Page 90 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

Alarms blare in my head.

This is too much.

The deep, unfiltered confessions about the worst day of my life. The empathy in his eyes. How is it that I can feel this connected to someone who’s barely ever shared details about hislife in return? How is it that I trust him when he doesn’t seem to fully trust me?

To this day, TJ’s the only person I’ve ever confided in about my grief. Starting with the time I broke my dad’s mug and lost it in front of him. I remember the way he held me. That was when I first started considering him my friend.

I nod. “You’re welcome. I just hope one day you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me yours.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I’ve been looking for my biological father,” he admits against all expectations.

I don’t say anything, treating him in the same way I would approach a baby doe. Quietly, carefully, not to scare him off.

He exhales. “I know it’s pointless because he walked out on us when Kelsea and I were just kids, so he’s obviously not worth being found, but I’ve spent my entire life wondering why he abandoned us. Was it another woman? Another family? I just… I couldn’t go on not knowing.”

“And? Did you find out anything?”

He hesitates but ultimately decides to keep his answer vague. “Nothing of substance.”

It’s obvious there’s more to the story, but it’s a miracle he even told me anything at all, so I figure pressing him for answers wouldn’t be the right move.

“Thanks for sharing your secret with me.” I recycle his line from earlier.

He cracks a smile at the same time a massive yawn creeps up on me.

“That’s my cue.” He pushes to his feet. “What time do you want me to pick up Kelsea tomorrow?”

I sit up. “W-Wait, you’re leaving?”

I sound pathetic, so damn pathetic, but the truth is, I don’t want him to go. His eyes find mine, and my breath catches in the back of my throat.

“I didn’t want to assume anything. I can stay if you want me to?—”

I cut him off. “I do.”

His eyebrows shoot up in shock, but he seems rather pleased by my response. “Then I’m staying.”

TJ’s going to spend the night with me.

In my bed.

I should be a nervous wreck. I mean, I haven’t had a man in my bed in over two years, but, somehow, I’m completely at ease with the idea.

He glances down at his T-shirt and tugs at the hem, the dry blood staining his collar appearing darker in this light. “Do you mind if I shower?”

I give him a once-over. His dark hair is a mess, clinging to his forehead and covering parts of his brown eyes—and that’s on top of his bloody shirt and roughened-up face.

The annoying part is, seeing him all bloody and bruised doesn’t even come close to putting a damper on the sizzling attraction I feel for him.

I can’t blame him for wanting a nice, hot shower. He hasn’t had a second to himself since the ambulances came. He and Theo drove straight to the hospital and waited for hours for news about Chance and me.

“Sure, I’ll just go in after you.”

He answers with a polite nod and makes a beeline for the door, stopping right as he’s about to walk out of my bedroom. Hesitation oozes out of him for a moment, as though he’s debating on something.

Finally, he casts a glance over his shoulder and says, “Do you…”

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