I'm Not Your Enemy (Enemies 2)

“But—” Oh my fuck. He didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know. I groaned and scrubbed at my face, feeling like a goddamn moron. Holy shit. How had we gone this far without it coming up?

Truth be told, I hadn’t thought about it in a while, and before then, I’d been sort of hoping he’d find out through Soph. Because I hadn’t told her she couldn’t say anything. And they were best friends. They talked.

Evidently not enough.

“You sweet idiot, I can’t believe you’d start a relationship with me thinkin’ I was still in the closet.” I stood up just to hitch a leg over the bench so I could straddle it and face Sebastian better. “I already told them everythin’. I’m out. They know.”

When I’d first gotten back to Washington, I would’ve refused to bring it up. I didn’t want Sebastian’s pity—or for my folks to be the subject of anything. I’d just wanted to put it behind me and live in a place where they didn’t exist. Perhaps I’d succeeded too well.

Sebastian stared at me blankly, and when he opened his mouth to respond, nothing came out.

I might as well get it all out there so we wouldn’t have any misunderstandings about this in the future. So in true Blake Kidd spirit, I word vomited from start to finish. I told him about the suffocating feeling I’d returned to Georgia with, how his talk of honesty and being true to myself had haunted me, and, eventually, how it’d convinced me to believe that there was at least a small chance my mom would love me for who I really was, too.

At that point, Sebastian mirrored my position on the bench and cupped the back of my head, and he rested our foreheads together.

It made it easier to talk, and I wanted it over with as quickly as possible.

My stomach churned painfully as I forced myself through the retelling of how my folks had acted once I’d told them I was gay. Because it’d turned out that the actual coming out was jack-shit in comparison. But then, waiting for their reaction and how Mom had chosen to avoid it all—that was the real gut punch. I was still unable to understand how she could smile casually at breakfast and completely ignore what’d taken me twenty-five years to admit to them.

My amazing childhood memories were stolen, at least the ones involving my mother. Like when she chased me around in the kitchen after I’d snatched a couple cookies before I was allowed. Those laughs transcended time and bounced off the walls of the ranch I’d grown up in. Same when she started teaching me how to cook. I’d been the troublemaker and the hell-raiser, but she’d had a soft spot for our moments in the kitchen. All those memories—ruined. If she’d known my true nature back then, she wouldn’t have bothered with me.

Lastly, how Dad delivered the final kick in the teeth. How he’d driven out to where I’d been fixing the fence, the speech he gave me, the buildup to “You do what’s best for your family.” As in, get the fuck out of there.

“And some hush money to sweeten the deal and to clear him of guilt. Three hundred grand.” As I heard myself speak, it hit me how dead I sounded. I’d lost my energy. Goddammit, this was why I didn’t wanna rehash the past today. “I reckon you know the rest of it. I drove around for a bit, stayed with my brother for a week, lost Rosie, then came here.” I eased away a little, needing some space, and scanned the immediate area to make sure I knew where the dogs were. “I’d already bought the land for Soph and Dylan, and I can’t use the money Dad gave me for myself. It don’t feel right. But I needed something to do, so…”

“So you decided to stay and build them a home,” Sebastian finished quietly.

I nodded. “And because I couldn’t let go of you. Even when I was in denial, I…” I shrugged. “I’m sorry. I should’ve brought it up sooner. Before—when the only thing you and I were good at was fighting and screwing in parking lots—I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

He sighed and gathered my hands in his, and he pressed his lips to my knuckles. “It’s called sympathy, baby.”

“I didn’t want you to have that either,” I insisted. “I didn’t want that colorin’ your feelings about me.”

“It wouldn’t and it doesn’t.” He lowered our hands again and gave me a firm look. “Would I have been less of a dick? Maybe. I sure hope so. But it wouldn’t have altered my feelings, Blake.”

It didn’t matter anymore. It was over and done with.

“I should’ve asked too,” he admitted. “I’ve been wondering about the money since Soph told me what you were planning, but part of me didn’t wanna know. I couldn’t risk you becoming a good guy.”