Page 100 of Return To You

The years that followed, I’d strive to be the best at everything. I had natural abilities that made certain things easy. But when it came to my family, it seemed that whatever I did, I failed.

Like the time when Justin jumped off the roof into the pool and broke his leg. I’d saved Grace, but my brother? I didn’t.

“Best way to go,” Dad says. “In your sleep.”

“Nightcap?” Mom asks.

It’s late. But we’ve been mindlessly chatting, looking at family albums, and it doesn’t feel right to ride back to Grace’s house to just crash there, even if it’s where I want to be. She hasn’t called or texted all day, and I wonder if she’s giving me space or if she needs space herself. “Nightcap sounds perfect. Let me just check on Grace real quick.” I walk out toward the barn to talk to her in private. Her sleepy voice stirs all kinds of feelings inside me—lust, longing, and more lust. We don’t talk long. She sounds tired, and just the rasp of her night voice makes me want to be in bed with her. But that wouldn’t be fair to her. She has an early start tomorrow. She needs her sleep.

And I hear the clink of the small glasses Mom pulled out of her cupboard, and Dad’s shuffle as he comes back on the porch with two bottles of who knows what.

We hang up, and I feel a little lonely, yet surrounded at the same time. Surrounded by my family, with the ties we’re learning to weave again. And by Grace, and how we’re finding our way toward each other again.

Loving Grace is the simplest and most complicated thing I’ve done in my life.

Simple, because it just is. I love her. Always have, always will.

Complicated, because she’s fragile and complex. She’s not telling me everything—in fact, I feel there’s a lot she hasn’t told me yet. And how can I love her completely if I don’t know inside out what happened to her, how she navigated the past ten years of her life, moving from being a teenager to an adult? And how she’s navigating her present life? She seems to have this boring life, alone with her cat, but she doesn’t. She takes care of her dad, and her cousin’s daughter, and her employees, and her needy clients. She spends time with her mom and checks in on her brother.

“How is Grace doing?” Mom asks as I sit down.

“Good. Tired.”

“Mad River?” Dad asks, referring to one of Vermont’s bourbons.

“Sure.”

“Limoncello please,” Mom says. “The poor thing must be driving herself sick with the spa.”

Mom is always so dramatic. “Yeah, she’s a little worried.”

“Did she find a new space yet?”

“I think that’s a little premature. He might end up selling to another investor.”

Mom sets down her glass. “Oh no. I hear it’s that young woman, a friend of yours, who’s buying to live there.”

“A friend of mine?”

Dad clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably on his seat. “Yeah—what was her name? Never cared much for her. Annie?”

“Wasn’t Annie,” Mom says. “What was her name? Oh, she wasn’t that bad. Lessee… Prescott’s niece. From Fish and Game?” She turns to Dad like that’s going to help. “Amy! That’s it. Amy Keller. She’s moving back to Emerald Creek. Her mom must be happy.”

What the fuck? Grace never said anything about Amy buying the spa. A nervous tick takes control of my cheek. “Grace never said anything.”

Mom waves a hand like it’s nothing. “And maybe I misunderstood.”

“It’s probably a rumor,” Dad interjects. “Or she just made an offer, and she’s getting ahead of herself.”

Fucking Amy is buying the spa? Over my dead body.

“Grace just doesn’t want to worry you, honey,” Mom says like that’s going to soothe me. My inner caveman is thumping his chest, shouting Why isn’t she coming to me for help? Ethan Protect Grace. Ethan Fix Grace Problems. Mom sets her hand on my thigh. “She probably didn’t want to bore you with work, honey. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

I bored her with my work yesterday. Didn’t seem to bother her. “Yep.” And now that fucking tick in my jaw just won’t let go.

We clink our glasses and take small sips in silence for a while, letting the darkness settle around us like a blanket. Dad takes a couple deep sighs.

“Well, next time we have a family reunion like this, Grace has to be here. I’ll call her myself.”

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