Chapter 29
ITOSSED AND TURNED, my bed feeling too big, too empty. The clock on my nightstand blinked 12:00 A.M. The red numbers piercing through the darkness. It was officially Halloween, a night when the strange and unexpected could happen—if the legends about Hallow’s End were true. But instead of feeling the thrill of the holiday, all I could think about was Ethan, and the way we’d left things unresolved, and the gnawing ache that came from the uncertainty hanging between us.
Frustration bubbled up inside me, mixing with regret. The image of Ethan’s face before he walked out of the gallery kept replaying in my mind, his eyes clouded with hurt and insecurity that I hadn’t been able to chase away. I could still see the doubt etched into his features, and the way he’d looked at me as if he was questioning everything we’d built together so far. And now, hours later, the memory of that look made my chest tighten painfully.
Why had I let him walk out? Why hadn’t I said something,donesomething to stop him? I hated myself for standing there frozen as he left. It was stupid—soincredibly stupid—of me to just let him go like that. And now, all I wanted was to make it right. To tell him everything I should have said then. But the clock was ticking and, with each passing minute, it felt like the distance between us was growing into an insurmountable chasm that I couldn’t bear to face.
I wanted to go to him. To knock on his door and pour out everything that was in my heart, but it was so late. He was probably asleep by now, and what if he didn’t evenwantto see me after everything that had happened today? The thought of him turning me away made my stomach twist with anxiety. But, at the same time, the idea of waiting until morning was unbearable. I couldn’t stand the thought of another sleepless night, tossing and turning, knowing that we’d left things in such a mess.
With a frustrated sigh, I tossed the covers aside. Sleep was a lost cause. My mind was tangled with thoughts, each one pulling me further away from any hope of rest. In a half-hearted attempt to distract myself, I reached for the remote and flicked on the TV, hoping that something—anything—might take my mind off the mess I was in.
The screen lit up, and the familiar strains ofHocus Pocusfilled the room, the Sanderson sisters cackling as they plotted their mischief. I was pulled back to a simpler, happier time, just a few weeks ago, when Ethan, Lily, and I, had curled up in the fort to watch this very movie. I could still feel the warmth of that night. The way Lily’s giggles had filled the room, and how Ethan’s arm had draped over my shoulders, pulling me close. The memory sharpened the ache in my chest, and every scene of the movie felt like a cruel reminder of what could slip through my fingers if I didn’t do something.
I couldn’t just lie there, tormented by what-ifs and regrets and, before I even realized what I was doing, I threw back the covers and swung mylegs over the side of the bed, my movements fuelled by determination and desperation. The cold floor bit into my feet, grounding me, and giving me the push I needed to act. I wasn’t going to let this fester, to let the night stretch on with all these unresolved feelings tearing me apart.
I pulled on my shoes and shrugged into my coat, the weight of the decision settling over me like a heavy mantle. It was late—far too late to be showing up at someone’s door—but I couldn’t wait until morning. The idea of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while the tension between us grew, was unbearable. I needed to see Ethan. To talk to him. To fix this before it spiralled beyond repair.
As I grabbed my keys and made my way to the door, the pull inside me grew stronger. It was more than just a need to talk; it was a force I couldn’t resist, something that wouldn’t let me rest until I saw him.
I reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open, my breath catching in my throat when I found Ethan standing there, his hand halfway raised as if he’d been about to knock. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw me, mirroring the shock I felt at finding him on my doorstep.
The cool night air carried the fresh, earthy scent that comes after a heavy rain, and the sky above was clear, the moon shining brightly, casting a soft glow. Ethan looked just as dishevelled as I felt. His brown hair was a tousled mess, even more unruly than usual, as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a dark jumper, the fabric slightly rumpled, like he’d thrown it on in a hurry.
It was clear he hadn’t slept either. There were faint shadows under his eyes, a testament to the restless night we’d both endured, and the sight of him—vulnerable and unguarded—tugged at something deep inside me. It made my heart ache to know that he’d been just as consumed by this as I had. That he’d been up thinking about everything, just like me.
The absurdity of the moment hit me all at once, and I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside me. It started as a small chuckle, but quickly grew into something uncontrollable. The kind of laughter that comes from sheer relief. Here we were, both too stubborn, yet too anxious to sleep, showing up at each other’s doors in the middle of the night.
Ethan’s lips curved into a tired smile, and soon he was laughing, too. For just a second, it was as if everything was okay again, as if the tension from earlier had dissolved into the night air. When the laughter finally subsided, I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and smiled at him.
“I was just coming to see you,” I admitted, shaking my head at how ridiculous it all seemed.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, his smile turning a little sheepish. “Guess I saved you the trip,” he said, his voice warm despite the exhaustion that tinged it. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of doubt, and vulnerability.
The air grew thicker with the unresolved tension creeping back in, and my smile faltered as I stepped aside, opening the door wider to let him in. Ethan walked past me, the warmth of his presence filling the small space and, as he entered, I caught the familiar scent of him. The faint aroma of soap, mixed with something earthy and distinctlyhim.
I closed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the silent house, and turned to face him. We stood there for a moment, looking at each other, the weight of our emotions hanging in the air between us. The pull that had brought me to the door was still there, stronger than ever, urging me to reach out, to close the distance.
“Vinnie,” he began, his voice soft but heavy with the weight of everything he needed to say. “I shouldn’t have just left like that.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he continued, his words rushing out as if he’d been holding them back for too long. “Iwas scared, okay. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I let that fear get the best of me. I let it convince me that I wasn’t enough, that maybe you were still tied to your past with Sebastian, and that maybe I was just a . . . placeholder.”
His confession hit me hard, the vulnerability in his voice cracking something open inside me that I hadn’t realized was still closed off. I took a small step closer, closing the distance between us, my heart pounding in my chest. My hand reached out instinctively, fingers trembling as they brushed against his arm, stopping him before he could say more. “Ethan, no. You don’t need to say sorry,” I said, my voice shaking with the weight of my emotions. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
His eyes searched mine with an uncertainty that made my chest ache. It was the same doubt I had seen in him earlier, the one that had cut me so deeply when he’d walked out of the gallery.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stop you when you walked out,” I continued, my voice trembling as I forced myself to speak the truth. “I didn’t know what to say. I was scared, and confused, and I let that fear hold me back. But I should have tried. I should have fought harder to make you understand how much you mean to me.”
He remained silent, his gaze never leaving mine. It was as if he was holding his breath, waiting for me to say the one thing that would make everything okay again.
“Sebastian . . . he’s not important to me,” I said, my voice steadying as the words finally spilled out. “He’s my past. A chapter that’s closed, and one I never want to revisit.You’rethe one I care about. The one I want to be with. And I should have made that more clear.”
His eyes softened at my words, emotions swirling within them as I stepped even closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the warmth of his body, and the steady rhythm of his breath. My hand slid down his arm, finding his hand and intertwining our fingers.
Ethan’s shoulders relaxed. “I should have been more understanding,” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “I shouldn’t have asked if you still loved him. It doesn’t matter if you did, because you’re with me now. I just . . . I’ve always had this insecurity, this fear, that I’m not enough. The only girl I ever dated seriously in college ended up cheating on me with her ex, and I guess that’s something I’ve never really let go of.”
My heart ached for him, and for the pain he carried that I hadn’t even known about until now. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” I whispered.
He let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around mine as if he was afraid to let go. “I want to be your future, Vinnie,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “But I need to know that you’re all in. That you’re not holding onto anything from your past. I need to know that I’m enough for you.”
