Page 11 of Broken Rivalry

As I slide into Eva’s car, I glance back at the building, half expecting Ethan to emerge again, his presence like a storm cloud. But the path remains empty, and as Eva drives away, I let the moving scenery blur in my vision.

His sudden appearance, the cold confrontation, and the unresolved tension all hint at a looming complication in my already tangled life. Is there an escape, or am I ensnared in a web of past mistakes and conflict?

Chapter 5

Ethan

As I stare at the game screen, frustration bubbles within me. “This is so stupid!” I huff with irritation, slamming the controller back on the table.

Liam snickers, stretching his arms over his head. “Time for you to admit I’m better than you at FIFA. Move on.”

A surge of self-directed anger rises within me. Poppy is clearly apprehensive, and she’s ready to admit her family is to blame for everything, and yet, it’s not enough. I can feel the heat of my frustration, a burning sensation in my chest that has nothing to do with the game.

Liam, with a playful smirk, says, “Come on, E. Lighten up. It’s only a game, yeah?” His words, though light, do little to dissipate the tension knotting inside me.

I wave my hand dismissively, leaning back on the comfortable leather sofa. The softness of the leather does little to help my tensed muscles.

Liam frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Seriously, what crawled into your ass and died?”

“That secretary info is crap. I know almost nothing.” My voice is sharper than I intend, a reflection of my inner turmoil.

Liam rolls his eyes. “Here we go,” he mutters. “I never said she knew everything, but I think that her actual name, address, and schedule were not nothing. And why do you care anyway? You can get any girl you want. She’s not even that hot.”

But she is. Poppy is not hot, she’s beautiful… AND hot. The memory of her smile, the way her eyes light up, haunts my thoughts, adding to my frustration. Pushing off the sofa, I stride to the fridge, the cool air hitting my face as I yank it open. I grab a beer, the cold can a brief respite from my simmering irritation. “It has nothing to do with that. She and I have accounts to settle.”

Liam throws me a side look full of disbelief. “Right, if that’s your story. I got you her name and her address, and the rest’s on you.”

“No, not on me. Morticia interrupted,” I bark as I come back to the sofa, sitting back with a huff.

His mouth lifts in a half smile. “Vanessa? The goth one? That one, I won’t lie, is quite fascinating.”

“Too bad you’re not sleeping with students, isn’t it?” I challenge, keeping my eyes on him.

He nods, running his forefinger over his lips. His eyes flicker to my hand and the beer I’m holding. “I thought we said no alcohol the day before the game.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Dad! It’s only beer. I’m not on a bender!”

He shakes his head and looks at his watch. “You know what? Do whatever you want but don’t go around fucking up the game.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m going to shower,” Liam says before standing up. He walks to his room before turning around. “If you want to know everything about her, why don’t you ask your father?”

My father… probably the only person in the world she hates more than she hates me.

“Isn’t he that superpowerful media mogul?” Liam’s words drip with sarcasm, his eyebrows raised in a mocking challenge, pushing me further toward a decision I’m hesitant to make.

“He is.” I don’t want to get into details because no matter what, I’m not overly proud of what transpired junior year between Poppy and me, and once I had discovered how serious the situation was for her, she had transferred God knows where.

The phone in my pocket feels like a lead weight, its presence a nagging reminder of the call I dread to make. Am I desperate enough to call him?

“What is it? Little Ethan is afraid to call Daddy?” His grin widens as my scowl deepens.

Liam doesn’t know, but I’ve made getting on my father’s nerves a national sport since the beginning of my senior year of high school. I think some part of me was angry at him taking Poppy out of the equation. Whatever the result of this equation, it started with the tattoos that almost gave him a coronary, followed by my choice to break tradition and refuse Harvard’s offer, only to pick Silverbrook instead. He’d threatened, but I reminded him that I have a seven-digit trust fund coming directly from my maternal grandfather and didn’t need his money, but he needed his heir.

With reluctance, my thumb hovers over the call button. I keep my eyes on Liam, his grin fueling my defiance as I press the call button, bracing myself for the tedious conversation I am about to have.

The phone rings twice before it’s picked up. “Ethan?” The voice on the other end is as stern and cold as I remember, sending a chill down my spine despite the distance.

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