Page 64 of Broken Rivalry

I smile, pressing my back into his chest. “I wish, but my mom could only borrow the moving van up until ten.”

The move has been a whirlwind. Mom got the keys to the rental house when she signed her contract on Tuesday, and she’s been in a frenzy to get everything in order. She even managed to switch my brothers’ schools, starting after the break. It’s a new chapter for all of us, and I’m so excited, especially seeing the light back in my mother’s eyes.

“You stay in bed,” I whisper, extricating myself from his embrace. I slip into his en suite, taking a moment to appreciate the familiarity that’s developed over the past couple of weeks. My presence is evident, from the shampoo and shower gel in the shower to the toothbrush next to his. It’s at odds with the uncertainty that sometimes clouds our relationship.

After a quick shower, I wrap a towel around myself and head back to the bedroom. Ethan’s no longer in bed.

I dress quickly with clothes that have now made their way into a drawer that is now mine.

I open the bedroom door and hear the clinking of dishes from the kitchen and follow the sound. He’s setting a plate on the counter, the aroma of scrambled eggs and toast filling the air. Despite his sleepy protests, Ethan always has a way of putting me before himself. It’s one of the things I love about him.

“For me?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

“Of course,” he replies with a smile, “You’ll need energy for the move. Though, you know, you could’ve asked your boyfriend to help.”

His tone is light, but there’s an underlying hurt. I sigh, realizing that this is one of the many issues we need to address. “It’s a quick move, Ethan. We don’t have much. The van’s not even that big, barely larger than your SUV.”

He nods, turning back to the fridge. The silence between us is heavy, and I can’t help but think about the growing chasm in our relationship. It’s not about the move or the van; it’s about the unspoken feelings, the insecurities, the secrets, and the fear of vulnerability.

The upcoming weekend away feels more crucial than ever. We need that time, away from the world, to figure things out. To decide where we stand and where we’re headed.

Finishing breakfast, I start to gather my things. “I can walk to the bus stop,” I tell him, but he’s already grabbing his keys.

“It’s cold,” he argues, a hint of protectiveness in his voice.

The drive to the bus stop is short, but the silence is deafening. We both seem lost in our thoughts, the weight of our unspoken words pressing down on us.

As he pulls up to the curb, I turn to him, searching for the right words. “Ethan,” I begin, but then any potential words die on my lips.

He looks at me, his hazel eyes intense. “It will be fine.” But for once, I’m not even sure he believes it.

I nod. My throat tight with emotion. “I know. We… we need to figure things out.”

He reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “We will,” he promises.

I smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later?”

He nods, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Of course.”

I step out of the car, and he stays there a couple of minutes, looking at me before shaking his head a little. I’m not certain what he was trying to convince himself of, and I’m not sure I would like it.

The hum of Ethan’s car engine fades, and I’m left standing at the bus stop, the day’s events weighing on me. Drawing in a breath to center myself for the task ahead, the familiar path to the trailer park stretches out before me, a route I’ve walked countless times. But today, it feels different, charged with the promise of change.

Reaching the trailer park, the usual racket greets me—kids playing, neighbors chatting, the rhythm of life continuing unabated. But amid the everyday hustle and bustle, my family stands out. Mom’s directing operations while Billy and James dart around, gathering our few belongings. It’s a stark reminder of our humble life, and I jump in, helping to load everything into the van and car. We might not have much, but we have each other, and as weird as it sounds, it seems that when we lost everything, we found each other.

With everything packed, we set off. I drive the car with Billy beside me, chattering away while Mom and James lead in the van. The journey from South End to Brenthill feels like traveling between two worlds. The grimy, graffiti-covered buildings of the city gradually give way to Brenthill’s picturesque residential estates. The transformation is striking, and I can’t help but marvel at the well-manicured lawns and varied houses.

Pulling up outside our new home, my breath catches. It’s a quaint two-story house, painted white with contrasting blue shutters. A small lawn stretches out in front, bordered by a white picket fence. It might not be the most lavish house on the block, but there’s an inviting warmth to it.

As I step into the new house, a rush of emotions washes over me. The walls, freshly painted and devoid of the wear and tear of time, seem to promise a fresh start. I run my fingers along the smooth surface, feeling the stark contrast to the dented and faded walls of our old trailer. Memories of the past two winters in that poorly insulated space come flooding back—nights spent huddled under layers of blankets, the constant battle with the tiny, unreliable radiators that always seemed to fail when the cold became unbearable. The thought of another winter in that trailer had been a looming dread, but now, the spacious rooms of this house promise warmth and comfort. I can already imagine us, the family, gathered in the living room, the heat from a reliable heating system wrapping around us like a protective cocoon. Yet, amid the relief and gratitude, there’s a twinge of anxiety. This house, with its promise of stability, also comes with secrets and lies. My mother earned the job, but I can’t help but remember Ethan has played a part in it. Did he also play a part in us getting this house? Was the job really coming with a rental?

As I ascend the stairs to the first floor, I remind myself that this house is a blessing. I should be grateful, embrace what I have, and stop second-guessing.

I wander through the three bedrooms, each with its own charm. But it’s the attic that truly captures my imagination. It’s a large space filled with potential. I can already hear Billy and James, their voices echoing up from below, animatedly discussing their plans for it.

“That could be your room, Poppy, if you ever decide to come back home,” Mom’s voice floats up to me, tinged with hope.

I pause, memories from merely a few months ago flooding back. The thought of moving back in had been tempting then. But now? Everything’s changed. My life has taken on a new direction, filled with friends, college, and Ethan. Standing in what could be my room, the morning sun filtering through the window, it all becomes clear. I am in love with Ethan Hawthorne.

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