Page 48 of It's Only Ever Been You

I run a hand through my hair, letting out a shaky breath. The dream felt so real, and now that I'm awake, the emptiness is almost unbearable.

Lying back down, I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. But no matter how hard I try, her voice lingers in my mind, soft and haunting.

“What are you waiting for?”

I sit up in bed, the dream clinging to me like a second skin. My room feels too quiet, too still, and I rub my hands over my face, trying to shake the weight pressing down on me. What am I waiting for? It’s a question I’ve been running from for years, one I’ve buried under excuses and distractions. But with the wedding just days away, the answer is breathing down my neck.

Emma’s going to be there. And for the first time in a long time, I’ll have to face her—not as the boy who let her go, but as the man who’s still not sure if he can ever truly let her go.

Chapter Sixteen

The Space Between

Emma

The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over Sierra’s parents’ backyard, the kind of golden light that makes everything look softer, prettier. I should be enjoying this—laughing along with the other bridesmaids, sipping the lemonade that’s almost too sweet, letting the chatter fill the awkward silences in my head. But instead, I’m hyper-aware of the fact that in less than forty-eight hours, I’ll be face-to-face with Ethan.

“Emma, are you even listening?” Sierra’s voice cuts through my thoughts, light and teasing, but it still makes me jump. She’s standing a few feet away, hands on her hips, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Got lost in my own head for a second. What were you saying?”

Sierra rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I asked if you’re ready for the rehearsal dinner. The venue is gorgeous, by the way. Totally Pinterest-worthy.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, though my voice doesn’t sound nearly as confident as I’d like.

Sarah, sitting beside me on the patio couch, raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. She’s been quiet since we got here, her gaze flickering to me every so often like she’s waiting for me to crack.

Sierra grins, plopping down next to me and gesturing toward the glass in my hand. “You know, if you keep nursing that lemonade like it’s a cocktail, people are going to start wondering what’s really in it.”

I laugh lightly, grateful for her attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll switch to water. That’ll really keep them guessing.”

She nudges me with her shoulder, her voice dropping to something softer. “You okay? You’ve seem a little… I don’t know, distracted today.”

I glance at her, caught off guard by her perceptiveness. Sierra’s always been warm, the kind of person who makes you feel included without even trying. But now, under her curious gaze, I feel like I’m under a spotlight.

“I’m fine,” I say, too quickly to sound convincing. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read between the lines. “If this is about the wedding—”

“It’s not,” I cut in, shaking my head. “I promise. Everything’s fine. Really.”

Sierra doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she pats my knee and stands, calling over to another bridesmaid about centerpieces. The moment she’s gone, Sarah leans closer, her voice low.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I sigh, letting my shoulders sag a little. “I’m fine. Just… overthinking, I guess.”

Sarah snorts softly, leaning back against the cushions. “Well, that’s nothing new.”

I shoot her a look, but there’s no bite in it. She’s not wrong. Overthinking is practically my default setting, especially when it comes to Ethan.

The conversation around us drifts on, a mix of laughter and plans for the wedding day. I do my best to tune in, to focus on the here and now, but my thoughts keep slipping. It’s been ages since I last saw Ethan, a lifetime ago and yet the memories are fresh and vivid, as though they just happened yesterday.

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered—and the way that look disappeared when everything fell apart.

I shake the thought away, reaching for my drink. I’ve done a good job of convincing myself I’vemoved on, that I’ve built a life outside of him. But the closer we get to the wedding, the harder it is to believe.

“You’re doing it again,” Sarah says, her tone dry but not unkind.

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