Someday Never Came

Chapter Three

I’m woken to my phone buzzing on my nightstand again. My alarm hadn’t gone off yet, and I had barely gotten any sleep due to my racing thoughts all thanks to Jensen’s rise from the dead.

He might as well have been dead. I mourned losing him from my life and I had coped through the radio-silence he gave me for the last ten years. The only thing missing was his headstone, a place to find closure from the sudden disappearance of him. What the hell did he want after all this time?

Good morning. Sleep well?

Who the hell does he think he is, is the only thing I could think after reading his message. Yet, a small flutter—one all too familiar—flaps her little wings in my chest. My heart is already betraying the wrath of my stolen sleep.

NO

Why not?

Is that a serious question?

I was trying not to assume you were losing sleep over silly little me.

Please do me a favor?

Anything, Serenity

Please shut the hell up. It’s 5 AM. Do you ever sleep?

I see someone still gets cranky when she doesn’t get a full 12 hours. Still need little naps through the day like a toddler as well?

First off, I don’t need 12 hours, but it is recommended you sleep at least 8. Second of all, yes. I still take naps when I can. There is nothing wrong with that. Some of us like sleep… Unlike you apparently.

Third of all why are you texting me?

Pretty sure we already went over that. I’ve missed you…

I don’t believe you

Then why are you responding, my sweet Serenity?

I have no response. While I’m hesitant on what his true intentions are . . . this is what I always wanted, wasn’t it? I wanted Jensen to come for me, to choose me . . . to choose us, but what if he’s only searching me out to rekindle friendship? Would friendship be enough? Could I forget what should have been? What our someday could be?

Yes, of course I could. This trip could be a chance to recreate the past: one last week of fun with the boys I grew up with. After all, it wasn’t just Jensen hoping to see me, but Wyhtt too. My Wyhtt would be there.

Have you decided?

No.

Well, I already booked the ticket. It is non-refundable but the choice is yours. It leaves at 0915 this upcoming Friday.

I will email you the information later this week. I hope you come. We both do.

You already bought the ticket? What makes you so sure I’ll come?

Because despite my fuck ups, we were family. I am your family. Wyhtt is your family. Your family misses you.

Then maybe my “family” shouldn’t have abandoned me.

You have every right to hate us

I don’t hate Wyhtt. He said goodbye before he followed you.

I don’t hate you anymore either, but that doesn’t mean I’ve ever forgiven you.

Come home and I will make it up to you.

Don’t come home and you’ll leave us no choice but to come to you. How is Nashville anyway?

You wouldn’t dare…

I see you’ve done your research on me.

It wasn’t that hard. A simple Facebook search told me almost everything I needed to know. You are an editor, huh?

Is there anything I need to know? Any big scary boyfriend gonna try to start a fight over the fact I bought his girlfriend a plane ticket to spend a week with three big scary military veterans?

I am not sure I should be flattered or upset by your cyber stalking me. No, there’s no current big scary boyfriend willing to pick a fight with you three imbeciles.

Damn, you haven’t even met Grayson yet. What’s with the name calling? Haven’t had your caffeine fix yet?

I am basing my knowledge of him off the men he surrounds himself with.

Fair enough, lol.

I have a meeting at 0800. I will talk to you later. Have a great day, my sweet Serenity. Be sure to think of me ;)

I stare at my screen in disbelief for a moment. Jensen just sent me an ‘lol’ and a winky face of all things—acting as if no time has passed. He quickly slipped back into old routines, teasing me, playful banter, but he has yet to offer me an explanation. There was no sound reasoning for him abandoning me. Or for breaking the bond we shared, for ripping the heart that only beat for him to fucking shreds, as if I never once mattered to him. He’s only given me a statement of regret—I’m sure it’s the truth, but I’m not sure I believe him. I want to believe he regrets his choices and regrets doing me wrong . . . but how can I trust anything that comes out of his mouth after all this time? Regardless of if he can be trusted, I do still want answers. Don’t I deserve some closure after all this time?

This man hasn’t been back in my life for even twenty-four hours and he’s already given me a headache.