Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Ella

Present

Letting Jude into the house feels strange, like my parents might be watching from wherever they are up there, disapproving with every step he takes.

Growing up, I never brought boyfriends over. It was easier to keep them hidden away than to endure the inevitable barrage of questions. Even bringing friends over was a rare occurrence.

My parents weren’t warm or fun like everyone else’s. They were serious, strict, and tight-lipped. As a child and teen, I jumped at every chance to go to a friend’s house. Baking brownies with their moms or going fishing with their dads felt like stepping into another world. Their parents didn’t throw out their favorite books about witches or censor their music if it had a single cuss word. They didn’t sneer or purposely ignore me when I was bold enough to speak.

At sleepovers I’d want to squeeze my eyes shut for a minute longer to delay having to go back to my home. Going back felt like leaving a world of bright color and returning to a land of gray.

We walk through the nearly empty house and head straight to the backyard. I’m thankful the daylight is running out quickly, so his visit will be brief. The time I’ve spent with him today is already seeping in, threatening to break down the mental barrier I’ve built around the idea of us ever being close again.

I stand in the shade nearby as he crouches in the grass, tinkering with the sprinkler system. He screws in the new sprinkler head, adjusting the sweep and radius of the spray with practiced ease. His phone rings three times during the process, but he doesn’t even glance at it. An ugly feeling twists in my stomach with the assumption that it’s another woman calling, wondering where he is or if he’ll come over later. I shouldn’t care, but that sour feeling sits like lead in my gut all the same.

When he finishes, he wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and walks over to me. “All finished. It should be good to go now.”

“Thank you. You made that look so easy. I’d probably have spent hours out here trying to install the wrong piece.”

Before he can reply, his phone rings for the fourth time. He finally pulls it out of his pocket, glances at the screen, then shoves it back away .

“You can answer if you need to,” I offer. “I don’t want to keep you from any plans.”

He shakes his head. “It’s work. They’re always trying to get me to come in on my days off.”

That heavy feeling in my stomach pops, replaced with a gush of relief I know I shouldn’t feel.

Stepping back inside the house, I gesture to the kitchen. “I’d offer you coffee or something as a thank you, but all I’ve got is flavored seltzer water which I know you hate with a passion.”

“It tastes like drinking static. I’m impressed you remember,” he replies, smiling. He heads to the bathroom to wash his hands. When I walk down the hall to do the same, I find him standing at the doorway to the guest room I’ve been staying in. It’s completely empty except for the half-deflated air mattress on the floor with a single blanket. The sight of it is pitiful, but the look on his face makes it seem as if I’ve been sleeping on a cement floor with only a sheet of newspaper for warmth.

He looks up at me. “Tell me this isn’t where you’ve been sleeping, El.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” I try to sound casual, brushing it off. It is only a temporary inconvenience after all. I won’t be here forever.

“I don’t like this,” he says, his eyes lingering on the room before sweeping over the rest of the barren house. “You’re here all alone in this empty house, with nothing but a fucking broken air mattress.”

“It’s only for a little while. I’m leaving as soon as it sells. ”

He tenses. “I thought maybe you were staying.”

“No. My life and job are back in Washington.”

The silence between us is deafening. There’s no relationship, not even much of a friendship between us anymore. And yet, the roles feel strangely reversed—this time, I’m the one with plans to leave.

Here in Lawson, the only family I had is gone. My best friends are getting married and starting families. There’s no more brunch every weekend, no more spontaneous sleepovers. I don’t want to be the fifth wheel, the burden everyone has to make room for. I’ve accepted my life in Washington. I have a good, albeit boring, job, but it pays well, and it gives me a chance to start fresh—without the memories of my parents shadowing every step. And without constantly running into the man standing right in front of me. Distance is better. I can’t get my heart broken when I’m all the way in another state.

He turns toward me, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to relieve some invisible tension. “You should stay with Madi and Noah. They’ve got a guest room.”

“I can’t do that to them. They’re getting married next week, and the last thing they need is me in the way. Besides, I’ve got a ton of cleaning to do here before the real estate photographer comes on Friday. Really, I’m fine. I have running water and a roof over my head. That’s all I need.”

“Okay.” The hesitation before the word lingers, telling me this isn’t over—not in his mind. He’s a caretaker to his very core. It’s what makes him such a good doctor. He’d give the shirt off his back without a second thought. Now, knowing he’s worried about me makes me regret having him over at all. The last thing I wanted was for his attention to be on me. Yet it seems like all I’ve done is capture it since coming home.

And that’s a dangerous place to be, because it’s exactly how I fell in love with him the first time.

Madi

Jude told me I need to let you come stay at my house. What’s going on? You okay, girl? Are you pulling a Delaney and hiding that you don’t have a place to stay?

Ella

I’m fine. He saw that I was sleeping on an air mattress and made it into a bigger deal than it was.

Delaney

All I’m hearing is that he was over at your house. Confirm or deny?

Ella

…confirm. BUT it was only because he offered to help fix something for me.

Delaney

Oh, I bet he offered to fix something for you alright. ;)

Madi

Don’t take that any further, Delaney. This is my brother we’re talking about.

Madi

And El, if you need anything, let us know. We’re always here for you.

Ella

I’m fine. Really. Ignore him. And thank you.

Madi

He’s hard to ignore when he’s blowing up my phone every hour because he’s worried.

Delaney

*grabs the popcorn*

Two days after the sprinkler replacement fiasco with Jude, a knock echoes on the front door. A surge of excitement rises in me—maybe it’s someone who is interested in the house after driving by and seeing the brand new for sale sign that was put up this morning. If I could sell this place quickly, I could be out of here sooner than expected. Even if there is the smallest part of me that doesn’t want to leave quite yet.

When I open the door, instead of some dreamed-up passersby, I find two women in Lawson Cleaning Services shirts, their arms loaded with caddies full of products and supplies. I didn’t call for a cleaning service, so I assume it’s a mistake. But after double-checking their paperwork, they confirm they’re at the correct house and have been scheduled to do a deep clean of the premises. They suggest I grab a coffee or visit a friend and leave the rest to them.

I’m so stunned that I thank them profusely and stumble out the door, still in my yoga pants and sandals. As I drive downtown to grab breakfast, I convince myself that this must be part of a service my real estate agent forgot to mention. Perhaps it’s customary to do this before the listing photos are taken. While I’m relieved I won’t have to tackle deep cleaning the entire house by myself, I also dread the idea of footing the bill for something that likely costs hundreds of dollars.

To get to the bottom of it, I call Sandra. As always, she answers on the first ring, far too chipper for the hour—or for any hour, really. I explain the mystery cleaning crew to her, and she insists it wasn’t her doing, though she’s thrilled at the prospect of a spotless house, rejoicing that it will drive up interest even further.

I hang up, more confused than ever about how and why this cleaning crew has magically appeared on my doorstep, like some kind of unexpected gift from the universe.

As I wander through downtown, window shopping to pass the time, I finally stop for breakfast at Little Elm—the small, locally owned coffee shop. I order a bagel and settle in at a cozy round table by the window, finishing up my book. With hours to kill, I check in with work and let them know I plan to return from bereavement leave in three weeks, tops. Although they’d prefer it sooner, they’re understanding and encourage me to take all the time I need.

For the first time in a long while, it feels like things are starting to fall into place. The weight of my responsibilities has suddenly been lightened, and in its place, a hope of better things to come blooms.

After spending most of the afternoon downtown, a text from the cleaning company comes through, informing me they’ll be finished in thirty minutes. I quickly gather my things and rush back to the house, curious to see if I can find out more about who ordered the cleaning crew. Was it Delaney or Madi? They are the only two who have heard my bitching about the inches of dust, hoards of boxes, and decrepit rodent feces I’ve discovered throughout this process. I never did it for pity though.

When I arrive, I find one of the workers in the guest room, and my stomach drops—the flimsy air mattress I’ve been sleeping on is gone, replaced by a brand-new, far-too-expensive foldout bed. Immediately, a red flag shoots up in my mind, about one very specific person that just had a mild freak out over my sleeping situation.

“Hi, excuse me. Can I ask who scheduled your company to come in today?”

The woman with the gray ponytail and warm smile pauses mid-dusting, her brow furrowing slightly as if trying to understand my concern. She steps away to check the paperwork while I stand there, my gaze locked on the new mattress. Freshly laundered sheets and a stack of blankets warm enough to get a good night’s rest in Antarctica, are neatly folded on top.

It’s all a little too specific to be a coincidence.

The woman returns a few moments later. “Hi, ma’am. All I have on file is the last name Beckett. They didn’t leave a first name.”

“Do you know how this bed got here? And also, how much I owe you for today?”

“There were special instructions to deliver the bed and linens. And it’s already been paid for along with a substantial tip. That’s all the information I have, unfortunately.”

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.