Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 6

I’m just dozing off when my phone pings with a text. As sad as it sounds, I don’t get a lot of late-night texts, and after the day I had with Wren and then packing up the tiny studio I’ve suffered through for the last year to finally move into a larger apartment, I’m wrecked. Still, I roll over and snatch my phone off my nightstand, only to immediately frown.

That’s it. That’s all the text says on my screen. What in the fuck?

My eyebrows scrunch together in total confusion. Why is she texting me? It’s the second time we’ve ever texted, and the last time was… seven years ago, and it was just a series of hi’s then too. If memory serves, Owen wanted me to have her number in my phone for some reason when she went off to college, so he gave it to me. I texted her hi, and she texted me back the same. That was it.

So why is she texting me now?

I set my phone down and roll over, deciding it’s a mistake and I’m not going to respond. There’s no way she’d text me on purpose. But as minutes turn to an hour and I’m still awake, lying in bed and staring up at my ceiling, my curiosity takes over. With a disgruntled noise, I snatch my phone and pull it over my face. Maybe she’s apologizing for being late, or maybe she’s calling out for tomorrow.

The three dots immediately start to dance in the message window, only to disappear. Then reappear.

A laugh bursts from my lungs.

Oh hell.

I chuckle and sit up a little, tossing my left arm behind my head as I hold my phone with my other hand and type.

Maybe I should just tell her it’s me and end this now. Maybe I’m being a dick by fucking with her a little, but I can’t resist. Having her at work, her being my medical student, it’s already so much. Too much. Now it’s late, and I’m tired, and I have to face her again tomorrow. I don’t want her to say something mean or scathing and then block me. I’m not sure I have that in me right now.

More laughter, and now I can’t help myself.

Well, that’s a question I can’t answer. I’ve known her since she was born. Fuck, I remember her being born, which is a bit sick and twisted when I think about it. I was ten. Owen was incredibly excited to have a baby sister, and two years later, when I was twelve, my parents had Eddie—though she goes by her middle name, Estlin, now. That’s all my artist mother’s doing. Eddie Estlin was named after Edgar Degas and E.E. Cummings, and, my name, Jack Robert, is after Jackson Pollock and Robert Frost. Owen and I thought we were the coolest older brothers and swore we’d kick the shit out of anyone who fucked or fucked with our sisters.

Irony at its best since we each have fucked the other’s sister, considering Estlin is now engaged to Owen. That was rough. Estlin moved in with Owen and became the nanny for his daughter, Rory, only what I didn’t know was that the two of them were sneaking around and screwing each other right under my nose or behind my back or however that all goes. When I found out, to say I was upset is an understatement. All these years I’ve felt like a dirtbag for what I did with Wren, and there Owen was, sleeping with my little sister.

Except he was in love with her, and I… I’m not in love with Wren. I never had the chance to try and be, and now, well, now hate is her currency with me, and it’s just as well.

My mind wanders back to that night when I found out about Owen and Estlin. How fucking furious I was. Wren was there and discovering the way I did… It completely set me off.

“I thought you were my friend,” I bellow. “But you’re a real piece of shit fucking my sister behind my back.” I shove Owen’s shoulder, smashing him into the wall.

His eyes widen in stunned disbelief before they narrow into slits. “Really, Jack? You’re doing this here? Now?”

I bluster out a noise, my fists balled up at my sides. I want to hit him. I want to pound on him. But I’m holding myself back. Barely. “What? You don’t want your family and friends to know you’ve been screwing your nanny? Do you have any clue what you’ve done? Or has it all just been a good time for you? A mindless divergence and a way to blow off steam?”

I can’t catch my breath. My insides feel like they’re being pulverized. I watched Wren walk away from me that night. I hurt her. I knew I did. I saw it on her face, and I didn’t chase her. Even when everything inside of me was screaming at me to. I didn’t chase her. I let her go, and I’ve regretted it like nothing else since.

Because of him. For him.

And now she fucking hates my guts because of it.

I’m her villain. The guy who took her virginity in all the wrong ways and continued to do wrong because I didn’t know how to do right by her. He turned me into the bad guy, and I am not the fucking bad guy! He is. For lying and hiding what he was doing with Estlin.

“Jack, stop!” Estlin cries, racing over, but Keegan and Wren hold her back as Vander, Stone, and Mason now stand in between me and Owen. Mason is practically right in front of me, all six-four, two hundred twenty pounds of NFL quarterback. He’s not saying anything, but he doesn’t have to. His size and expression say it all. Only fuck him. He’s not part of this.

This is between me and my best friend.

“I won’t stop,” I seethe at her before turning my wild eyes back on Owen. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think I wouldn’t care when I did?” He knows what I’ve been through. He knows. And yet he did it anyway. No one cares enough about me to put me first when that’s all I’ve ever done for everyone else. Him especially.

“What’s going on?” Wren questions, glancing back and forth between me and Estlin, her brows knit together.

“Can we go somewhere else and talk about this?” Owen asks meaningfully.

“No. We can’t.” I turn to Wren, my eyes bleeding into hers, needing her to feel the same outrage I am. “What’s going on is your brother has been messing around with my little sister,” I snarl before turning my unrelenting gaze back on Owen. “And from the looks of it, I’m not the only one you were keeping this from.”

“Is that true?” Wren asks plainly, and why isn’t she more upset? How is she not going as crazy with this as I am? Her indifference adds accelerant to my already blazing fire. I know it never would have worked. I know she was too young, and our lives were in completely different places. But I… fuck.

I wanted her.

And she wanted me. I know she did. Both as Cinderella and the girl who begged me not to stop. And like everything else in my life, I lost her before I even truly had a shot. My life is a series of never-meant-to-bes. How long have I hated myself for betraying Wren and betraying Owen? Yet here he is, sleeping with my sister and betraying me the way everyone else has.

I scrub a hand up and down my face, dragging myself away from that night and those memories. Owen and Estlin are happy and in love, and I want that for them. It fills me with joy to see them together. To have Owen truly as my brother. Even if the sting of their betrayal still hurts. Another nick in my skin and a scar added alongside all the others.

That alone should tip her off.

I rub the top of my head. She has no idea. I am evil to her. And I shouldn’t be toying with her now. Generally speaking, I don’t get off on fucking with women’s minds. But I like getting a rise out of her. Sue me. She’s not in front of me, and that makes this easier, but it’s still Wren. And since she’s already suffered enough at my hands, it’s wrong. Still…

I shift in bed a little, finding myself smiling and wondering why I’m entertaining this. Probably because it’s been way too long since I’ve had anything or anyone make me smile. Christ, I can hardly remember the last time I had sex. I’ve become an antisocial workaholic.

And in my case, all work and no play makes Jack an asshole.

That pulls me up short, and I drag my thumb across my bottom lip as I think about how to respond. Was I flirting with her? No. I wasn’t, right? I don’t flirt with Wren. Argue, ignore, patronize, despise, yes. Flirt? Absolutely not.

I close my eyes and blow out an uneven breath. Why did I type that? Why did I send it? When she learns it’s me, she’s going to rip off my balls and hang them on her Christmas tree as ornaments.

At least I’m honest.

She doesn’t respond immediately, and I take it as my moment to end this. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I should have told her who I was and let it die ten minutes ago. I don’t know what I’m doing other than maybe I’m a little lonely and definitely out of sorts with her in the ER. The last woman I went out with was an ICU nurse, and she dumped me after a few dates because she said I was too consumed with work and never liked to go out or do anything other than have sex. Essentially, she had me pegged, and I couldn’t argue it.

The truth is, I didn’t like her enough to change that or want to spend more time with her. It’s been a chronic problem for me. I date women for a couple of weeks at most, and they break it off because I’m not emotionally invested in them beyond sex, nor will I ever be. I’m not good at the bar pick-up thing. I hate putting myself out there while trying to be witty and irresistible, all for a few hours with a woman I’ll never see again.

So I go out with women I know I’ll never love and hardly even like, and after a few times in bed together, it ends.

I wonder if I truly am broken. If all the heartbreaks and disappointments and betrayals have destroyed me for good. The worst part? It’s been five years since I fucked Wren at that party, and she’s the last woman I wanted enough to put effort into.

And look how that turned out.

I set my phone back on my nightstand and turn it to Do Not Disturb so I won’t be tempted to check or text again. That was an unexpected bit of fun after a long, miserable day of dealing with my bratty Cinderella.

It’s been a weird year since I moved back to Boston from LA. Originally, I did it because I wanted to be closer to my friends and family. Estlin had just moved home from Paris, and with our age difference, I hadn’t lived near her since she was a little kid. She had been through a lot with her ex, and the big brother in me wanted to be there for her.

But as the year has gone on, I’ve found I love being back in Boston. I love my job and the people I work with. I love being near Owen and Estlin and my parents. My buddy Bennett, who I knew in LA, even lives here now and is married to Katy, who is Owen’s other best friend. I have people, and I could have more of a life. I could move past what Tilly did to me and start to try again with women. I could. But I haven’t.

If my interactions with Wren over the last year since I moved back have taught me anything, it’s that that night should have never happened. She was young. I took her virginity against a wall at a party. And she hates me for it. Not that I can blame her.

I can’t stand her either. Truly. Genuinely cannot stand her.

But I also find myself watching her and looking at her differently than I look at anyone else, and I don’t know why. I can’t even explain it to myself other than I’m attracted to her. Very attracted.

She’s still too young. Too bratty and spoiled and entitled. She’s still Owen’s little sister, and since I have no plans to fall in love with her the way he did with Estlin, I shouldn’t notice her the way I do, and my dick shouldn’t still be interested. Especially not after all this time. It wants a redo if for no other reason than to wash away the haunting memories of that night, but it’ll never happen, and fundamentally, I don’t want it to.

It’s fucking Wren. No thanks. She’s not my type anyway.

I sigh and glance at my phone sitting there like a tempting little thing. Because despite my built-in protests and endless denials, she is my type. And secretly, I know it. Which is why I shouldn’t have texted her back the way I did.

Next time I won’t engage. I’ll tell her it’s me, and that’ll be that.

I meant it when I told her to show up on time, do her job, and stay out of my way. I just hope she listens for once in her life.