Page 27 of Someday Not Soon

Ax throwing and rehearsal dinner on Friday. Two o’clock.

Delaney

Still don’t know why you’d trust us with sharp objects, but yay!

Ella

Remind me to not go in the same lane as Delaney. An ax to the head is the last thing I need.

Delaney

You both are severely overestimating my ability to throw one of these things. I’ll be lucky if I can even lift it.

Madi

Don’t worry, you both will be fine. Besides, there’ll be hot guys throwing stuff. How bad can it be?

Ella

Okay, you’ve convinced me.

Delaney

El, maybe you should tell them they’re welcome to throw you around too…if you know what I mean. ;)

Ella

With all my emotional baggage? Good luck finding anyone strong enough for that.

I slip my phone into my back pocket and get back to work—clipping branches, pulling weeds, repotting flowers. The backyard is transformed over the course of five grueling, sweat-soaked hours. The only task left is replacing the sprinkler head I accidentally ran over with the lawnmower. Honestly, I’m surprised it was the only casualty of the day.

Sprinkler systems are a mystery to me, but I figure I can charm some nice, older retired employee at the hardware store into helping me out. After a quick rinse in the shower, I throw on a fresh pair of shorts and a cropped tank, and let my waves run wild.

At the hardware store, I make a beeline for the sprinkler head section, only to be stopped in my tracks by the sheer number of bins. Rows upon rows of tiny, nearly identical parts, each one more confusing than the last. For such a small piece, I never imagined there’d be this many options.

Clutching my broken sprinkler, I wander through the aisles, searching for an employee who might rescue me from this hardware hell. But instead of finding help, I walk straight into a wall of solid muscle.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” When I finally look up, my breath catches. It’s Jude. Standing right in front of me in the middle of the electrical aisle, looking equally as surprised as I am.

Fate must have a twisted sense of humor with the way we keep colliding like this. Then again, in a small town like Lawson, maybe I shouldn’t be so shocked.

“Ella.” His gaze sweeps over me. “What are you doing here?”

I hold up the broken piece of metal. “Attempting to fix a sprinkler at my parents’ place.”

An awkward silence settles between us, thick and heavy like a fog that neither of us knows how to clear.

“Look, I’ve been wanting to apologize for the other night—” he starts.

I cut him off, shaking my head. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“There is, though. I have a lot to be sorry for actually.”

I glance out the store’s smudged window, wanting nothing more than to disappear like the sun quickly is outdoors. Confronting problems head-on has never been my strong point. I’m flawed, I’m imperfect, and I’ll dodge conflict whenever I can.

“It’s water under the bridge,” I say quickly, holding up the sprinkler head as if it’s my ticket out. “I really need to find someone who can help me with this though so I can get back. Nice to see you.”

Turning on my heel, I force a smile and give him a quick wave goodbye. He stands there, lips slightly parted like he wants to say something more, but the words won’t come. He has every right to change his mind about being with me, but I also have every right to protect myself. Seeing him is like salt in an old wound, one that’s been quietly festering for years. Now, his presence tears it wide open all over again.

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