Enemies

by Tijan

Inside of me, total stillness.

I knelt and finished grabbing everything that had fallen. Piece by piece, I put it back in my purse. My backpack. It was as if Stone wasn’t there. As if no one was there. As if he hadn’t just told me how my life as I knew it had ended that day. It was as if none of those events happened, and standing, I just turned and went to my car.

“Dusty.” Stone came after me. I ignored him. Walking out of the fence, going to my car, I glanced up at him as I unlocked my car. A stranger. That’s what he was to me now. And he saw it, too, because he reared back on his feet, a curse falling swiftly from his lips. Then I got in my car, started it, and backed up, all the while staring at a stranger. I kept backing up, and then I heard a shout before I felt the impact, followed by metal crunching, glass shattering, screams, and then blessed, blessed darkness. Peace.

The beeping woke me up. Then the pain really woke me up. I jolted, immediately screamed from the pain, but it was muffled and I realized I had something gagging me. Reaching up, breaking off whatever was holding my arm in place, I reached for whatever was in my throat and I started to pull it out. Up. Up. Then—out, and I was gagging.

That someone shoved between me and the nurse. It was a him.

It was Stone.

“She’ll stay with me. I’ll drive her there.” I opened my mouth to argue, but no sound came out as Stone sent me a withering look. “All your shit’s already been moved.” Well. That shut me up.

Then it was just me and Stone, and his hands went up to his head. He let out a sharp breath. “Fucking hell!” Bending over, touching his elbows to his knees, he swiftly jerked back up, his hands falling, and a stark look was there. Anger. Frustration. Pity. A whole mix of other things, but he was shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Dusty. You know how the last few days have been?” Anger sliced through my chest, and since I couldn’t speak, I mouthed at him, “Fuck. Off.”

He read it, and then his lip twitched before a full laugh left him. “Shit. There you are. Still fucking fighting while you’re literally bed-ridden. I have no clue why I’ve stayed away.” His tone turned mocking, a hardness lining his words, and I felt slapped by his words, but also comforted because that felt like familiar ground for us.

I couldn’t voice my question, so I motioned toward where his phone was on the nightstand. He frowned. “You can’t talk at all.” I made a writing gesture with my hand. “Oh!” He grabbed his phone, pulling up a notepad app, and handed it to me. I typed out, “Where are they buried?” And handed it to him. “By your mom.” Relief tamped down some of the pain. It was a little more manageable.

I reached for his phone again, then typed, “Costs?”

He swung those stormy eyes back my way, hot and angry. “What? What do you want me to say? You’re going to freak the fuck out when I answer you, but I don’t even care.” He shot forward, scooting to the edge of his seat. “I don’t give a fuck. You want to know about the costs? There are none. Wanna know why?” His chest was rising up and down, his eyes almost going wild. “Because I fucking paid for everything. Hospital, too. No. Not my parents. No, not your aunt. And goddammit, no way in hell, not you. Because after you lit all that shit up for me about what happened, I did my own digging and found out what my father did to yours. And I’m sorry, okay?!” He was almost shouting.

“I paid for goddamn everything, and you don’t get to sit there and hate me because of it. Not another thing on the list. You want to pay me back? Because I know you probably will keep a fucking tally till the day you end up in an old folks’ home, fine. You can pay me back. I’ll set it up with my lawyer, but you don’t have to pay me back. I know you hate me. Fine. Dandy. Whatever the fuck. I’m not the biggest fan of yours either, but it’s done. So now you do your thing and heal. Get better, then we’ll deal with everything else.”

I sat and watched my former best friend become this entirely new person. Arrogant. Wealthy. Privileged. A jackass.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“You’re the most stubborn bitch I have ever dealt with.”

Until he announced it, “I liked your mom.” “What?” “Your mom.” He moved into the far lane, settling back.

“I always liked her. She made me cookies and muffins. And I remember when she tried to teach us to bake cakes from scratch. You were horrible and your cakes tasted terrible, but we’d lie to you. Both of us.”

A tug at my mouth. “She’d wear that ugly yellow apron. She hated that apron.” “What? I loved that apron. Always felt like it was sunshine. Made me feel warm, even in the winter.” I noted softly, “That’s why she wore it. For you.”

“Yeah.” His voice came out raspy. “She was a good woman, and a good mom. She was a good wife. I could always tell.”

“You’re the son she never had.”

“Says you. You’re perfect at everything.” He didn’t reply. I didn’t expect him to. It was true. He knew it. I knew it. The entire nation knew it. Then from him, “Not at being a friend.” My stomach kicked. Hell no. No way. He wasn’t getting back in. No fucking way.

“Oh. God.” I groaned, throwing a hand up to hit my forehead. “Can we not? Can we save the dramatics until I’m able to call a cab to take me back to my place? For real. Enough bonding or whatever it is we were just doing.” He growled, “You are such a goddamn bitch.” I retorted, “And you are such a goddamn prick. Drop me the fuck off!” “With fucking pleasure!”

“So… I don’t still have the room? Or do I?” “OH MY GOD!” Mia burst out. “No! All your shit was picked up by Stone Fucking Reeves. You KNOW STONE FUCKING REEVES! Why are you HERE and not with HIM?!”

The doctor moved forward, bending to peer in my eyes again. “How many fingers do you see?” He was holding up three. I said, “Four.”

A deep, aggravated sigh left Stone again. “She’s fucking with you. She used to do the same thing when she skinned her knee as a kid. Her mom played along and it drove her dad nuts.” My dad. I felt punched at the mention.

Stone shoved off from the doorway and strode forward, getting in front of the doctor and bent down to peer at me, face to face. “Stop fucking around. Stop hiding. Stop lying to yourself. All your shit’s at my place. I know you. We have ties. Come to my house. I will help you through this. I promise.” He wasn’t being gentle as he was saying all this. It was being delivered in a matter-of-fact way, but then he faltered, and he lightened his tone. “I never went to your mom’s funeral and I’ve always regretted it. She’d want me to help you, and I can right now. Stop fighting me.”

He didn’t get it. I was already crumbling, though. I felt it happening. But I still whispered out,...

“Let’s go to my house. You can yell at me all you want there.” I was falling. Slipping. Tumbling.

The tears were coming, but my God, no. I didn’t cry in public. He saw them, and he chided softly, almost mocking me, “Pull yourself together, Phillips.” It worked. I sucked them in but nodded to the doctor. “I’ll go home with Stone.”

He went to a door, opening it, and repeating the motion of hitting the lights. “And if you’re feeling motivated, you can do your own laundry.” He flashed me a grin, then paused. I was back to crumbling. He saw it and grunted, “A little bit longer, Phillips. Keep it together.” On it. I could do that.

“The tour is done?” “Tour’s done.” Got it. I dipped my head in a nod. “Can you show me how to get to my section again?” Chuckling, he said, “You’re still not hungry?” He tapped my arm lightly. “I know how to make a mean Caesar salad, or you know, I might have some lasagna to heat up.” He was teasing. He was being kind. And it was the worst thing he could’ve done.

I couldn’t hold them off anymore. They were slipping, so I turned so he couldn’t see my face and I made my voice like steel, “Forget it. I’ll find it.” “Hey. Hey.” His hands touched my shoulder. I pulled away from him, hurrying off. I’d find the fucking stairs myself. Fuck him. Fuck this house. Fuck everything he had gained and I had lost. Fuck it all.

I couldn’t hold them back anymore, and I couldn’t go any farther myself. I bent over, right there, at the bottom stairs. My forehead went to my knees. I wrapped my arms around my legs, and I sobbed. Deep. Guttural. Straight from the soul sobs. He must’ve let me cry for a few minutes until I felt his hands on my back. “Fucking Christ, Phillips.” But he didn’t sound frustrated, and his hands were gentle. He knelt, his arms moving under me, and he picked me up. He carried me to my room, going to turn the light on.

“No! Please.” I couldn’t bear it. It was bad enough he was here, he was hearing me. If he saw evidence of my destruction, too? I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. “Okay.” A soft whisper from him. “I need you to hate me.” “I will.” He sank down on a chair in the corner, toeing the curtains out of the way so he could see outside his window, and there he held me. “Tomorrow we can go back to hating each other.” I hiccupped on a sob. “Deal.” So the rest of the night, he cradled me. The rest of the night, I cried. The rest of the night, we didn’t hate each other.

I fell asleep from sobbing so hard, and when I woke, Stone was gone. He left a note in my kitchen quarters saying he’d be back a bit after midnight. There were instructions how to use the remote to the television if I wanted to watch his godliness-level score. His exact words.

“YOU WERE IN A COMA?! WHAT?”

He was furious but concerned. And he looked tired. He was so tired. And smelly.

I was about to tell him I was fine when a cop started, “She never said a word.” Stone whirled on him, his back to me. “She lost her fucking parents, got into her own car accident, just came out of a four-day coma. You expect her to know when she’s cold or not? I’m surprised she’s been able to remain sitting this whole time.”

Another growl came from Stone again, and he clipped out, “If she’s not dying, I want you all to fucking leave. And no, I’m not in the mood to sign autographs.” Cop one stiffened. “Now, see—” “Out!” he thundered.

“How much were the funeral costs?” “What?” “My parents died.” All three of them now. “There was an accident. The car would’ve needed to be towed. The funeral costs. Coffins. The burial sites. Headstones. You said you covered my costs, but what about those?” “I meant everything.” A soft curse under his breath. “Dusty, you don’t need to worry about that.” I looked at him, really looked at him. So much was weighing on him. He’d taken all of my shit on without a second thought to what exactly that entailed. Why? We hated each other.

“Why are you doing all this for me?” His head lifted. The torment there cleared into wonder. His eyebrows dipped together. “Because I considered you family at one point. And I liked your mom.” My mom. Right. That was why.

“Who took care of everything? I know you’re lying.” He hesitated. “TELL ME!” His chair jerked back, but a deep wariness just passed over his face. “My parents did. My father, to be exact.” Fuck. It was worse than I thought. “Why?” “Because I made him. Because I threatened to never come home again unless he manned up and righted every fucking wrong he ever did to your family. My dad took care of mostly everything, and no, you will never know how much any of it cost. He also took care of your schooling for the next two years. Your campus got a sizeable donation in your name, along with a check for your schooling costs.” He shoved out of his chair, his eyes flashing. His face hard. “Consider it done, and honestly, I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about it again. It’s the least my family could do.”

His phone started blaring, but he looked down on me. “And with all that said, I’m going to make myself something to eat, head into the theater room, and put on something mindless to watch. You’re welcome to join me, or not. I don’t give a shit, just don’t leave, because in your state, you’d probably walk into oncoming traffic.” He wasn’t wrong.

Stone was shirtless. Stone was only wearing sweatpants. Those sweatpants were hanging seriously low over his hips.

“Kitchens shouldn’t be this big. Who else lives here? What’s the need for this much size?” He stared at me, his mouth flattening. “Good morning to you, too.” Another grunt from me. “Sorry. I’m a bit bitchy.” He hid a grin. “That a new development or…?” “Fuck off.”

He swore under his breath, buttering one of the pieces of toast for me. Placing it in front of me with a firm thud, he leaned over the counter. “Eat. Now.” “I’m not hung—” “I don’t give a shit.” He pointed at it. “You don’t eat, you’ll end up right back in the hospital. I, for one, am sick of picking you up there. The nurses got more forward the second time I was there.” Now I hid a grin. “The hardships of being a football god.”

Random times I saw her. We liked to buy groceries at the same time.” “Saturday morning.” He added, “Nine in the morning.” Leaning his back against his counter, he sipped his own coffee. “Course once I realized that was her usual time, I might’ve made sure to always have to pick something up for my mom during that time.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “It’s like you had a secret affair with my mom, hopefully in a platonic sense.” He barked out a laugh, his hands going to his shoulders, making his entire chest area bulge up.

“How long am I staying here?” “You’re here until I deem you’re able to function in the real world again.” He was saying that all imposing-like. Two days ago I would’ve considered his face smirking and arrogant and pompous, but now I saw the thinly veiled concern. He stood and straightened away from the counter. His eyes flashed, dropping from my face. “Listen. You have a concussion, and that shit’s no joke. That means ensuring you have the least amount of stimuli as possible. After today, no homework. No phone. Try to keep the television stuff to a minimum. I feel bad that I even invited you to watch a movie with me last night. Just until you’re okay to travel, stay put. I already cleared everything with your job and your college. They all know the deal. If you want it, they said you could take a leave of absence for the first semester and there’d be no penalty or impact to your tuition or your GPA.” My heart sank. I’d already lost so much, I couldn’t lose a semester of school. “No way.” I’d have to restart all over again. I could only handle so many restarts. “I can’t do that.” “You lost your father. You lost your stepmother. I know you still haven’t called your stepbrother yet. You are barely managing to get through a day here. And yeah, your job called me, said some bullshit that you’d be in tomorrow. I told ’em to fire you if you tried that shit again.” “What? Stone, you can’t—” “I can and I will!” I was wrong. It was evident we were back to the ‘I hate you’ phase. I s...

There were other memories. Had to be. “I don’t have those same memories of him. He taught me to ride a bike. And throw a baseball.” Stone said, “I taught you to throw a baseball.” “Oh.” That was right. “Yeah. He went fishing with me—” “I took you fishing. I hated the worms, remember? You didn’t care. You hooked the bait for us.”