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

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

T HE EVENING ENVELOPED Hallow’s End as I snuggled into my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and wrapped in my favorite blanket. The room’s warmth was a welcome contrast to the crisp autumn air outside, as I held my phone to my ear, chatting with Ivy about my time with Ethan today.

“Did you guys hit it off?” her voice crackled with curiosity through the speaker.

I smiled, thinking back to our conversation and the lingering tension. “It was . . . different,” I admitted. “Ethan is so genuine. There’s no guessing with him. He’s just open and honest, which is refreshing. I’m so used to having to read between the lines, and not knowing where I stand with someone, or feeling like an afterthought.”

I paused, trying to find the right words. “But with Ethan, it’s like I can just be myself, without second-guessing everything. It’s kind of scary how easy it feels to be around him, but in a good way, you know?”

Ivy’s voice was filled with encouragement. “Different can be good, you know. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah, it’s just . . . I’ve developed this attraction to him so quickly. It’s kind of crazy, but I can’t help it,” I giggled, feeling giddy. “And, oh my gosh, Ivy, he’s so good-looking! Those eyes, that smile! It’s just unfair!” I gushed. “And don’t even get me started on his muscles! When he hugged me, I could feel how solid he is—like, he’s not just a pretty face, if you get what I’m saying!”

My cheeks warmed as I continued, unable to stop the flood of words. “There was definitely tension between us. You know, that electric, can’t-look-away feeling? I really wanted to kiss him, but he had to go pick up Lily. It was so frustrating! I was left all . . . wound up,” I admitted with a laugh, the memory still making my heart race. “But hey, there’s always next time, right? I just can’t get over how perfect he seems.”

“Honestly, Vinnie, if it feels right, then go for it. Don’t let some arbitrary timeline hold you back. Society always has these ideas about when women should do and feel things, but that’s just nonsense. If you want to kiss him, or even take things further, that’s perfectly okay. You shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting to explore something real and exciting, even if it seems quick.”

She paused, then added with a hint of mischief, “Besides, from what you’re telling me, it sounds like he’s worth it. So, why not enjoy it? If the chemistry is there, and you both feel good about it, then just go with the flow.”

I nodded, appreciating Ivy’s encouragement. “You’re right. I shouldn’t overthink it if it feels right.” I paused, then let out a small sigh. “But then there’s Emily. She was all over Ethan today, like she was trying to stake her claim or something. It was so obvious, and honestly, it kind of threw me off. She seemed really interested in him, and I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.”

Ivy sighed on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I’ve known Emily for years, and she’s always been like that—very intense and straightforward. If she wants something, she’ll go after it without hesitation.”

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. “Ethan’s been on her radar for a while. I remember this Adopt a Pet event we had last summer. Emily and Ethan were both volunteering, and he was just being his usual friendly self. He helped her set up, and was super sweet the whole time, especially with the animals. There were these adorable puppies, and Ethan was in the middle of it all, smiling and holding them. Emily totally misread the situation, thinking he was interested in her, but too shy to make a move.”

The thought of him with those adorable puppies was almost too much.

Ivy continued. “So, she’s had her sights set on him ever since. But honestly, if he hasn’t made a move by now, I don’t think he’s that interested. So, don’t let her intimidate you.”

“I can totally see how she would’ve gotten the wrong idea,” I admitted, still half-distracted by the image of Ethan with adorable dogs. “But honestly, he made me feel comfortable when Emily tried to interfere. He handled it so smoothly, and even included me in the conversation when she was trying to sideline me. It was like he was letting me know that he wasn't interested in her that way.”

I paused, feeling a bit more confident. “I guess I shouldn’t worry too much about her. If Ethan’s interested in me, then Emily’s not an issue. And if he’s not, then I’ll know soon enough. ”

Ivy paused thoughtfully before responding. “You know, now that I think about it, I haven’t really seen Ethan date anyone seriously. There were a few rumors about him dating someone during college, but they were never confirmed. He just likes to keep to himself. It seems like no girl in Hallow’s End has captured his attention.”

“What’s the catch?” I mused aloud. “He seems so great.”

Ivy chuckled softly. “Honestly, there might not be a catch. Maybe he’s just waiting for the right person. Ethan doesn’t seem like the type to play games or string someone along. He’s genuine, and if he’s not interested, he won’t waste anyone’s time. It’s kind of refreshing, actually. He’s just a great guy who knows what he wants, or at least knows what he doesn’t want.”

My phone buzzed with a text message, and I glanced at the screen as Ethan’s name lit up.

A flutter of excitement swept through me. “He just texted me,” I told Ivy. “He said he had a great time, and can’t wait to see me on Saturday.”

I glanced at the message again, looking between the lines for something a bit flirtier, something that matched the fire I felt between us earlier. Instead, it was just nice and sweet. It was a lovely text, but it lacked the spark I was secretly craving. But I kept those thoughts to myself, not wanting to read too much into it.

“That’s great! You sound a little unsure, though. Are you interested in him beyond just the physical attraction?” Ivy asked, picking up on the hesitation in my voice.

I paused, thinking about it. “It’s too early to say,” I admitted. “He’s great, and there’s definitely something there. He makes my heart race, and he’s attractive, and sweet. But . . . it’s not the same as it was with my ex, Sebastian.”

I found myself thinking back to the intense start with Sebastian. With him, I knew right away. We kissed the very first night we met, and it was like an inferno of passion—intense and consuming from the beginning. I nestled deeper into the comfort of the plush pillows, playing with the thread of my blanket, lost in thought. But with Ethan, it feels different—more like a warm ember. The attraction is there, but it doesn’t have the same fiery intensity. It’s a slower burn, and I’m not sure what to make of it yet.

“Exes can be tricky,” Ivy said, her voice thoughtful. “Comparing Ethan to your past relationship might not be fair to either of you. I don’t know what happened with Sebastian, but he’s an ex for a reason. It sounds like something’s still holding you back, and that’s okay. But whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

Ivy paused for a moment, and I could hear the faint whistling of a kettle in the background, followed by the soft rustling of her moving around. There was a soft clink as she set down a teacup and stirred it with a spoon, the gentle tinkling sound filling the brief silence.

She then continued, with a warm, encouraging tone. “Just . . . don’t let your past hold you back from something new. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now, but give this thing with Ethan a fair shot. Take a leap of faith, and see where it leads. You deserve to find something that makes you happy, without all the baggage.”

“You’re right. Thanks for listening, Ivy. I’m really glad to have someone like you here in Hallow’s End,” I said, a warm smile spreading across my face.

Ivy chuckled softly. “I wish you were staying here permanently. It would be nice to have you around more.” Her words struck a chord, and I felt a pang of realization. I had been thinking about staying in Hallow’s End a lot lately and I really needed to talk to my parents about my plans soon.

“Listen, I've got to go. My friend Amelia is coming over, and we’re about to watch our favorite crime series, Murder Chronicles . It’s kind of our Monday night tradition,” Ivy said with a laugh. “You should join us sometime. I think you two would get on well.”

A little chuckle escaped from me. “I’d love that! I’ve been obsessing over it, too, but I’m a few episodes behind.”

I heard the doorbell ring in the background. “Looks like she’s here. I’ll text you to sort out details for our shopping trip on Wednesday.”

“Sure, can’t wait,” I replied with a smile.

“Goodnight, Vinnie.”

“Goodnight, Ivy,” I echoed warmly.

As I ended the call, I reflected on my growing friendship with Ivy. In Cresden, friendships often felt shallow and transactional. In college, most of my relationships were based on nights out and drinking, with no real depth or lasting connection. It was all about socializing and keeping up appearances, but there was no genuine care or support. Plus, most of my time was spent with Sebastian, anyway.

But here in Hallow’s End, people seemed to genuinely care, and welcomed me with open arms. Ivy’s kindness, and thoughtful advice, was refreshing. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly understood and valued as a person. I hadn’t realized how much I was craving genuine connections and a sense of community until I found it here.

I settled back into my pillows, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram for a distraction. My feed was the usual mix of vacation photos, artwork, and inspirational quotes. It was a soothing routine, something to help me wind down before bed.

My thumb paused on a photo that made my heart sink .

It was a group shot at The Velvet Lounge, an upscale bar I knew all too well from my life in Cresden. Mark, a guy I had once considered a friend, mostly because he was part of Sebastian’s circle, had posted the photo. He and the rest of the group were all dressed to the nines, surrounded by dim lighting, chic decor, and elegant cocktails.

As I looked closer, I recognized a few of the girls who had once been friendly to my face, but turned on me after the breakup with Sebastian. Claire, who used to confide in me about her boy troubles. Vanessa, who always had a friendly smile—until she sided with Sebastian—and Jessica, the ringleader who seemed to thrive on stirring up drama. They had all taken his side after we broke up, spreading rumors, and calling me names behind my back.

Sebastian’s friends, both the girls and the guys, had always viewed me with a certain condescension. They’d compliment my art, but their words felt hollow, as if they couldn’t see it as more than a whimsical hobby. I remember overhearing some of the guys say things like, “Yeah, Vinnie’s hot, and her parents are loaded, but she needs to let go of that art thing. It’s cute for now, but does she really think she can keep that up after college?”

Despite our similar privileged backgrounds, they never truly accepted me or our relationship. Their support felt fake, their smiles insincere, and I always sensed the unspoken judgment in their eyes. They tolerated me because of Sebastian, not because they valued me as a person. They saw my passion for art as trivial, something they expected me to grow out of once real life began. It was a painful realization that, to them, I was just another accessory in Sebastian’s life.

Seeing them all together at that bar, laughing and enjoying their night out, brought a pang of sadness and frustration. It was a reminder of the superficiality and toxicity I had left behind. Part of me felt a twinge of nostalgia for the good times—the glamorous nights out, the sense of being part of a glittering social scene. Despite their flaws, those moments held their allure. They offered a distraction from deeper insecurities, and gave me a sense of belonging, however superficial. Sometimes, I missed the ease of slipping into that role, of being part of something larger, even if it was shallow.

As I scrolled further, a pang hit me when I came across a photo of Sebastian at the same bar. In the picture, he sat front and center, charming as ever. He had artfully tousled his blonde hair, giving him that perfect blend of casual and put-together. A tailored black suit hugged his athletic frame just right, highlighting his broad shoulders and lean physique. His emerald eyes sparkled with laughter, and his face lit up with an easy, carefree smile. The entire scene captured him at his best—relaxed, confident, and undeniably attractive.

Perched on his lap was Jessica, her long, sleek blonde hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves. She leaned into Sebastian, her head slightly tilted, allowing her hair to frame her face perfectly. Her dress, barely there and tightly fitted, clung to her petite figure, showing off her slim, tanned legs. Jessica’s manicured fingers traced lightly over Sebastian’s chest, a gesture that spoke volumes of possessiveness and intimacy. Her bold red lips curved into a satisfied smile, showcasing her self-assuredness, and indicating her seamless fit into the glamorous world of Sebastian Sterling. The image was striking, capturing a moment of ease and confidence that made them appear as the perfect, polished couple.

Seeing them together brought a sudden rush of jealousy, and a pang of bitterness. Jessica had always had a thing for Sebastian, flirting with him even when we were together. She seemed perfect for him, and her family was wealthy and well-connected, part of the same elite circle Sebastian thrived in. She embodied the kind of woman who could effortlessly maintain his image, fitting seamlessly into the glamorous lifestyle he valued .

It stung to see him move on so easily while I was still struggling to find my footing, despite my best efforts. The future felt uncertain and daunting without the safety net of our relationship. When I was with Sebastian, everything had seemed planned out and secure. There was a clear path, even if it wasn’t one I wanted. Now, the fear of the unknown loomed large, and I couldn’t help but feel lost.

There were moments when I wondered if Sebastian was the best I would ever have, which was a thought that lingered despite knowing our relationship was unhealthy. He had a way of making me believe that no one else would ever support me the way he did, or love me as much. He would say things like, “No one will ever understand you like I do,” or “I’m the only one who really gets your quirks.” His words hinted that he was doing me a favor by being with me, that I was too complicated or difficult for anyone else to love. It was a twisted form of validation, making me doubt my worth, like he was the only person who could ever accept me.

Seeing him with Jessica brought all those insecurities rushing back. It made little sense, especially after his last text saying he still wanted to talk. Had that been just a fleeting thought, easily dismissed now that Jessica was in the picture? He hadn’t reached out since that last message, and the realization stung. The last time I called, he didn’t return it, or even text to see what I wanted. Had he really just moved on like that? Were the last four years we spent together not worth anything to him?

My mother’s words echoed in my head— Someone like Sebastian wouldn’t stay single for long. It was a cruel reminder that maybe everyone had expected this but me, and the heartbreak I thought I was finally moving past suddenly felt as raw as ever. Despite my efforts to embrace a new life, and chase my dreams in Hallow’s End, doubts now crept in. Had I been too quick to leave everything behind? The breakup seemed so final, yet now, it felt like an open wound.

And then there was Ethan.

Had I jumped into something too quickly? Seeing Sebastian move on so easily, with someone like Jessica, made me doubt whether I was truly ready for anything new. Maybe I was rushing things, trying to fill a void that was still very much present. I wanted to be over Sebastian, to move forward and find something real, but clearly, I wasn’t there yet.

A wave of emotions hit me as I considered sending a text. I thought back to my conversation with Ivy, where she encouraged me to give Ethan a chance. But seeing Sebastian with someone else stirred up a storm of conflicting feelings. The jealousy and loneliness bubbled up inside me, along with a desperate need for validation.

Part of me didn’t want to see him happy without me. It was selfish and unfair, but there it was, that raw truth. Sending a text felt like a way to reclaim some of that lost connection, to remind him—and maybe myself—that I still mattered.

I picked up my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. The urge to reach out was overwhelming. But what could I possibly say that wouldn’t sound petty or desperate?

I typed out a text, my fingers moving almost on their own.

I tried to justify the message to myself, thinking it made sense to keep things friendly, given how involved Sebastian had been in my life, and with my family. Maybe staying in touch could be normal. Mature, even. It felt like a reasonable way to bridge the distance, a way to feel connected to something familiar in the midst of so much uncertainty.

To my surprise, Sebastian responded almost immediately.

His flirty and upbeat tone sent a confusing rush of emotions through me. I questioned whether I’d blown the photo with Jessica out of proportion. Maybe it was nothing—just a moment caught on camera, not a sign of something deeper. But then, I mentally stopped myself. I shouldn’t care either way. If I wanted to stay friends, I should be happy for him, regardless of who he was with.

Yet, a part of me still missed him. Missed the easy way we used to talk, and the comfort of being together. It was a struggle to balance those feelings, knowing that moving on was the right thing to do, but still feeling the tug of our past. Falling into old habits, I replied without much hesitation.

His words made me pause. The hint of jealousy in his message suggested he wasn’t thrilled about me meeting new people, but it felt superficial; more about control than actual concern. It seemed like he missed the physical comfort and presence I provided, rather than missing me as a person. It was a sobering and painful realization, highlighting the gap between the connection I was craving, and what he seemed to want. I decided to steer the conversation away from his insinuations.

I glanced at the clock. It was just before midnight on a Monday, and it crossed my mind that the post might have been from the weekend. Then again, knowing Sebastian, the fact that he had work in the morning never stopped him from going out for drinks and partying. I hit send, trying to keep my tone neutral, while curiosity and a touch of old concern nagged at me.

I waited for a response, but it didn’t come. Feeling restless, I got up and headed to the bathroom. As I stood there brushing my teeth, a specific memory of Sebastian flashed in my mind, clearer than the rest. It was one of those nights I couldn’t forget, no matter how hard I tried.

Sebastian had stumbled back to his flat late, well past midnight. We had made plans for me to stay over and have dinner together, something simple and intimate—a rare break from our usual social whirlwind. But when he finally walked through the door, it was clear that things hadn’t gone according to plan. His usually sharp green eyes were glazed over, and he reeked of whiskey. He had dishevelled clothes, messy hair, and a reckless, carefree grin that masked so much.

He had clearly been out with his friends, celebrating a big deal they had just signed. Instead of our night in, he’d let himself get swept away by the excitement, the lure of drinks and congratulations too tempting to resist. It was a familiar scenario, one that left me feeling both frustrated and sidelined. Whilst I’d been looking forward to our evening, he’d been caught up in the buzz of his success, leaving me waiting and worried.

“Sebastian,” I had said, my voice full of concern. “Are you okay? You didn’t answer your phone.”

He waved me off, staggering slightly as he kicked off his shoes. “I’m fine, V. Just needed to blow off some steam,” he slurred, attempting to appear nonchalant. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was avoiding my eyes.

I reached out, touching his arm gently. “You scared me. You can’t just disappear like that.”

He pulled me close, his grip firm but not comforting. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” he murmured, leaning in, his breath hot against my neck. His words were dismissive, brushing off my worry as if it were nothing.

I wanted to talk, to understand what had driven him to this state, but he wasn’t interested in discussing it. Instead, he kissed me hungrily, almost desperately. His hands were all over me, pulling me closer, and I felt the familiar conflict rise within me. I wanted to take care of him, to be there for him, but he wasn’t letting me in. He was using the physical connection as a distraction, a way to avoid whatever was bothering him.

We ended up having sex, not because I particularly wanted to, but because I could tell it was what he needed at the moment. It was a way to soothe his frayed edges, to give him some semblance of comfort. As we lay together afterward, the room heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol, he was already asleep, the stress lines on his face softened. I, on the other hand, stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unresolved issues.

It was a pattern that had played out more than once—me trying to care for him, to reach the parts of him that were always just out of reach, and him shutting me out, opting for the simplicity of physical closeness over the vulnerability of emotional intimacy. I sighed, the memory a bitter reminder of the emotional distance that had always existed between us, even in our most intimate moments.

Once I was settled back in bed, snuggled under the covers, my phone buzzed with a new message.

His words carried the familiar tone of someone who’d had a few too many drinks. There was a raw honesty in his message, a mix of wistfulness and drunken vulnerability. It was clear he was grappling with our new reality, just as I was, but in his own way.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to respond, to keep the connection alive, even if it was just a sliver of what we once had. But another part of me knew better. It was late, and nothing good ever came from texting after midnight, especially when alcohol was involved. His message only confirmed what I had been trying to convince myself of all along—that we weren’t ready to have these conversations. Not like this, not now.

It was tempting to fall back into familiar patterns, to let his words pull me back into the emotional whirlpool of our past. But I needed to focus on myself. Engaging with him now, in this state, would only muddy the waters further and make it harder for me to move on.

I sighed and put my phone down, deciding not to reply. As much as it hurt, it was the right choice. I turned off the light and told myself that sometimes, the best response is no response at all.

In the middle of the night, the sound of my phone ringing jolted me awake. I groggily reached for it, squinting at the screen to see Sebastian’s name flashing. The clock read 3:33 A.M. Without much thought, I declined the call. A moment later, it rang again, and I declined once more, knowing that nothing productive would come from talking to him in this state.

A few seconds later, text notifications started flooding in, each more desperate than the last.

The erratic punctuation and typos, coupled with the emotional intensity, made it clear he was drunk and struggling. He swung between jealousy and desperation, trying to convince me to come back with a mix of guilt, longing, and nostalgic reminders of our past. It felt like he was grasping at straws, trying to rekindle something that had already burned out, yet his words tugged at my heart, stirring up emotions that I had been trying to set aside.

Part of me wanted to text back. Despite everything, I still cared and worried about him. Seeing the pain and desperation in his messages made it hard to ignore. He sounded so lost and hurt, and part of me wanted to soothe him, to tell him everything would be okay. But I knew that comforting him now would only blur the lines, and keep us both stuck in the past. This wasn’t about him missing me as a person, it was about the comfort and familiarity we once shared, which wasn’t healthy for either of us.

As much as it pained me, I had to let him go. For both of our sakes.

Regretting unmuting his number, I hovered my thumb over the block button, hesitating. It was a drastic step, and one that would add a layer of finality to our breakup. My phone rang again—Sebastian. The sound of the ringtone was a harsh reminder of the chaos we were both trying to escape. I declined the call, my resolve hardening.

With a deep breath, I mustered up all my courage and blocked his number. It felt like closing a door that had been left ajar for too long. As I did, a wave of emotion hit me, tears welling up in my eyes. It was painful, like a small piece of my heart breaking all over again, and I cried quietly, mourning not just for him, but for me, and for the relationship we had lost.

But, amidst the tears, there was also a sense of rightness. Blocking him was a necessary step toward healing. A way to protect myself and start moving on. It was a hard, but needed, goodbye.