Page 21 of Broken Rivalry

Billy bursts back into the trailer, holding up a box of matches triumphantly. “Got ‘em!”

I force a smile, turning back to him. “Great job, bud. Let’s light these candles and make a wish, yeah?”

Billy nods eagerly, his earlier excitement returning. I get the pizza out of the oven, and to put a little humor in the situation, I light the candles on the pizza. He looks at me, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Are you gonna make a wish too, Poppy?”

I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah, bud. I’m gonna wish for all of us.”

He grins, and for a moment, everything is okay. We’re a family celebrating a birthday, and the rest of the world falls away.

Ethan observes from the doorway, his expression inscrutable. I avoid his gaze, focusing on Billy as he blows out his candles, his face lit up with pure, innocent joy.

And I make a wish. I wish for better days for us, for a way out of this endless struggle. I wish for happiness for my brothers, for a future where they don’t have to fight so hard to survive.

But most of all, I wish for strength. Strength to keep going, to keep fighting, even when it feels impossible.

Because that’s all I can do.

“Do you want some?” James asks, extending me a slice.

Despite the spasms of hunger, I insist, “No, I’ve already eaten. Go ahead without me.”

A sudden beep from my phone startles me, a stark interruption in the midst of our makeshift celebration. It’s a text from Mom.

Billy opens the Lego box and starts looking at the building instructions with James, who is following my advice and is faking excitement a lot better.

I motion for Ethan to follow me outside, away from the prying eyes of my brothers. Stepping into the cool night air feels like a reprieve from the stifling interior of the trailer.

“You need to leave. My mother is on her way,” I whisper harshly.

Ethan’s gaze softens. His fingers graze my arm, a slow, simmering heat spreading from the point of contact, awakening a flutter of something deeper within me. “Poppy, I can help. Let me help.”

I shake my head, my voice barely audible. “You can’t help with this, Ethan. This is my life now.”

“How are you going to get home? It’s late. I don’t feel comfortable with you taking the bus,” he insists.

“I’m not your responsibility. I never was. I’ve taken the bus more times than I can count, but my mother will be driving me home tonight.”

The determination is back in the set of his jaw, and I know he wants to argue.

“Ethan, please!” I press on the word. “You need to leave. I can’t have my mother see you here. She’s been through enough. You agreed,” I add sternly.

He simply nods, releasing my arm and stepping away. “If you ever change your mind, if you ever need anything, I’m here, Poppy.”

Oh yes, the pity of Ethan Hawthorne. That might be even worse than all the contempt he gave me when he called me Pauper.

I nod, unable to trust my voice, and stare as he walks away, his figure gradually disappearing into the darkness.

Once he’s gone, I go back inside, where my brothers are happily building the airport. I join them on the floor, pushing aside thoughts of Ethan, of pity, and of Star Wars Lego sets.

My mother arrives twenty minutes later.

“Where is my birthday boy!” she calls as soon as she steps inside the trailer, but her bright smile and cheery tone don’t fool me. I can see her weariness and worries in the taut lines of her face, in the dark circles under her eyes, and it makes me hate Ethan’s family and my father a little more.

But Ethan is different, isn’t he? My heart holds no hate toward him, only a confusing mix of resentment and longing. And that, in itself, feels like the biggest betrayal of all.

“Poppy bought me the Star Wars Lego set!” Billy says, jumping up from the spot on the floor.

“Did you?” Mom asks, ruffling Billy’s hair, but her eyes are confused and worried.

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