Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Ella

Present

With the Bach-bash over, reality settles back in. The getaway to the ocean felt like an alternate reality. There was no fretting about returning home to my mind-numbing job and lonely apartment, no sorting through my dead parents’ life.

The ocean had put a spell on me, temporarily causing me to forget all of my life’s problems. My loneliness was replaced with friendship and inclusion. My grief was reduced by the rolling waves. A piece that felt missing was filled with those nights on the deck with Jude. Even if it did go sideways, at least it made me feel something .

Now, here I am, standing knee-deep in my parents’ garden, which has been overtaken by weeds ever since their death. The vegetable beds are choked with wild grasses, and the paths barely visible under a tangled mess of untamed growth.

It mirrors my anxiety and grief at this moment—overgrown and uncontrollable.

I pluck the weeds from the moist soil, letting the pain in my back from bending over distract me from the emotional pain swirling in my stomach. The entire process is therapeutic in a sense—removing the problem by the root so that the rest of the plants can flourish.

Tying up these loose threads of their life by myself is overwhelming. But I’m here and I’m trying. Taking it one day at a time. Pulling one weed at a time. Checking off each task one at a time.

The real estate photographer is scheduled to come by later this week to take photos, so the house can finally be listed. Until then, I’ll be drowning in cleaning, scrubbing away at surfaces as if I can erase the chaos of my life along with the dust.

As I’m elbow-deep in dirt and grime, my phone chimes from my back pocket. I peel off my thick leather gardening gloves, and glance at the screen to see who’s texted me.

Madi

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 lawn mower. 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.

In a daze, I head back to the sprinkler aisle, giving up on asking for help. Determined to figure it out on my own and avoid another encounter with Jude, I stand in the narrow aisle, surrounded by rows of identical metal parts that blur together in my tired eyes. Frustration bubbles up, and I release a long, shaky breath. My muscles feel like they’ve been through a marathon, my mind is exhausted from handling the stress of cleaning up and selling my parents’ home, and I’m just completely drained—both emotionally and physically.

Right as I’m about to give up and walk out of the store, I sense him nearby before I even see him. The flash of his olive green shirt catches my attention, and suddenly he’s standing there, shoulder-to-shoulder with me.

“So, what are we looking for?” he asks.

The word ‘we’ makes my eyes dart to him. Though his head remains forward, he glances my way from the corner of his eye, a faint smile pulling at his lips when our gazes meet.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I give up.”

He gently takes my hand, the one clutching the broken part, to get a better look. His fingers brush lightly against my skin as he examines the piece—a casual, innocent touch that somehow sends my heart racing as if he’d kissed me.

After rummaging through a few bins, he hands me a new sprinkler head. “This should be it.”

“Thank you.” I manage a half-hearted smile. “I never asked—what’re you doing here?”

“Replacing a few switches. So I needed to pick up some things.”

Before I can respond, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl, drawing his attention. “Have you eaten today?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah,” I lie, but his pointed look tells me he’s not buying it. “Okay, fine. I haven’t eaten yet. But I’m picking up Chinese food on my way home.”

Skeptical, he nods, and we walk to the checkout together. As we scan our items, the older cashier gives us a kind smile, the sort of smile reserved for adorable couples. If only she knew how insanely uncomfortable this moment feels for both of us.

We head out of the store and stop, turning to face each other in the sun-drenched parking lot. The heat radiates off the pavement, seeping through the thin soles of my sandals.

“Well, thanks for your help today. I was completely lost in there,” I say.

“Anytime.” He smiles, then hesitates before blurting out, “Hey, do you need help installing that? I can follow you back and set it up for you. It wouldn’t take long.”

His offer catches me off guard, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s only offering out of politeness. He did literally run away from me, for a second time, at the beach after all.

“No, thanks. I should be able to figure it out.” Probably not, but I can always enlist Noah or Cole’s help later. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do,” I add.

“I’m not busy. It will only take me fifteen minutes tops anyways.”

Saying yes feels dangerous, like opening a portal that could drag me back ten years to the highs and lows of that summer. But damn it, I can’t say no to him. He’s only trying to help, maybe seeking a repentance he doesn’t even owe.

He squints his eyes against the sun, shielding them with his hand as he stares at me. It’s as if he’s using Jedi mind tricks to will me to say yes .

Giving in, I reply, “If you’re absolutely sure it’s okay with you.”

“I’m completely sure.” He turns to head toward his SUV, calling over his shoulder, “And by the way, we’re stopping for food first. You need to eat.”

“When did you become so bossy?” I tease, yelling back across the parking lot.

He flashes a smile before getting into his vehicle, and I follow in mine. Within minutes, we’re pulling into a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant. Specifically my favorite one since childhood, and I can’t help but wonder if he remembers it’s my favorite.

Food has been the last thing on my mind lately with my stomach in constant knots. If it wasn’t for him practically dragging me here, I would have eaten a handful of pretzels and called it a night.

He opens the door for me, as we step into the dimly lit Chinese restaurant. With the rich aroma of spices in the air, my stomach suddenly decides it’s ravenous. A large fish tank separates the waiting area from the dining space. Beyond it, the small restaurant is filled with dark wood tables and booths, and red lanterns that cast a warm glow.

The waitress shows us to our table, and Jude follows me with his hand resting on the small of my back. A simple touch that lingers on my skin like a hit of dopamine, leaving me craving more.

We order from large tri-fold menus, awkwardly settling into the booth as I face the reality that sitting across from each other is only going to amplify this tension between us .

He clears his throat. “So. How’ve you been? Since the beach house?”

Behind his eyes, it’s like I can see the memories flashing of what happened on the back deck of the beach house the last night we were alone. How we both began to cross that line that we so desperately need to maintain. I’m certain he knows I’m thinking of the same thing, but we ignore it in an effort to not make things weirder than they already are.

“Busy. Insanely busy. Cleaning up a home that’s been lived in for decades is no joke.” I set down my menu, and he does the same.

“Did you decide to sell it?” he asks.

“I did. It was an easy decision since I don’t really have any emotional attachment to it.” In fact, the only feelings I have at all toward it are negative. Hours, days, months, and years of feeling completely alone, all while pretending everything was fine within those walls.

“Well, I’m glad I can help you out with the sprinkler, at least. Kind of feels like the least I can do.”

“I appreciate the help. But seriously, you don’t owe me anything, Jude.”

He stares at me, his eyes intense, like he wants to say something more—something important—but before he can speak, the waiter arrives with clear plastic cups, ice clinking as they’re set down in front of us. His gaze flickers to the cups for a moment, then back to me, his jaw tight.

“You say that like I’m doing you a favor,” he says quietly. “But I’m not. I just…want to.”

I don’t want to face the feeling rising in my chest. It’s a warmth I haven’t felt in years, one I thought I’d lost for good after learning time after time that nothing good ever lasts. Yet here it is, being revived from its long dormancy within just an hour of being around him.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and smile. “Alright, fine. But just so you know, I’m paying for dinner. As a thank you.”

He narrows his eyes conspiratorially like he’s not going to let that slide. “We’ll see about that.”

My Szechuan Beef is good enough, but all I can focus on is the way he looks at me from across the booth. The subtle brush of his knee against mine that doesn’t pull away immediately. The way his smile pulls at the corners of his mouth when he finds me amusing, even though I’m certain I’m the least interesting person alive. His attention makes me feel like I’m simultaneously blooming and unraveling all at once.

When he excuses himself to the restroom, it gives me a moment to breathe. It’s not that I don’t feel comfortable around him, because I do. He’s nearly the same Jude I knew back then, with the same boyish charm and dry humor, layered with a seriousness that makes you wonder what’s really going on in his mind.

A few minutes later, he returns with two individually wrapped peppermints. “Ready?”

I nod, and head to the register at the side of the restaurant, determined to pay for our dinner. The curious employee at the register glances at Jude, then back at me, her eyes warm as she gestures toward him. “Your husband already took care of it. Have a nice night, you two. ”

“Oh. He’s not, we’re not?—”

“Thank you,” Jude cuts in, his voice steady as we walk out of the restaurant shoulder-to-shoulder.

As soon as we step outside, I put some distance between us. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m the one who owes you dinner for helping me.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’m here because I want to be.”

“I’m sure you don’t particularly want to work on a sprinkler system in triple-digit heat.”

“For you, I do.”

Those four simple words leave me speechless, cutting through the layers of self-protection I’ve carefully built up.

For me, he does. For me, he will.

With him following me to my parents’ home, doubt creeps in like a shadow, darkening my thoughts.

Why me? I’m not special. I’m not the life of the party, or especially charismatic.

I’m quiet, introverted, and not very funny. I’m not someone you drop everything for to help out with nothing in return.

But for once, I wish I could see myself through his eyes. Maybe then I’d understand the beauty he sees and the light I’ve never let myself acknowledge.