Page 70 of Return To You

He takes a deep breath and turns his face to me. “Then there was you.” He squints at me, like he’s expecting me to say something.

“Me?”

Straightening, he faces me, the moon lighting the side of his face. He reaches for my face and caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “Why did you end it between us?”

twenty

Ethan

Her eyes widen and her mouth sets in a fine line. She jerks her face away from my hand. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” For the life of me, I don’t understand her.

“Look, Ethan. We’re adults. We still have chemistry. I’m not going to deny it. But don’t try to gaslight me, okay? Out of respect. I don’t resent you for what you did. I know you thought I was too young for you. I know older girls were more interesting to you. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt at the time. It hurt like hell.” She takes a shaky breath. “I’m over it, because it’s been so long, but it’s insulting to me that you—”

I clench my jaw, keeping my anger in check. “Hold it. Hold it right there. I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. Are you insinuating I wasn’t faithful to you? Because that’s absolute bullshit.”

“Ethan. You weren’t.”

Twelve years ago, Grace and I found ourselves alone in the tiny projection room of the church basement. I was home from college, it was youth night, and whoever was in charge asked me to show Grace how to operate the projector. I was only going to show her how to start and stop a movie, and get out of there in less than a minute. But once in the tiny, cramped room, barely large enough for one person, when I’d leaned over to show her, my body cupping hers, she’d turned around and stood and laced her hands around my neck and then my hands fell naturally on her hips as she pulled herself to me without any hesitation.

She’s too young. What are you doing?

Then she’d whispered something that felt very Hollywood-y to me: “What are you waiting for? Just kiss me.” And she’d closed her eyes, mouth half-open.

When I hadn’t kissed her right away, she’d stood on her toes and molded her open mouth to my closed one, pulling my chest to hers, her heartbeat fast like mine.

Stop right there. Right now. She’s too young.

“It’s just a kiss, you idiot,” she’d whispered sweetly against my mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with a kiss. I want it and I know you want it. Right?” This last word was tentative, full of doubt, scared.

Of course I wanted it. And I wanted her kindness, and her spirit, and her soul. I wanted Grace, all of Grace. Yet I had to let her down. “Grace, I’m too old for you. You’re only sixteen.”

She’d sighed, amused, a small smile painted on her face. “So you’re saying your feelings will be different once I’m eighteen?” She’d set a hand on my beating heart, daring me to tell her I didn’t feel anything for her.

I pulled my hands off her hips. “My feelings won’t be different. But maybe yours will be. I can’t do this to you—with you—now.”

She’d pulled away from me, her eyes shiny.

It hurt me to be hurting her. “A kiss with you will never be just a kiss, Grace. It will always mean more to me. And now… now…”

“I get it. I’m too young.” She’d stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her, leaving me… heartbroken. Why did doing the right thing with Grace need to be so painful?

Two years later, I was home from college for the summer before joining the Air Force. After a night swim in the river with a group of friends, Grace and I found ourselves alone on this very bridge.

“You remembered my birthday,” she said to me. Our steps were tentative, teetering on the bridge, the uneven planks pushing us together, our reflexes pulling us apart.

She’d turned eighteen a few months ago, and I’d sent her a card from college. “Of course I remembered your birthday.” My voice strangled in my throat. Did she still want me? I felt so vulnerable. She couldn’t possibly, right? I mean, I barely ever saw her now. Not one-on-one, for sure. Every time I was in town, I’d see her at the farm with Haley. She’d even worked there the summer before, and again during Spring break, she was there bottling syrup. But she didn’t make eye contact with me. She didn’t ask for help with math or physics like she used to. She didn’t ask me about my college classes like she did before that time in the projection room. I had let her down as softly and gently as I could, yet it seemed I’d broken our connection in an unredeemable way.

Since then, it seemed she had blocked me out.

So yeah, when I sent her a birthday card? I was hoping she’d get that what I was telling her. That I was still thinking of her. That I knew she was no longer sixteen. Or seventeen. That we could be something, if she still wanted to.

I was hoping she was still waiting for me. Because I sure as hell had been waiting for her.

I can’t remember who kissed who first on the bridge. But man, did we kiss.

And more. That summer was magical. Perfection.

---