Page 47 of Return To You

“Of course it’s all it was. You know it.”

“Right,” he mumbles and turns away. His shoulders are hunched, and his stride powerful. I want to run after him. Tell him I’m full of shit. Tell him I still love him and it’s killing me.

But that’s the whole thing, right? I’m still in love with a shadow from the past—that’s what’s killing me.

So I’m doing the right thing by walking away. I’m looking out for myself. Which is what I need to do.

My vision blurred, I watch Ethan straddle his bike and disappear in a cloud of dirt, his red light dimming behind the branches, until there’s nothing left of him.

Then I get in my car, wait for my heartbeat to slow down, wipe my tears, and drive home to Damian.

He’s locked himself in the closet again, and this time I nearly lose it trying to pry the damn door open. But instead of giving into the temptation of a self-pity party—because, really, nothing is going right—I do the one, easy thing I can do to fix one thing in my life. I call Lucas and Thalia to have them send someone asap. I tell them where I hide the spare key, knowing I can trust them.

When my phone dings with messages from the girls, I don’t even have the strength to check what they want. I put my phone on silent.

I can barely stand myself right now. I’d be a shit friend.

twelve

Ethan

Igun my bike, leaving Grace in my rearview mirror, a dark shape that’s not even looking at me.

I don’t mean anything to her. Nothing at all. I need to let it go, clear my brain, cleanse my heart.

What was I thinking, again? Oh yeah, that just bringing her to the lake would trigger something. Make her tell me why she dumped me there, yelling things that made no sense. That worked out well. Did I think she was going to apologize?

We were barely older than the kids on the Varsity team I trained this week.

It’s not like no one told me that she was too young. Too young for me. Too young for love.

And I was too young too.

We were both unable to deal with the force of feelings we didn’t understand. Feelings of trust, and friendship, that grew over the years, then, with hormones kicking in, morphed into something so powerful, we couldn’t manage—or even understand—what was happening to us.

And so we failed. We crashed. I fled the scene, instead of trying to understand, mend, correct whatever had possessed her and build upon it.

I dip down Dewey’s Hollow, then up Woodbury Knoll, where we’d… ah fuck, I can’t do that.

There are too many memories, everywhere.

Even at the farm.

There’s one place though that wasn’t there back then.

My brother Justin’s pub.

And that’s where my wheels take me. To the Lazy Salamander, aka Lazy’s, now the heart of Emerald Creek, with its cozy booths, slick bar, tall ceilings, comfort food, and a shitload of local beers on drafts.

I sit my ass on a stool and watch with envy as Justin pours beers, chats up customers, checks his phone, and smiles like only someone in love can smile.

He has his shit together. He built something out of nothing. He created a hub for our hometown, something we needed desperately. In the time that I was gone, he and his best friend, Chris, became pillars of Emerald Creek.

Me? I have nothing to show for my ten years of hiding. Nothing that means anything here.

“You still around, man?” I turn to the deep voice and greet Colton. “Beer’s on me,” he tells Justin as he slides on a stool next to me.

“First was on the house,” Justin answers. “What can I get you?”

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