I'm Not Your Enemy (Enemies 2)

“The awning’s mechanical too,” he said. “You’ll find the remote for it inside the RV.”

“This is goddamn impressive.” I squatted down and gripped the edge of the patio, testing its flexibility. It certainly felt sturdy.

“My man’s a genius,” Soph gushed. “You two can probably discuss the structure of this thing for hours, but I’m cold and… Are we walking from here? Where’s our car?”

She wasn’t wrong. I loved these things. When construction met engineering, magic happened.

“Max has it. He’s parked up the street,” Dylan answered. “I figured that’s what interns are for. We’ll just drop him off on the way home.” As I straightened again, he threw me the keys. “Can I come over tomorrow around lunch and get some details on the building process? I feel a little lost.”

“Of course. I’ll be here. I can forward the plans and the blueprints too.” I held up the keys. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“I’m not worried. Assuming you two have worked things out, I’ll say it’s good to have you back.” He clapped me on my arm and grabbed Soph’s hand.

“We did,” she confirmed with a smile. “Let’s go pick up our girl. And you can let your doggies out of the truck, Blake. I didn’t even see Rosie. Is she still in Georgia?”

Aw, hell.

Four

I woke up well rested but with a rock in the pit of my stomach.

A glance at the clock started the internal countdown. Twelve hours and fourteen minutes till I saw Sebastian again for the first time since I’d split without a word.

It shouldn’t fucking matter. At all. We’d shared a couple weeks together, and now, even after two months apart, he was still on my mind. How the fuck did that work? If that wasn’t toxic, I didn’t know what was.

Who knew how many guys he’d banged since then.

Ouch.

I ran a hand through my hair and glanced around me. Oppy and Percy were sprawled out on the floor by the door, clearly not in any rush this morning.

It was a nice RV. Spacious. Rather than one sleeping section in the back, resulting in a cramped seating area, it was just one big room and a small bathroom. One generously sized sofa and two cushy chairs transformed into three individual beds, and the dining table could be stowed away along the wall. Plenty of space for storage in the overhead compartments too, and the sleeper above the cab had a divider curtain. Even the kitchen was cool. I’d lived in apartments with smaller kitchenettes.

I made quick work of putting away the bed, washing up, and getting dressed. For once, it wasn’t raining outside. So while I let the boys do their thing in the yard, I brought all my shit from the truck into the RV. Then I hooked up the RV to the power at the property line so I didn’t have to worry about draining the batteries.

Buying groceries came next, and I didn’t have to bring Percy and Oppy with me. It felt good. Something that felt even better was the fact that I had a kitchen now. I could make my own coffee in the morning, cook my own food, and not worry about finding ice packs for my cooler.

On the way “home,” I bought new shoes too. I needed a nicer pair of dress shoes that I could use for going out. Brown leather went with most things, from jeans to suit pants.

Nine hours and fifty-four minutes till dinner.

I filled the little fridge and freezer, the cupboards as well, and stowed away the food and treats I’d bought for the boys in a couple compartments.

Dylan stopped by around noon, and he didn’t arrive empty-handed. Aside from two burgers and fries, he had a list of questions from Soph. Things she’d been too overwhelmed to think of last night.

It wasn’t as cold today—go figure, now that I didn’t have to sleep in the truck—so Dylan and I made use of the patio as we ate. With the camping chair as a table in front of us, I pulled up the blueprints and plans for the property on my laptop, and I answered the questions best I could.

“Bottom line, this is your future home,” I said, biting into my burger. “I’ll follow your lead. I’m just taking liberties with the guesthouse.”

Dylan chuckled and picked up his soda. “Blake, a guesthouse hasn’t existed even in our wildest dreams. You do what you want with it. This whole thing is still surreal to us. We stayed up last night and just… We couldn’t process it.”

I supposed this was a good time to address another one of Soph’s issues, which didn’t come with any direct inquiries so much as a rant of rhetorical questions. “How do you thank someone for a house? Is this actually happening? How many things can go wrong so I can prepare myself?”