Page 46 of Return to Us
The past flows around us, cocooning us in this house where we made love more times than I can count. I feel it moving between each breath, reminding me of all that we were—the promises, the hopes, the dreams. This kiss is different from the ones that came before it. It’s rougher, more urgent and demanding. I feel the search for questions as his tongue touches mine.
God, it’s different and yet the same.
He’s still Grayson.MyGrayson. The boy who stole my heart and gave me hope that maybe not all men would be like my father. It was a time when we were more than two kids, we grew together, found each other, and then I let go.
My lips break away, turning my head as I gasp for air.
“Jessica . . .”
“Please,” I say, because I can’t get anything more than that out.
He shifts a little away, allowing some much-needed distance. I keep my gaze down, knowing if I look at him, I will lose myself again. “I can’t kiss you,” I say.
“Okay.”
“Because I like you. I have always liked you. I always will.”
“And that’s why you can’t kiss me?”
I clasp my hands together, wringing them as I try to explain. “I can’t kiss you because I can’t be who I was before.”
Grayson moves, sitting on the table in front of me. “I don’t know what that was, Jess, but I don’t regret kissing you.”
I look up at him, regretting it instantly. “I kissed you.”
He laughs. “Are you sure?”
I smile. “Fine, we kissed each other.”
“Look, we’re in this house and talking about old shit, it was nostalgia. I promise I won’t let you kiss me anymore.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
I lean forward, and Grayson takes my hands in his. “Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“Not once.”
“Good, then we’ll be fine.”
Yeah, completely fine. I won’t kiss him. He won’t kiss me. And in a few weeks, I’ll find a way out of this town and move on just like I did before.
Chapter 11
Jessica
My heart is pounding, and I can feel the sweat trickling down my face as I thrash from side to side.
It’s happening. No, I can’t do this.
Wake up, wake up, wake up!
I yell at myself, knowing how this ends. It’s never going to stop and I don’t want to feel it again. I don’t want to live this now, in this house, in this bed.
The sounds start first, filling my ears with the unmistakable scraping of branches against the hull of the plane. The sound of glass shattering, and the groaning from the metal bending. The pilots are yelling and issuing orders. Elliot is telling us that it’s coming now and to be ready.
Jacob Arrowood, the most unlikely friend I’d ever make, terrified but doing a good job concealing it. Just as I am. But, God, pretending is a hard thing when I also know, most likely, we won’t survive. No one survives a plane crash.
The fear I’m working so hard to push down is clawing its way up my throat, making me want to scream because I’m going to die. All the things I never said and never will because this will be it. There’s a reason they train us but not many live to explain how it really goes.
