Page 46 of Return To You

Even if his last words warm me, my whole being reels. Why can’t I be more like her? Grabbing what I want? Going for it? Enjoying the little time we have together without a care for the future? I bet you I could be in his arms, right now, if I wanted.

I used to be that girl.

She glances at the passenger door, where Tracy is oblivious to her, headphones on, the silver glare of her screen lighting her face. “I hope you change your mind,” she purrs. Her gaze travels around the parking space, glides over me, and stops on his motorcycle. “Ohmygod, is this yours?” She steps away from him, sashays to his bike, caresses the saddle, then whips around and strikes a suggestive pose. “Give me a ride?”

He glances toward the car where Tracy is waiting. “Not today.”

She crosses her arms and walks to her car. Then turns around and says, “Growler, tonight. Yeah?”

“Doubt it.”

She winks at him. “Can’t wait.”

Then she’s gone and I can’t help myself. “That should be fun.” I hate the snarkiness in my tone. The pinch in my underbelly.

“What?”

“A night on the town with Amy Keller.”

He huffs. “Right.”

“Seriously, why not?”

“Not my idea of fun.”

“She seems to still have feelings for you.”

Disbelief paints his features. “Not my idea of feelings either.” He lowers his gaze on me, a question in his eyes. Then it comes. He says it. “I really need to talk to you. About what happened back then. Between us. I need to understand.”

Those few years come back to me in a whirlwind. The way he let me take his mouth the first time I kissed him in the church basement at youth night. How he didn’t push me back right away, rather let me taste him. How his hands fell on my hips naturally. How his heartbeat was so strong I could feel it, and that’s how I knew he loved me, even when he said, “I’m too old for you, Grace,” and he gently broke the kiss. The way he said it, the way he acted, I knew—I thought I knew—he was just asking me for more time.

And two years later, there we were. He took control of our second first kiss, opened me to new sensations, sensations I had no idea could be so much better than in my fantasies. The way he later caressed my breasts, and teased the tips, and lowered his mouth to them, and trailed wet kisses down my navel, and unbuttoned my jeans, and the way his fingers felt oh so much better than mine and how was that even possible? I thought I knew how to pleasure myself, but my god—Ethan? Ethan created wants I didn’t know I had, and he assuaged them and then created others and teased me endlessly until I begged and he growled and he let me come on his fingers, on his mouth, against his crotch.

Beyond and way deeper than that, he was my hero in so many ways. Standing up for my brother when he was being bullied. Helping his father on the farm from dusk to dawn. Volunteering for every cause Emerald Creek stood up for. And still making me feel like I was the most important thing in his life. Telling me as much.

“It’s so long ago, I don’t even remember any of it,” I say.

“Really.”

I scoff. “Ethan. We were kids, just fooling around. I mean—yeah, really.”

He stays silent for a beat. “That’s all it was to you?”

What am I supposed to say or do now? Getting closure means revisiting painful events I haven’t thought about in years. It means reopening old wounds.

Why would I do that?

It was ten years ago. Ten years!

I need to live in the present so I can build my future. I need to be grounded.

Accept the past, enjoy the present, and embrace the future. That’s all there is to it.

I won’t get closure by revisiting the past. I’ll get closure by walking away and never looking back, and that’s what I’ve been doing. Been doing it with things more painful than my first heartbreak, and it works perfectly fine.

And if I need to lie to Ethan to protect myself, then I’ll lie.

It’s best for him too.

---