Page 33 of Someday Not Soon

“Can I talk with you?” I ask, my voice low.

She glances at me briefly, her expression cool. “I’d rather not get into it here.”

“What’s there to get into?”

“I know,” she sighs. “About you hiring the cleaning crew.”

“Oh. Are you upset?”

Her eyes narrow, the intensity in her gaze burning with the fire of a thousand suns. “Yes, I’m upset.”

For the rest of the evening, she doesn’t even glance in my direction. It drives me wild. I thought I was doing the right thing by hiring the cleaning service. I thought I was helping, trying to take something off her plate. I would’ve gone over and done it myself, but I thought she’d be more adverse to that idea. I didn’t ask her first about scheduling a cleaning because I knew she’d say no or offer to pay for it. Now it’s clear I’ve definitely gone too far.

The truth is, she doesn’t have anyone to look out for her or take care of her. And all I want is to be that person—even if it means doing it from the sidelines.

From across the room, I watch as she joins the others in one of the throwing lanes. With scarily pinpointaccuracy, she nails the target dead center, the blade sinking into the animated bullseye on the pallet. Her eyes widen in surprise, a disbelieving laugh escaping her as the crowd erupts in cheers. Her mood lifts like a snap of the fingers, and I realize that maybe I’ve lost the ability to put that kind of smile on her face. I crossed a line, thinking I knew what she needed, and now I’m paying the price.

Beside me, Noah whistles. “Dude, you better make up with her, or you might be her next target.”

I don’t say it aloud, but I wish I was her next target. At least then she’d be close enough to hear me out.

The rest of the evening is pure torture. After ax-throwing, the entire wedding party trails down the road to the rustic barn venue to rehearse for the big day. I’m genuinely happy for my sister and Noah as they stand under the wedding arch, their faces lit with excitement for their wedding only two days away. It’s all a stark contrast to the heaviness weighing in on me. I linger on the outskirts, nursing yet another cup of coffee and trying to ignore the pang of desperation that strikes every time I catch a glimpse of Ella.

As the evening progresses, the crowd begins to thin, and the festive energy mellows out. I’m mostly quiet, watching as family and friends mingle around an in-ground fire pit, some swaying to a slow song playing softly in the background. Across the room, Ella is laughing witha group of friends, her smile so radiant it’s impossible to look away.

I take a deep breath. I can’t fucking keep letting this tension hang between us. Gathering my courage, I make my way through the renovated barn toward her. As I approach, she notices and her laughter fades, replaced by a guarded expression that tightens something in my chest.

“Hey, can we talk?” I ask.

She hesitates, glancing at her friends before nodding.

We step outside into the cool night air, the sounds of the party fading into a muffled backdrop.

“First of all, I want to apologize,” I begin, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I’m sorry I overstepped by hiring a crew to clean the house. I should’ve asked you first. When I saw how stressed you were with all that work piling up and no one else to help, I wanted to do something. I know you wouldn’t have accepted my help if I’d asked.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have. Because it’s not your place to take care of me,” she replies, crossing her arms against the cool night breeze.

“I’m sorry I went too far, I really am. But I want to make something perfectly clear,” I step closer, breaking every damn rule I’ve set for myself when it comes to her. Cupping her cheek, I say, “If I could go back, I’d do the same thing all over again. I’d always choose to take care of you. I can’t stand by and watch you struggle alone.”

She’s conflicted, and I can see the war in her eyes as she tries not to melt into my touch. But it’s no use, herhead tilts against my hand like she’s been waiting all her life for me to do this.

“I’m not sure what mind games you’re trying to play,” she whispers.

“This isn’t a game to me.”

Her eyes flash to mine. “Then explain that summer.”

The words hit me like a slap in the face. “I heard what you said when Madi came home from her trip. I was young, dumb, and hurt. Running away to lick my wounds felt easier at the time than actually talking to you.”

Her eyes narrow, the hurt clearly resurfacing. “What I said was wrong, I can admit that. It still doesn’t justify running away without saying goodbye.”

The sting of her words still burns when I think about overhearing her as I walked back down the hall to grab my phone. It’s the only thing that has kept me bitter enough from ever reaching out for the last ten years. And I absolutely know it’s a foolish way of thinking. Now, standing here in the present, I can see every wrong turn I took from that moment on.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Ella. I shouldn’t have run without talking to you first. I’ve regretted it every day since. Hearing you say we were nothing when I was so fucking in love with you felt like a knife to the heart. But I should’ve stayed. I should’ve talked to you.”

A look of devastation crosses her face. “You’re right, you should’ve. Because I didn’t mean a single word of what you heard. And if you’d stayed, I could have properly apologized. I could’ve told you that you were the best thing that ever happened to me that summer. Or maybeever.” She pauses, searching my face as if the answer might be written there. “You really loved me?”

I nod, the words catching in my throat. “Yes, I loved you.” And I think I still do.

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