Worse Than Enemies

The sound of voices outside my door gets me off the bed. I listen hard but can’t make out more than mumbling, however, there’s one thing I know for sure. Mom is one of the people speaking.

I turn the knob slowly and ease the door open an inch. I can just make out her back, along with a little bit of the person standing in front of her.

It’s Hayes.

My chest tightens, but not because of him. It’s because of her. Because she can’t leave things alone. I want to warn her to lay off him before she makes things any worse. Why isn’t it enough to have a man wrapped around her little finger? She has to make sure everybody loves her.

“I only want us to get along. If not for my sake, for your father’s.” At least she sounds gentle, though that could be because she’s whispering.

“Whatever.” He thrusts his hands into his pockets, looking at the floor.

“Both of us, your father and I, have been through a lot of heartache in our relationships.”

“Sure.”

“But now, we’ve found each other, and what we want more than anything is for everyone to get along. I know it’s not easy, all of us being together now, but we can try. Right?”

I almost want to give her credit for trying until she makes a mistake by reaching out and running her hand over his arm. He doesn’t like to be touched! I have to bite back that warning or else give myself away.

He doesn’t treat her the way he would treat me, but that’s not surprising. Instead of slamming her against a wall, he only pulls his arm away while glaring at her. “I get it, okay?”

“I understand if you resent our being here. Please keep your father in mind. That’s all I ask.” With that, she turns away and walks in the direction of her room. I let out the breath I was holding. It’s not her I was worried about, but him. Why is that? Why should I care if he gets in trouble for losing his temper?

He turns around like he’s going back to his room, and I start to close the door again.

I should have waited until he was gone. I should have been quieter.

The next thing I know, he’s shoving my door open so hard, so suddenly, I don’t have time to react. “There you are again,” he snarls before closing the door and leaving us alone.

“What? What did I do?” I back away until my legs hit the bed.

His features twist in an ugly snarl. “Eavesdropping. Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“I wasn’t trying to. I only wanted to see who was out in the hall.”

“No, that wasn’t enough. You couldn’t close the door and mind your own fucking business.”

I have to make him understand. “When I saw it was her talking to you, I wanted to help. I know how she can be.”

“Really? How can she be?”

“Pushy. She doesn’t know when to stop.”

“Yeah, and neither do you. You don’t even fucking see it.”

Is that true? “I just want to help you.”

“How many times do I have to say it?” He gets in my face, and it takes everything I have not to cringe away. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. I need you out of my life.”

“We don’t have a choice anymore.”

His eyes dart over my face, and I think I’ve gotten through to him for a second. “You’re right. There is no choice.”

My heart swells with relief. “The only thing we can do is try to get through it together. Right?”

“No. That’s not the only thing we can do.”

“What are you doing?” I ask when he places his hands on my shoulders.

He pushes, and I land on my back with my feet on the floor.

Suddenly, he’s on top of me, almost crushing my ribs. “Maybe this is what I’m going to do. Yeah, I think this is how I’ll get through it. If you won’t stay out of my life, then I won’t stay out of yours.” I don’t have room to squirm away and trying to push him off me would be like trying to push my way through a brick wall.

“You’ve made your point,” I gasp.

“No, because you keep coming at me no matter what I do.” Like he did in the closet, he slides a hand down my body, but his touch is different this time. He’s not teasing or tickling. “I might as well enjoy it, right?”

“Stop it.”

A nasty smile touches his lips, making my blood run cold. “You want me to stop? Then call out for somebody. My dad, your mom. Somebody. Anybody. Maybe they’ll stop me.”

He stops at the waistband of my pants—then slides his hand under the elastic and sends panic shooting through me. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my skin. “Scream for help. What do you think will happen? Do you think people will believe you? By the time anybody gets here, I could be across the hall.”