Page 166 of Return To You

“Thank you, sir.”

Another grunt.

“And sir, like you said, the F-35s are unpopular with some folks here,” I say, referring to the stealth fighter jets based in Vermont. He knows about that—he mentioned it a few days ago. It can’t hurt to remind him everything that’s at stake. “The Air Force could use some goodwill around here.”

“I said I’ll see what I can do,” he barks again before cutting the connection.

I take a deep breath and pocket my phone.

“What’s that about you not going to Brussels?”

I whip around to see Grace in my jersey, arms wrapped around herself, eyes flaring with… is that anger?

“Babe,” I start, all mushy inside at the sight of her. I close the distance between us and take her in my arms, but she stays stone cold.

“Did I hear you say no to Brussels?” she clips.

I squeeze her. “You did.” I don’t elaborate, wondering why she’s acting like this. She should be happy, right?

“Why?”

Why? “Lots of other people can do it.” I run my nose down the side of her face. “And this way, I’ll be closer to you.”

She huffs. “Ethan—” she starts.

“I had this lightbulb moment, and it’s all because of you. I can do good anywhere. I don’t need to be in Brussels. Other very competent people can do just as well as I would do. But there’s only one place where I want to be.”

She pulls out of my embrace. “I never should have asked you to go to the high school.”

“Why not?” I’m truly puzzled now.

“It… gave you ideas.”

Ideas?

“I heard you on the phone,” she continues. “You’re-you’re-you’re trying to find a reason to stay here, and you think the high school hack might be that—but it isn’t, Ethan. It isn’t. You’re not seeing straight. You’re jeopardizing your career over one little thing I said. God I’m so stupid! I should have seen it coming.”

“I’m not jeopardizing anything!”

She stomps her foot. “You are! Okay. So you’re gonna fix their system. And then what? Brussels will have gone to another guy, they’ll ship you to Florida, and you’ll be miserable there. You’ll have lost everything.” She points to the phone in my pocket. “Call him back. Tell him you thought about it. Or-or-or that you were kidding. Lack of sleep. Anything.”

I take her hand in mine. “Babe, calm down.”

“I’m calm! I am very calm!” she shouts, shaking my hand away. “Don’t you see what you’re doing? You’re acting on impulse, and in six months you’ll resent me and Emerald Creek, and you’ll leave again and never-ever come back.” She’s so worked up, her cheeks are blotchy.

“That’s not what I’m doing. Seriously, listen to me.”

She folds her arms again, and I just want to kiss her worry frown away.

“Can we just sit down? I need to brainstorm this with you.”

“Brainstorm what?”

“Our future. My career.”

She narrows her eyes on me, but when I turn to the couch, she says, “This sounds like a coffee moment.”

“It totally is a coffee moment.”

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