Page 22 of Broken Rivalry

I nod, forcing what I hope is a carefree smile. “Yes, it was on sale,” I add with a breathy laugh. “Okay, time for cake! Someone needs to go back to campus!”

I cut the cake, only taking a sliver, knowing that Mom will be grateful in the morning to have some left to put in the boys’ lunches.

“Do you want me to drive you back?” she asks, already reaching for her purse on the counter.

“No. I’m good.” She looks so drained. I can’t bear to keep her up one minute more than necessary after the fourteen-hour shift she had today.

“Well, I better go!” I kiss the top of Billy’s head, hug James, and give a lingering hug to my mother. “I love you, Mom. You’re the best,” I whisper in her ear. I know she needs to hear that, and her ragged intake of breath is proving as much.

The bus stop is dimly lit, the flickering streetlight casting long shadows on the pavement. My stomach growls, a harsh reminder of the skipped meals and the hunger that is now a constant companion.

A car pulls up, and my heart skips a beat as Ethan’s eyes, dark and intense, meet mine through the open window.

“You lied to me, Poppy,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper yet sharp as a knife.

I square my shoulders, refusing to let him see how his words affect me. “This is where I live, Ethan. These are my people.”

He opens the car door, a silent invitation. “Humor me.”

Reluctantly, I slide into the passenger seat, and he places a brown paper bag on my lap. The scent of warm food wafts up, and my stomach twists painfully.

“What’s this?” My voice is steadier than I feel.

“You’re hungry,” he says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

My fingers clench around the bag. “I don’t need your pity.”

He pulls away from the curb, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “It’s not pity.”

We drive in silence, the tension between us palpable as I reluctantly eat the cheeseburger he got me.

“Is this why you’re so thin?” His voice is gentle. Concerned. “Because you don’t eat enough?”

I glare at him, irritation bubbling up inside me. “What did you think it was? A fashion statement?”

He shakes his head. “It never made sense. You were perfect.”

Perfect. The word hangs in the air, heavy and unexpected.

“Thank you for pointing out that I’m not to your taste anymore,” I let out mockingly.

“You’ve always been my tas—” He halts, a sudden vulnerability flickering in his eyes, and I can see him blush as I stare at his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. “You’ve been living there for two years?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“No,” I whisper, my throat tight. “We were at the homeless shelter for two weeks.”

He swerves slightly, his eyes flicking to me with surprise and something else… is it pain?

I laugh, a bitter, humorless sound. “What did you think when I said poor? Brenthill?”

He doesn’t answer, and I glance out the window at the passing buildings. To be honest, I used to think Brenthill was poor as well. Now? I would be overjoyed to live there.

“I’ll go pick up the Legos tomorrow for your little brother,” he says suddenly.

Finishing the burger, I give a dismissive gesture. “You don’t even know which one he wants.”

He shrugs. “No, I don’t, but I thought we could go together and pick the right one,” he suggests, a hopeful tilt to his words.

My eyes widen in disbelief. “No, absolutely not!”

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