Page 57 of Enemies to Lovers

“You thought about taking your name out of it?” Ransom frowns. “Not that I want you to give it up, but—”

“I did offer,” I cut in. “She doesn’t want that.”

His eyes widen slightly. “She told you what she wants?”

“We talked about it, yes. Basically, I have to wait, be patient, work my ass off…”

He chuckles and reaches for his beer. “I know I said no advice, but… damn, I’d listen to her. Sounds like she’s being pretty straightforward with you, and that’s promising.”

Amusement trickles down my spine. Straightforward is the perfect word to describe Val, and I’ve grown to love that about her. For someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, it’s nice to know someone who spills their feelings out so freely.

Hunter bolts from his chair so suddenly, Ransom and I jerk back. Hunter rushes to Paxton, who is looking over the edge of the balcony. His golf club is completely out of sight.

“All right, bud,” Hunter says, clapping a hand on Paxton’s shoulder and steering him off the green. “Think it’s time to head home.”

“I’m grabbing a basket of fries to go,” Evan says, glaring at Ransom, who gives him a cheesy grin. I frown at Paxton as he sways under my brother’s arm.

“You wanna crash at my place?” I offer. It’s closer, and Hershey is good at cheering people up. Paxton shouldn’t be alone.

Paxton doesn’t answer, sinking onto one of the stools. He reaches for his beer, and Hunter pushes it out of the way. “I’ll take him with me,” he says. My brother’s eyes meet mine, and we speak without words. Yeah… Paxton won’t want to face our sisters yet. I nod once and then jerk a thumb at Ransom and Evan.

“I’ll take these guys.”

Hunter gives me that look he divvies out so often, but I’ll never get sick of it. Our father has never once said he’s proud of us, or appreciated us, or even that he loved us. He said it to Sammie and Emerson all the time, but us boys? Yeah, we didn’t get that. Hunter fills that void well.

Evan gets his fries, and we all help Paxton to Hunter’s truck. Then Ransom calls shotgun like we’re five and not in our twenties, and he and Evan race to my car. I flip my keys around my finger, give Hunter a wave, then head across the lot. A chuckle rises from the back of my throat when I see Ransom and Evan fighting for the front seat, Evan’s bulk and muscle battling Ransom’s reflexes and speed.

I can’t believe I’m going to listen to my brother… again. But I think this time, his advice is spot on.

It’s final exam day, and I’m running late. Darn Brewster.

I rush through the west parking lot, scurrying my short little legs and braiding my hair all at the same time. A good Samaritan holds the door for me, and I call a thanks over my shoulder as I skirt past.

The practical exam was easy peasy—and I hate to admit it was because I had one heck of a lab partner. Miles was in rare form yesterday, cracking jokes and treating our patient—a sweet malamute with a very red throat—with ease. Oh, I shined my brightest as well, and as much as I love working with the animals, I feel much better about the written than the lab.

I snap my hair tie around the end of my braid, turn the corner, and freeze.

“Woke up, woke up, woke up…” Miles tugs at his hair, pacing across the hallway in three strides, then back again. Red scorches up his neck, filling his cheeks underneath the stubble.

“Miles?” I step toward him. “You okay?”

“Woke up. I woke up…” His lips rumble with the harshness of his breath, his chest rising and falling, his shoulders locked tight by his ears. He paces again, his gaze on his feet as he takes the long steps across the tile.

“Miles,” I try again. He still doesn’t answer me, mumbling the same phrase. I drop my bag to the floor, taking cautious steps toward him. “Miles. Talk to me, please.”

His head snaps up, and a jolt rattles my lungs, squeezing me of air. Tear and sweat tracks mingle on his reddened skin. His fingers flex and relax against the sleeves of his shirt, leaving starburst patterns in their wake. His gaze catches mine, but his soul seems so far from his body, I’m unsure if it's Miles staring back at me.

He shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. He pinches them shut and tugs and pulls at his shirt. “I can’t, Val. I can’t.”

Relief floods my lungs, allowing me to breathe again. He’s aware enough to know it’s me, and that I can work with.

I eat the distance between us. “Breathe, Miles.” I set my hands atop his, curling my fingers between each of his. His shirt is damp under our palms. “In and out with me. Come on.”

I breathe by example, but he continues to hyperventilate. After a beat, he shakes his head wildly, his hair flying.

“It’s… It’s bad, Val. I can’t… focus.”

He leans against the wall at his back, then he slides from my grasp. His butt hits the floor with a thump, his legs nearly kicking mine out. He buries his face in his knees, interlocking his fingers at the back of his head. He rocks like he’s in a rocking chair.

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