Chapter Six
ETHAN
We stepped into the apartment.
Henry dropped his keys on the counter with a careless clatter, then turned just in time to catch the look on my face.
“I feel like I’m the one who has the high ground right now, since you were the one caught in your secret rendezvous with my brother this morning.
So why are you the one with the frowny face? ”
The irritation simmering in my chest kicked up again. “Did you tell Sebastian to stop talking to me?”
Henry blinked, thrown. “No. Why the hell would I tell him that?”
“Not now, Henry,” I said. “After he left.”
I watched the realization drop into place as his shoulders sagged.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered, shaking my head and pacing toward the couch.
Henry followed me. “Would you give me a little more context about what's happening right now? Because I feel like I have a perfectly good explanation, and this is being blown way out of proportion.”
I spun around to face him. “Was that you not interfering? You telling him to fucking ghost me? You know how fucked up I was over that, Henry. What were you thinking?”
“I never told him to ignore you. Never.” His hands lifted, palms out.
“Look, E, you were fucking miserable, alright? You both were, and that toxic bullshit of having broken up but talking every single day wasn’t helping either of you move on.
So I told him you needed a clean break, but I didn’t tell him to do it like an asshole. ”
Somewhere in the back of my mind there was a little voice speaking up, acknowledging that maybe what he was saying made sense, but unfortunately it was being drowned out by the other voice yelling—
“That was none of your goddamn business!”
“Hey!” His dark eyes went wide. “Calm the fuck down.”
“No. You knew, Henry.” I stepped closer, pointing a finger at him before dropping my hand. “You knew. You knew I’ve been villainizing him for years, thinking he really didn’t give a fuck about me, and you knew that wasn’t it.”
“No, E, I didn’t fucking know that was where your head was at. We”—he gestured sharply between us—“don’t talk about him, remember? You never talk about anything going on with you.”
“Oh, and you do?”
“This isn’t even the fucking point!”
“You don't want to get between us, so stay the fuck out of it.”
“I am! It was one fucking conversation.” He raked his hands through his hair, frustrated. “How the hell was I supposed to know he was actually going to listen to me? He never fucking does—just turns around and does whatever the fuck he wants anyway.”
“That’s exactly what you did, Henry.” My voice softened for half a second, then sharpened again. “And here I thought you hated when Ash did what he thought was best for you without asking.”
Henry’s expression faltered—a flash of hurt he smothered almost immediately. “I can’t believe you just went there,” he said quietly. “You know that was very fucking different. Don’t throw that in my face.”
Guilt pricked at the back of my throat—ugly and immediate—but I shoved it down. “Just stay out of it.”
Henry glared. “Fine.”
“Fine!”
“Actually.” He took a breath. “I’ll say one more thing, and then I’ll stay out of it.”
I rolled my eyes and turned into the hallway. “Not listening.”
“Yes, you are.” He stayed planted where he was, like he knew I’d hear it whether I liked it or not. “First, it’s sad that you don’t realize how fucking manipulative it was for Ash to blame what he did on me.”
I stopped walking.
“It’s obvious as fuck, and you should know better by now, but the second he smiles at you, it’s like you’re under a fucking spell. Which brings me to the second thing—”
“You said it was one—”
“Well, it’s two!”
I turned halfway back.
“This doesn’t change the fact that he’s with someone else.”
My stomach dipped.
“And this little game you’re playing is fucked up.”
“I’m not playing any game.”
“Yes, you are. You both are. And that is also really fucking obvious. I hope you think about your dad before you go diving headfirst into something you can’t take back.”
That one landed hard, and I went still as it hit me all over again—my mom asking me to keep her affair quiet, my dad’s face when it all came out.
“Low fucking blow.”
Henry lifted his hands in a soft shrug. “Had to be said. And you crossed a line first.”
I breathed out hard through my nose, stepped into the guest room, shutting the door firmly behind me.
Fuck.
I pressed my palms to my face.
That had gone too far. Dragging up the worst thing that had ever happened to Henry like it was ammunition? Jesus.
I needed to take that back. But the stubborn, prideful part of me—the part that refused to give ground when I’d stood up for myself—kept my hands in place.
Because he had lied. Maybe not outright, but enough.
And underneath all of it, something else twisted in my gut.
Sebastian.
What Henry had pointed out—Sebastian blaming things on him—was manipulative, sure. But that wasn’t exactly new. And the rest? It shouldn’t have meant anything—it shouldn’t have changed anything—but something didn’t sit the same anymore.
The way Sebastian had looked at me this morning… I hadn’t imagined that. It wasn’t nostalgia. It wasn’t loneliness. It felt different. Like maybe I hadn’t been the only one gutted by the break. Like I wasn’t the only one who’d never really gotten over it.
My head tipped back against the door.
Everything was a fucking mess. This shit with my dad and being basically homeless was fucking with my head.
No matter how much I wanted to make it go away, the truth was that the funds in my account were running lower every day.
And the resentment felt uncontrollable. I’d outgrown all of this, but lately my patience felt paper-thin.
Every part of my life was pulling in different directions, and I was running out of ways to hold it all together.
Henry’d been the one constant these past years—the one person who’d been there for me through everything—and I’d fucking lashed out at him mercilessly.
No way in hell was I going to keep living here after that.
And now what? What the fuck was I supposed to do now?
I dragged in a rough breath, pushing my hair back, trying to center myself, but before I could get even a little bit there, there was a soft knock behind me.
“E?” Henry’s voice came through—gentler, smaller. “I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes tightly.
There was some shuffling behind the door. “Can we try that again?”
The floor creaked softly outside before I opened it.
He was standing on the other side, looking sheepish. “I should have told you about it,” he said quietly. “You were in a bad place, and I just thought… I thought it was better to distract you. Help you move on. Not keep dwelling on it. But I was also kinda terrified you’d hate me.”
My shoulders sagged. “I don’t hate you. And I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. It wasn’t fair.”
His lips curved into a small smile. “Look at us. Being all mature and shit.”
I chuckled, the anger bleeding away as his grin widened.
“I’m sorry for bringing up your dad and the cheating,” he said, his face shifting into something more serious. “That was a shit move.”
“Don’t even. I said something worse.”
“You were right. Kinda.” He let out a small, humorless laugh.
“Turns out I love making comparisons but don’t notice them if they’re about me.
It was hypocritical. And I want you to know I really haven’t tried to interfere again.
You know, besides making you two meet the other day, but apart from that, I haven’t.
It’s really fucking hard, in case you’re wondering. ”
I huffed. “I get it—it would be hard on me too. I wish you would’ve told me, but I didn’t need to yell. Sorry.”
He leaned on my doorframe, arms crossed. “What’s up with you?” His tone was softer. “You’ve been all over the place since we got here. Snappy. Is it just this whole thing with Ash?”
My throat went dry.
And now is when you’re supposed to tell him.
Tell him.
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Just the stuff with him. My head’s kind of a mess right now. It’s not an excuse.”
He smiled and jerked his head toward the living room. “Let’s get a drink and make up, okay?”
“If the drink is a smoothie, sure. It’s not even eight.”
He snorted. “Right.” Henry rolled his eyes playfully. “Forgot you can be a prude.”
“Let me hop in the shower, and I’ll be right out,” I said, and he nodded, body already shifting sideways. “And Henny?”
He turned back.
“I’m really sorry. You know I love you, right?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I do. Love you right back, babe.” He gave the back of my neck a quick squeeze before walking into the living room.
Pulling in a long, steady breath, I tried to find the nerve to face this.
I was going to tell him, but I needed to make sure this was really happening. I needed to get my dad on the phone. It had only been a little over a week. Maybe I was blowing everything out of proportion.
Whatever this was—stress, fear, old shit I hadn’t dealt with—it was starting to get the better of me. And if I didn’t figure it out soon, I was going to make things worse.
I needed to get my head on straight.
Fast.
Classes started out okay, in spite of everything.
That first week, I was really apprehensive that things would be just like last time, but nobody was interested in me—not the way they used to be, with all the gossip.
Here, it felt like slipping into anonymity, which was a welcome relief.
And when I actually talked to people, they seemed more interested in me, not my last name or my past.
I was still looking at places near campus, even if Henry kept insisting I could stay.
The tension from our fight seemed to have faded for him completely in a matter of hours, but I still felt like an asshole for not telling him what was going on.
And if I couldn’t solve this, I couldn’t just keep living off him.