by Laura Ward
Someday Soon
Book Three in the Not Yet Series
by
Laura Ward
ADVANCED READER COPY
Someday Soon
Book Three in the Not Yet Series
Copyright © 2017 by Laura Ward
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
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To my husband.
Like Daisy and Jon, some thought we fell in love too young and too soon.
Over twenty years later, I love you more each day.
Thank you for being you.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Daisy
“WHAT A SURPRISE. The fat cow’s eating again.” Belinda and Marnie snickered behind me in the cafeteria line. The smell of greasy cheesesteaks and pizza filled the air, making my stomach turn. I stiffened, squaring my shoulders, but kept my mouth shut.
Five more days. Five more days until I graduated high school.
I placed an apple next to my turkey sandwich and handed the cashier my identification card.
A hand shoved me forward and I stumbled, tray wobbling, the contents of my lunch threatening to lurch from my grasp. I whipped my head around. The line was long, full of students chatting or looking at their phones, paying no attention to me.
“Oops.” Belinda’s wicked sneer contorted her face, her eyes squinting and her lips folding into a duck-like shape. The hatred on her expression so strong, I shrank backward a little.
Belinda had been my first friend, way back in pre-school. We were besties until Marnie came along in third grade. Then we were a trio.
Belinda and Marnie grew up to be gorgeous pixies. Belinda had smooth, straight brown hair, and her figure was thin with a teeny tiny bone structure, and amazing tan skin. Marnie’s hair was brown, thick and curly, and her body looked a lot like Belinda’s.
When puberty hit and I grew in all the wrong places, I could barely contain my envy of Belinda and Marnie. All I wanted was to be small and inconspicuous. To blend in and not be stared at. They were so petite—they could wear anything and look like runway models. Bikinis were made for figures like theirs. Bikinis on me were slightly pornographic. I hid my inner green-eyed monster from them, but as time went on I drifted more and more into myself, and they got tired of being around me. When they began to ignore me in ninth grade, I thought that was the worst pain I would know. Loneliness.
I was wrong. The worst pain came when they decided leaving me alone was not enough. Being the butt of their jokes and the target for their cruelty was torture. Betrayal was the worst pain of all.
“Move, you oaf.” Marnie’s face was hard, her voice low. “You think you’re hot stuff, Daisy? You think your shit don’t stink ‘cause you got a brother playing football for the NFL? Well, you’re not. You’ve always been and always will be a chubby loser nobody.”
There was a reason Belinda and Marnie called me names referring to my weight. I looked different than any other girl my age in high school. I wasn’t fat, I knew that. But I was… curvy. Everywhere. My breasts were large, a full D cup. My hips were round, and my ass stuck out. Some guys loved it, yelling comments when I was at the mall or out walking down the street.
I hated it. Why couldn’t I look like my sisters or my mom? They were skinny bean poles, petite with tiny breasts and no butt to mention. They fit in. No parts stuck out like a flashing neon sign. None of them heard cat calls or were subjected to reading lewd comments on their Instagram or Snapchat like I did when I dared to post a picture.
My eyes widened at the sight of my fifteen-year-old sister, Delilah, holding a large cup of soda pop over the top of Belinda’s head. Like my ex- friends, Delilah was waif-like thin, with long, white-blonde hair and big blue eyes.
My older brother Damian—the tall, blond, quarterback for the high school football team, and every girl at school’s crush—moved next to her with his cup of pop. In unison, they poured the cups on top of Belinda and Marnie. Both girls jumped away, screeching, and clawing at their over-made-up faces as mascara and sticky liquid streamed down their cheeks.
I slapped my hand to my face to hide my grin. My siblings loved to tease each other, but watch out if someone hurt one of us. Nothing bonded the Goldsmith clan like the need to protect our own.
“Hey!” The white-haired, elderly cashier shuffled from behind her table, flagging down a cafeteria aide.
“Let’s go.” Damian motioned with his chin, and I grabbed my tray as Delilah and I hurried behind him out of the cafeteria. The dining area was massive so we blended right into the crowd before we could be stopped. We headed outside, sitting at a picnic bench on the outdoor patio, the bright May sunlight warming our skin.
I broke out in a cold sweat as we settled at the table across from each other. There would be retribution for the actions of my siblings. Belinda and Marnie would never let me get a free pass for that embarrassing outburst. The look on their faces, though, made it all worthwhile. I’d take what they had to give, if they left my brother and sister alone.
“Are you okay, Dais?” Delilah asked, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. “I heard a rumor that they were going to,” she used her fingers to make air quotes, “take you down at lunch. I texted Damian, and we took care of the bitches.”
My stomach tightened. This was bullshit. She was my younger sister, so she shouldn’t take care of me. I could handle my own problems. I’d been dealing with mean girls since middle school. Belinda, Marnie, and I were best friends when we were younger, but we’
d all changed. They wanted to hang out at my house, sneaking my college-aged siblings’ beers and hooking up with my brothers. I had no interest in helping them achieve any of that.
And these days, I was just over it. I didn’t have it left in me to care.
Five. More. Days.
I shrugged. “I’m fine. You both shouldn’t have done that. You’re gonna get in trouble. It’s not even your lunch shift, Delilah.”
Damian ignored me, picking up my apple and taking a huge bite. He waved at a group of girls that giggled as they walked by our table.
I couldn’t help but smile. Damian being flirted with or asked out was a daily occurrence. I imagined the girls dreaming that Damian would pick one of them. Choose them to bestow his attention on or to be asked to the party he would be attending this weekend. Damian was never cruel, so he was the heartthrob of many unrequited crushes. Poor girls. I felt their pain. I knew all about unrequited love.
But what got Damian attention with the ladies was that he was pretty much a carbon copy of our oldest brother, Dean. Both played football their whole lives and both received scholarships to Indiana University to continue playing ball for the Hoosiers. Both sported egos the size of Mount Rushmore, but they also were the most protective guys I knew, other than my dad. I loved them like crazy. I adored my entire family.
Which was why none of them understood my need to move away. But I did. I had to leave Indiana for a while. Find myself, perhaps? Years of dealing with girls like Belinda and Marnie caused me to doubt my every thought, and that pissed me off. I knew a few things with confidence, and one of them was that I was smart. I finished all my required courses for high school in three years and had spoken to my parents about graduating early.
They protested at first. What about the dances I’d miss? The parties? The fact of the matter was, I was the lone Goldsmith child who didn’t do those things. Normal high school social activity revolved around drinking and hooking up. Acting stupid and reckless. None of those things were me. I liked to read, and I loved to cook.
Over the years, I’d lost friends who didn’t understand that. Belinda and Marnie were two of them. While I’d spent my Saturdays polishing my key lime pie recipe to perfection, they’d decided I was too weird to even be kind to.
After enough pushing from me, my parents and I compromised. I would graduate a year early, alongside eighteen-year-old Damian. I wanted to go to culinary school, preferably in an exotic, foreign location, but they wanted me to take a year off and work here in Indianapolis. I gave in when I realized that delaying my travels for one year was infinitely better than staying in high school. Plus, it gave me a year to prove to them that I was mature enough to be the first Goldsmith to leave the Midwest indefinitely, as well as to save for a car and rent for an apartment wherever I ended up.
“Crap, there’s Principal Mahoney!”
I craned my neck, catching sight of the tall, bald school administrator who wore the same brown tweed jacket and red tie every day.
“I’ve gotta sneak back into Trigonometry class.” Delilah ducked under the table and crawled to the side door. She slipped in before our Principal saw her.
Damian laughed, but when he turned back to me, his face was sober. “Daisy, why do you let them treat you like that? The shit that comes out of their mouths is so rude. You know they’re just jealous, right?”
My heart warmed. Not because I believed what Damian was saying, but more so because of the caring way in which he said it. Damian and I were especially close. He looked out for me, his weird younger sister who never quite fit in at school and even at home was the odd one out. But he was graduating in five days, too. He didn’t need to spend his final days at Zionsville Academy watching out for me. I wanted Damian to enjoy every minute of his last high school days.
“They’re not jealous, but thank you for saying that. I’m entirely comfortable being different, Damian. But I’m also ready to move on. I’m over this town and this school.” I stood up and gathered my uneaten lunch.
Damian took the last bite of his apple and tossed the core onto the lunch tray. “I heard what they said to you. I think you’ve let their words get under your skin. Hear me loud and clear. You are not fat. Not even close to it.”
My jaw tightened as I clenched my teeth. “Stop. Please, Damian. You’re always taking care of me. Go have fun.”
Damian watched my face, his eyes seeming to examine my mental state before he would feel comfortable leaving. What he saw reflected back must have been good. He stood up next to me, his hand on my back. “Okay. Stay tough, sis. See you at home.”
“You need to eat more lunch than that!” I called to him as he walked over to another group of girls.
He waved a candy bar at me, and I shook my head. As I headed to the trash to dump the contents of the tray, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, resting my back against the brick wall of the school. As soon as I saw Jon’s name, my heart raced.
I’d crushed on Jon Roberts for as long as I could remember. Every fantasy of every love story that I ever conjured up involved him. He was a bit shorter than the guys in my family, but at six feet, he still had a couple of inches on my five foot six frame. He was stockier than any guy I knew. Bulky, but with muscle. His biceps were so big that I was sure he intimidated everyone else at the gym. I pictured those arms lifting me up into his embrace and closed my eyes.
Part of what fueled my fantasy about Jon was that he was the only guy I knew who looked like he could handle me. His hands were large, and when I pictured him holding me close… I fit. With him.
But those were only fantasies. Jon had been Dean’s best friend for over sixteen years. He was also twenty-two. Being that I was still seventeen for another three months, my fantasy wasn’t happening anytime soon. There was also the small detail that he had no clue how I felt about him. Or if he did, he ignored it. He clearly felt nothing but friendship toward me.
Opening my eyes, I looked down at the phone again.
Jon: Hey. How’s your day going?
Me: Not great. I’m so done with school.
Jon: Girls bugging you?
I made the colossal mistake of confiding in Jon one night late last summer about how torturous my so-called-friends had gotten. The texts, phone calls, and messages on social media had reached a frustrating peak.
We sat outside looking at the stars, and I unloaded on him. Jon sipped his beer and listened to me. Really listened. Sure, I had talked to my mom about the girls, and Damian was always there for me, but Jon was the only non-family member who had ever done that. It meant something to me.
It still did.
He told me that I was special. Pretty. And that he could say that or my parents could say that, but it wouldn’t matter unless I believed it myself. He told me to steel my heart and my head from Belinda and Marnie’s comments and focus on the real me. On what I loved to do and who I wanted to be.
I remembered every second of that conversation because that was when I realized I loved Jon.
And that he would never, could never, feel the same.
Me: They were. D & D poured soda on their heads. Cooled them off. Ha!
Jon: Nice. Plans later?
Me: Nope. Cooking dinner for the fam. Chicken cacciatore, homemade noodles, asparagus with hollandaise sauce. You want some?
Jon: You had me at the noodles. See you later.
My stomach did a little flip at the last three words. I looked forward to every single opportunity to spend time with Jon. Even if it was simply sitting across the dinner table from him, surrounded by my family and my home-cooked meals. It still gave me a chance to be near him—and to revel in my fantasy just a little while longer.
I’d often tried to guess what food would make Jon come over for dinner. It wasn’t too hard. Since his graduation from Indiana University last month, he’d moved back home. Even though Dean was living in Chicago, training with the Bears, Jon joined us for dinner many nights a week. My parents loved him.
We all did.
My love for him just didn’t feel familial or platonic anymore.
Interestingly, Jon would be in the same predicament as me next year. His plan was to apply to a few law schools after taking his entrance exam. He also needed to save up some money for a year, so he was working as a law clerk at a downtown firm.
After my last class of the day the bell rang, and I headed out the front doors of the building. On the way, I received a text from Damian and Delilah saying that they’d been sent to detention for the soda debacle. They didn’t seem all that upset about it. My siblings would take a month of detention to protect me. I just wished they didn’t have to.
I turned right, walking toward town. With my siblings staying late for detention, they would need the truck to drive home. One of the challenges of a large family with little disposable income was that we shared… everything. Luckily for us, Dean gave Damian his old truck when he signed with the NFL. He had tried to buy us a new one, but my parents assured him that we had always gotten by with what we had. We were grateful for the used truck, however. Without it, the three of us would still be relying on Mom for our rides everywhere.
Crossing the street, I left my school day behind me. I walked for a few minutes before entering the parking lot of our local grocery store. A low whistle off to my side startled me. I froze, bracing myself for comments or jeers.
“Need help picking out the best asparagus?”
Leaning against the door to his truck, keys twirling around his finger, was the most delicious sight I’d ever laid eyes on.
Jon.
I swallowed, my mouth bone dry.
“Jon?” My voice was squeaky.
The corner of Jon’s mouth lifted in a grin. He wore black sunglasses, so I couldn’t tell if he rolled his eyes at my nervousness or found it funny. Either way, he straightened and walked toward me slowly.
He wore faded, ripped jeans, brown boots, and a fitted green t-shirt… perfectly. Jon kept his dark brown hair cropped close to his head, and always with a layer of stubble on his face. Nothing was sexier to me than the start of a beard on Jon’s chiseled face. For whatever reason, I found it slightly dangerous and sexy. My fingers itched to stroke the stubble. As he got closer, I fixated on his thick neck, corded with veins.