Page 113 of Return To You

“Easy’s not that close.”

“What’s wrong with the coffee here?” I point my chin to the general store. They still have that god awful juice that tastes like fermented ashtray. If Amy really wants a coffee with me, that’s what she’ll have to put up with. Once she’s done hearing me out, she’ll probably just throw it to my face anyway.

“Hey, it’s all about the company, right?” she answers, pulling my hand to hers and leading me inside. The woman has no shame.

I pull my hand away from hers, pretending it’s just to get the door, and once she’s inside, tuck both my hands in my pockets. There. That should do it.

Noah walks by us as we’re helping ourselves to coffee, does a double take at Amy, and thankfully says nothing as I take a sip from the near-full plastic cup.

The dishwater that passes as coffee is just marginally better than I remember it, or maybe I’ve gotten less difficult with age. Amy decides we’re to drink it on their back patio that is new to me. “You know what, I like this spot better than Easy’s. It’s more private.”

“So, I hear you’re buying a new place?”

She purses her lips. “Oh… so that’s why you’re having coffee with me. You think you can talk me out of it. You know what, Ethan? Yeah, I’m buying a new place. I fucking deserve it. I worked my ass off for the money I’m making, and if I wanna buy the prettiest little house in town and live there, it’s my fucking right.”

I heard Amy became an actress or something, and good for her for making it. It’s not a given. The woman has grit. “It’s just… I kinda find it interesting that you don’t seem to give a fuck that Grace might lose her business because of that. I’m sure there are other houses that are just as nice, even nicer. Places with land. Where you could raise a family. Have a big back yard. Horses. Whatever.”

She smirks. “Tough luck. She can outbid me.”

No she can’t, and Amy knows that. Grace doesn’t have that kind of money. “I’m just surprised someone from Emerald Creek would do that, is all. A tourist? Sure, any day. But us? It’s just not… not how we look out for each other.”

She sets her paper cup on the table and crosses her arms. “Look who’s talking, giving me lessons on small-town life,” she snarls.

“Seems to me you left Emerald Creek as well. Looks like you forgot how to be a decent person in the process. I’m trying not to.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Seriously? You’re trying to be a decent person? You’re trying to do the right thing by Grace, of all people?”

What the fuck is she getting at? Hell yeah, I am.

She snickers. “You roll into town, get in her bed, she’s got so many hearts in her eyes it’s pathetic to see, really, and then what? What’s your plan, Ethan?”

What does she fucking mean?

“Mm? Nothing?”

I crinkle my empty coffee cup, throw it in the overflowing garbage can, and stand.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” She stands too, leaving her still full coffee cup on the table. “See, the way I look at it, I’m doing her a favor. Cause when you get out of Dodge, once again, with her heart broken way beyond repair this time, guess what will keep her mind off your stupid dick? Me. The fact that she needs to fight to keep her business afloat. The fact that she needs to move and start over somewhere else.”

The woman is crazy. Positively crazy. I swing the store’s back door open and stomp through to the front, Amy on my heels, Noah glancing at us from behind the register. “Next thing you know, you’re gonna tell me you’re doing this all for Grace," I spit as I march past checkout, ignoring the stares following the two of us.

“Nope. I’m not. I’m doing it for me. Just like you are. Whatever it is you’re doing,” Amy says, waving dismissively at my saddlebags packed with shit, “it’s for you. The difference between me and you is, whatever I’m doing is going to help her get over whatever shit you’re pulling on her.”

I’m so angry with her I can’t even talk.

“Like leaving like the fucking coward you are,” she thinks necessary to enlighten me.

“Always a pleasure to catch up with you,” I snap as I straddle my bike.

“Pleasure’s all mine!” she yells back.

I fasten my helmet and count to three before starting the bike. Wiggle my neck to work out the tension. Then count back down. Three. Two. One.

Okay. Amy Fucking Keller is out of my mind. For real.

But as I ride up to the farm, my thoughts drift back to Justin. Looks like dark thoughts are the theme today, because guilt eats me as I think back to him going through months in the hospital and in rehab after his accident. Guilt for not being there. For having been part of the succession of events that brought this upon him.

A succession of events that also tore Grace away from me.

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