Ask Me Why: An Enemies to Lovers Standalone Romance

by Harloe Rae

  “Why not both?”

  He bounces on his toes. “Yes! This will be a great night.”

  My stomach grumbles. “What time do you usually eat?”

  “Around seven. My daddy makes me dinner.”

  “Okay, we’ll wait for him.”

  Ollie turns around and races into his room. I giggle, following his trail of dust. He’s already sprawled on the floor when I walk in.

  “I’m building a huge fire engine. Will you help me?” He waves a colorful pamphlet at me.

  “Of course, sweetie. I’ve never made one before.” I ease myself down next to him.

  “Me either. It’s taking me a long time.”

  I study the progress he’s made so far. It looks like the base frame, maybe a space for wheels. The basics might be complete. It’s hard to tell with these small blocks.

  Reaching for a few loose pieces, I try to find where they belong on the vehicle. “Let’s see how far we get.”

  The instructions turn out to be very self-explanatory. We set up an efficient system and get most of the truck complete. The tips of my fingers are sore, but the sense of accomplishment takes the pain away. Ollie’s grin is the greatest gift.

  “Wow, we almost finished the whole thing.” He stares at the object with wonder reflecting in his eyes. “Thanks, Miss Braelyn.”

  I ruffle his hair. “Thank you for showing me how to play.”

  He snickers. “That’s silly. It’s super easy to fit Legos together.”

  “Is it? I couldn’t tell.” I smile at him. “You made it so fun.”

  “Now what?”

  I seek out a clock. It’s a quarter past seven. “Well, it’s time to eat.”

  “Yeah, my tummy is talking.”

  That gets a laugh from me. “That means you’re running on empty. Better fill you up with some good stuff. Should we check in with your dad?”

  Ollie bobs his head. “M’kay.”

  I reach for my phone and type out a message.

  Me: Will you be home soon? Ollie is getting hungry.

  “What do you usually eat on Monday evenings?”

  He lifts a slim shoulder. “Whatever. How about grilled cheese?

  I nod. “Okay. Hopefully we hear from him.”

  Twenty minutes later, and there’s still no response from Brance. Ollie whimpers about his stomach growling. Mine echoes his pangs. I make the executive decision to whip up some sandwiches. Brance can yell at me later.

  Me: Making dinner. Should I save you some?

  I giggle while imagining him eating a gooey grilled cheese. That’d make up for his delay. His meeting must have run late. We head downstairs, and I settle Ollie at the counter. He doesn’t want to be more than two feet away from me. This kiddo loves attention. And he’s so darn polite. His father could learn a few things about that.

  After finding all the needed supplies, I whip up two sandwiches. Ollie holds up the plates so I can drop one on each.

  “Squares or triangles?” I poise the knife over his bread.

  His button nose wrinkles. “Huh?”

  “Do you want me to cut your sandwich in triangles or squares?” I trace the potential lines, showing him what each option is.

  “What do you like?”

  “I’m a triangle gal.” I slice mine diagonally.

  Ollie’s claps and points at his. “Me too. I want mine to match.”

  I make it happen with one swipe. He attempts to whistle. The breathy sound is adorable.

  “And watch.” I lift both halves and slowly pull them apart. “Look at all the melty goodness in between.”

  Ollie parrots my move with seasoned efficiency. Quick learner. He collects all the cheese around a finger and gives me a proud smile.

  “Thanks, Miss Braelyn.”

  “For what, sweetie?”

  “Cooking. Playing. Hanging out. Taking care of me.” He ticks them off on his little hand.

  “It’s my pleasure, Ollie. I’m having a blast. Too bad your dad isn’t here.”

  He shrugs. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  That reminds me to check the time. Brance is almost an hour late. A prickle of concern climbs up my neck, making me shiver. I swallow a bite of my dinner and shove the worry away. But that doesn’t stop me from sending another text.

  Me: Hey, me again. Are you all good? Starting to wonder where you are. :)

  I add the smiley face for my own sake. There’s no reason to freak out. And I’m not. Brance is just working late. I’m sure this happens often. I look at Ollie for confirmation. He smiles wide. I blow out the weight on my chest.

  He rests a chin on an open palm. “Should we play Uno?”

  “That sounds great.” I inject extra pizzazz into my tone.

  After cleaning up, we settle around the coffee table in the den. Ollie shuffles the cards and deals out seven in two piles. I grab a stack and fan them out in my grip. We drag through three rounds in thirty minutes. Just when he’d be down to one, I’d slap down a draw card. Our back and forth is fairly comedic. Turns out Ollie is quite skilled. He uses strategies I didn’t think of.

  After completing his latest victory dance, Ollie flops down beside me. “Should we play again?”

  It’s getting late. The sun has almost set. “When’s bedtime?”

  Ollie’s expression deflates. “Eight thirty.”

  “You little turkey. That was ten minutes ago.” I tickle his sides.

  He giggles and collapses onto the carpet. “I was having so much fun.”

  “We’ll do this again soon. Don’t fret.” Speaking of, my cell has remained silent. The blank screen mocks me. I do my best to keep my wits intact and not overreact.

  Ollie hops up and bounds up the stairs. “I’ll put on my jammies. Then I’ll brush my teeth. We can read books after, ‘kay?”

  His voice follows him down the hall. I stretch along the floor with a groan. If only I had his level of energy. My body is draining more by the minute. I shuffle along at a snail’s pace, shackles strapped around my ankles. The possibilities are beginning to swirl like poison in my veins. My cell trembles when I tap out yet another text.

  Me: Getting Ollie ready for bed. I hope to hear from you soon.

  How hard is it to send a quick message back? Dammit, Brance.

  My mind is elsewhere while waiting for my phone to buzz. I’m using all my willpower to remain planted in this rocking chair. What I really want to do is call Brance and demand that he answer me. This is an entirely new level of asshole for him. I’ve read Ollie seven books by the time his eyelids droop closed. I’m tempted to shake him awake. The impending doom is much heavier when faced alone.

  For my sanity, I keep Brance in the loop. Maybe he’ll finally respond.

  Me: Ollie is sleeping. Please tell me you’re okay.

  But nothing pings in return.

  The first hour bled into two, followed by three and now four. Soon, it’s after eleven o’clock. I’ve worn a path in the hardwood floor from pacing. This can’t be happening. I’ve texted him at least twenty times. The two voicemails I left are bordering on hysterical. I’m sure he’ll get a real kick out of hearing me wail.

  I resume my pacing. A tropical storm of repressed nightmares swoops down on me. Ripping my hair out at the roots. I’d moved past the traumatic memories. There hasn’t been an episode for months. I’d kept a straight face for Ollie, but he’s tucked away and safe. All there’s left to do is crumble inside. The edges of my vision are officially blurring with murky darkness. The horrible possibilities start pinging inside my brain. My thoughts turn black. I can’t stop the images from washing over me.

  There’s his car and an accident. But instead of Devon, Brance is dead inside. Toxic visions replace the positivity I’ve been working so hard keeping in the forefront. Lethal vines wrap around my legs and snake upward, tightening their hold.

  Why is he ignoring my calls?

  What if there was an accident?

  Is he hurt?

&nb
sp; Would someone contact us?

  What if he’s dead?

  How will I find out?

  The pictures flash in front of me on a panic-inducing loop. I can’t handle going through this again. It’s brutal and eats at my soul. The wounds rip open with a scream. The only thing keeping me above ground is Ollie sleeping upstairs. He’s relying on me. This can’t happen now.

  When I hear the garage crank open, my knees buckle. I grip the counter and manage to stay upright.

  The door swings open, and Brance appears in the foyer. His smile falls when he catches my expression. “Brae? What’s wrong?”

  I can’t speak. I’m shaking my head, tears gathering in my eyes. My vision tunnels, narrowing further with each gasped breath. He’s okay. Thank the Lord.

  Brance rushes toward me, gripping my shoulders. “Is it Ollie?”

  “No,” I croak. “He’s sleeping.”

  His exhale is harsh. “Don’t fucking scare me like that. What the hell is wrong with you? Why’re you crying?”

  The whooshing in my ears subsides. I gulp down some much needed oxygen. “I haven’t heard from you all damn day, Brance.”

  “My phone died.”

  The limp explanation skewers my panic, allowing a spark to flicker. “You didn’t think to charge it?”

  “I was in the middle of dinner with a client. What’s the big deal?”

  His defensive tone rattles me. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been worrying myself sick. You’re a father. Shouldn’t you check in for Ollie’s sake?”

  “Don’t you dare attack my parenting.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. Shit. Sorry. This is just… I don’t know. I need some air.”

  I start to turn away and he grabs my arm. “We’re not done discussing this.”

  “Why wouldn’t you let me know about being late? We waited up for you. Ollie wanted to say goodnight.”

  Brance glares at me, blue flames threatening to incinerate my heart. “Low fucking blow, Braelyn. Excuse me for assuming he was in capable hands and my tardiness wouldn’t be noticed. I figured you’d be too busy having fun.”

  I let my jaw hang loose. “Tardy? This was way beyond a few minutes, even an hour or two.”

  He growls, loud and low. “So fucking what? I don’t answer to you, Braelyn. Don’t jump down my damn throat. Everyone is fine. You need to relax.”

  A loud crash booms inside of me. His temper feeds my fading panic, giving the shadows strength and power. Everything is certainly not okay. Dammit, I can’t go back there. A shaky hand covers my gaping mouth. No. No, no, no. I won’t go down this road. Not again. There’s no surviving that type of loss twice.

  “But it’s not.” I refuse to look at him.

  He smacks his chest. “Alive and well, right here. Calm down.”

  I swallow the glass shards in my mouth. “I can’t risk it.”

  Brance snorts. “Oh, give me a break. Being with me is a risk?”

  I’m nodding fast, almost manic. “Yes. I couldn’t handle losing you.”

  “There’s nothing to lose.”

  “To me there is.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Sounds like a you-problem. The reward isn’t worth this apparent risk?”

  I blink more moisture from my lashes. “You don’t get it. Can you at least attempt to understand how I’m feeling?”

  “No, Braelyn. I can’t. We’re not the same person. You’re dealing with some shit I cannot see. It sounds like exaggerated bullshit.”

  My entire body wracks with a broken sob. “You’re being cruel.”

  “That’s just me, babe. Thought you’d gotten used to it.”

  “No, not like this.”

  I’d almost forgotten how terrible it felt to have his anger targeted at me. My shields are lowered, his blows striking in the weakest areas. I’m too exposed. He couldn’t care less.

  He tosses his hands in the air. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

  My stomach is caving in, everything inside of me tumbling into a black hole. “I assumed the worst, Brance. I’m not a normal worry-wart. I’ve been through hell trying to get over the accident. You and Ollie are the main reasons I can smile again. But when you didn’t answer or show up? The hole in my chest immediately burst open. I’m not healed. This proves I never will be.”

  His gaze is a laser searing through what’s left of my soul. “You better not abandon my child over some stupid bullshit. You’ve made a lot of promises.”

  The thought alone is a punch to my belly. “I’d never leave Ollie.”

  “But me? You don’t give a shit about me.” His sneer is coated in contempt, but I’m not backing down.

  I take a turn in the chest pounding, thumping my own. “Do you see me standing here? I’m going nuclear over you. Get that through your thick skull.”

  Brance scrubs a palm over his face. “But I’m fine. All in one piece. You can stop the downward spiral.”

  My laugh is bitter. “It doesn’t work that way up here.” I grind the heel of my palm into my temple. “All I see is you dead on the side of the road. I-I just can’t handle that.”

  “Go take a walk, and we’ll fix this when you’re calm.”

  “No. There’s no solving this.”

  He’s in front of me, yet miles away. “Don’t be dramatic. This was a minor hiccup.”

  I look to the ceiling and beg for patience. This man is more stubborn than a jackass. “For you, Brance. To me, this was a major collision.”

  “What are you suggesting? We call the whole thing off?”

  “Yes, exactly. I’m permanently scarred. This was a mistake. I don’t belong with anyone. I can’t go through that again.”

  “You’re a fucking coward.”

  I can see Brance in the courtroom, mowing down vulnerable witnesses and bending their will. I’d never wish this type of rant on anyone.

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. All you do is hide behind an asshole mask. But you’re more scared than me.”

  He swings his arms out wide. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing right now? Fighting over some crazy shit. I’ve been trying to put myself out there for you. This is the fucking thanks I get.”

  “You’re so arrogant. It’s not all about you. When you realize that, things will go much smoother.”

  “Guess you won’t be around to find out.”

  “Must you be so cold? We shared something special. At least for me.”

  “You fucking started this. Not sure what else you expect.”

  He’s a master at avoiding, deflecting anything worth feeling. I shouldn’t be surprised by this reaction. Yet, his words are a lash from an iron whip.

  “Real feelings are forming for me, Brance. It’s better to stop things now before this gets more complicated.”

  His smirk is nasty. I brace myself for the words swirling over his tongue.

  “You almost had me fooled. But I guess this was meant to end in disaster. That’s almost too bad. I was enjoying you.”

  I sniff, regretting so much of this already. It’s only temporary. The numb is taking effect. Soon, I won’t feel anything but the cold comfort of my mistakes.

  “Bran—”

  He waves me off. “Just go, Braelyn. I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

  With that final blow, the walls tumble down. With tears streaking my vision, I grab my purse and run for the door. With the twisted knob in my hand, I give one last peek over my shoulder.

  “For what it’s worth, I care about you.”

  “That’s your own damn fault.”

  Brance

  Bully

  I rifle through the stacks of documents strewn across my desk. The vice around my ribs cranks tighter. My irritation spikes. Why is there so much shit scattered everywhere? With a flexed arm, I sweep all of the contents onto the floor. My monitor lands with a crack, the keyboard bouncing off its screen. Sticky notes and pens launch across the room. Papers and folders rain down on me in a sloppy blizzard.
>
  Fuck this shit.

  “Kathy!” I bellow through the closed door.

  There’s no instant response. I count to five. A snarl curls my lip. The sleek shine of my desk mocks me, reflecting light and memories of her. I smash a fist against the gleaming wood top.

  “Kathy!” My bark has more bite this time.

  A slow creak alerts me to her presence. She peeks inside, not crossing the threshold. “Yes, sir?”

  “What took so long? Get in here.” I’m two seconds away from snapping my fingers.

  Kathy’s steps are dipped in molasses. A growl threatens to claw up my throat. She’s shaking worse than an autumn leaf. It’s hot as a furnace in here so the temperature isn’t to blame. Damn, she better not be getting sick. That would be a cherry on top of this shit sundae.

  Her eyes bulge when catching sight of the disaster my office has become. “Uh, sir?”

  “What?” My voice snaps through the silence between us.

  “Is, ah, everything all right?”

  I whip a hand across the shit decorating my floor. “Doesn’t it look okay to you?”

  She gulps audibility. “Um, no.”

  I steeple two fingers in front of my sneer. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Kathy is wringing her hands together so hard that the skin is turning white. “I’m not aware, sir.”

  “Then why ask the damn question?”

  She clenches her eyes shut. “Is t-there something you needed?”

  My sigh is loud, unnecessarily so. But I seem to be on a D roll. “Where’s the Hueltsen file?”

  She points a trembling finger toward a heap of garbage in front of her. “There, sir.”

  I glare at the offending mixture of contracts, client briefings, depositions, and other court proceedings. Some help she is. There’re at least twenty different cases thrown together. It’s obviously down there somewhere. Now I have to sift through this trash.

  With a flick of my wrist, I dismiss Kathy. She hovers in my peripheral. I lift my narrowed eyes to her pale face.

  “Do you have more stellar wisdom to enlighten me with?”