Chapter 2: Lines That Blur

The chapel was a tomb of forgotten history, its cracked stone walls silent witnesses to lives that had long passed. As the rain continued to beat against the roof, Amelia and Ethan stood in the stillness of the clearing, their breathing the only sound in the quiet space between them. A gust of wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves and sending a chill through the damp air, but neither of them moved.

Amelia's mind raced. Her eyes were locked on Ethan's, searching for answers she wasn't even sure she wanted. The memory of their families' long feud hovered between them like a thick fog, but in this moment, it felt distant—like a story told so many times it had lost its meaning. What mattered now was the storm inside her, the way her pulse quickened at his presence, and the unsettling realization that she was standing dangerously close to the one man she had been taught to hate.

Ethan’s words echoed in her mind: "Maybe it’s because we’re not so different after all." It was absurd, of course. They were supposed to be enemies, destined to follow the paths laid out by their families. And yet, here they were, sharing a moment of raw honesty beneath the storm, cut off from the expectations of Willowcreek.

But as the silence stretched, tension curled tighter between them. Amelia fought to keep her composure, but there was no denying the unspoken energy in the air. Ethan had crossed a line by coming here—so had she—but the line between right and wrong, between loyalty and defiance, was beginning to blur.

"I should go," she said, her voice a whisper, barely convincing herself of the words. She took a step back, willing her body to obey, but her feet felt like they were glued to the earth.

Ethan's gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable. "You don’t have to." He stepped closer, his boots squelching in the mud, closing the space between them. There was something in his eyes now, something that made her stomach twist—a heat that was both dangerous and undeniable.

"Don’t tell me what I have to do," Amelia shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. Her defenses were rising again, instinctively. That was how it had always been between the Rothwells and the Hargroves—attack first, shield yourself before they had a chance to strike. Yet even as the words left her lips, she regretted them.

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, his eyes locked onto hers with a ferocity that took her breath away. "I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Amelia. I’m trying to figure out why the hell you’re here. Out of all places, why this chapel? Why now?"

His voice was steady but laced with frustration, and for the first time, she saw the cracks in his armor. He was just as confused as she was, both of them caught in a moment that neither could fully understand.

"I needed to get away," she admitted, the truth slipping out before she could stop herself. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one raging inside her, and her words felt like a small release, like letting go of a burden she hadn’t realized she was carrying. "From them. From everything. I don’t know. I just—"

"You just needed to breathe," Ethan finished for her, his tone softening. "I get it."

Amelia blinked, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. It was a strange relief to know that someone understood, even if that someone was the last person she should be confiding in. But the empathy in his eyes unnerved her. How could the son of the Hargroves—the family that had fought tooth and nail to destroy her own—know what it felt like to be suffocated by the weight of family duty?

"Why are you here, Ethan?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Her voice was low, more a whisper to herself than to him. "You could have gone anywhere, but you’re here, in this forgotten place. Why?"

He hesitated, as though the answer wasn’t something he’d fully processed himself. His blue eyes darkened, and he glanced away, toward the old chapel doors, the wood swollen and rotting with time. "This place... it used to mean something before all of this," he said, motioning vaguely, as if to encompass the feud that had split their families for generations. "Before we were forced to pick sides."

Amelia’s heart thudded in her chest as she took a slow step toward him. Her mind screamed for her to turn around, to retreat, to stop this before it went any further, but something stronger kept her in place. She was tired of pretending. Tired of playing the role of the perfect Rothwell daughter, tired of the hatred that had been passed down like a curse.

She bit her lip, her voice barely audible over the rain. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if none of this had happened? If our families hadn’t..." She trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

"If our families hadn’t poisoned everything?" Ethan finished for her, his voice tight with bitterness. "Yeah. I think about it more than I should."

Amelia nodded, a cold knot of anger tightening in her chest. It was unfair—this life they had both inherited, built on grudges they had no part in. She thought of her father, her brother, of the endless dinners where the feud was discussed like it was a matter of life and death. It was all-consuming, suffocating, and she wanted nothing more than to escape it.

Ethan stepped closer, his hand lifting as though to touch her, but he hesitated, his fingers hovering inches from her arm. The heat between them was undeniable now, an electric tension that crackled in the air. Amelia’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as she felt the pull, the magnetic force drawing her to him, despite the warning blaring in her mind.

"You should go," she whispered, though the words felt like a lie. She didn’t want him to leave.

Ethan’s gaze flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes. "Do you want me to?" His voice was low, rough, filled with a dark intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

She swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. Everything about this was wrong. Everything her father had told her, everything she had grown up believing—it all pointed to one inevitable truth: she shouldn’t be here, and she shouldn’t want this. But the truth, the raw truth that she couldn’t deny any longer, was that she did.

"No," she breathed, the word barely escaping her lips before his hand brushed her arm, a light, tentative touch that sent a shockwave through her body. She closed her eyes for a moment, caught in the sensation, the warmth of his skin against hers.

The storm outside intensified, the rain pounding harder on the roof, as if the world itself was mirroring the tempest building between them.

Ethan moved closer still, his body inches from hers, his breath warm against her cheek. His hand trailed down her arm, sending a rush of heat through her. "This is dangerous," he said, his voice a rasp.

"I know," Amelia whispered. But she didn’t pull away.

There was no going back now.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***