Enemies

by Tijan

I started for the guest area, but he caught the back of my jeans. “You’re good. You look hot anyway.” He nodded for the back door. “Let’s go. I told my coach I’d be there by now. I know he’s waiting.” Stone thought I was hot. What. The. Hell.

It was a weird dynamic between us. Moments of kindness, moments of caring and then moments of strain and sarcasm and bitterness. This time it was all on me. I knew the next would be his. Cursing me as I’m in the hospital, totally something Stone would do. And me being bitter when he’s bringing me into this sanctum, where I knew so many would pay in blood to switch places—yeah. That was Stone and me.

Without missing a beat, I said the words that had haunted me about Jared since I woke up from the coma, “Do you want me?” “Yes! I mean, shit. You’re my only family. You’re my sister.” This day. Right here. Right now. I would be better. I would no longer be an okay person, or a good person. I would be a fucking great person, and I’d have to google how to do that because I knew it’d be a lot of work.

I caught it at the same time his hand came to the back of my neck. He gripped me and tugged me toward him. Bending down, so his forehead was almost touching mine, he said, “That kid is hurting and he’s thinking of every possible way to avoid feeling even more hurt, so he fixated on me. That fixation grew after the accident, and what you heard from the mom was accurate. What you didn’t hear from the mom is that he does want a relationship with you, but he doesn’t want to actually leave their home. She said they’d put off the adoption if you wanted to wait and see if you did want to take him in. Knowing that, though, you gotta go up there and live there because that boy is adamant that he doesn’t want to leave his hometown.” His jaw clenched. His hand tightened on my neck. “All that said, most of that call was to get free tickets to my next Kings game. How are you feeling about that?” I shook my head, whispering, “I have no idea.”

Savannah glanced over, and stepped closer. “You’re still at his place?” I glanced, too, noting that Stone was waiting for me to look at him. He was talking to Wyatt, but his eyes were on me. He raised an eyebrow in question, and I nodded. I was okay. I didn’t need him to step in. That’s what he was asking. And how I knew that, I didn’t know. I just did.

“Your friends are just great.”

Stone greeted me with that biting comment as I slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door. I knew what he saw. He knew I knew what he saw. There was no point in arguing. I just sat back and held my bag on my lap. “I told you before, I didn’t know anyone before I moved down here.”

“Yeah.” His hand flexed over the steering wheel. “Let’s talk about that.” Which was code where he said the command and I was expected to confess everything. Fuck that. I wasn’t his bitch. I looked out the window instead. “Dusty.” A low growl from him. A snap back from me, “Stone.”

A second growl. “I care. Fucking hell. I care, okay? I wouldn’t be doing any of this shit if I didn’t still care about you. Those people didn’t give a fuck about you, except the one girl. Not a goddamn one of them, and you’re asking me to look away from that? I can’t. Me being a guy and caring about a girl, I can’t do that. It’s not how I was raised.”

That statement was swimming around in my head, but I couldn’t. Not right now. I focused on what I could process. “There’s a big fucking debate that could be had for your last statement, so I’m not sure I’d be all high and mighty over that comment.” “I am trying to make up for that.”

“A movie. A blanket. We shared snacks. Then the next day, I was a stranger to you.” He sighed, his shoulders falling down. “Dusty.”

“That was years ago.” It was pent-up, and I had to get this out. “You were my best friend growing up. I loved your dog like he was mine. I know you were hurt when you walked away from me. I know you missed my mom, but since then, during those years, I lost my best friend. I lost my mom. I lost my childhood home.” I had to skip a beat. He didn’t need to know what else I lost before coming here. “And I have now lost my father, my stepmother, my car, and the second home that was never really a home to me. But I got you back? Is that the takeaway for me? The consolation prize?”

He cursed silently under his breath, hitting the turn signal and easing onto the interstate ramp. “I would give you up in a heartbeat to get them back.” Still, he remained sil...

That broke the wall. I felt it crack in two, heard it even, and everything I’d been stuffing away and suppressing, I had a second’s notice before I turned to him. I knew the tears were already shining in my eyes. He saw, and his jaw firmed as he reached over for my hand...

The hole inside me was there. His words, my words, had punched a fucking fist through it and I felt as if the roof was caving in. The entire building in me was crashing. I was demolished inside and I’d been holding onto a thin fucking frame to keep me upright. That was gone now, and I was crumbling. No. It was worse than that. I couldn’t keep it together. “Stone.” His hand tightened on mine. “Just hold on. I promise.” I tried. I did. I was failing. But then we were pausing. The gate was opening. And we pulled into his garage. I didn’t have to think about moving. Stone was out of his door and mine was thrown open in a flash. His arms went under me, and he scooped me out. Cradled to his chest, he maneuvered us through the house. Me, I was useless. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear what he was doing until we were in a room, on a bed. A phone was ringing. It was silenced. He moved us both back so he was sitting against the headboard. It was similar to the other night, but this time, crying wasn’t enough. My insides were being ripped out. One organ at a time. One tendon being slowly pulled f...

A rough hand brushed down my face and I felt Stone’s forehead to mine. “What do you need? What do you need right now?” He was breathing so hard. “Dusty. Please. I can’t take hearing th...

I couldn’t handle any of this. It was too much. “Stone,” I was sobbing, my hand on his chest. “Stone. I can’t!” I was clawing at his chest.

I was being tortured. He adjusted me, throwing me up in his arms. A firm arm clamped around my back and his other hand was behind my head. “Dusty. What. Do. You. Need?!” Finally. His words pierced through and I opened my eyes, to see his. They were wild. He was almost manic, desperate, but the hunger. I saw it in there. It was covered by something else, fear, maybe? Horror, more likely. His hand dropped to my hip and he was kneading into my skin. That other hand, the invisible hand, was trying to pry me open. I felt every inch, centimeter, millimeter, and I couldn’t live through this. I just knew it. I gasped out, “Please. I can’t feel. Not this.”

“What do you want?” He was almost shaking me from the force of his own need. Savage. His eyes were filling with rage, but he was blanketing it. He was containing it. “Drugs? Alcohol? What do you need from me?” I stopped just as the invisible hand opened me enough and was reaching in, all over again. “I can’t feel what I’m feeling—” His mouth was on mine. Hot. Hungry. Angry.

My mouth was on his. Desperate and starving. He paused, pulling back. “Are you sure about this?”

This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t romantic. This was an escape and it was ugly and ragged. We were animalistic. There was no foreplay. God. I couldn’t have handled that type of touch right now. I wanted rough. Hard. Almost punishing.

That wasn’t the goddamn point of this, but he was back. Condom on. And I reached down to wrap my hand around his dick. He was big and hard, and exactly what I needed to make me not feel. I guided him, almost like his cock was my personal dildo. I caught his grin, but I didn’t give a fuck about that either. I was in control of this situation and he was giving me that.

Then, so fucking amazingly then, he began to move. And I felt it all. Every movement he made. Everything that I didn’t want to feel was gone, suffocated by the enormity of him.

His hand came up, grabbing my hair, and he yanked. My eyes opened. His face was right there. I should’ve felt his breath, but he was watching me. His hips surged against mine again. So fucking forceful. So wild and out of control. Exactly like how I needed this to be.

“What do you want?” I knew what he was asking. “I need you to fuck me.”

His eyes shuddered, but I wasn’t done. I added, “I need you to do it again, and again, and again. You got me?” My words were clipped and to the point. I wanted to pass out from fucking, not from the agony I knew was just waiting to claim me again. This was a Band-Aid. My wounds wouldn’t be repaired by a simple fix. He knew that and I knew that, an...

We fucked that night. There were no nice words. No loving touches.

He’d been there for me. He was still there for me, literally right now, but underneath those layers, there was a level of loathing between us that neither of us could see fit to let go.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “You’re freaking out?” “No.” Fuck. Shit. I sat up, and holy hell, my entire body ached. It was worse than after the coma even. I balked when I scooted to the edge of the bed and stood. “I’ll be fine. We fucked. That’s it. You helped me out. Thank you for that.” I motioned toward his door. “Go and live your big life. I will be fine.”

What a fucked-up pair we were. I snapped at him and it settled him.

This wasn’t a romance waiting in the wings.

First page. To Stone, I know how much you liked that birthday cake I made for your seventh birthday. Here’s the recipe for it. Page 147. — Sherry I looked at the next. Another note. Stone, those cookies you devoured with Dusty for Halloween that one year you were in fourth and she was in third, the recipe is on page 67. — Sherry And a third. Stone, I’m breaking tradition here. I know you liked my baked goods, but I couldn’t resist. Remember the sloppy joes that you raved about? I made them for Dusty’s tenth birthday. The recipe is on page 183. — Sherry I looked through a fourth, a fifth. Sixth. Seventh. My heart was pounding, then dropping, until I got to the last cookbook. Every single one of them. All from my mother. Each with a note written from — Sherry. Why? Why did she do this? But the note on the last one had me doing a double-take.

Stone, I know you’re off to do great things in your future. I know you feel badly about slighting my daughter. I’ve come to enjoy our Saturday morning grocery trips, but this is going to be my last note to you. I’m dying and you’re officially the first to know, though you won’t get this book till after I’m gone. I have loved you as my own son, and I know Dusty still cares about you. I have a wish for you. If you are ever in a situation where my daughter needs help, please be there for her. She’s the silent trooper. She suffers in silence and she doesn’t think I can tell. I do. And I know life has ups and downs, and you both will have challenges. Please reach out. Please care for each other. Please don’t let this thing between your mother and my husband keep you away. Life is short. Live. Forgive. I will be watching over both you and Dusty. — All the love, Sherry All the love. All. The. Love.

I made my way through the basement and to the stairs, pausing just enough to hear Lisa say, “I’m telling you, she’s not here.” “She’s here.” That was Stone. He had come, and yeah, he was pissed. That made two of us.

“Is this the concussion? Has it affected your head that much?” He lowered his head, those eyes pinning me in place. A pause, then a bite, “Nice shirt.” Yeah. I should’ve changed.

A second bite from him. “Is this where we finally part ways because I’m getting real fucking tired of this shit, Dust.” Dust. I flinched, then no. Fuck no. I swallowed some acid and made damn sure my voice came out strong. “I found the cookbooks, Ace.” He flinched at that name. His dad used to call him that, and I knew he hated that nickname.

“What cookboo—” he started to ground out. I took a step forward, but only one. I stopped, folding my arms over my chest. “You know. The fourteen that my mother gave you.” It took a second, then horror filled his gaze. His head jerked backwards. His nostrils flared. “Fuck.” “Yeah.” I clipped that one out now. “Dusty. Those books, they were a gift…” “I read the notes.” I was calm. He was frantic. I saw it surging up in him. And I didn’t give a fuck. I was cold. Numb. I had moved on. I waited a half second before I drove another nail into him. “I wonder if my dad left you a note, too? Maybe he did? Maybe he explained whatever the fuck happened between him and your mom?”

He wasn’t going to tell me. Then fuck him. I didn’t need Stone. We could go back to hating each other. I didn’t need anything. I didn’t need anyone. Except Stone. You needed him last night, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. I shut that down, real fucking quick.

“Dusty.” Stone’s head hung down. His hands went to his hips. He’d lost his fight. I moved forward, knowing when to capitalize on the moment and I even gentled my tone, knowing it was the last and final nail in our coffin. “You’re off the hook.” His head swung back up. “Excuse me?” “Taking care of me. You said it yourself. You were doing it for her, but you’re off the hook. I’m letting you off the hook.” Another step forward, but this one hurt. It felt like I was pushing into wet cement, the kind that went to my chest. Still. I took another step, forcing myself. “I don’t know what she was talking about, the thing with your mom and my dad, and…” He went rigid. I pushed forward, “Maybe I don’t want to know after all. Maybe I’ll find out and I’ll hate him, and right now, I can’t hate him. I’m still mourning him.”

“Dusty.” So quiet now. He was giving in. I was winning. Another step. This time the cement was almost dry, but I pushed through. I had to. “Thank you for everything, and I mean it. Everything.” His eyes darkened. Oh yeah. He got my drift. I went on, “But I’ll take it from ...

He continued to stare at me. A full thirty seconds. Another thirty. My heart was pounding, wondering if he was going to let it go, let us go, half fearing he would and half needing him to, and then he jerked forward. My heart jumped into my throat as he circled the back of my neck, dragging me to him. He stopped, our fore...

“Don’t call me when you’re needing someone’s dick to help chase away the nightmares, Dust.” He spoke quiet so the other two couldn’t hear, but his words…they pierced me and my hand fe...

Fine. Good riddance. I shut the door after him and threw the lock on. “Actually, you don’t need—” From Lisa. I threw her a sc...

This was a nightmare. I was alone. No one was coming to help.

Stone calling.

My breath was becoming more shallow, but when I started seeing stars, I hit accept, putting the phone to my ear. I couldn’t talk. My throat wasn’t working.

“Dusty?” My lungs were rattling. He cursed. “Where are you?” They were seizing again. I pushed out, it sounded as a wheeze, “Library.” “I’m at a team thing, but I can be there in thirty. Hold on, okay?”

Stone: Where in the library? Me: Second floor. Curled in a ball on the ground. Stone: I’m coming.

I needed to go…then, a footstep down my aisle. I tensed. A soft voice, “Dusty? Is that you?” Siobhan. She came forward, kneeling beside me. I felt her. “Are you okay?” No. I was in agony and I couldn’t talk, I was in that much agony. “Dusty.” More urgent. More concern. Her hand came to my shoulder. I couldn’t move. “What’s happening to you?” I was having an episode. Couldn’t she tell?

“Dusty!” She began shaking me harder. “You’re scaring me.” There was a rush of other footsteps. She squeaked, whirling around. “I got her.” That was Stone. “Um.” She stood up, backing out of the way. He moved in, then his arms were around me. He asked in my ear, “Can you move at all?” A small shake of my head. That was it. He cursed, but lifted me.