Page 8 of Undeniably Enemies

A watery, sad smile curls up my lips. “Sounds perfect.”

She hugs me again. “I love you, and I’m here with you. I know it hurts, and your heart feels like it’s breaking, but it won’t. He was the lucky one to have you, not the other way around. You’ll be stronger because of this, and a year from now, what happened between the two of you tonight will be a distant memory. It will fade into the past and be like it never happened.”

I nod against her, absorbing her words. I can only hope that’s true.

3

One year later

Thanksgiving is typicallymy favorite holiday. Or at least, it had been until this year. The flight from LA to Boston was long. The congestion in the airport was a nightmare. But that’s not what has me sitting in a bar in Faneuil Hall drinking by myself.

Owen is going through a messy divorce with his wife. A wife who’s putting him and their daughter through hell. I’ve been there for him as much as I can be, but it was easier to do from a distance. Easier because I didn’t have to look him in the eye the way I had to tonight. Easier because fucking Wren wasn’t at the opposite end of the dinner table from me, laughing and chatting with her friends and cousins while refusing to look at me, let alone acknowledge me.

I couldn’t stop staring at her.

I wanted to go talk to her, but what was I going to say?

I’d already apologized to her that night, and I sure as hellcouldn’t tell her that despite my best efforts, I haven’t forgotten a moment of it. Not how she looked in her gown, the way she smelled and tasted, the noises she made, or her face when she came on my fingers and cock. Or even the fact that I had a smear of blood on my pants and fingers from the condom, and like a sicko, I liked that it was there because it symbolized what she gave me.

I can’t tell her of my regrets.

How I wished I’d chased after her and made sure she was okay. How I wish I’d taken her home with me and done it again, but the right way. How I hate myself for thinking and feeling this way because it’s wrong, and I know it, but I’ve thought of little else.

Swallowing down the bottom third of my whiskey, I catch the bartender’s eye and have him refill it. The amber liquid sloshes around as I slide the glass back and forth between my hands. I blow out a miserable breath, lift my glass, and drain its contents in one harsh gulp before I set it down and push it away.

“Do you want another?” the bartender asks, and I shake my head.

“Just the check, please.”

“Sure. Not a fan of the holidays, huh?”

“Something like that.”

He hands me the check, and I throw some cash on top of it, but as I go to put my wallet away, my gaze snags on my hand. I drag my thumb along the thick, white scar that traverses my right palm. It’s a permanent reminder of just how many things have gone wrong in my life. How the swipe of a cleat on a wet hand could change everything. And years later, after I finally felt like my life was back on track, walking into a locker room at work changed that once again.

Owen was with me through all of it. From the surgery on my hand and the loss of my college football career and scholarshipto the loss of my future dream as a surgeon to walking in on Tilly getting fucked by our boss while the engagement ring I bought for her sat in my locker just a few over from them. Then, six months after that, I met a fun and beautiful girl who I shared a ridiculous drink with, and I thought for once things might be turning in my favor.

Until I removed her mask and saw it was my best friend’s little sister.

The idea of betraying Owen or hurting Wren the way I did absolutely wrecked me. It still wrecks me.

Only Wren isn’t a dream I lost or a new life I had to adjust to after crushing heartbreak. Which is why none of this makes sense to me. I’ve been holding on, though maybe that’s the story of my life. I get stuck. Fixated on a notion, an idea, and then it’s naturally ripped away from me.

After what happened with Wren, I’ve turned into a bit of a loner. I don’t date, and I have no desire to. The last thing I want is to put my heart on the line again for anyone or anything. Owen is one of the few people I have, one of the few I trust, and I can’t lose him.

Or hurt her again.

I sigh and glance around the bar at all the people laughing and having a good time. Fuck it. It’s time I get over it and move on. Wren obviously has. I’m making too big of a deal of it. Maybe seeing her tonight, seeing how fine she is was the wake-up call I needed with this.

What Owen doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him, and I didn’t hurt Wren the way I thought I did.

Standing, a rush of alcohol hits me, making the room sway. That was three whiskeys back-to-back, but I’m not driving, so I welcome it. I start to head for the exit when a familiar laugh—a laugh I heard practically all night that’s now engrained in my head—calls my attention to the back of the bar. I squint and narrow in on the tall, pretty blonde openly and shamelesslyflirting with a guy who looks more than eager to receive her attention.

His hand is on her waist. His body is inches from hers.

She’s wearing a nothing of a white dress that hugs her small curves with her long, long legs on full display. Her soft blonde hair curls over her tits and sweeps around to the center of her back. Hair I never got to touch or run through my fingers because it was pinned up. Those smiles were mine. That laughter, too. She flirted with me. Out of all the men at the party that night, I was the one she ran off with. The one she gave herself to.

Something distracts her, and he takes the opportunity to turn his head over his shoulder to one of his buddies, say something, and give him a shit-eating grin followed by a wink.

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