Page 112 of Return To You

He downs the water in loud gulps, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Handing me the glass back, he pecks my lips, then stays against my mouth and adds, “’bout what? Too loud? Sorry—didn’t think the saw and drill situation through. I’ll be out of your hair in no time. Promise.” He grabs his T-shirt, pulls it back on, gathers his tools, the broken planks and the trestle, and drops everything over the railing. He leans back into me for a longer kiss and an apology (“I’m sweaty”), then hops over the railing, grabs everything, and just disappears.

Brand new deck.

Just like that.

I turn around and look at all the women on the other side of the windows, mouths agape, just like I thought. And at Wendy upstairs, beaming and giving me a thumbs up.

thirty-five

Ethan

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have come during business hours. I can see that Grace is very particular about how she runs her business, and seeing how successful she is—I mean, the place is always packed—she knows what she’s doing. And quiet and peacefulness is one of the things I know she wants at A Touch Of Grace.

I caused some disruption this morning. Hopefully she won’t get too many complaints. Hopefully the benefit of having her deck back for the enjoyment of her clients will outweigh the nuisance of my unannounced presence there.

But really—the landlord? Bullshit. The damage was not from last night or last week. You could tell from the break. It was fresh, but not that fresh. It’s taken care of now. Grace can hold her outdoor thing now, whatever that was. It seemed important to her, so it’s important to me.

I’m angered and worried that Grace is going to lose her space, though. And to Amy, of all people. Can she just get a break? My stomach is in knots just thinking about how she must feel about the whole situation. There’s got to be a way. I just don’t know what it is.

I fill up the truck with gas and drop it off at the job site Lucas is currently working. “You sure you don’t want a job?” he half jokes.

Last time, I turned him down without hesitation. This time? It takes me a beat. The temptation is real.

But seriously. No. The promotion I’m up for? It’s huge. Not the money—that’s never a factor when you’re in the service. The prestige? A little of that. But nothing to brag about. You don’t want anyone to know what you’re really doing. No—it’s the impact I have. The knowledge that I’m really making a difference in keeping the world safe.

That’s not something I’m ready to give up.

Fighting my feelings, I gun my bike back into town and stop at the antique shop. There’s another project I want to work on for Grace before I leave. This one requires more creativity and no muscle work.

I clench my jaw at the memory of the ring I’d made for her. Not gonna lie, I had forgotten about it. But when she told me the story, it came back to me. Brutally. Raw. In all the pure truth of our childhood feelings. Grace was always special to me. She was. I admired her from afar for how lively and fragile and pure she was, like Mama’s flowers. And occasionally, I had to protect her. Help her. Serve her. Like when Haley and Justin thought it was okay to play wedding day and have her stand there holding a makeshift train.

No way.

Not Grace.

Grace, in my eyes, was always meant to be the center of attention. The star. How could they not see that?

“Ethan? Ethan?”

I whip my head to the redhead calling my name in the Antique shop. “Autumn! It’s been a minute.” If memory serves me well, her parents own the shop. “Do you work here now? Or did you take over?”

A large smile brightens her face and she rolls her eyes. “Not a chance. But I am setting myself up as a decorator, and I shop here… occasionally. Or a lot,” she says, laughing, “depending on what my clients want.”

“Decorator, huh? That’s cool.”

“What brings you here?”

I tell her a little about my project, getting more animated as she nods enthusiastically at my words.

“That is so sweet. Let me show you a couple of things that I think might help, and then I’ll run out of here before Dad convinces me that I am actually working here.”

A half-hour later, I’m fastening my purchases to the back of my bike when I spot Amy on the street, strutting up to me on the sidewalk like she owns the place. She flashes a smile at me and places her hand on my chest like she owns me. “Ooh, someone’s been working out,” she purrs. “Wanna go for coffee?”

I want to tell her to go to hell, is what I want. “Sure, let’s catch up.”

“Hitch a ride?”

“Maybe another time. Let’s just walk.”

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