Page 21 of Return To You

I grunt. “We weren’t that close.” An image jumps at me, punishing my lie: Grace’s naked body under mine, her legs pulling me inside her, her nails raking my back.

Haley doesn’t bother swallowing before saying, “Huh. I always thought she had something for you.”

Shit, so Grace never even told Haley? Or is Haley fishing for information? I don’t have time for this high school chick shit. “All your friends had something for me,” I say to play into her hand while deflecting her focus.

“Ooooh, I don’t know about that.”

I laugh, partially glad we’re off the topic of Grace. But still wanting to know more about her. “Hard to catch up on a whole lifetime in fifteen minutes.”

“Well, she’s coming to the farm tomorrow. You’ll have all the time in the world to catch up.”

Shit. So there’s no escaping it. I want to see her, and at the same I really don’t want to fucking see her. “When did they move back?” I need at least some context.

“They?”

“Grace and her… husband.” The word grates my mouth.

She does a double take. “Oh—no. She’s divorced. That didn’t last long. Maybe a few months?”

My blood runs cold. She was married only a few months, and no one thought to tell me? What the fuck? I want to punch something.

Haley continues. “She um… she went through some tough shit for a while…”

I whip my face to her. “What happened?”

Haley squints, then shrugs. “Long time ago. ’ts all good now.” She dips a mac’n cheese ball in the gazpacho and slurps it.

“What kind of tough shit? You sure she’s okay?”

“You saw her. She rocks. She’s doing great.”

I’m teetering between a stupid relief that she’s divorced and the knowledge that she went through hard times. Not knowing more kills me. “Was the marriage that bad?” My fists reflexively ball at the number of scenarios going through my head right now.

Haley squints her eyes at me. “You know, you’re awful nosy for someone who supposedly wasn’t that close to her.”

six

Grace

The rest of the day goes by in a haze, as I give massage after massage until my hands hurt and the sun sets. I try to empty my mind so I can focus on my clients and the needs of their bodies and souls. That alone roots me. Finding the connection, appeasing their pain, their stress. Feeling relief flood through them as my hands instinctively find their way to their knots and untie them.

For a few hours, I lose myself in bringing relief to others, and it brings me temporary peace.

Only temporary.

“Ms. Grace? Everyone is gone,” Tracy says. She stands at the opening of the tent, eyes shiny. “Everyone was so happy! I’m so excited for you.”

“How are you feeling, Trace? Did you remember to stretch?” I take the booklet she hands me, where she’s been gathering people’s information—mainly name and email—on a voluntary basis. That was Alex’s idea.

“Sorta.”

I wave her in. “Get on the table, sweetie.”

“Are you sure? It’s super late.”

“Come on.” Tracy is one of the high school’s best athletes, and I know she’s counting on her skills for a college scholarship. She injured her thigh recently, and she’s shared her concerns with me. “It’s the least I can do.” The high schoolers helping at the fair earn Community Service hours, but she went above and beyond.

While I work on her, my thoughts drift to Ethan, when really, all I should be worrying about right now is where to transport my business and how much it’s going to cost me. “I got a selfie with Mister K the other day. Isn’t he so hot?”

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