.”
I roll my eyes, but her words hit me somewhere deep. “That’s poetic and all, but unfortunately, heart doesn’t pay for legal feesor convince a judge that I can financially support two teenagers and a house on my own.”
Elena smirks. “That’s why you have me—and, apparently, some really good weed.” She waves the joint again like it’s her magic wand. “You’re going to need this, trust me.”
I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “You’re insane.”
“No,” she says, grinning. “I’m your best friend. Big difference. Now, are you going to let me light this thing or not?”
“Not,” I say firmly, grabbing my empty latte cup and standing up. “Because the last thing I need is to get high and start screaming about Mike and Peggy in a public café. Pretty sure that wouldn’t help my case.”
Elena sighs dramatically, shoving the joint back into her pocket. “Fine. But if your shoulders get any stiffer, don’t come crying to me when they fuse into your neck.”
“Noted.” I grab my bag, already heading for the door. “Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”
She follows, slinging her leather jacket over her shoulder. “And by ‘work,’ I assume you mean surviving your Botox-loving boss and her latest evil scheme?”
I glance back at her, smirking. “What else?”
As we step outside, the California sun hits us, warm and bright—a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in my head. But with Elena by my side, I feel a little less like I’m fighting alone.
“Hey,” she says as we reach the car. “Just remember, Bella, they might have money and lawyers, but they don’t haveyou.You’re scrappy. And if all else fails…” She pats her pocket. “We can always send the green monster after them.”
I burst out laughing, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it.” Elena grins, throwing an arm around my shoulder as we step into the parking lot.
“Debatable,” I mutter, digging into my bag for my keys.
We stop in front of my car—a 2005 Dodge Neon that has seen better days. Its faded red paint is peeling in patches, and the passenger door has a dent that looks suspiciously like a shopping cart hit it at high speed. The car was already a junker when I bought it two years ago, and time hasn’t been kind. I had to trade in my favorite car—a cherry-red 2014 Ford Mustang convertible that I adored—for this, just to keep my head above water. Saying goodbye to the Mustang felt like cutting off a limb. This? This is more like driving around in someone’s big mistakes.
Elena lets out a long, exaggerated whistle. “Ah, yes. The ‘Stallion.’ Still standing proud.”
I glare at her. “Don’t start.”
