Page 12 of Broken Rivalry

“Hey, Dad.” I try to keep my voice steady, unaffected by his tone.

“You missed Sunday dinner. Again. That’s seven in a row.” His voice is filled with disapproval, the familiar tone of criticism making my fingers tighten around the phone.

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “Should be a hint I’m not planning to come, shouldn’t it?”

There’s a moment of silence from the other end. “Your mother misses you, Ethan.”

I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes my lips. “Does she? Or does she just miss the show of the perfect family?”

“Don’t start, Ethan.” Frustration seeps through his pause. “Ethan, you continue to disappoint. Your choices, your attitude…” He trails off with a sigh. “When will you understand the responsibilities you have?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam heading to his bedroom, shaking his head as he closes the door behind him, leaving me alone with the voice on the other end of the line.

I can feel the old anger bubbling up, the same arguments playing out as they always do. “I understand my responsibilities just fine, Dad. They might not align with what you’ve planned out.”

“You think this is a joke?” His voice rises, the edge sharper. “You think you can gallivant around, ignoring your duties, your family?”

I press the phone harder against my ear, my voice low. “I’m not ignoring my duties. I’m living my life. Something you should try sometime.”

The line goes silent for a beat, and I think he might have hung up. But then I detect the deep exhale, the sound of resignation. “We’ll talk about this later, Ethan. Just… try to remember you’re a Hawthorne.

“I’ll be at the game tomorrow,” he adds abruptly, his voice cold. “I can witness once again why you passed Harvard for a low-class university.”

I grit my teeth, frustration boiling within me. “Silverbrook is Ivy League, Dad.”

“But it’s not Harvard, is it?” he retorts, his voice dripping with disdain.

In my mind, a thought forms, clear and defiant. If Harvard thrives on men like you, I don’t want to go. But I bite back the words, knowing it will only add fuel to the fire.

The call ends with a click, his final words hanging in the air. I stare at the phone in my hand, the silence now filling the space around me. I didn’t ask about Poppy. The timing wasn’t right. Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I feel a mix of relief and frustration. The conversation with my father, as always, left a bitter taste in my mouth. Trying to clear my head of his words, I refocus on tomorrow’s game. He’ll be there in the stands, surveying, judging my every move. But it doesn’t matter. I chose Silverbrook for a reason, and I don’t regret it. Not for a second.

I chose to be different from him, and that was my first step.

I go to my room and grab my schedule and hers to see how I can “inadvertently” run into her.

“Seriously, man!” The door slams open, and Cole strides in, his trainers thudding against the hardwood floor. He tosses his keys into the bowl by the entrance, their clatter echoing through the room.

I throw him a confused look at the offense on his face. “Okay?”

He shakes his head, his eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. “Okay?! Okay?! It was better to play FIFA than to come meet me at the gym as planned?” His arms flail in a dramatic gesture, emphasizing his mock outrage.

Fuck, Poppy is really messing up my mind. “You should have called!”

He slaps his forehead dramatically, his face a picture of mock despair. “Oh? Oh! Why didn’t I think of that? Oh wait, I did!” He pulls out his phone, waving it in front of my face, the screen lighting up with the log of missed calls.

I check my phone, which is as usual in DND. I finally notice the texts and missed calls I’d not even looked at when I called my father, having way too much on my mind.

His frown deepens as he sees the papers on the counter. “And what are you doing now? Stalking the girl?” He leans over the counter, his eyes scanning the papers with a smirk.

I can’t help but scoff. “Sure, because it was not you I saw driving around her building.”

A questioning look crosses his face, arms folded across his chest. “And how do you know that if you were not there yourself, huh?”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I guess you don’t care about Evangeline’s schedule then. Fine.”

Cole’s eyes reduce to slits, a playful suspicion in his gaze. “You don’t have it,” he challenges.

A teasing grin plays on my lips. “Wanna bet?”

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