Enemy Within (Unseen Enemy Book 1) by Marysol James Page A

music.
    “No. Not really.”
    “Where’s Emma tonight?” Jim said.
    Dean scowled. “Why?”
    Jim put his hands up in the international ‘I come in peace’ sign. “I’m just asking. No snark, I swear.”
    Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Sorry. I’m just – I don’t know.” He sighed. “Anyway, she’s traveling this whole week. New York, mostly.”
    “Again?” Dallas said. “Wasn’t she in LA last month for a week?”
    “Yeah.” Dean drank his beer. “Her job is pretty full-on.”
    “So – you’re free tonight?” Chris asked tentatively. “Like, free and clear to pick up anyone you want? Emma said no problem with that, right?”
    “Yeah. Yeah, she did.”
    Dallas drank, his eyes on Dean. “You don’t look all that interested, man.”
    “I’m not, really.”
    The men exchanged glances and Dean caught them.
    “OK, what?” he said. “You think I’m getting too serious about Emma?”
    “We have no idea.” Chris shook his head. “Are you?”
    “Fuck no.” Dean drank some more beer. “It’s just – I’m not interested in picking someone else up even if Emma says it’s cool.”
    “Like, you feel as if you’re cheating on her or something?” Jim asked.
    “No. Not cheating, because she said it’s fine and besides, we aren’t together. More like, I’m not all that in to the whole process of picking someone new up. The come-ons and the bullshit small-talk. Then having to get her to my place, then trying to figure out her body. Then getting her the hell out in the morning as quick as possible and trying not to hurt her feelings. It’s all just so much work and so fucking boring .” He looked at them. “You know?”
    They stared at him.
    He sighed again. “I don’t know, guys. Maybe I’m just done with this, for now. I think I’m at the point that even if Emma wasn’t around, I’d still be done.”
    “You think?” Dallas said.
    “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Dean stared around the bar, and all he saw was what he had been looking at every single weekend for the past two years. “I think I’m done.”
    **
    Emma drove to Dean’s house a few days later, still feeling tired from the most recent cycle of chemo. After the last round three weeks earlier, she thought she had seen the worst that it could get, but she had been way wrong. And according to Dr. Fife, the round in two weeks would be worse again. She was exhausted just thinking about it.
    Despite her body’s tiredness, she longed to see Dean. She needed a break from cancer, needed to be where things were simple and clear. Dean was about feeling good, about comfort and strength, about sleeping soundly in his arms.
    God knows, I need all those things right now.
    She got to his house and climbed out of her car slowly. She grabbed her overnight bag from the passenger side seat and slammed the door.
    “Hey, Emma.”
    She looked at Dallas’ front porch to see the guys kicking back and having a beer. They looked so achingly healthy and gorgeous – four strong men in prime physical condition, muscled and sun-bronzed – that she almost burst in to tears.
    Dean got to his feet, alarmed at her appearance. The guys saw it, too: he heard Dallas’ sharp intake of breath, Chris and Jim froze for a few seconds. Emma looked awful, she looked really ill. She was deathly pale and had dark smudges under those amazing eyes. She had definitely lost some more weight, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
    He came down the steps, took her bag from her hand. Not caring that the guys were watching, he gently touched her face. “You OK, baby?”
    “Yeah.” She smiled at him, that sweet, beautiful smile, and he relaxed a bit. “Just tired.”
    “Rough week?”
    “Yeah. Sure was.”
    “OK, come on. You want a beer?”
    “God, I’d love one.”
    They climbed up on Dallas’ front porch and all three guys jumped to their feet to offer her their chairs. She immediately felt better. She knew that nobody here would have any articles