Page 25 of Return to Us
“She’s with your sister and Stella, doing makeovers and nails.”
“While you sit here with me . . .”
Our eyes meet for a brief second, and it feels as if a million things are said without a single word. “I guess it’s one of those things.”
“One of what things?”
Why am I asking him this? Why do I care? He and I are nothing, and it doesn’t matter that, when I thought the world was ending, he was one of the faces I saw. It’s not theonlyreason I came back to Willow Creek Valley. It’s home, and for all I knew, he didn’t live here.
What we had ended years ago. I’m being stupid.
“Where you loved someone once and you can’t quite walk away when you see them hurting.”
And my heart races. I stare at him, wondering if this is some medication-induced hallucination. It wouldn’t be the first. Or maybe, maybe this is a dream. One that isn’t filled with metal crunching and pain as the plane makes impact with the ground.
I blink a few times, seeing if I wake up.
“Winnie would’ve made sure I was okay,” I say softly.
“I’m sure, but she couldn’t have carried you out of the car. So, you’d be in the backseat right now instead of in bed.”
I smile and close my eyes. “True.”
Grayson leans closer. “Are you okay? Seriously?”
Slowly, I sigh and then look at him again. “I am. It’s hard, and it usually takes a full day to recover.”
“What brings them on?”
“It can be anything.”
Grayson grips the back of his neck. “When is the last time you got one?”
I don’t want to lie to Grayson, but at the same time, I don’t want to lose the job before I even start. I am genuinely excited and ready to resume some sense of normal again. Working gives purpose and joy. I loved to fly, meet celebrities, and get to see new places. Now all of that is gone, and I’m not sure who I am anymore.
“It’s been about a week, but when I’m triggered, there’s no stopping it.”
“Stress probably doesn’t help,” he notes. “Are you sure about going back to work?”
I knew it. Disappointment fills me as I prepare to have the job taken from me. “I can handle it, Gray.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I just worry that it’s going to be a lot of stress, long days on your feet, running around and dealing with my family. I don’t want it to end up hurting you.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not like that. I need this. I have felt so useless and broken, please, don’t take it away.”
He moves quickly, hands taking mine. “I wasn’t saying that. No, I wouldn’t notletyou work at the inn. It’s that I’m worried it’ll make things worse.”
I sit up slowly, measuring the pain and light sensitivity. “The only thing that’s making it worse is not living. Since the crash, I’ve been here—alone. I can’t drive. My words . . . they get stuck. It’s better though,” I say quickly. “I’m doing better, and when Stella offered me the job, it was the first time I felt okay.”
Saying it aloud makes me feel stupid, but I need him to see that this job is saving me.
“And if you get a headache?”
I release a breath through my nose and shrug. “I don’t know.”
He releases my hands, sighing deeply. “What if I find you another job? One where you don’t have to worry about people or really much of anything, but you can still work.”
“No. I’m not a charity case, and I swear, I can do this.”
