Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 16

They say when you’re a certain level of angry, you can actually see a red haze. It makes sense, right? For red to be the color of fury. It’s the color of blood and the color your skin turns when you’re enraged or embarrassed. Like I am. Jack lives next door. He’s the one who moved across the hall. Jack. Jack fucking Kincaid. And he knew I lived here. The bastard followed me home. And saw my new collection of toys.

I’m a single girl in my twenties with massive trust issues. We buy sex toys in bulk.

I expected his laugh. I expected his ridicule. What I did not expect was for him to tell me exactly what he wanted to have happen with my new toys. Hell, I don’t know if that was simply a male sex reaction to toys in general or to me with toys.

No. It has to be the first option. Jack hates me.

Even though he kissed me in the elevator like he was on death row, and I was his last kiss before execution.

I pace around my apartment and toss my toys on the bed, a hot beat from losing my mind over this. I don’t want Jack closer. I want him farther away. As far as he can get from me. What am I going to do? My friends and cousins are going to eat this up with a spoon, and Tyson will lick it clean. Though I won’t tell him much other than I hate Jack and that he’s my older brother’s best friend.

I threatened Jack with a performance, and now I feel like I need to act on it. I want to torture him. I want him angry and hard and pining and ready to tear down the wall because he knows he can never have me, but he wants me anyway. And why do I want him to want me like that?

To make him hurt, I decide. That’s why.

Retribution. He regretted me that night, and I’ll make him regret he ever bought this place. But speaking of that, in return will I have to hear him having sex? Will I have to endure running into a random woman in the stairwell? The thought twists me up in the worst of ways. How will I be able to sleep if he’s on the other side of the hall?

I flop onto my bed and toss my forearms over my eyes. Maybe this won’t be such a big deal. We’ll both have our own lives and our schedules, and once we fall into that, we’ll be two passing ships. I can have my walls soundproofed. I should have done that already.

Ugh.

I pick up my phone and pull up my text stream with my girls.

Ugh. Despite myself and my ire, I can’t help but crack a smile.

I toss my phone on my bed and go to make myself dinner that might consist of cookies tonight.

This. Sucks.

I haven’t seen Jack in the last two days. Not once. And I haven’t heard much from him either. He took the rest of the week off from work so he could move, which has been game-changing for me at the hospital. Callan matched me up with Dr. Marshall, and even though he’s a bit of a flirt and I swear he touched my ass, he’s also allowed me in on two traumas and a few of the more complex cases he’s had. There’s no looking over my shoulder for Jack. No scanning the halls to make sure I miss him.

But on the flip side, whenever I walk into my building, I race up the steps and go straight into my apartment. Other than some banging and small noises from his place, you’d never know he was there. Keegan was right. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, and if it weren’t Jack, I’d love that in a neighbor.

So by Friday evening, I’m feeling better about the whole thing. If this is how it’s going to be, it’s not so bad. That is until I get home and run up the steps to unlock my door just as his opens. We do a stare down similar to the other day, but I get over it and open my door. I need to shower and get changed and bake and cook some food before my girls come over.

“Your brother and a few of the guys are coming over tonight,” he says softly, stopping me.

“My girls are coming over.”

“I know. Owen and Sorel told me.” He sighs. “Can we try, Wren?”

I turn to face him. His hand is on his open doorway, and he looks… like he’s trying to be nice. “Try?” I echo.

“To be civil. To get along or not, but I want to let go of some of this hate.”

I don’t say anything. Mostly because I’m not sure how to respond. But at my silence, he takes a step toward me, his expression hopeful.

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I am. I’ve been sorry for a long time. I hurt you that night, both physically and emotionally, and it’s been a regret of mine.” His hands go to his hips, and he stares earnestly at me. “Since then, I know I’ve said and done things.” A wry chuckle flees his lips. “Well, I’m not going to get into everything with that because I’m not sure it matters. But I’m sorry if I ever hurt you. It was unintentional.” He smirks impishly and tilts his head. “For the most part anyway. But I mean it, Wren. I’d like to put that behind us, and I’m truly sorry for all of it.”

Wow. I almost don’t know what to do with that.

“Thank you.”

My problem is, I never wanted his apology. That night I wanted him to want me the way I wanted him. I was… well, I loved him in my adolescent way. But he didn’t want me back, and being rejected like that, after that moment and what we had shared, devastated me. The girl who had pined over him for years and the woman who had given him a piece of herself was crushed.

I understood why he reacted the way he did, but that didn’t take away the pain from it.

If anything, that made it worse.

He was never going to choose me. I wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the Cinderella he met, not the girl beneath the mask. Something he still proves every time he calls me that.

As a result, hating him felt vital. It’s been a barrier. An impenetrable armor.

If I hated him, then there’s no room for anything else. No love or liking or disappointment or hurt. It was simply hate, and that was a chip I knew how to use. I don’t want Jack back in my head. And I feel like if we’re on good terms or friendly with each other, he could start to worm his way back there. It wouldn’t be tough for him. I know this. I’ve known it all along.

It’s why I react to him.

That kiss and his heated stare and the words he spoke to me in the hallway the other day. He was my first, well, everything, I guess. I was consumed with him, and I knew it was bad for me even back then. It’s why when I left for college, I did everything I could to put him out of my head and forget him. It never worked. He was always right there, hiding under the surface.

I don’t want him to regain that sort of power over me.

I don’t want to think about him that way.

And if I hate him, then I won’t.

But how can I continue to hate him? We’re neighbors, and his people are my people. Not to mention, he followed me home Friday night just to make sure I got here safely. And he picked a fight with me—and then kissed me—to pull me out of my head and away from my panic.

I shift my weight. Then I nod. Just once. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he questions, and I glance at him only to immediately regret it. He’s smiling at me, his blue eyes sparkling, and my world would be so much easier if I didn’t find him so goddamn attractive.

“Yes. We can try to be civil.”

“Wow.” He chuckles and drags his hands back through his hair. “I was preparing a speech or a battle plan. That was easier than I thought it was going to be.”

I hold up a hand, stopping him before he gets carried away with this kumbaya stuff. “I have a few stipulations.”

His lips twitch. “Go on. What are they?”

“I don’t want to talk about that night ever again. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened. Same with what happened that following Thanksgiving.”

He frowns and stares straight into my eyes with a despondent look. “Wren⁠—”

I shake my head, cutting him off. “No more kissing or talking about spankings or being your good girl. No mention of sex toys or what you’d like to have happen with them.”

Now he’s frowning.

“I mean it, Jack. I’ll be civil with you, but I don’t like the line we’ve flirted with. I will not be anyone’s regret again.”

His eyes vacillate between mine, an opera’s worth of emotions flickering over his features. He opens his mouth but quickly closes it, and finally, after a long beat, nods in what almost appears like defeat.

He turns to return to his apartment, but before he shuts the door, I hear him say, “I never regretted you. It was everything else I didn’t know how to handle.”

The door shuts behind him, and I blow out a breath. Whatever. He can say what he likes, but it doesn’t matter. I have my hard line, and I won’t budge on it.

I go inside and shower off a day spent in the ER. I slip into a cute cream-colored sweater that shows a peekaboo of stomach above my favorite jeans. By the time I’m done blowing out my hair, applying my makeup, and pulling the last of the cookies out of the oven, the buzzer on my door sounds. I hit the unlock button, and seconds later, I hear voices and laughter carry up the stairwell to me.

Opening my door, I’m immediately greeted by Owen, who gives me a big hug, followed by Mason, Vander, Stone, Alden, Keegan, Kenna, Sorel, Katy, Bennett, and Estlin.

“Wow.” I laugh. “So many of you. And here I thought this was a girls’ night.”

“We’re going to see Jack’s place,” Owen explains.

“Yeah, he needs help setting up his new TV and systems,” Vander finishes.

“And that’s where you come in, cyber dude.”

“Like Batman.” He winks.

“We want to see his place too.” Sorel gives me a sheepish look. “Do you mind?”

“No.” Because I want to see it as well. “We’re civil now.”

Everyone stops dead in their tracks and stares at me as if I just grew a second head.

“For real?” I think Estlin might cry with happiness.

“Yep. Don’t believe me, ask him.”

I pan my hand in his direction since he’s now opened his door, likely having heard the ruckus in the hall.

“Is it true?” Estlin questions. “You and Wren are friends now?”

“Whoa, slow your roll there, baby cakes. I never said friends. I said civil.”

Jack chuckles and gives me a small smile. “Yes. We’ve officially declared a truce.”

“Wow.” Katy laughs. “Angels are weeping, and hell has frozen over.”

“So it would seem,” Jack agrees. “Are you coming in, or are you all just going to stand there gawking at me?”

Katy grabs my arm and hauls me along with them into Jack’s apartment which smells like his cologne but also fresh paint and sawdust. It’s loaded with gleaming hardwood floors, shiny new appliances and countertops, and some drool-worthy built-ins. It’s nice, and the layout is almost a mirror image of mine.

The guys immediately go for the living room, taking over his large sofa and chairs, already talking sound systems and TVs.

“Yawn.” Sorel rolls her eyes. “I want to see what he ended up doing with his bathroom.”

“My mom and I helped him pick out the fixtures, flooring, and stone,” Estlin states as we head directly for his bedroom. “I’m excited to see it too.”

“Creeping in my bedroom, ladies?” Jack asks behind us, his body close to mine, though I didn’t hear him follow us.

“We want to see how your bathroom turned out,” Sorel explains.

“Seriously?” He’s bewildered. “It’s a bathroom.”

“Yes!” she exclaims. “Don’t ruin this for us. You know I have a thing for home renovations.”

“Uh.” He scratches the back of his head in uncertainty. “Fine, but fair warning, the toilet seat might be up.” We all scrunch our noses, and he throws his hands up. “I’m a single guy living alone. It’s what we do. I didn’t expect a handful of judgmental women to come in my bedroom.”

“It is very nice in here. And clean.” Keegan does a circle in his bedroom, but all I notice is the layout of his place and how his bedroom wall most definitely abuts mine. Awesome. And yes, that’s total sarcasm.

“A little light reading, Jack?” Kenna teases, going over to his nightstand and grabbing a book.

“Huh? Oh.” His voice drops. “Oh, shit.” That last part is muttered so low under his breath, I don’t think he intended any of us to hear it.

“What is it?” Estlin questions only to start laughing. “What on earth? Since when did you start reading spicy romance?”

I follow along with everyone else, and when I see the books Kenna is holding up, I freeze. There are two books in her hands. Two very familiar books. Two books I specifically recommended to my text stranger. Icy talons of dread scratch at my gut.

I spin around, and our eyes immediately lock. His wary, mine hateful. Jack is my text stranger. He knew it was me all along, and he never said a word. That son of a bitch!