Return to Us

by Corinne Michaels

  He grins. “She’s very demanding when working on a task.”

  “Much like her father.”

  “I like to get things done,” he says with amusement.

  “You are a task master.”

  “We had fun too. It wasn’t always tasks.”

  My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “You were not fun. You were a pain in the ass who demanded we do it your way because it was the only way to do it.”

  “You’re making me sound like a dictator.” Grayson’s voice is laced with mock indignation.

  I cross my arms and give him a wry smile. “You were.”

  “That is untrue, and you were just being a baby who didn’t like following perfectly normal directions.”

  He’s crazy and completely wrong. “You made Kate Murphy cry because she didn’t use the right paint on the senior rock.”

  He huffs and mimics my pose. “It was all laid out, the freaking paint was numbered. If she had just followed what I . . .”

  “What you said?” I finish for him.

  “She went rogue. I dealt with it.”

  We both start to laugh, and I find we’re somehow closer than we had been a moment ago. “That wasn’t the only time.”

  Gray’s lips turn into a flat line. “You’re exaggerating.”

  It seems he needs to be reminded a bit more. “And what about when Stephen Dettler vetoed your senior prank?”

  “He was an idiot, and again, I was showing him the error of his ways.”

  “I’m not denying that, but you were none too happy.”

  He moves just a bit closer. “You were there to calm me.”

  “I did that a lot,” I add on, nudging him playfully.

  “You made things better.”

  “So did you,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

  There were many nights that I would sneak out and meet Grayson by the overlook point. It was nestled back in the woods between our houses where the rich met the poor and we were in the middle. There were no houses around it, and it gave us a view of the world that couldn’t see us. We were equals there, and we could see the stars that felt so close we could just reach out and grab them.

  Grayson would go there when he needed to be himself, and I would go when I needed to escape my family.

  We were just two kids who needed each other.

  “Jessica!” Amelia calls out, making me turn.

  “I’ll be right there,” I say as I wave.

  The moment we were sharing seems to pass, and I wish I had been brave before and told him the truth.

  But it won’t change anything.

  Grayson and I will always be the past, and that’s part of what I’m mourning. The girl who had big dreams and loved the sky before everything crashed.

  “I should go.” My voice cracks a little.

  He nods. “She likes you.”

  “I like her too. She’s great, and I’m happy for you, Gray. I’m happy that you have her and she has you.”

  Grayson reaches up and catches a piece of hair that has blown in my face, tucking it behind my ear. “And what about you, Jess? Are you happy with how things turned out?”

  No. Not even a little. I miss you, and I hate that I do. I thought of you when I thought I was dying.

  “Things are how I hoped,” I lie, not willing to make things awkward for us.

  “Good. You better get back with the very wet sand because Melia is eyeing us, and that’s never a good thing.”

  I turn to her, my legs feeling unsteady as I walk away from him. I fight every look back at him, to see if he’s watching me, and I keep my eyes forward because no matter how much I may wish I could go back, I can’t. I need to remember that.

  “Is Amelia asleep?” Delia asks Grayson from where she’s cuddled up with Jack on the couch. His arm draped around her shoulders as she rests her head on his chest.

  The two of them baffle me. Neither feel anything for each other than friendship, but you’d swear they were more. He says that Delia is just a girl who he likes being around and there is nothing but a sense of comfort. There’s always been something about him, though, something that says there’s someone who he’s not willing to admit feelings for.

  But, then again, that was a long time ago, and I don’t know this new Jack very well.

  Grayson looks at them and then to the only spot for him to sit—beside me. He nods. “She’s out like a light. She had a busy day.”

  Jack laughs. “Yeah, the sea air and building an entire village of sand castles and houses will do that.”

  “We did very well, thank you,” I chime in.

  “You did. I am impressed.”

  “I just executed her vision.”

  Delia sighs deeply. “I love kids. I really thought we’d all be married and working on babies by now.”

  Jack shudders. “Not me.”

  “Please, you were the one who wanted to be married even more than those two,” Delia points at me and Grayson.

  I bristle. “Grayson and I didn’t plan to get married.”

  “We didn’t?”

  I turn to him. “When did we plan it?”

  “I don’t know . . . the ten thousand times we talked about life?”

  “Those were just dreams not plans.”

  Grayson’s eyes darken, and he clenches his fists before releasing them. “Right. I guess I was mistaken.”

  Jack sits up, forcing Delia to do the same. “And I thought you guys were totally over everything. You know, that shit was all in the past.”

  “It is,” Grayson says with a clipped tone.

  “Yeah, totally appears that way,” Delia adds on. I turn to my best friend, a little miffed that she’s encouraging this. “What?”

  Jack stands, offering his hand to her. “Why don’t we take a walk, Deals?”

  She follows him, turning back to me and mouthing, sorry.

  Great. Now we’re alone in this house with his daughter sleeping in the next room, both of us on edge after what Jack said. What could possibly go wrong?

  Once they’re gone, I turn to Gray, wanting to smooth this over. Today has been a great day. I had so much fun, and I don’t think my words were jumbled once. It’s the best I’ve felt in the last month and a half since the crash.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to downplay anything we shared.”

  He sighs. “You didn’t. It’s just this house.”

  I understand that more than anything. It’s filled with us, the good and bad, which is probably why I haven’t been in the room I was assigned. It’s the master bedroom, and it’s exactly what I remember.

  Just opening the door I felt as if I had been hit in the chest and it made it impossible for me to take a step inside it.

  So, my bags sit just on the inside of the door. I’m such a coward that I changed in the bathroom down the hall.

  I don’t want to be afraid, but I don’t know if I can tell him everything, so I start where it feels safest. “Even when we forget things or make ourselves try, it’s like the world won’t ever really release it. After we broke up, there were times when I’d hear a song and I was back to a moment we shared. Or I’d hear a laugh, and I’d swear it was you.”

  “Did you want it to be?”

  I swallow and look away. “Sometimes I . . . I was sad when it ended.”

  Grayson shifts so his hand rests on my thigh. “Answer the question, Jess. Did you want it to be me?”

  The heat from his touch, the way I feel it all the way in my marrow, makes it hard to think. My brain, it’s scrambling, I can feel the words. “You. We. Jump.”

  He touches my chin, turning it gently toward him. I can see the questions swimming in those blue eyes. I would know that unique color anywhere. If I were to close my eyes, I would be able to draw them perfectly. The deep blue in the center that lightens as it goes, and the specks of green that fray right at the edges. So perfectly him.

  “Take a second. Breathe,” he coaxes.

  I do. I focus, allowi
ng the thoughts to form more concretely. My lashes lift, and his face is so close it makes my chest ache. Instead of speaking, we move at the same time, and his lips are on mine or mine are on his.

  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. My Grayson. 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.

  More banging noises are heard. I keep my eyes on Jacob’s and force myself to do my job.

  With a strangled voice I tell him the last words I’ll ever speak. “Brace, brace, brace.”

  “Jessica, Jess, wake up.” I hear Grayson’s voice beside me. Feel his hands shaking my shoulders. “Jess.”

  My eyes open, and tears flood my vision. God, this happened again. It was bad. I was there, on the edge of being awake, but couldn’t stop it. I must’ve been yelling loud enough for him to rush in.

  Without thinking, I grab on to him, holding on to him, seeking comfort.

  Grayson’s hand cradles my head against his chest. The steady sound of his heartbeat is what I focus on. I breathe with it, using the thrum under my ear to measure my own, and allow it to coax my own into slowing. “It’s okay, Jess. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

  I clutch the fabric of his shirt, fingers wrapping with all their strength to stay tethered to something real and steady.

  He settles beside me, pulling me even closer. “You’re okay,” Grayson reassures me over and over.

  I am okay. I know this, but the dreams, they don’t allow for rationalization. As I come back to myself, relaxing a little more with each breath, shame and embarrassment wash over me.

  Here I am, lying in this bed, holding on to Grayson for dear life.

  My fingers relax, and I attempt to push myself up, but he doesn’t relinquish his hold. “I’m okay now,” I say.

  His arms loosen enough that I can sit up. “You were screaming.” His voice is layered with concern.

  “I have this dream. Well, more like a nightmare.”

  “The crash?”

  “Yes.”

  He sits up, back resting against the headboard as I tuck my legs under me. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

  Why is this man so damn sweet? Why couldn’t he be an asshole who hates me? It would be so much easier. Yet, he heard me crying out, and he came. He stayed, and even now, he’s being kind.

  “Not really,” I admit. “Thank you for coming and waking me.”

  He laughs once. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “I hoped I wouldn’t dream.”

  Grayson shifts and clears his throat. “How often do they happen?”

  Even though he probably can’t see my face well, I turn away, shielding myself from his view. “Every. Single. Night.”

  I feel the bed move, and then his hand is on my back. He moves it up to my shoulder, squeezing gently before pulling me against his chest. My need for this man knows no bounds. I should push him away, tell him I’m fine, and read until the sun comes up. Instead, I lean into his body and let his strong arms wrap around me.

  “What can I do?”

  I bury my head in his chest, inhaling his musky soap scent. “This is enough.”

  This is everything.

  I have my mother, but she stopped coming in weeks ago to wake me. It did no good, and I was still so angry then. I would wail at her, scream about how unfair this is. There’s Dr. Warvel, but no amount of talking has kept the dreams away.

  In Grayson’s arms, it feels as though I’m protected from it, which is absolutely ridiculous because . . . we’re nothing.

  “Do you want me to stay?” he asks.

  I tip my head back to look at him. “Stay?”

  “With you . . . tonight. I can . . . I mean . . . we can just . . . sleep.”

  Each muscle in my body locks, and I push myself up. “That would be . . .” This time, it’s not my brain that won’t allow the words to come, it’s my heart.

  I want to say yes. To feel him hold me tight and chase the dream away, but I kissed him today. Being close to him is messing with my head and all I can hear is my therapist talking about how Grayson and I have unresolved issues.

  It would be incredibly stupid to do this.

  “Yeah,” Grayson finishes. “You being in here is hard enough. I don’t think I could do it.”

  “I tried to switch with Delia.”

  “I think they’re trying to fuck with us.”

  I softly laugh. “I’m sure of it.”

  Grayson clears his throat. “If you need me . . .”

  “You’re just down the hall,” I say with a grin. “I swear I’ve heard that before.”

  “Hey, I was a gentleman the last time we came here.”

  “You were. You gave me this room and said if I wanted you, I just had to come and knock.”

  Grayson shakes his head. “I waited up all night, just in case you did.”

  “I didn’t even
knock once before you opened the door,” I tease him.

  “I heard your footsteps.”

  It took me two full hours to work up the nerve. It didn’t matter that we’d slept together already, I was nervous. We spent prom weekend here, learning how to love and what it meant to give yourself to another. Then, we went home, where the world—more specifically, his parents—didn’t want us to be together. For weeks, we were both thrown into events, parties, school functions that kept us apart.

  We tried to sneak off, but we were so damn tired from running all day that we never made it to the lookout.

  Then Grayson and I came back here, but there was a wall that had been erected and we had to break it down.

  “I loved you, Gray. I really did.”

  He pushes my hair back from my face, cupping my cheek. “I know.”

  “Leaving you wasn’t easy.”

  “Losing you was harder,” he admits.

  My hand wraps around his wrist, holding on when I should be pushing him away. “You found someone else.”

  His hand drops, and I feel cold. “I didn’t. I found what my parents wanted me to find.”

  “You can talk to me . . . if you want.”

  He cracks his neck and there’s a tenseness in his voice. “Yvonne was everything they hoped for. She was wealthy, smart, talented, and selfish beyond measure. Although, I didn’t really care about that. I was angry with you, and being with her was . . . I don’t fucking know, it was just dumb. We met in grad school. I was being groomed to take over the Park Inn and she was singing. My whole goal was to be better than my father. To make more, have a better wife, family, job. It was all I cared about. Yvonne fit because she was like me.”

  “How so?”

  He turns his head, looking out the window. “She had horrible parents and told me how she wanted to prove them wrong. So, we dated, it was about two years in, and it was time.”

  “Time to get married?” I ask.

  Grayson’s eyes meet mine, the moonlight making them appear almost gray and hollow. “Yes, but we didn’t have plans, Jess. We didn’t lie in bed, her in my arms as I traced patterns on her back, dreaming of the life we’d have. I didn’t talk about kids and hopes with her. We talked about money and material things she wanted.”