Chapter 3[Part III] - Back where it started (PART 2)
997 Words
The next morning, I decided I needed distance.
Distance from Ethan.
Distance from my thoughts.
Distance from every street corner in town that seemed determined to hand me memories I didn’t ask for.
So naturally, I went to the one place guaranteed to do the opposite.
The old bookstore near the town square.
It was small, chaotic, and smelled like old paper and coffee. Mr. Lawson, the owner, had been there since before I learned how to spell my own name.
The moment I walked in, he looked up from behind the counter.
“Well,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “look what the town dragged back.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Nice to see you too.”
He nodded.
“Still sarcastic. Good. I’d hate to think city life made you polite.”
I wandered through the shelves slowly, letting the familiarity settle around me.
This place had always been my escape.
When home felt too heavy.
When school felt too loud.
When Ethan and I were too stubborn to admit we liked each other, we used to argue here over books neither of us had actually finished.
I paused at a shelf and sighed.
Of course.
Another memory.
I reached for a novel just to give my hands something to do.
“Still choosing sad endings?”
I froze.
I didn’t even need to turn around.
Apparently the universe had decided subtlety was overrated.
I turned slowly.
Ethan stood at the end of the aisle looking far too calm for someone ruining my peace this consistently.
“Do you live everywhere now?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Mostly just the places you keep showing up.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“That sounds like stalking.”
“That sounds like a small town.”
Unfortunately, he had a point.
I sighed and held up the book.
“I’m busy.”
“You’re holding it upside down.”
I looked down.
He was right.
I hated him.
He smiled.
Actually smiled.
And for one dangerous second, it felt like being seventeen again.
I put the book back immediately.
“Don’t do that.”
His smile faded slightly.
“Do what?”
“That. Smile like nothing happened.”
Something shifted in his expression.
The lightness disappeared.
He stepped closer, voice quieter.
“I’m not pretending nothing happened.”
“Then what are you doing?”
He held my gaze.
“Trying to talk to you.”
My chest tightened.
Again.
Always.
I looked away first.
“Why?”
He let out a breath.
“Because leaving things the way we did never sat right with me.”
I crossed my arms.
“It sat fine enough for years.”
“No,” he said. “It didn’t.”
There was no anger in it.
Just honesty.
Which somehow made it harder to fight.
I swallowed.
“People move on.”
“Did you?”
I should have said yes.
Immediately.
Instead, silence answered for me.
His eyes searched mine, and I hated how exposed that made me feel.
Finally, I said, “That’s not a fair question.”
“Maybe not.”
“Definitely not.”
Then, quieter—
“Did you?”
His answer came instantly.
“No.”
One word.
No games.
No pretending.
Just truth.
And somehow that was the most dangerous thing he could have said.
I stared at him.
Because part of me had expected uncertainty.
Not that.
Not honesty so direct it left no room to hide.
“Ethan…”
“I’m not asking you for anything,” he said. “I’m just tired of pretending you were someone I used to know.”
The bookstore suddenly felt too small.
The air too thin.
I needed him to stop.
I needed him to keep going.
I hated both truths equally.
I stepped back.
“This isn’t simple.”
“I know.”
“My family—”
“I know.”
“The past—”
“I know, Amara.”
His voice softened on my name.
And suddenly, I was angry.
Because how dare he sound like understanding after everything.
“How can you stand there acting like you know?” I asked. “Do you know what it was like leaving?”
His expression changed.
Something deeper.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Because it hurt me too.”
That stopped me.
Because I had spent years making him the villain.
Not because it was fully true—
but because it was easier.
Easier than admitting we were both casualties of something bigger.
Family.
Pride.
Fear.
Timing.
Love.
Sometimes love is the easiest part.
Everything around it is what destroys you.
I looked down, suddenly tired.
“I can’t do this here.”
He nodded once.
“Then somewhere else.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Talk to me. Really talk to me. No running. No pretending. Just once.”
I should have said no.
Instead, I heard myself ask,
“Why now?”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then—
“Because seeing you again made pretending impossible.”
My heart betrayed me completely.
I closed my eyes briefly.
This was dangerous.
Old love always was.
When I opened them again, he was still there.
Still waiting.
Still Ethan.
And maybe that was the problem.
Some people never stop feeling familiar.
“Fine,” I said quietly.
His expression shifted.
Hope.
“One conversation,” I added quickly. “That’s it.”
He nodded.
“One conversation.”
I pointed at him.
“Don’t make me regret this.”
A small smile.
“No promises.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Tonight. The lake.”
He understood immediately.
Of course he did.
It used to be ours.
He nodded slowly.
“Tonight.”
I turned before I could change my mind.
Before I could see too much hope in his face.
Because if I stayed—
I wasn’t sure I’d leave.
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