Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 9

“Hey, man,” I greet Owen, surprised to find him here. “What brings you to my ER?”

Owen gives me a smile and a hug. “I finished early for once in my life. Rory and I came here to pick up Katy for dinner, and I thought I’d pop down and see how Wren is getting on with her rotation. Do you know where she is?” Katy and Owen are best friends and godparents to each other’s children. For how close Owen and I are, he and Katy are essentially twins separated at birth.

“Where’s Estlin tonight?”

His smile turns dopey, and his eyes glitter at the mention of my sister. “Working. She has a big commission she wants to finish.”

My sister, like my mother, is an extremely talented painter. My mother is world-famous, and Estlin is working her way to that title quickly.

“Now that you know where yours is, where’s mine?”

“Last I saw her, she was following one of my residents around.” I check my watch. “She should be finishing up for the day, though.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder and walks me over to the side. “How’s it going for her? Truth?”

“Owen, you’re not her dad or her boyfriend. She’s an adult, and from what I hear from the residents and her intern, she’s doing fine.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “But you don’t know?”

I smirk. “I don’t have time for medical students. That’s what interns are for. It’s the standard medical hierarchy, and I know you know that.”

He sighs. “It wouldn’t kill you to be civil with her. Perhaps give her a little extra attention and time.”

Actually, it might.

“We’re civil.” Enough. If by civil, he means we ignore each other, which we have since yesterday morning when she cornered me in the kitchen and drank from my cup. I’m not counting running into her last night at the bowl place. “And I will not play favorites. Not even for my best friend’s little sister.”

He holds up a hand. “Fine. I’ll stop interfering in an overprotective big brother way. Do you want to join us for dinner?”

I lean against the wall and kick my foot up so it’s pressing into it. “Can’t. I have packing I need to finish up. I move next week.”

His face brightens. “You never told me you found a place.”

My brow furrows. “I didn’t?”

He shakes his head. “No, but we’ve both been busy.”

“Weird. Yes, I found a place on Commonwealth in Back Bay. I closed on it a couple of weeks ago, and I’m having it fixed up a bit before I move in.”

Owen laughs and smacks my shoulder. “You know Wren lives there.”

That pulls me up short. “I didn’t know that.”

His expression momentarily darkens. “Yep. She bought a place a little more than two years ago.”

I never kept track of Wren. I never asked Owen or Estlin about her, and if either mentioned her, I intentionally tuned them out and didn’t listen. I made it so she didn’t exist to me because whenever I did, she had a life force inside of me I struggled to control. Thinking about her more than I should never got me anywhere other than miserable.

My gut sinks, but then I remind myself that Commonwealth is a big street, and the likelihood of us living in the same building is slim to none. Not to mention Wren is a billionaire and is likely living in a top-of-the-line penthouse, whereas I am not either of those things.

“Owen?” Wren’s voice carries down the hall, snapping me out of my thoughts. She comes bursting down the hall and throws her arms right around her brother’s neck. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

He hugs her back and then releases her. “I’m picking up Katy for dinner. Rory wanted to see her and baby Willow. Do you want to join us?”

She checks her watch. “What time are you going?” She’s wearing wide-leg jeans and a cropped one-shoulder sweater that shows off a flash of her stomach when she moves. Her long, blonde hair that had been up all day is now flowing down her back in soft waves, and she has a decent amount of makeup on. At least compared to what she had on before. Not that I’m noticing or anything.

She also smells good. She’s wearing that perfume that I hate I like.

I swallow thickly and force myself to look away.

He chuckles. “Now, obviously. You know Rory.”

She frowns. “Aw, bummer. I can’t. I’m supposed to meet someone in half an hour. Rain check, though?”

Something oily and unwelcome shifts inside me.

“Who are you meeting?”

She rolls her eyes at her brother, not even bothering to cast me so much as a cursory glance. “It’s just a drink with a friend from school. Relax, big brother.”

His lips twitch, loving that he gets a reaction from her, and I tell myself that I don’t care who she goes out with. Poor bastard that he is.

“Sure,” he mutters sarcastically. “I’ll get right on that. Rory is upstairs with Katy, but I wanted to see how your rotation is going so far.”

Now I get a look. And it’s not a kind one, either. “I’m not sure I have permission to speak freely,” she smarts.

“Go ahead,” I tell her, waving my hand in Owen’s direction. “I couldn’t care less. In fact, I’m heading out for the night, so you can paint me as your villain all you want.”

The moment I say the word villain, her breath catches and her face heats. She looks pissed, and I don’t blame her for that. I’ve been her villain more than once, more than I ever wanted to be, but the use of that word puts us both back to that night in LA. Right in front of her brother and my best friend.

I clear my throat. “Night, brother. Later, student.”

He gives me a fist pound, and she pretends as if I didn’t speak.

I start to walk away before I ask Wren for her address. That’s the last thing I want to know.

Packing tape sticks to my finger, and I shake out my hand, trying to fling it off. Christ, I hate packing, and as I look around, I have to wonder how much stuff do I have? My place isn’t much bigger than a decent-sized hotel room. I lean back against the base of my sofa and take a sip of my beer. I got a message from my contractor earlier that they should be done with everything by the end of the day on Friday. I can’t wait to see it.

I’ve never been so excited to live in a place. Then again, I’ve never owned anything before.

My phone pings, and lazily I bounce forward until my fingers just catch the bottom of it. I slide it across the table toward me so I can pick it up and resume my comfortable position.

I laugh. I knew she’d come back to this. Wren not only doesn’t like to lose, she’s far too curious for her own good. Then again, isn’t she supposed to be out on a date? I’ve forced myself not to think about that, but the fact that it’s not even nine and she’s texting me makes me much happier than I should be.

I can practically feel her frustration from here. I did say I was going to tell her if she ever texted again, and here we are, and I’m playing more games. I should do the right thing, but it’s not as though she could hate me more than she already does. For a guy with not a lot going on in his life, at least now I have something. As sad and pathetic as that is.

Or maybe I just need to get laid. Go to a random bar and meet a random woman and blow off all this steam. The fact that I can hardly remember the last time I had sex is obviously the culprit for why I react to Wren the way I do. She’s unfinished business that will never find closure, and it’s time I get over that.

But I like that she doesn’t know it’s me. I like that she’s not instantly antagonistic, and I can just… talk to her. I’m not her villain. I’m not the guy who hurt her. I’m just a guy to her right now. Still, it’s wrong. It’s a lie. Fuck.

Just as I’m about to put her out of her misery and tell her who I am, she comes back with…

The fuck is that?

Is she trying to kill me?

Jesus. I cover my forehead with my hand. Well, now I’m certainly not telling her. How many of those does she have?

Then it dawns on me. Our first text chat was seven years ago. She was eighteen and still a virgin.

Because I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take the want. The weird yearning for the illicit. The reminder of just how lonely and alone I am.

I wonder if this was her date from tonight, and once again it has my jaw clenching and that unwelcome and uncomfortable feeling within me stirring. Things were much easier between us when hate was our only game, I saw her sporadically and didn’t have to speak to her. But put us alone together, and the gloves come off, and my stupid, traitorous dick gets hard.

Or again, maybe I just need sex.

It’s true. I’ve never looked twice at Sorel or Katy that way. Sorel especially. We both moved back to Boston around the same time, and since she started floating down to the ER on occasion, we’ve become close. In fact, I was bitching to her about Wren being my student just the other day. Despite the fact that she’s cousins with Wren, Sorel has always stayed neutral, which I appreciate.

I take a final sip of my beer and set the empty bottle on the coffee table before I return to my phone.

And if you tell me who he is, he’ll be dead or bleeding heavily in under an hour.

I sigh. I have a problem. What is it about her that turns me into a teenager? All hormones and jealousy and yearning. It’s been five years for Christ’s sake. It was one night. One sexual encounter that didn’t go so well.

I stand up and walk my empty bottle into the kitchen before I chuck it in my recycling bin. What. The fuck. Am I doing?

It’s sadly true.

My lips curl into a grin, and I rub my thumb over my bottom one. This girl.

My finger hovers over the keyboard on my phone, and my heart starts to pump a little harder in my chest as I type out my name. How do I tell her this? She’ll be furious—rightfully so. We have to work together for the next three-plus weeks, and I have to see her enough through Owen and everyone else that I don’t want to escalate the hatred between us.

Because I’m so tired of her hating me and me hating myself for why she hates me and me saying that I hate her along with it just to keep it even when it was never even to begin with.

Shit. I never should have responded to her damn text. Again.

I delete my name and respond with…

I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and toss it back on my coffee table.

Tomorrow is a fresh start. No more texts. Minimal and professional only interactions. And in a few weeks, Wren will be off my service and out of my daily life. It’ll be fine. It has to be.