Sworn Enemy: An MM Enemies-To-Lovers Book (Wild Heart Ranch 1)
Sworn Enemy: Chapter 24

I hate driving away from Charlie’s house. So much has changed between us, even from yesterday to today. I trust that even with his mom’s disapproval—which makes me so anxious I kind of wanna vomit—he is sure about how he feels for me.

And knowing that makes my heart soar. I crank up the music in my truck and sing with nerves running riot in my gut and a stupid smile on my face as I drive back home.

Pulling into the place my brother and I set up together, I’m struck by how proud I am of both of us. I know he’s been putting in some serious time with his sheriff, but I’m hoping we can have dinner together soon.

I let myself in the house while humming some embarrassing early-2000s Backstreet Boys. Walking over to the refrigerator, I grab a bottled water and crack it open, knocking back half of it before a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“Hello, son.”

I do a spit take, then wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

“Dad,” I say, the word making my mouth go numb.

Ever the banker, he’s in a sharp, expensive suit and tie, wearing two-thousand-dollar Italian leather shoes. Like a predator, his eyes track down my body, taking in the work clothes and worn-in boots. They narrow in on the small hickey Charlie left on my neck.

“What are you doing here, Dad?”

“Can’t I visit with my son?”

I shiver at the challenge in his voice, hating that my father can still make me feel this way.

“You made it pretty clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me or Jason.”

“Fine. Your mother insisted.” His eyes trace back to my temple. “It appears you are no worse for wear after your little tantrum in the woods.”

“I got lucky.”

“I suppose. If you call being a pill-popping drunk lucky. You were too wasted to do the job correctly. That’s not exactly something to be proud of.”

“Perhaps not, but I am proud of what I am making of my life.”

“Is that why I hear whispers of you hooking up with the Wills boy?”

Ah. There it is. The real reason for his visit.

“He’s not a boy, Dad.” My voice is shaking, but I hold the course. “And…I do not respond to rumors. Nor do I answer to you.”

He gets up from the table, the chair scraping loudly along the wooden floor. “I told your mother this would be a waste of time. To be honest, I should sue you and your brother for the cost of raising you. You both turned out to be so fucking useless.”

This is normally where I’d curl into a ball and capitulate to whatever he’s saying. But I’m not that neglected and unloved kid anymore.

“I am not useless, Father. I’ve got a year’s sobriety, Jason and I own two successful businesses, and I have been giving back to this community in whatever way I can. And that Charlie Wills boy that you replace so abominable? I just joined him on a mounted search for a little kid, and we saved his life. So you can keep your fucking opinion to yourself. I am not useless.”

I can’t keep the damn shaking out of my voice or the tears from springing up in my eyes, but at least I’m standing up for myself. At least I can do that.

My father’s lip curls as he stands in front of me, judgment and condemnation personified as he grips the lapels of his jacket. I swallow heavily, bracing for his next words.

“Should’ve known you peaked in high school. You are such a disappointment. But I do wish you continued sobriety.” I must look surprised because he holds up his hand. “Maybe the next time you pick up a gun, you’ll fucking shoot straight.”

He always did know how to knock the wind right out of me without even raising a fist. I think, sometimes, I would’ve preferred his fists.

I stand there, frozen in place, as he walks past me. I listen to the sound of his expensive shoes clicking across the living room floor, jumping when he slams the front door behind him.

The sharp sound unfreezes me, and I walk over to the door, bolting it as I lean my forehead against the solid wood. My ears ring as my heart pounds, and all the places where I was starting to feel strong suddenly feel so very weak.

I wish he didn’t affect me like this. I wish I could ignore the vile hatred in his words.

I think about how hard I’ve been working and how he belittled it, making it seem like nothing. Remembering that it’s okay to feel sad and to cry when shit like this happens, I stop trying to control the tears.

Slumping against the front door, I fight the numbness that settles over me, letting wave after wave of hurt crash into me. I cry over his hurtful words, then cry again for every time I wouldn’t let him see how much he hurt me.

Finally, after the sun’s shadow has moved from one side of the living room wall to the other, the storm settles, and I lick my lips, feeling thirsty. I think about sharp kitchen knives and wonder idly about the kinds of deadly stripes I could put on my body.

Yeah, nope. Not letting my brain wander down that path for a second more. Reaching for my phone, I hit the button for my sponsor.

“Thank you for calling. I’m off the grid this weekend and will be back on Tuesday,” Melody’s kind voice says through the line.

Shit. I forgot she’s at her annual Sober Women retreat. I hover over the button for my brother, but he’s been so happy. I can’t fuck that up for him.

My finger hesitates on the third button down, drifting over the name I can’t stop saying in my sleep. Knowing he’ll be upset if I don’t, I hit Charlie’s number.

“Hey, Justin. Missing me already?”

“Yeah,” I say, unable to hide the pain in my voice.

The line goes silent for a bit. “Justin? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“My father was waiting for me when I got here.”

He curses under his breath. “I assume he was as kind and supportive as ever?”

“Got it in one,” I say, chuckling to myself. “I’m so sorry to call you. I know you’ve gotta be exhausted, and this so isn’t your job, but I forgot that my sponsor is out of town. And, you know, Jason’s already seen so much of me at my worst, and I don’t want to ruin his day.” I bang my fist against my forehead. “But now I guess I’m just ruining it for you.”

“You’re not ruining it for me,” he says, his voice soft. “You can call me when things are bad.”

“Why? Why can I call you after everything?”

There’s no way Charlie’ll want to deal with all this bullshit long-term. He’s probably mentally checking out right now.

“It’s because of everything that you can call me, Justin. Since I’m the one who had the loving, supportive parents, I’ll just tell you what my mom would tell me when I would come home from school crying.”

“Jesus Christ,” I say, wiping my tears. “I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel this way. It’s awful. I don’t know how you survived it.”

“I didn’t,” he says, his voice soft. “I am a different person than I was before my attempt. I had to become someone who is okay with people not liking me for me. I had to like me, to love me, and that had to be enough. And honestly, when I started to do that—however imperfectly—that’s when things really started to get better.”

“How can you talk about the ways in which I hurt you and changed you and still sound so kind? I mean, the way you put your hands on me…you make me feel treasured. It feels stupid to say that, but it’s how I feel around you. I don’t get how you can get past what I did to you. Especially if this is how it made you feel.”

“This feeling you have? Would you wish it on anyone?”

“No.”

“Even your father? Even those guys outside of the hotel yesterday?”

“Nobody should feel like this.”

“And that’s how. All I ever wanted was to stop hurting. That’s it. When I figured out that you could not have hurt me without having an enormous amount of pain yourself, I wanted both of us to stop hurting. Of course, getting my wish was…complicated.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When I heard that you’d come out, not gonna lie, it was hard to feel happy for you. But…there was a part of me that was proud of you because I know exactly how hard it is to do that.”

I sniffle, letting his words cascade down around me. “I just wish it didn’t hurt this bad.”

“I know,” he says. “Why don’t you breathe with me for a few minutes? We don’t have to say anything. Just breathe with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He takes a deep breath in, and I follow him as best I can, willing my chest to release some of this tension. I follow his breath out, and it’s still hard, but I can tell my muscles want to relax.

In and out. In and out. He’s patient as he leads me in this gentle breathing pattern.

“That better?” he asks, and I realize I hear his voice in two places.

“Yes, kinda.”

“Justin, can you let me in?” he asks, his voice soft.

I wipe my nose against the back of my sleeve. “Okay.”

I stand, unsteady on my feet, and unlock the door, slowly opening it to reveal his worried face.