Page 140 of Return To You

“Good thing you took the car,” Mom says. “They’re saying we might get an inch of rain, starting this evening.”

Dad looks at his radar app on his phone and grunts. “Not looking good.”

Then he asks about my next steps, and I feel Grace’s hand snake tighter around my waist, and her face lifts to me.

“I need to report back in forty-eight hours,” I say. “Actually, thirty-six now. Waiting to hear what my posting will be.”

Grace leans her head against my shoulder and squeezes me tight. “Fingers crossed he gets Brussels.”

Looking down at her, I see only pride and true happiness. No doubts, no fear, no regrets. She’s all in with me, and she supports me no matter what. My free hand goes straight to my pocket where her keychain is—correction: where my key to our home is.

When we leave, Mom’s eyes get a little wet, but I know it’s happiness.

“I talked to my C.O. about potentially staying stateside. There could be opportunities in D.C. or Florida,” I say once we’re in the car. We’ve been too busy pawing at each other to talk about the future—or maybe we’ve avoided that conversation.

“I thought you wanted Brussels?”

“I did. I changed my mind.”

She takes her foot off the gas to look at me. “Please tell me that doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“And what if it did?”

“I don’t want you giving up your career because of me,” she says.

We pull up to her house. Our home, I should say. Once we’re done with this conversation, I need to talk to her about sharing costs. Why do I think this isn’t going to go easy? But one thing at a time.

Right now, she’s ranting about Brussels as we walk up to the front door. “Brussels was your dream posting. Your career goal. Like, just weeks ago. I don’t want you giving up on that because of me.” Her fists are on her hips.

I pull out my key, a stupid grin locking in place while my heart drums a crazy, wild beat. I unlock the door and step aside to let her in while she’s going on about me making rash decisions or potentially resenting her for god knows what. “Your career is everything to you,” she insists.

I stop, key in the lock. “No, it’s not. Not anymore,” I say with enough force to make her stop in her tracks and look at me. She’s already inside the house, kicking her shoes off. I point to the key in the door, to Damian greeting her. To her bare feet that’ll hook behind my hips in the next few hours if I have anything to say about it. “This. This is everything to me. You and me.”

“Ethan,” she whispers, setting her soft hand against my chest. “I understand that. It’s the same for me. But-but-but your job, your career, is important too.”

“Not as important as you.”

She shuts her eyes for a brief moment. “You can have both. You can have Brussels and me.”

I need to tell her. Brussels? Not a lot of off time. And it’s close to impossible to just visit for the couple of free days I’ll have here and there.

“I been thinking,” she says, pulling me inside. “I can plan to take a week off from the spa each month. You know once… once the dust settles with the building, and I’m relocated somewhere, and everything is smooth sailing again. I could totally block off a week each month to visit you in Brussels. My staff can handle themselves for a week without me. And I looked at miles and stuff for the airfare. It’s doable.”

I shut the door and put the key back in my pocket. She stays against me, snaking her hands up to my neck, pulling my mouth against hers. “You can have it all,” she whispers against my lips.

“I already have it all.” I burrow my face in her neck. “You gotta understand. Brussels meant somethin’ to me before, because that was all I had. Now I have you, and my family, and my friends. Everything I thought I’d lost was just waiting for me to get my head out of my ass. So if I tell you I don’t give a shit about Brussels, you better believe it. Now, I still need to make a living, and I’m good at what I do, and that can’t happen here, but believe me when I tell you, I’d drop the Air Force in an instant if I had a solid plan B here.” Matter of fact, I’ve been toying with ideas about said plan B, but I’m not sharing those with her yet.

“Ethan King, don’t you dare leave the Air Force because of me or even Emerald Creek,” she declares, leaving my arms.

Yup. Not sharing plan B just yet. Especially given that the only clear part about Plan B is ‘I wanna stay here,’ and that’s not a fucking plan at all. “I’m not leaving the Air Force.”

“Good. Now let’s kick back and sit outside before the rain starts.”

forty-five

Grace

We left the farm with enough meat and vegetables to feed a whole family, and Ethan helps me store it away.

---