Page 32 of Someday Not Soon

I thank them as they head out the door, leaving the house in an immaculate state with zero cleaning left for me to do. The carpets have been vacuumed and steam cleaned, the inches of dust wiped away to reveal sparkling surfaces, the grout scrubbed white, and every corner left gleaming. This would have taken me hours of blood, sweat, and tears. But now, it’s all done. I could cry from the sheer relief as a mountain of stress lifts from my shoulders.

I pull out my phone, ready to text one of the two Becketts I know.

Ella

Did you by chance send a cleaning crew to the house? And a fancy fold-out bed?

Madi

Nope. Wasn’t me.

My heart pounds as the truth settles in. There’s only one other Beckett who knew about my situation—Jude.

The revelation makes me both love and hate him at the same time. How dare he care so fucking much? It’s ridiculous, feeling upset over someone showing you kindness. But I don’t need this. I don’t need to feel the way I do about him right now. Because in this moment, any ounce of resentment I had toward him begins to crumble. All I can feel is an attachment to him forming in its place.

It’s terrifying because I already know how this will end.

Again.

Chapter Seventeen

Jude

Present

It’sthe day of my sister and Noah’s wedding rehearsal, and I’m already stretched too thin. Half of me wants to cancel, but I know I’d feel like an asshole. Plus, my family would heckle me nonstop, and never let me live it down if I bailed on one of the wedding festivities.

Today, the simplest things feel like too much. I can’t help but think back to when I was younger, certain that settling down and marriage were in the cards for me. But as the years passed, with no real prospects and work gradually taking over my life, that plan slipped through my fingers, fading into something that felt more and more out of reach.

After a grueling twelve-hour shift, fueled by nothing but four cups of coffee and the lingering adrenaline from the E.R., I finally arrive at the ax-throwing venue. Themoment I step inside, a staff member hurriedly directs me into a room where a scruffy-looking man in cargo shorts is mid-way through an ax safety demonstration. The small room is packed to the brim with Madi and Noah’s friends and family filling every corner. Most of them are chatting and barely paying attention to the instructions. At this rate, and with this level of distraction, it feels like only a matter of time before someone accidentally takes an ax to the body.

Leaning against the back wall, I let my eyes sweep the room, and as always, they lock onto Ella’s dark waves almost instantly. Like a compass drawn to the north, she’s the first person I can find in a crowd. Her head is tilted slightly as she’s one of the only people who are politely listening.

The presentation ends, and the crowd begins to disperse, moving toward the reserved gallery. Rows of wooden pallets, each with different style targets projected onto them, line the space. The building has a retro design, painted with neon murals that glow under the blacklight. I could see how this would be fun if you weren’t running on fumes.

A firm slap on my back jolts me, and I turn to find my father and mother. They came into town a few weeks early for the wedding, and are grinning from ear-to-ear as they take turns pulling me into big hugs.

“Well, well. Look who decided to finally show up. You alright? You look tired,” Mom comments, her voice tinged with concern.

“I am tired,” I admit. “But I’ll be fine. At least as soon as this is over.”

“Go sit down and get some food for yourself. Looks like Ella just started passing out pizza,” she says, pointing toward a wooden table piled high with cardboard takeout boxes.

Ella stands behind the table, looking like a dream in denim shorts and a tiny sky blue tank top. I find myself walking toward her, completely spellbound.

As I approach, she glances up and sees me approaching. Her cheeks flush pink as she quickly looks down. Instantly, I know something is bugging her.

I stand beside her, testing the waters, while I grab a drink. “Hey, El.”

“Hi.” She gives me a brief, tight-lipped acknowledgment before turning her attention back to helping my sister pass out food. Her movements are deliberate, almost too precise, as she busies herself with folding empty boxes and organizing the table. It’s clear she’s putting distance between us.

I take a plate of food and sit to eat with my parents to give her space.

Our eyes meet from across the room periodically, and there’s a sharpness in her gaze, something simmering right beneath the surface. It’s not quite anger, but it’s definitely not warmth. Could she be mad about hiring the cleaning crew to help her with the house? It’s possible I overstepped, even if I was trying to do the right thing.

She can be mad at me any day though, and I’ll consider it an honor. With anyone else, she’s afraid toshow those deep emotions. With anyone else, she holds back, worried they won’t like what they see. But with me, she’s always let it all out. The happy, the pissed off, and everything in between. She knows I’ll take it all without blinking an eye. In fact, I love her more for it.

As I approach, she leans against the wall, observing the chaos around us, completely ignoring my presence. The tension between us is unmistakable.

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