Sworn Enemy: An MM Enemies-To-Lovers Book (Wild Heart Ranch 1)
Sworn Enemy: Chapter 9

“Yoo-hoo, anyone here?”

I grin at the familiar voice and step out from behind the counter. “What are you two doing here?” I ask, happy and surprised to see Desi and Sam make their way up the tool aisle to the back of my brother’s ranch supply store.

“What are you doing here, Justin? I thought you were working on the fencing side of the business,” Desi asks, coming in for a hug, followed by another hug from Sam.

I put on a smile and answer Desi’s question. “Yeah, I’m subbing in for Jason today. I think working the store with any regularity would end up with me back in a mental hospital,” I joke, sort of.

Thankfully, I’ve only got another couple of hours before I can lock up for the day.

Sam smiles, causing a tiny pucker along the scar that runs from the corner of his mouth up his cheek. “Ooh, what’s Jason up to?”

“Oh, Jason and—” I bite off the rest of the sentence.

Shit. I almost said that Jason and Patrick had gone to Mustang Island for the week. They are still way on the down-low because there’s a distinct conflict of interest with their relationship. I can’t help but think that anyone who sees how happy they make each other would judge it.

Desi grins like a Cheshire cat. “Jason and who are doing what?”

I draw my fingers across my lips like a zipper and mime locking it before throwing the imaginary key over my shoulder.

Sam pounds his fist on the counter. “Dammit. We almost had him.”

I narrow my eyes, playing along. “You two are the worst. You know why I can’t say anything about the thing that isn’t happening. So don’t make me.”

They roll their eyes in unison, and I still can’t believe they haven’t been friends all their lives. Sam’s wearing his usual sparkly makeup and a Rainbow Brite T-shirt with cut-off shorts. On the other hand, Desi is in a cute matched set with tailored shorts and a button-down, and he’s wearing what appears to be a very expensive purse on his arm.

Hell, I’m in a beige Carhartt shirt with rolled-up sleeves, dirt-covered jeans, and even dirtier boots, having spent the morning laying in a new fence over at the old Cabott farm. But at least it all fits.

God knows what my hair is doing. I run a hand through it.

“So, are you joining us at the barn-raising on Saturday?” Sam asks, his smile kind.

“Oh, Nacho’s gonna run over the materials we promised, but…” I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “It feels like I should probably stay away from that.”

Desi shakes his head, certain. “Absolutely not. Absolutely not,” he repeats, slamming his hand on the counter. “You are a part of this community. You and your brother helped with the fire. You deserve to be there with everyone.”

I shift my jaw from side to side. “You hafta understand. The history with Charlie and me…I mean, just last week…no.”

Sam looks over at Desi, and they cross their arms, giving me who-the-fuck-are-you-kidding brow. “Just last week, what? And does whatever happened have anything to do with that fact that both you and Charlie skipped Sunday dinner?”

Shit. I’d skipped it to give him space. Guess that backfired.

Sam is the one to ask the question, and Desi follows up with, “Don’t you fucking tell us you can’t say anything. This is not the same as the situation with Jason and Patrick, and you know it.”

“There is no situation with Jason and Patrick,” I respond automatically.

“Sure there’s not. There’s also not a wager going over at Rebel Sky about when they’ll actually make their relationship official.”

“He was elected five months ago. Good money’s on nothing before the year is out,” I say, grinning slightly.

“Aha!” they say simultaneously, high-fiving each other.

“You two are dorks.” I dust off my jeans, feeling self-conscious.

“Yes, but we are dorks who will totally be taking Warwick’s money because we both guessed it.”

“I think I should get, like, some sort of insider’s fee for helping you with that.”

“Stop trying to change the subject, Justin,” Desi snipes, shrewd as always. “Fess up. What happened with you and Charlie?”

I look out the front window and let out a heavy sigh. “Sam, can you lock the door?”

He grins, clapping his hands together. “Oh shit. That means it’s good.”

He runs over to the door and locks it, then turns the sign to Closed.

They crowd around me, grinning and eyes sparkling with the promise of new gossip.

“So…it didn’t occur to me he would end up at the same queer support group I attend. Which is stupid because it’s not exactly like Johnson City and the surrounding areas have a ton of people.”

“Damn. That’s gotta be awkward,” Sam says, biting his lower lip.

“Really fucking awkward. Especially since it was my sober anniversary.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Desi says, giving me another hug. “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations, Justin,” Sam says, rubbing my arm.

I grin and duck my chin, so fucking appreciative I don’t even know what to do with myself. Oh yeah, the story.

“Well, you understand the anniversary of my sobriety coincides with the anniversary of…” I run my fingers over the scar hidden under my hair.

Both of them bring their hands to their mouths, eyes going red.

I hold up my hands. “Please don’t be upset for me. It was the lowest point in my life, but it led me to everything else. I’m going to be okay. Actually, I’m going to be more than okay. Hell, look at what a difference a year makes.”

Desi, laughing to himself, wipes away a stray tear. “Yeah, it looks like you finally got enough calorie intake going.”

“Desi,” Sam exclaims. “We don’t talk about people like that.”

I wave him off. “No, he’s right. I didn’t have an eating disorder, but the pills I took made eating a non-priority.”

They both nod with understanding.

“Well, and I feel like a real shithead admitting this, but mine wasn’t the only anniversary that night.”

Sam’s brows scrunch together. “What do you mean?”

I look over at Desi, who was around pretty often when we were all in high school. Desi’s eyes widen as he figures it out. “Was your attempt on the same day as Charlie’s?”

My eyes hit the floor. “I didn’t plan for it to be that date. I…Jason was trying so hard to help me, and I kept fucking up. I was such a weight on him. I was holding him back from his big do-over, and I couldn’t stop thinking that if he didn’t have to deal with me, he would be so much better off.”

Desi and Sam pull me into a group hug, squeezing me tight.

Sam is the first to speak. “You have to know that is not true.”

I squeeze them back and withdraw. “I do.” The uncertainty in their eyes makes me want to reassure them. “Truly. I know one hundred percent it’s not true. But this disease, this addiction…it lies to you. On top of that, I would always get so sad this time of year.”

“Really?” Desi asks. “I don’t know why I hadn’t considered that this time of year would be hard on you too.”

“It’s not like I’ll ever forget that date.” I shrug. “Even though when Charlie nearly killed himself, nobody said anything to me.”

They look at each other, then back at me. Sam asks, “Whaddya mean, nobody said anything to you?”

“Exactly that. My mother and father never said anything to me. The school, the cops, the church…nobody. Literally, the only response I got, if you can call it that, was the proud look on my father’s face. That’s it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Desi whispers. “You were a teenager. A kid. I mean, you did some pretty shitty things, and there definitely should’ve been some accountability, but…fuck.”

I nod. “It’s just…I sometimes forget what this time of year is. I get this generalized sense of foreboding, and then all of a sudden, I notice the date and remember all over again why I feel like shit.”

“Jesus,” Sam hisses. “Fuck, that’s awful.”

“Oh God. Please don’t feel sorry for me.” I say, holding out my hands. “Anyway, I had just been arrested for the DUI and fucking up the Broken Oak, and I was feeling like such a worthless human being. I figured I’d finish off the job Charlie started, but this time with the right person.”

Desi wipes away another tear. “That is really fucked up, Justin.”

“You deserved help years before you actually got it,” Sam says, his eyes so damned sincere.

“Thank you.” I take a breath and get on with the story. “So, there I was, talking about my anniversary, and I look up to replace Charlie with a cookie hanging out of his mouth, sitting at the back of the room. All of a sudden, it was completely clear to me. Of course he would need a meeting on the anniversary of his attempted suicide. Of course he would go to the closest location. And there I was, you know, talking about my recovery, shitting all over his grief and pain.”

“You have to know that’s not what you were doing,” Desi says, crossing his arms.

“Well, Charlie definitely felt that way. Anyway, he got up as quick as he could and walked out the door. I should’ve just let him go. Admittedly, a tiny part of me was afraid he might hurt himself, but a bigger part of me wanted to apologize. To let him know how sorry I was.”

Sam’s voice is soft as he touches my arm. “Yeah, but apologizing to make you feel better is never the right way.”

I hang my head. “Yeah, I sorta got that after the fact.”

“So what happened when you went after him?” Desi asks.

“I stopped my little speech, said I had to go, and followed him to his truck. I forced my apology on him, and he told me to go fuck myself. Which I deserved.”

“Ouch,” Desi says, grimacing.

“Well…there’s a little bit more to it.”

“Like what?”

“I tried to explain myself.”

They join each other in groaning at my poor decision.

I hold up a hand. “I know. I heard it. But in that moment, I just…I wanted him to understand. Like maybe him understanding would make things easier for him? And maybe make things easier for me, I don’t know. Anyway…I admitted I’d been in love with him in high school.”

Sam gasps softly and puts his hand to his chest. “Really?”

I nod, hoping these two don’t see how much it’s still the case. “Yeah…that little truth bomb pissed him off more than anything else.”

Desi shakes his head. “Yeah, I can see that. It’s funny. I bet if you’d admitted your feelings for him back then, he would’ve done anything to protect you, whether or not he returned your feelings. He has that vibe about him. He’s quiet, but…”

“Yeah,” I say, shuffling. “He said as much. He said I could’ve at least told him I was gay because he would’ve been a safe place for me. But the way I treated him…it was the only thing that made my dad proud.”

“That is so fucked up,” Sam repeats, his tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it.

“My dad knew I was gay,” I explain. “He hated it, but as long as I hated myself enough to fuck with other people, I could garner some scrap of approval.”

“Jesus,” Desi spits out. “When will people ever figure out that acceptance and appreciation are just so much healthier and so much less painful?”

I shrug, trying not to feel hopeless at how bad it still is for so many kids like me. “Unfortunately, my explanation didn’t help, and things took a turn after that.”

They gesture for me to continue.

“He, uh…how do I say this? He asked me if I ever fantasized about him.”

“Oh shit,” Desi curses under his breath.

I tilt my chin in acknowledgment.

“He asked if I dreamed about him giving it to me rough. I think to shock me. Actually, I think my answer shocked him right back.”

“What was your answer?” Desi asks, gentle as always.

“I told him it was the exact opposite. That he would’ve been kind to me.”

Sam and Desi give each other a look and then wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders. “That’s actually…kinda sweet,” Sam says.

I grimace. “Not really. It was, apparently, the way wrong thing to say to him. Made him so fucking mad.”

Desi hums to himself, thinking. “Because you were probably telling the truth.”

Sam, on the other hand, looks worried. “Wait. He didn’t hit you, did he?”

“Oh God, no,” I respond quickly, not wanting them to get the wrong idea. “He, uh, definitely didn’t hit me.”

Desi gets a shrewd look in his eyes. “But he did do something, right?”

Heat creeps along my jawline and into my cheeks. “He, uh, kinda kissed me?”

Their jaws drop to the floor in unison.

“Shut the front door,” Desi says, his eyes bugged out. “Charlie kissed you?”

“Yeah,” I answer, rubbing the back of my neck. “He was so fucking mad, and it was…hot.”

“What did you do?” Sam asks.

“I…well, it took me a second to wrap my head around what was happening, but I definitely kissed him back. Like, both of us went at it pretty hard. I split my lip,” I say, tonguing the tiny crack in the delicate skin.

“Holy shit.”

I nod. “And then he sorta…hate-fucked me.”

Desi and Sam narrow their eyes.

Desi goes first. “Did you just say he hate-fucked you? In the parking lot?”

Sam’s brows meet in the middle. “Wait. Was this…consensual?”

I hold up my hands. “It was definitely consensual, it was definitely hate-fucking, and…not gonna lie. Having him fuck me up against his truck in the parking lot was hot.”

Desi chews his thumbnail, and Sam looks confused.

“I’m confused.”

“He was so fucking mad, and the way he manhandled me…pushing me up against the truck and…yeah.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Desi says, putting up a finger. “Point of clarification, y’all fucked in this parking lot? Like, two doors down?”

I bite my lip. “Under the oak tree across the way. It was dark, and, uh, we were quick.”

Desi nods. “Yep. That’s hot. Toxic as fuck, but…hot.”

Sam wraps his arms around himself. “What happened then?”

“Um, like I said, it was over pretty quick, and seconds later, he was in his truck and pulling out of the parking space. Right before he took off, he apologized. And I basically just stood there like an idiot.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Desi says, scratching under his jawline. “It’s interesting you told him how you’d imagined him intimately, and his response was to fuck you.” He turns to Sam. “What do you think?”

Sam nervously fluffs his perfectly coiffed hair with delicate fingers. “I don’t know. Tell me, Justin. Do you still have a thing for Charlie?”

I look down at the floor, running my hand across my brow to cover my eyes.

“Oh shit, Justin. You do,” Desi says.

Raising my hands, I respond with a hard truth. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about the man. He really does hate me, with reason. He keeps giving me this look…”

“What kind of a look?” Sam asks.

I think on it. “This is probably the wrong word because I have no clue what’s going on in his head, but maybe…grief?”

Sam looks up, tapping his fingers across his lips. Holding up a finger, he responds, “That makes sense, actually. From what little gossip I can gather, I don’t think coming back here was totally his idea. Seeing how much the town has changed might bring up some residual resentment about what he went through.”

Desi nods. “Hell, Sam, you’re right. Think about it. If you were to go back to East Texas and replace that your town was all of a sudden accepting and kind, no one could blame you for being a little bitter about the things you missed out on.”

“Yeah, well, he almost certainly feels like he missed out on an important relationship,” I say, darting a look over at Sam.

He up-nods me. “What relationship?”

“Um…er,” I start, feeling hella awkward about bringing it up. “Look. I’m not sure if it’s my place, but Charlie always had a thing for Trip. I knew it back then because I had a thing for Charlie. So…”

Sam frowns. “Trip’s never said anything.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think he knows. Like, he was all about that girl in high school—Trinity?—to the exclusion of everybody else. Charlie never had a shot back then.”

Sam scowls but gestures for me to continue.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m guessing when he first moved back, it was hard for him to wrestle with the fact that Trip’s not only married but married to a guy. So me saying I had feelings for him back then was like…”

“Setting fire to a drum of gasoline,” Desi observes dryly.

I nod. “But I don’t think he’s pining over Trip or anything,” I say quickly, looking over at Sam.

He bobs his head. “I agree with you. When he stayed with us, there wasn’t any weird tension, and he said a couple of times that he thinks we’ve got an amazing relationship, and he’s proud of what Trip and I’ve built together.”

“Honestly, that sounds like the Charlie I’ve always known. He never begrudges anyone’s happiness.”

Desi snorts. “Then what’s with the hate-fucking?”

“I think last week was about the anniversary and about the fact that I’d been so fucking awful to him. It felt like he was taking back his power.”

Shaking his head, Sam asks, “And that was hot for you?”

I let out a slow breath. “It very much was.”

“Hm. I dunno, Justin. Maybe in the end, this will be an opportunity for both of you to heal a little,” Sam says, his eyes kind as always. “He’s a man of principle. And so are you.”

I snort. Says literally no one ever.

“Hey,” Sam says, smacking my shoulder. “Why do you think—after everything—Desi and I decided to be your friend?”

I snort again. “I assume some profound sense of charity.”

Sam smacks me again. “Shut the fuck up. This isn’t fucking charity. It’s recognition.”

“Exactly,” Desi says, walloping me from the other side. “We don’t have shitty friends. You have been working your ass off. It’s not like you’re trying to be a better person. You are a great person, and now you’re letting the rest of us see it.”

I swallow hard and step back, wrapping my arms around myself. A few tears escape, and I take another step back. To their credit, Desi and Sam let me have my space.

“I don’t…I don’t think anyone’s ever seen me as good. Like, at my core.”

Sam looks over at his friend, then back at me. “That’s how they fuck us over, Justin. They make us think who we are is intrinsically bad, and that is a fucking lie. You hear me? A goddamn lie that absolutely cannot take up another second of your time. Not. Another. Second.”

Sam is the absolute last person to blow sunshine up my ass, so I inhale the truth of his words. Let them settle in around my soul.

Desi tentatively steps forward, rubbing my arm. “Literally, the minute you and your brother decided to step into your truth, you started helping the community. Sure, some of that is contrition, but you two do all sorts of things you never tell anyone about. I mean, all of a sudden, people with fixed and low incomes have new fences around their properties. The main streets in town now have fresh flowers hanging from the gas lamps. I may not go to the Pride meetings, but Lynn said you and your brother repainted the space, updated the little break area, and replaced all the old chairs with comfortable new ones.”

I shrug. “It feels good to do nice things.”

“That’s because you’re a good person,” Sam insists.

I take another deep breath and pull them both into a hug. “Thank you.”

“And good people show up for Sunday dinners and community projects, even when the showing up is awkward,” he continues.

Desi chuckles. “Man, you walked right into that one.”

I shake my head, smiling as I curse myself.

“I really did,” I admit, holding them closer. “Now, why were you two in a ranch supply store to begin with?”

Desi grins as he steps back and curtsies. “I need eyebolts for my bedroom. Wyatt got a little…overzealous with the last set.”

I cover my eyes with my palms. “You know, Desi, when you’re asking for things, you don’t need to tell me what they’re for.”

“I know. That’s just a bonus.”

“I take back all my sappy feelings. I really hate you two.”

Sam grins. “You wish you could. We’re undeniable.”

My cheeks ache from smiling so hard. “That you are, gentlemen. That you are.”