Page 62 of Broken Rivalry

I grin, closing the distance between us. “Only for you.”

I take her hand, interlacing our fingers, and I’m glad she’s not resisting or tensing. It seems to feel as natural for her as it does for me, and it gives me hope for what I’m about to propose.

But before I can voice my thoughts, she beats me to it. “My mom got a new job.”

We’re almost at the players’ parking lot when I respond, perhaps too eagerly, “The administrative position?”

She stiffens, and I instantly regret my words. Her gaze sharpens, suspicion evident. “How did you know about that?”

Caught off guard, I confess, “I might have… facilitated the interview.”

Her face twists, anger clashing with disbelief. “You did what?!” She jerks her hand out of mine, and I try to grab it back, but she storms out of the stadium in the frigid fall wind.

“I wanted to help,” I defend, following close behind her, but I can see her walls going up, the distance growing between us.

She swirls around. “What then? You pity me?” she spits out, her voice dripping with disdain. She looks skyward and throws her hands up in surrender. “I knew it! Of course I did. It was just too perfect. You were too perfect.”

I feel a surge of frustration. “It’s not about pity, Poppy! Why can’t you see that?”

She takes a step back, her eyes glistening. “As long as you pity me, Ethan, there’s no future for us.”

My anger matches hers. “Maybe there’s no future because you don’t intend to give us one! You’re ashamed of what you feel for me. I’m your dirty little secret; admit it!”

“At least I have genuine feelings for you. You… you pity me,” she retorts, voice breaking.

“No, I don’t!” I shout, my patience snapping. “Damn it, Poppy! I love you. It’s not pity! It’s love! I fucking love you like a madman, and I have the power to make your life a little easier. Why won’t you let me?”

“Do you really not see it?” She wraps her coat tighter around herself. “It makes me feel cheap, Ethan. It makes me feel like one of those dolls we used to mock at your garden parties. What did you call them, ‘cheap counterfeit rich whores’?”

I wince. “They are not you. God, you are the polar opposite, fighting so hard to do everything alone that I wonder if you would even accept a helping hand if you were drowning. The thing is, I love you enough to jump into the shark-infested water to save you against your will. Don’t think it’s for you then; see it as helping your mother and brothers. You’re not living there anymore.”

I’m attuned enough to her to catch a slight relaxation in her posture, a sign that my argument is sinking in. “She never did anything wrong, your mother. Don’t you think she deserves some luck?”

She relaxes a little more, letting go of the strong hold she had on her coat. “Wow, now I’m not only drowning, but there are sharks too?” she asks with a frown. Moving forward with a tentative smile, I breathe a little easier now that the crisis is defused, at least for the moment.

“For you, I would.” I raise my hand, brushing her cheek with the back of it, almost expecting her to move her face away.

She keeps her eyes on my face. I’m not sure what she is looking for, but she must find it because she exhales and takes a step toward me, resting her forehead against my chest.

I don’t miss that she didn’t acknowledge or reciprocate my feelings. It stings. I can’t lie, but I also understand. I’m not sure she’s even there yet. We’ve just reconnected three months ago, and even if my feelings for her have developed over a six-year period, hers might be very new.

“Thank you. She really needed a win.”

I rest my hand against her neck and press a kiss on her hair. “You never need to thank me, beautiful, and I can assure you if she got it, it’s because she’s capable.”

I kiss her head again. Taking a deep breath, I ask, “Would you come with me for the weekend before the break to the cabin? Just the two of us. I think we need to work out what we are and what we want to be.”

She pulls back and chews on her bottom lip, her gaze thoughtful. “Why the cabin?”

“It’s secluded, peaceful. Away from all this.” I gesture around, indicating the school, the crowd, the world that often feels like it’s pressing in on us. “I think we need that. Time away to just… be.”

She nods slowly. “Okay. But promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“No more secrets. No more trying to ‘help’ without telling me.”

I nod, relief flooding me. “Promise.”

---