Their Best Friend

Protective

Sammi POV

I glare at Grayson, frustrated beyond belief. He always does this—whenever I try to keep something to myself, he spills the beans. It’s as if he gets enjoyment from telling them things about me that I try to keep hidden. Zade stands there, waiting for me to explain, but all I want to do is hide the truth. I could easily say I lost my job and left it at that, but what about the rest? That’s a catastrophe just waiting to explode.

If I simply told them Paul fired me because there wasn’t enough work, they would believe it. But then they would probably go to Paul and find out I lied. The truth—that he essentially fired me because I don’t flirt with customers—would only lead to disaster. This is why I didn’t want to tell them, but apparently, Grayson decided to dictate my life even though he has no part in it or rights to it.

“Why? Come on, explain,” Zade presses, his patience wearing thin. “Grayson saw you there; you’re the fastest server, great at mixing drinks. So why?” He waits, watching me.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Paul said I don’t fit in, that I’m not ‘ideal’ for the job. Can I go now?” I try to leave, but Jax blocks my path. I nearly scream in frustration. They shouldn’t need all the details. It has nothing to do with them! Hell, they didn’t even want me to have that job to begin with, so why do they care now?

“Ideal in what way?” Zade’s eyes bore into mine.

Screw it. They’re going to find out sooner or later. “Apparently, I don’t dress like the other women, and I don’t flirt with the guys or entice them enough. And I don’t flaunt myself or get enough free drinks. I got three free drinks this whole month; Alexa got over twenty in one night.”

Zade steps forward, anger flashing in his eyes. “He wants you to prance around half-naked and throw yourself at random guys?”

“No, he wants his workers to do that. And I don’t, so I don’t fit in.” Paul didn’t outright tell me to act that way, but it was clear I wasn’t what he wanted.

“We’re going out. Stay here and keep the doors locked,” Zade orders, turning to leave.

“Are you serious? You can’t just go hurt him for firing me!” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Not for firing you, but for expecting you to dress and act like that just to make him money,” Zade snaps, and I can’t help but laugh.

“He didn’t expect me to. He didn’t even suggest it. He fired me because I’m not like that. Just leave it alone!” I plead, but Zade is already halfway out the door.

He stops and turns to me, his gaze cold.

“What am I, twelve? You can’t just order me around or meddle in my life whenever you feel like it!” I hurl a glass to the floor in anger. “It’s my life! If I need help, I’ll ask for it. Until then, stay out of it!” My throat burns from shouting, but I don’t care. I need them to understand.

“Stay out of your life?” Zade’s voice is low and menacing. “A life I made sure you still had? You think I’m just going to sit back and let you mess it up?”

“Don’t do that!” I hate when he brings this up.

“Do what? Remind you that you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me? And now you want me to just stand by and let you live your life without any help?”

“Yes! That!” I’m practically begging now. “You chose to keep me here, and I’m grateful, Zade, but it’s still my life. You do this every time! All I want is to live without worrying about what you four think or might do!”

I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I’m desperate for my own space. I glare at Grayson, who looks shocked by my outburst, his mouth hanging open.

“I’m not twelve. I’m not some child who needs constant supervision just because our parents died. I need my own life.”

Zade’s face hardens. “Fine. You want a life without us? You’ve got it. But when things go wrong, don’t forget that I warned you.” With that, he storms out, grabbing a beer on his way.

I watch as Jax, Zak, and Joel follow Zade out the door. Grayson lingers for a moment, staring at me before he, too, leaves.

Maybe I went too far, but I just want them to stop meddling in every little thing.

I didn’t expect Zade to shout at me. He never shouts at me. Maybe I pushed too hard? All I wanted was for them to understand that this is my life and they don’t need to interfere unless I ask.

Sighing, I head to bed, feeling utterly defeated.

When I wake up early the next morning, I know I need to find a new job. After getting ready, I head downstairs and find my brothers and Grayson eating breakfast. I grab a breakfast bar and wait, but no one says a word.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” I whisper, glancing at them. “I just hate how you get involved in every little thing without thinking or asking me if I want or need your help.”

“You wanted your life and freedom without us involved? Go ahead,” Zade says coldly. “We won’t interfere, but remember this, Sammi: when you need help—and you will—we’ll be here. But don’t forget that I told you so.”

His words sting, and I know I’ve hurt him. All I can do is nod, grab my keys, and walk out the door. I’m finding a job today. Maybe it’s time to move out and get my own space

I’ve left the fourth building, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Finding a new job is proving harder than I anticipated. Sure, I know a few places where I could get hired easily, but those are all spots where Zade, Joel, Jax, and Zak have connections. They would interfere, and I refuse to land a job because my brothers pulled strings. So, I drive out of the main city, heading into the next one, determined to find something on my own terms.

This new city is my best shot—a place where my brothers won’t know where I’m working or who my employer is. I can’t have them swooping in and taking control. For the next three hours, I hop from one place to another, facing polite rejections and empty promises. Just as my hope begins to wane, I spot a building that catches my eye.

Luxe Nights.

I sit in my car, staring at the sign. Luxe Nights. It’s a bar, the kind of place where I know I can excel. Bar work is something I’m good at, something I enjoy, and it’s exactly the kind of job I need right now. Taking a deep breath, I walk in, noting how the place is nearly empty. Of course, it’s not open until later tonight. The stillness makes me feel like I’m intruding.

“Can I help you?” A man’s voice cuts through the quiet.

I turn to face him. “I’m looking for a job.”

He approaches me, his gaze slowly raking over my body as if assessing whether I fit the image he’s looking for. After a moment, he nods. “You might do well here. Be here tonight at eight for a trial shift.” With that, he turns to walk away.

“Wait,” I call after him. “You didn’t even ask my name!”

He chuckles without turning around. “I won’t need it if you don’t make it through the night.”

I watch him disappear down the hall, his laughter echoing behind him. Well, that’s reassuring. But I’m confident I’ll survive the night—I’ve worked in plenty of bars and clubs. As I drive back home, I make a mental note to pick up some new clothes. Maybe it’s time to change things up and shed the image my brothers have imposed on me for so long.

Walking through the aisles of a clothing store, I glance down at what I’m wearing—baggy clothes that do a great job of hiding my body. For years, my brothers have been buying my clothes, making sure everything covers me up as much as possible. But as I scan the racks filled with short skirts and tight dresses, I realise that maybe it’s time to stop dressing like the child they raised. How can I expect them to treat me like an adult when I’m still dressing like the little sister they want to protect?

With newfound resolve, I pick out a few items that are far from my usual style—clothes that show a little more skin, that reflect the woman I’m becoming, not the girl I was. After paying, I head home with just a few hours left before I need to head to work.