Page 47 of Someday Not Soon

Opening the car door, I unbuckle her seatbelt, carefully sliding it out from under her arms. Then in one swift motion, I scoop her up. Her eyes flutter open for a moment, and she looks at me with those gorgeous green-brown eyes, trusting and peaceful, before closing them again. She nestles closer into my chest, and it’s like an arrow to my heart. Piercing me with a sense of adoration that’s once in a lifetime. I’m officially a goner—again—when it comes to her.

Inside, I fumble my way through the dark house to the guest room, and gently lie her down on the mattress. Tucking a blanket around her body, I push a strand of wayward hair out of her eyes. All I can do is stare in awe of how fucking breathtaking she is.

As I turn to leave, she grabs onto my wrist. “I need you,” she whispers.

My heart nearly stops at those words—the same ones I’ve dreamed of hearing for over a decade. ‘I need you’ is a big statement coming from someone who never asks for help.

Her small hand tugs me closer, a silent plea for me to stay.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” I rasp.

She watches as I unbutton my shirt, revealing a plain tee underneath, and step out of my dress pants. Without a word, she follows my lead, lifting her dress over her head and tossing it onto the armchair in the corner.

From the moonlight filtering into the room, I can make out the silhouette of her body—the gentle slope of her shoulders, the lace of her bra, and pinch of her waist. Every inch of her is more gorgeous than the last.

I slide into bed, and without hesitation, she turns her back to me, nestling into the curve of my body. Her small hand finds mine beneath the blanket, fingers intertwining as she guides our clasped hands across her bare skin, pulling me close. She wraps my arm around her body as if I’m the only thing anchoring her to this world.

“Thank you,” she says into the darkness. “For staying.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do. You’ve been patient throughout all of this—my grief and overthinking. I appreciate you putting up with it and being there for me.”

“There’s no ‘putting up with it.’ I’m here because Iwantto be. Because I’ll do literally anything for you.”

If life and second chances have taught me anything, it’s that love like this is rare and worth the sacrifice. Jobs and houses are a dime a dozen, but love that is the glue of your very being—that’s once in a lifetime. For Ella Thatcher, I’d give up everything. I’d sacrifice my job, my house, my very heart.

We lie in silence, my chin tucked into her hair, herbackside to my pelvis, the coinciding thud of our heartbeats echoing off the others.

When I get to hold her like this, it’s as if everything in the world has shifted into the correct position. The days seem a little more manageable, and the future a little brighter, so long as I get to hold her in my arms at the end of the night.

Still wrapped in my arms, she spins around, positioning us face-to-face. “Hi,” she whispers, breathy, and it shoots straight to my dick.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

Her eyes dip to my lips and dart back up to my eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Have you ever thought about that summer? About us?”

“Every single fucking day,” I admit.

She stares at me trying to figure out if it’s the truth. And it without a doubt is. Life has been full of little reminders of her—working out and still wondering if she teaches the Pilates classes she always loved so much. Nineties music playing on the radio, that we knew all the words to. Every night, reading on the couch under the warm light of a lamp, wondering if she was doing the same up in Washington.

“Have you thought about me too?” I ask, needing to know. Hoping I’m not the only one that has thought about the other like crazy.

The wheels turning in her head seem audible as she tries to piece together an answer. “I tried not to.”

“But you did?”

“More than I’d like to admit.” Through the dark, her fingers brush my cheekbone, trailing to the ends of my short-trimmed hair. “Tell me why you came back to Lawson. The real reason.”

“For you,” I murmur. It’s a confession I’ve never said aloud, but besides coming back for my family, it’s the truth. “I came back to make amends with you. To see if there was room in your life for me again in some capacity. But right as I was moving back, you were leaving with your boyfriend to Washington.”

“Well damn,” she sighs. “Timing has never been on our side, has it?”

“Can I kiss you?” The words escape before I can stop them.

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