Page 17 of Hired By the Enemy
I’d let him in, and we’d played fetch for a bit. As the dog happily retrieved the ball for me and dropped it at my feet, tail wagging, I’d forgotten about the mess of my life.
“Hey, that’s my dog.”
I jerked my head up. A boy was standing at the fence. He was about my age, with dark hair and a pale face, dressed in a neatly pressed shirt and shorts. Whereas I was in bare feet, wearing the same T-shirt I’d worn for days.
“We’re just playing,” I said.
“Max. C’mon,” the boy called.
But Max didn’t budge, eyes on my ball.
“Matthew!” A woman came out onto the back patio of the house next door. She had a smiling face, like she’d just finished laughing. “I’ve just made some cookies. Come get them while they’re still warm from the oven.”
The boy retreated back into his house wordlessly while my own tummy grumbled at the thought of cookies. My dad had done a basic grocery shop, but I knew there was only bread and peanut butter in the house for me to eat. He was currently buried in his study, and I was under strict instructions not to disturb him.
I stayed outside, imagining the scene inside the mansionnext door. A mother fussing over her son, serving him cookies and juice, maybe giving him an extra hug just because.
There was a squirmy feeling inside me that kept growing and growing.
With my stomach still growling, I finally remembered I had a half-eaten Snickers bar in my bag.
I retrieved it, then returned to the back steps to eat it.
Max came to sit beside me as I ate my Snickers. I pressed my body into his warm fur. Having him there provided some comfort to the swirl of emotions inside me that I couldn’t seem to switch off.
When I finished, I’d offered Max my wrapper to lick.
“You’re not supposed to feed chocolate to dogs.” Matthew’s voice had a superior tone to it, and when I snapped my head up, he was watching me from the other side of the gate, one eyebrow quirked. There were cookie crumbs around his mouth.
Fury had risen up inside me, so strong it almost knocked my breath away.
“Well, you’re not supposed to look like a demented chipmunk, but you do,” I’d replied.
His mouth had dropped open, and he’d stared back at me for a few moments. Then, his eyes had narrowed.
“Well, you look like a psychotic raccoon,” he’d said.
And that was how it all began.
I’m drawn out of my memories by someone saying my name.
I raise my eyes to find a grown-up version of Matthew staring at me from across the table. Matthew, the boy who had everything: the perfect house, the perfect family, the perfect brain that just got stuff as quick as teachers could say it.
He quirks his eyebrow, and for a second, I’m reminded of the eyebrow raise from the day we met. But this time, it’s accompanying a questioning look. Almost an “Are you okay?”expression. It’s weird for Matthew to look at me with anything other than disdain.
I guess it’s obvious I’ve zoned out.
I force one of my cocky grins onto my face.
“I’m going to grab seconds for breakfast. It takes a lot of energy to keep this machine functioning at full capacity,” I say.
“I wouldn’t want to see you function at anything less than full capacity,” Matthew quips back. But I can feel his questioning gaze as I head back to the buffet.
Fuck. Being around Matthew is dredging up memories I’d prefer to forget.
Can I survive a week of it?
I hang out at the pool in the morning with the other partners while Matthew is in a meeting. Everyone else is in vacation mode, and cocktails are already being guzzled like flavored water.
