Someday Never Came

Chapter One

I’ve always believed in fate. I believe sometimes two souls can be drawn to one another. Destiny has a way of pushing two souls together. Maybe that is why I see your face in every crowd, or how I can still hear the echo of your laughter all these years later. Or how I have compared all my past lovers that I have ever been with to you and how not one of them has ever rivaled the thought of you.

Maybe I should have never tried comparing them to you. After all, comparing anyone to you isn’t fair. How could they ever measure up to you, since I never let go of the thought of you in the first place?

Strangers, friends, lovers, to strangers again. Any normal person would have left it at that, accepted we were nothing more than a memory, a what if to think of when listening to sappy music, reading a tear-jerking romance novel, or alone at two in the morning. A normal person would have moved on to the next chapter of their life. They would not be here . . .

How did one text message, all these years later, lead to this moment? How did one simple hello, or one nickname flashing across my screen bring back every emotion I spent so long trying to forget?

At least I have pretended to attempt forgetting you.

That isn’t true though, is it? If it were true, then one nickname flashing across my screen would not have led me to standing in this airport lobby today.

Three Days Prior

Vibrations shake my poorly built nightstand, along with loud chiming of whatever preset ring tone my phone is programmed with. I roll over with the intention of murdering whoever is texting me on a random Monday. Tuesday, I correct myself as I reach for my bedside lamp and catch a glimpse at the clock. The glowing numbers tell me it must be just mere seconds past midnight, which makes me even more annoyed at being woken up. Anyone in their right mind should have realized I had been pleasantly snoring, dreaming of whatever I had last been editing for at least two hours now.

“For fuck’s sake! Do they not know or just not care I wake up at the crack of dawn every day?” I mumble before clarity starts to erase the fogginess of sleep. Panic sets in as my phone buzzes again, the screen’s glow illuminating the room in short bursts.

My phone continues to buzz once in my hand, which only deepens my panic-stricken state. My phone going off in the middle of the night like this can only mean something is wrong. The kind of wrong that can only be a few things: illness, car wrecks, or death. Why else would someone be blowing up my phone at such odd hours? Squinting against the sudden brightness of my screen, there’s a series of messages from an area code that I rarely see anymore.

843, a South Carolina area code. The rest of the phone number is unfamiliar to me.

I snarl at the message as I rack my brain to guess who’s texting me from back home. Home . . . mhm. I haven’t thought of South Carolina as home in years. I like to think I simply moved away—left and found a change of scenery . . . though some say that I ran away in avoidance when I chose to settle here in Nashville. Before I can continue down the spiraling path of my past, my phone buzzes again, though this was just the standard notification reminder telling me I had yet to check my incoming texts.

Hey

You awake?

Come on sleeping beauty, wake up and talk to me.

Obviously, I’m awake, I think, no thanks to whoever is texting me at midnight. I almost write out that exact message before deciding to keep my snarkiness to myself . . . for now. I’m slowly letting out an irritated breath when the phone buzzes—along with the annoying ring tone I desperately need to change—before I read their next response. After quickly changing my settings, I open the newest message and chuckle.

You do realize I can see the bubbles when you start to type whatever smart ass remark you’re debating on sending…

Well, whoever was texting knows me well enough to know my thought process. My fingers fly across the small keyboard, typing out a response.

I was about to say ‘Of course I’m awake. You decided to text me at midnight, whoever you are.’

On a Tuesday morning, nonetheless…you’re lucky I haven’t called you any names yet.

The next notification comes through almost immediately.

I’m hurt. I thought you would be happy to hear from me.

Maybe I would be…if I knew who you were?

Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you forgot me that easily?

It is approaching 12:15 A.M. I am tired, is there a reason we are playing this game?

You used to enjoy my teasing…

The initial panic turns into unease and anticipation as the smallest suspicion at who could be sending these texts washes over me. I give no response. I wait to see if this is just my heart skipping beats as I force whatever hope is trying to escape from my chest to stay in place.

My heart should know better. It has never been him before, why would it be him now?

I know I used to leave you speechless at times but come on…work with me a little.

Fuck . . . if this isn’t him, then it has to be someone from our old friend group messing with me. They’re probably just in town and looking for some tips on local hangouts, or maybe one of them wants to go out to lunch to catch up on old times. That has happened before, I tell myself, trying to remain calm.

Who is this?

A cold sweat covers me as I wait in suspense, everything seeming to freeze around me. The phone once more goes off in my hand, and I see the nickname that changes everything. The name he granted me when we were children—Serenity—forever claiming I was the only peace he found in this world. My nickname is the one thing he could have said to confirm it was him: Jensen.

My sweet Serenity. I’ve missed you.

Panic rises again for a brief moment before I slam my phone down and jump from my bed as if it’s on fire. What the fuck was happening? Is this a dream? I pinch myself to make sure. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Nope, not a dream. The red mark on my arm that would surely bruise was proof of that.