The Enemy - Kelsey Clayton Page 0,89

love you? That you mean everything to me? That I'd die without you? Come on, Len. You can't possibly believe anyone ever means that shit."

Her bottom lip quivers, making me feel like even more of an asshole. "But you...we—"

"We were never going to be anything serious."

Not being able to stand looking at how broken she looks anymore, I climb into the Jeep and shut the door. As I reverse out of the space, the car lines up right next to her. She's crying, but won't even look at me.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, and then pull out of the driveway.

I can see in the rear view mirror as Lennon follows me out of the driveway and out into the street. Molly runs out and goes to run after my car, but Lennon catches her and holds her close—the two of them breaking down together.

The pain that rips through my chest as soon as I'm out of sight is one that threatens to take me over the edge. It's raw, and real, and makes all my dad's drinking totally understandable. Hell, I'd do it too if it meant not feeling this, and I was the one to push her away. I can't imagine what it would feel like if she left me after twenty years for another guy.

I turn onto the highway and head for my dad's, hoping he's not passed out drunk on the floor when I get there. I'm not in the mood to deal with his shit today.

THE HOUSE IS EMPTY when I pull into the driveway. Even my dad's car is nowhere to be found, which probably means he's out drinking. Wonderful.

I grab my things out of the back of the car and bring them into my room. This must be a record, moving out and moving back in the matter of a couple months. I'd like to say I should have just stayed here to begin with, and a small part of me believes that, but then I wouldn't have had those few weeks with Lennon where everything was perfect.

My phone dings with an email from one of the sponsors, telling me that he had to leave California on business but that he'd like to meet when he gets back—next month. Great. Could this day get any worse?

I fall back on my bed and close my eyes, trying to remember how I felt on Saturday—when I had everything. The girl. The trophy. The future.

Now, I'm just a shithead who lost it all.

I'M SITTING ON THE couch when the door opens and my dad walks in. Every part of me expects slurring words and stumbling, but to my surprise, he's sober. Stone cold sober.

"Hey, buddy," he greets me. "What brings you here?"

"Where were you?"

"I had a job interview."

Relief floods through me. The house may still be a mess, and everything may be a total wreck, but he's not. He's okay, or at least as okay as he can be right now.

"Y-you're sober."

He looks down at the floor, obviously embarrassed. "Yeah. I haven't had a drink in a little over a week, after your girlfriend dropped off eighty grand like it was a normal thing to do."

My heart hurts at the mention of Lennon. "I just thought..."

"That I would spend it all on booze?" he finishes for me as he puts his keys on the counter. "I thought about it, and a part of me wanted to. But I hired a therapist instead."

"A therapist?" I have to keep myself from laughing at even the idea of that.

He comes over and sits down on the loveseat. "Yeah, I know, but she really helped get through to me. She helped me understand that while what your mother and I had was great, if it was still what I pictured in my head, if it was real and meant to be, she wouldn't have been able to walk away. Another guy would never have been an issue."

I can't help myself. A chuckle bubbles out at the irony of it all. "Seriously? Sounds like a crock of shit."

My dad shrugs and leans back. "It makes sense to me."

"So, you're okay with the divorce now? You agree with it?"

"Not exactly," he answers honestly. "I don't agree with it. She cheated on me for months before she finally told me she was leaving, and that's wrong. But she wasn't happy, and I want her to be happy."

I sigh, not sure if I feel relieved or ticked off. "I spent the whole summer trying to figure