Between Then and Now (Hallow’s End #1)

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

W E WALKED SIDE BY SIDE down the street, and I asked, “So, what about your parents?”

We were just off the town square, passing a line of quaint, family-owned eateries. Each place had its own charm—one with checkered tablecloths, another with rustic wooden signs. This little street was tucked away like a hidden gem, perfect for an intimate conversation.

Ethan’s face brightened. “They’re fantastic. My parents still live in the house where I grew up, just a few houses down from my place. I live in the residential area with all the other town folks, but my street leads to a dead-end road. There’s a beautiful hiking trail there that goes right into the forest. It’s great for getting a bit of peace and quiet, and I love that it’s close to nature whilst still being part of the community.”

I smiled, picturing the peaceful setting. “That sounds really nice. It must be great having your family nearby. ”

Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, even though I’ve moved out, I still see them all the time. My mom is always trying to teach me how to cook. She says every man should know his way around the kitchen. Last week, we tried making her famous lasagna together. It was a complete disaster—we ended up with sauce everywhere and flour all over me. But it was a lot of fun, and she couldn't stop laughing at the mess we made.”

I laughed, easily picturing the scene. “And your dad?”

Ethan’s eyes lit up with warmth as he reminisced, a soft glow reflecting the affection he held for those moments. “We have this tradition of watching old war movies together. Most Sunday nights, we pick a classic, and just sit back and enjoy. My dad loves to point out all the historical inaccuracies, which drives me crazy, but it’s kind of our thing. He’ll go on these rants about how they got the uniforms wrong, or how that particular battle never happened like that.”

I chuckled. “Sounds like a good time. Your family seems really close.”

“We are,” Ethan said, his voice carrying a touch of pride. “I’m lucky to have them. They’ve always supported me, no matter what. I think that’s why I love this town so much—it’s filled with good memories.”

As we continued walking, he gestured around us, sharing pieces of his past. “Over there,” he pointed to a small park with a well-worn path, “is where I learned to ride my bike for the first time. I was so excited and, a few minutes later, I crashed right into that old oak tree.” He chuckled. “I scraped my knee pretty bad, and my mom rushed over with a band-aid and a hug. I think I was more embarrassed than hurt.”

Ethan continued, pointing to one of the colourful houses along the street. “And that house over there,” he said with a nostalgic grin, “belongs to Eddie’s parents. He’s been my best friend since kindergarten. Every Saturday, I’d head over to his place, and we’d spend the whole day in his backyard. They had this epic treehouse, and it was our own little kingdom. We used to pretend we were pirates, or secret agents on a mission. We even had a secret password to get in, though I can’t for the life of me remember what it was now.”

He chuckled, the memory clearly bringing him joy. “We spent entire summers up there, reading comics and trading baseball cards. It was our escape from the world. But last year, we had to tear it down because of termites. It was a real bummer. Felt like saying goodbye to an old friend.”

I smiled, imagining the scene. “That must have been sad.”

Ethan nodded, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Yeah, it was. But we made the best of it. Eddie even came back from Cedarville, where he’s been living since he finished college. We had this whole farewell ceremony for the treehouse. We toasted with root beer, and shared stories about all the crazy stuff we did up there. It was kind of goofy, but it felt like the right way to say goodbye. We even joked about building a new one, but I think our days of climbing trees are behind us.”

As Ethan finished recounting the story about the treehouse, we passed by a few locals. They greeted him warmly, waving and smiling as they went about their day, and it was clear he was well-liked in the community. Ethan responded with friendly nods and smiles, his demeanor relaxed and approachable.

Ahead of us, an older man struggled to bend down by his gate, trying to pick up a newspaper that had slipped from his grasp. “Excuse me for a second,” Ethan said, stepping away. He quickly approached the man, stooping to grab the paper and handing it over with a kind smile. “Here you go, Arthur. Take it easy, alright? Don’t go pushing yourself too hard.”

Arthur smiled, grateful for the help. “Thanks, Ethan. You’re a good kid.”

Ethan smiled apologetically as he walked back. “Sorry about that,” he said, glancing back at Arthur with a soft expression. “Arthur’s been on his own for a while. He never had kids, and his wife passed away a few years ago. He’s a good guy, and I like to help him out when I can. It’s the least I can do.”

I smiled back. “That’s really thoughtful of you. It’s nice to know someone cares, especially when you’re alone. I’m sure Arthur appreciates having you around.” I realized that Ethan wasn’t just a nice guy —he was genuinely good-hearted, and that made him even more attractive.

We continued walking down the street, the cool afternoon air carrying a hint of pine from the nearby forest. As we reached a sideroad, Ethan gestured toward it. “That’s where I live,” he said with a smile, gesturing toward a cozy-looking cluster of houses. “Want me to walk you to your cottage? It’s a nice day for a stroll, and I don’t mind the extra walk.”

“I’d like that,” I replied, happy for the chance to extend our time together. The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the town. I couldn’t help but appreciate how effortlessly easy it felt to be around him.

Ethan glanced over at me and smiled. “I’ve been rambling on about myself,” he said with a playful tone. “I’d love to hear more about you. What’s your family like?”

As he asked about my family, I hesitated. A part of me would rather listen to more stories about his perfect-sounding childhood than dive into my own complicated relationship with my parents. But I figured it was best to just get it over with.

I sighed, searching for the right words. “Well, my mom . . .” I began, letting out a small, humorless laugh. “She’s always been focused on maintaining appearances. My childhood memories are filled with her dragging me to galas and charity events, and all these stuffy gatherings where I had to be on my best behavior. I wasn’t even allowed to sit on the furniture in our house, because she didn’t want it to look lived in . Everything had to be perfect, like a showroom. ”

I remembered how she would dress me up in designer clothes, carefully picking out my outfits and styling my hair. “She’d spend hours making sure I looked just right, like a little doll. It was all about the image. Smiling for the cameras, shaking hands with people I didn’t know, and saying all the right things.”

I glanced at Ethan, who was listening intently. Encouraged, I continued. “And then there’s my dad. He was more like a ghost in our house when I was growing up. Always busy with work, constantly in meetings, or traveling for business. There were so many nights when he’d miss dinner because he was stuck at the office, and sometimes he’d be gone for weeks at a time.”

I remembered sitting at the dinner table, the seat at the head always empty. The silence was deafening, with only the ticking of the antique clock filling the void. “It was like he had his own separate life, completely disconnected from us. I can’t count the number of times I wished he would just come home and spend time with us, but it rarely happened.”

As I continued, more memories surfaced. “My mom also kept our social calendar packed with events, lunches, and all sorts of plans. Looking back, I think she did it to keep herself busy and distracted. It was like she needed the constant activity to avoid noticing my dad’s absence. We were always on the go, attending high-society gatherings and brunches with other families.”

I recalled how those events had felt like obligations rather than enjoyable outings. “There was never any downtime. Even weekends were filled with something—a luncheon, a fundraiser, a tea party. It was her way of maintaining appearances and staying connected with the right people, I guess.” Looking back, I wondered if all those social events were her way of coping with being alone so much. Maybe she filled her days to the brim to avoid the emptiness at home. It was a thought that hadn’t occurred to me before, but now it seemed so obvious.

Ethan paused for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. “That must have been tough, feeling like everything was for show,” he said gently.

I smiled, feeling a surprising warmth. It was nice to be listened to for once, without judgment.

We reached my cottage, the sunlight casting a glow on the flowers outside the windows. The vibrant mix of lavender and roses swayed gently in the breeze, their sweet scent drifting toward us.

I turned to Ethan, feeling awkward as I tried to figure out how to say goodbye. “Well, this is me,” I said, offering a small smile. “Thanks for walking me back.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Should we hug? Just wave? Nerves fluttered in my stomach, and I was unsure of what was appropriate. It was clear Ethan sensed it, too, as he hesitated for a split-second before smiling warmly.

“My pleasure,” he said.

The moment seemed to stretch, neither of us quite ready to break the connection. We stood there, just looking at each other, and the air between us felt charged, the same electric tension from the bistro returning. My heartbeat quickened as his eyes flickered down to my lips for a moment before meeting my eyes again. His pupils seemed to dilate as he looked at me, and I noticed the slight parting of his lips. There was a tension in his expression—nervous, yet unwavering. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in ever so slightly, as if drawn by an invisible force. The moment grew, each second feeling like an eternity as we stood there, so close, yet not quite touching.

Is he going to kiss me?

The thought sent a thrill through me, stirring a heat that spread through my body. But just as quickly, a flicker of doubt surfaced. Maybe it’s too soon. Another part of me reminded me I was embracing the new Vinnie. The one who wasn’t shy about wanting more, and wasn’t afraid to take chances.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I asked, “Would you like to come in?”

The invitation hung in the air, and I could feel my pulse quicken with both nerves and excitement. The offer a step into something new.

Ethan’s eyes widened slightly at my invitation, and I could see a flicker of surprise mixed with something else—something warmer. But then, he offered a soft, apologetic smile.

“I’d love to, but I actually need to pick up Lily from school,” he said. There was a hint of regret in his eyes, and he seemed reluctant to step back, as if torn between wanting to stay, and his responsibilities.

Disappointment flooded me, along with a flicker of self-doubt. Maybe I was rushing things, trying too hard to put myself out there after the breakup. The last thing I wanted was to scare him off. But, before I could dwell too much on that thought, Ethan seemed to notice the slight shift in my mood, and he smiled at me, his expression reassuring.

“Maybe next time?” he said, his voice kind and sincere. The warmth in his tone made it clear that he wasn’t rejecting me, just postponing. It was enough to ease my worries.

“Sure,” I nodded, offering a small smile.

Ethan stepped closer and opened his arms. I smiled, grateful for the gesture, and moved in for a hug.

It was awkward at first—both of us unsure how much space to leave or how tightly to hold each other. But then, as I felt his arms wrap around me more securely, I let myself relax into his embrace. The warmth of his body seeped into mine, his chest firm against me, and there was something comforting about the way he held me, steady and gentle.

For a fleeting moment, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be pressed against him in a different, more intimate way. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a blush creep up my neck. When Ethan let go, I already missed the warmth of his embrace.

He gave me a gentle smile. “I’ll text you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

“Okay,” I replied, smiling back, still feeling flustered. “Bye, Ethan.”

“Bye, Vinnie,” he said, giving me one last look before turning and walking away, leaving me stood there, watching him go.