Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

I throw back the covers on my side and slowly slip from the bed. My bare feet hit the floorboards, and I curl my toes as I arch my back and stretch my spine. When I stand, I immediately feel the soreness radiating up my thighs again—from, you know, obvious spots.

It makes me blush, and I decide to hit the shower again.

Afterward, I feel brand new, at least in the cleanliness department. My hair is scrubbed clean, and I braid it quickly as I throw my clothes on for the day. This is just like last time, but I don’t feel like I did before. There isn’t any panic, and maybe it’s weird how little I feel. There’s a definite absence of any negative emotion. Right now, I feel just…I feel okay.

I feel so okay that I head down into the kitchen and start pulling out vegetables and blocks of tofu. I’m going to make a tofu scramble, complete with black beans, peppers, onions, mushrooms, jalapenos, and vegan cheese. I know for a fact that a good tofu scramble is so delicious that even a non-vegan would want to partake.

I’m humming away to myself—cutting and dicing vegetables and smearing oil in the frying pan—before I even catch myself doing it. Humming, first thing in the morning. All before five. I realize I’m nearing that point—that point of being too far gone. Nearing, but I haven’t reached it yet.

I’m just getting my fry on when the old wooden steps creak. I pause at the stove and turn when I sense Finn standing behind me. Yeah, I’m sensing him now, not just hearing him. I might be closer to that point than I think. When I turn, I expect to see an easy grin, tousled hair falling into his eyes, maybe even sheet creases along his cheek, and sleep clinging to his eyes.

Instead, I find a very serious, even bordering on grim expression. He looks like he just woke up to find a poop laced onto his pillow by an angry cat. Believe me when I say it can be a real thing. I’m not saying it’s happened to me more than once or anything, but once is more than enough.

“Finn?” Behind me, the frying pan sizzles hard. The smells are wonderful—tofu, vegetables, and Finn. But it’s at odds with the dark ass cloud hovering over the kitchen.

Finn holds up his cell, which he has clutched in his right hand. He’s only wearing his jeans from last night. They ride low on his hips, so low that the waistband of his boxers sticks out the top right below his delicious man V-muscle thing. His abs look glorious in the early morning sunlight making its way through the kitchen window, but every part of him looks glorious—every muscle and every hard craggy bit.

“I—I just got a call from my dad. I have to go back to New York. Now. Today.”

The frying pan keeps on sizzling, and I’m aware the scent isn’t so great now. Things are burning, things need to be stirred, and something should be done. Like stirred, removed from the heat, and the burner turned down. But I don’t move. I feel like the really happy-ass and beautiful ceiling I woke up to just cracked and came tumbling down on my head the way a good dream turns into a nightmare in an instant. It’s like there were happy clowns up there, but now they’ve changed to murderous clowns. I’m kind of scared of clowns for that very reason.

“W—what? Why?” I stammer.

Before he answers, Finn dodges past me, removes the frying pan with our burnt breakfast from the burner, and switches off the heat. I wrench around, crippling fear crawling up into my throat to choke me. I couldn’t have eaten anything anyway.

“It’s my mom. She’s had a heart attack,” Finn chokes out, his eyes blazing with restrained urgency.

“What?”

“In New York. She was at home at the time, thank god. My dad found her in her room after she screamed. He called an ambulance, and she’s at the hospital now. They think it was minor, but she’s not awake yet. She’s been out all night.”

“Jesus bananas.”

“That’s worse than the fuzzy ones,” Finn deadpans, trying to put on a brave face.

“Y—yeah. Way worse.” My hands vibrate so hard that I can feel the tremors straight up into my shoulders. “I—I’m sorry. Yes. Of course, you have to go.”

“I do. I’m going to get a flight out as soon as possible. I’ll head to the airport right away and return the rental too, so don’t worry about me needing a ride.”

“But…but…”

Finn’s dark eyes soften. They’re full of worry and pain, but there’s still room in them for something molten and squishy. I feel all liquidy and squishy, and not in a good way, either. I feel slightly frantic, but I’m not going to open my mouth and let any of my doubts come tumbling out now. It’s not the time, and it wouldn’t be right.