Return to Us

by Corinne Michaels

  I wait. My heart pounding, praying that he’ll turn around and . . . anything. Stop me, beg me, tell me that he’s just scared, but he doesn’t.

  He just stands there, facing the outside world and closing me off.

  So, I turn and do as he asks, leaving him with my heart shattered on the floor as he lets me go.

  Chapter 31

  Jessica

  I pull up to the house, needing some time to myself. I have cried more tears than any human should be able to shed.

  I’m alone.

  I feel bereft and hurt in a way I didn’t expect. There’s nothing to do but take some time and figure things out.

  A part of me knows he was angry at the situation, but it doesn’t negate the fact that he said what he did. It’s been twelve hours since our fight, and I haven’t heard a word from him.

  There is nowhere else I could think to go where I could feel close to him while also being alone.

  I look up at the yellow door, feeling the warm tears falling down my cheeks.

  “Well, baby, it’s just us,” I whisper to my stomach as I carry my bag up the stairs.

  It seems crazy that it was just a month ago that I was here. How different the drive was that time with Amelia chattering away and Grayson holding my hand. Now, there are tears and heartache all around me.

  I get inside and call Delia.

  “I’m here,” I say when she answers.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I answer honestly. “I’m not.”

  When she picked me up, she knew I couldn’t talk. Tears were relentless, and I sobbed so hard my chest physically hurt. I just kept saying, “Please, beach house.”

  So, she drove to Stella’s, tried to relay what little she knew, and Stella pulled me into her arms and gave me the key. I slept for maybe an hour and then got in the car to drive here. Funny how the first time I actually drove again was to come to this place.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  I sit on the couch, turning the light on and pulling the blanket around me. It’s freezing in here, but I’m too exhausted to get up. “He ended things. It’s complicated, and I’m . . . I don’t know, but it’s been hours and he hasn’t called.”

  “Did you tell him about the baby?”

  “No, I didn’t get that far, and then . . . I couldn’t. He was adamant about us being done and telling him felt like it would be a way to hold on to him.”

  Delia sighs deeply. “So, now what?”

  “Now, I nurse my broken heart and figure it out, I guess. I’m pregnant, that’s a fact. I’m cleared, and I need to come up with a plan.”

  “Are you going to leave?”

  The question hangs out there, heavy and unsettling. “I don’t know. A part of me kept waiting for him to call and beg me to forgive him, but he hasn’t. I thought that he was a rational man who didn’t act like this and that he would wake up and see what a dick he was.”

  “It could still happen.”

  “Each hour that passes makes it harder to believe that.”

  “Well,” Delia’s voice is soft, “if it makes your decision any easier, I want you to stay. I know that you’re hurting, but the truth is, once Grayson finds out about the baby, he’s not going to walk away. That’s not who he is.”

  “I know that.”

  “He expects you to leave. I think that’s why he was being such an idiot. He’s watched person after person he loves turn away.”

  “He pushed me out, Deals.”

  “I know, and he deserves to deal with that, don’t get me wrong, but you both love each other.”

  She’s right. Even now, when I feel like I could curl into a ball and cry a river, I love him. He’s angry, and that’s fine, but I am not going to be his proverbial punching bag.

  “He has to realize that himself.”

  “Are you going to hide at the beach house until he does?”

  That would be all too easy, but I came here because I hoped he’d come for me. He’d know that I was here, waiting for him, because it’s our house. We might not own it, but it’s ours.

  I rest my head back on the pillow, wrapping the blanket around me tighter. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay.”

  “I just need a few days. Maybe then I can get my head straight and form a plan that doesn’t make me sob. I want to tell him about the baby, but only after I know what I’m doing. That way, the choice is what it is and not based on him and what he wants.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Does it?” I ask with a laugh. “I feel like it’s all crap. The truth is that I want him to see that I’m not his ex or the same girl as I was before.”

  Delia covers the phone, speaking to someone and then comes back to me. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thanks. Just . . . please don’t tell him where I am.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  We hang up, and the cold is too much. There’s a blustering wind that is sending a draft through the house, so I get up and turn the heat on, hoping it kicks in quickly.

  I refuse to sleep in that room. I can’t . . . it’s hard enough being here and not thinking of Grayson. This house holds memories that no one can take. It’s where we made love the first time and where we conceived this child. It’s where we laughed, smiled, and found hope. I need some damn hope right now.

  I go into the pink room and grab the comforter off the bed and go back to the couch.

  My eyelids are heavy because, between the tears and the pregnancy, I am always tired.

  I look at my phone, the screen filled with a picture of Grayson, Amelia, and me smiling as we stand by the ocean. We were so happy and I truly believed we’d become a family.

  “You stupid man,” I say to him, feeling the sadness building again.

  I close my eyes as a tear trickles down my face, hating that this hurt won’t ebb.

  My lungs hurt. Each breath feels labored.

  Jesus. This dream. I can’t handle it right now.

  I open my eyes, but it’s too dark for me to see anything. I cough, trying to get air.

  This is a new dream, one where everything is too real. My heart races as I move from side to side, trying to wake. My body is hot, sweat all around me.

  I try to see again, but there’s . . . smoke.

  Oh my God.

  I’m not dreaming. I roll off the couch, hitting the floor hard and pulling my blanket over my head to try to protect my breathing. My phone. It was in my hand. I feel around for it and touch the screen. It lights up, but I can’t see anything. I press where the phone is, hoping I get it right.

  It rings and rings, at least I’ll get a hold of someone.

  “Jessica . . .”

  Of course it’s him. I called Grayson. As much as I want to cry, I know I’m in trouble. “Grayson, there’s a fire.”

  “What?” His voice changes. “Where are you?”

  “I’m . . . it’s everywhere.” I cough harder. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Jessica!” he yells into the receiver. “Where are you?”

  “Beach,” I say before another coughing fit takes over. I need to get out of here. I pull the blanket off from over my head, staying low and covering my mouth. “I’m at the beach house.”

  His voice changes to being almost eerily calm. “Okay, where are you in the house?”

  “The living room. Under a blanket.”

  “All right. I need you to try not to breathe too much. Just take a deep breath now, and then I want you to orient yourself to find a door or a window.”

  I nod, even though he can’t see me. As much as I wish I had called my sister or Delia, there’s a strange relief that it’s him. If something happens, his voice will be the last one I hear. Grayson is also a firefighter and can tell me what to do. He’ll figure this out. I can’t . . . I can’t think about it.

  “Lift the blanket and look where you are.”

  I do as he says,
but the smoke is so thick that it’s hard to see. I go back under. “Gray, I can’t see.”

  “Okay. Stay low, and we’re going to crawl to where the door is. I’m on the phone with 9-1-1 now, just stay on the phone. Help is coming. I’m coming.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know, love. God, I’m . . . listen, if you’re on the couch, the door will be to the left. Can you feel along the side of the other couch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, keep under the blanket, but crawl and feel the way around. You know this house, Jess. Hold your breath. Try not to breathe unless you absolutely have to.”

  I do as he says, staying as low as I can, praying that I can get to the door. I feel my way across the living room, hugging the couch. I’m so dizzy. Everything around me is hazy, and my eyes just want to close.

  I hear him talking, and my lungs are screaming for air. It’s so hard to move, and I’m fighting for strength.

  “Gray,” I say his name, but it’s quiet. “Hurts.”

  “Keep going, Jess, get to the door.”

  I want to cry, but I know if I let myself, I’ll stop moving. I have to get air. I need to breathe, and then I think about the baby. God, the baby.

  I need to save us both.

  I push with my legs, going as far as I can while holding my breath. I can do this. I have to.

  Something crashes to the ground to my right a second before glass shatters somewhere. “Jess!” He is yelling, but I can’t breathe, the smoke is getting lower.

  I swear, I can see the door, it’s right there. I push again, but it feels as though someone is holding my feet, not allowing me any forward progress and pulling me backward.

  “Jessica! Please, baby! Talk to me!”

  I suck in a huge breath, but it doesn’t relieve the ache. Using the last bit of energy I have, I claw my way closer, and then realize it’s not the door, it’s the hallway.

  I was going the wrong way.

  Chapter 32

  Grayson

  I drive. I drive, and I don’t know how many miles pass, but I drive.

  My mind races, and my heart won’t stop pounding.

  I’m so far from her.

  Too far.

  I should’ve been there with her. No, fuck that, I should’ve had her in my arms at home.

  I was so stupid. So selfish and—angry. When she walked out, my heart broke not because it was her who did it this time but because it was me. I stood there, wanting to run after her but not sure what to say.

  All I kept thinking was: she will leave me.

  Now, God, now, she really might, and it’s all my fault.

  My phone rings, Stella’s name on the screen.

  “Grayson? Grayson! I just got a call from Dad.” I can hear my sister crying. “Jessica. Please tell me you heard from her.”

  I clench my jaw as fear and anger rise again. “I’m on my way to her.”

  “She came here. She came here, and she was so upset. She said she needed the keys and what you . . . please tell me you heard from her!”

  The sheer panic in Stella’s voice makes the tears I’ve been holding back flood forward.

  I relay the phone call, tears coming faster than I can wipe them away as I try to focus on the road. I failed her in every way.

  “Oh,” Stella pauses. “Oh, I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Yeah, I don’t either.”

  My sister goes quiet. “What about the fight?”

  As much as I don’t want to talk about it, I find myself pouring my heart out to Stella. She and I aren’t the closest in age, but we’re closest in heart. I tell her about Yvonne, Dad, Mom, and then the fight with Jessica.

  It allows me a very, very brief break from worrying that I will never see Jessica again.

  “My sweet brother, I am so sorry, but you’ll fix this, and once you’re home and you have Jessica in your arms, we’ll figure out what to do about the rest of this mess.”

  I hope she’s right, but the truth is, I have no idea what the hell I’m going to find once I get there. My stomach is in knots and my chest is tight as I race down the highway, praying she’s all right.

  “If . . . if . . . she . . . I can’t talk.”

  “Okay.” The defeat in her voice is almost too much to bear. “Please call me.”

  “I will. I can’t . . .”

  “I know. I love you, and I’ll be here.”

  “Call Jack,” I tell her. “Tell him. And Winnie and her family.”

  “I can do that,” Stella says quickly. “I’ll keep Amelia in the dark and just say you had to go see Alex or Josh.”

  I end the call, unable to think about this. If she’s not okay . . .

  If . . .

  If I get there, and she’s gone, I don’t know how I’ll go on. My life will simply cease to be the same.

  It was one thing to lose her before. It was hard, but the obliviousness of youth worked for me. I didn’t know any better. This, though, is different. Loving her the way I do now isn’t young or naïve. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt, and the void will never be filled.

  Pushing the accelerator down harder, I race to get to her. When I pull up to the scene, my heart drops.

  I’m out of the car, running toward the house, but a police officer grabs me. “Son, you can’t go in there.”

  “That’s my house!”

  “Okay, but you can’t . . .”

  “There was a girl inside. My girlfriend. Her name is Jessica Walker. Can you . . . is she—” I barely get the words out. I’m shaking because of the adrenaline flooding me. “I’m a fireman. Here.” I give him my fire badge, and he looks over at the fire chief before waving him over.

  He heads toward us, soot all over his face. “This is the owner and also a fellow fireman. I thought you could talk to him.”

  I shake my head. “The girl. Did you find a girl? She . . . she called me and . . . the phone. Please, just tell me.”

  “We found her, and she was transported to the hospital.”

  “Was she alive?” I ask, my hands shaking.

  “Yes, she was alive,” he says. “She was pulled out before we got on scene, but . . . I don’t know her prognosis.”

  “Where is the hospital? How . . . I need to . . .”

  The police officer places his hand on my arm. “I’ll take you there.”

  I release a heavy breath as I stare at where the house we loved once stood. The place that held so many memories for us is now ash. I drop to my knees, feeling so much loss I can’t stand under its weight. Jessica was in there, and I couldn’t do anything. I have no idea if she’s still alive and I can’t take it.

  There’s a hand on my shoulder, gripping. “Come on, let’s go,” the police officer says. He helps me to the car, and we ride the ten minutes without talking. I’m glad he doesn’t try because I have no words.

  If I try to speak, I will fall apart. The only thing keeping me together is that they found her and she might be okay.

  I send a text to Stella, letting her know the name of the hospital, and she lets me know Jessica’s family is on their way.

  When we get inside, the police officer informs the staff of who I am and asks about Jessica’s status. She explains that right now they have no information other than she’s in ICU and that I will have to wait until they talk to her next of kin.

  I’m not family, and they can’t release anything to me.

  I have no idea if she’s awake or unconscious. Is she hanging on or letting go? Is she asking for me or hopes I don’t come?

  If you’re listening, God, just don’t take her. Let her live and let me spend the rest of my life making it up to her.

  My head rests in my hands, and I cry. I just fucking cry because I did this to her. I pushed her away, made her run because I was so sure she’d go because that’s what happens. She is everything to me, and I gave her away.

  Now, she might really be gone.

  How can I live with myself? How
do I ever look at the skyline again and not die a little inside?

  Hours pass. Hours and no matter how much I beg, no information will be released to me.

  My phone rings, and it’s Delia.

  “Gray, we’re at the hospital. Where do we go?”

  She must’ve gotten in the car right after I did. “I’m on the fourth floor.”

  “Okay,” she says panting.

  A few minutes pass before the door opens, and Delia, Winnie, and her mother enter the room. Her sister rushes toward me. Her arms wrap around me, and we both start to cry.

  “I’m a fucking asshole,” I say. “I did this to her.”

  “Stop it. She’ll be okay. She has to be. Who the hell survives a plane crash to die in a house fire?” she says as though that makes anything easier.

  Then her mother is next to me, looking at me with red-rimmed eyes, and I pull her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Mrs. Walker brushes my cheek. “My daughter is a fighter. She won’t give up.”

  “They won’t give me any info.”

  She nods. “I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  Delia rocks back and forth, chewing on her lip, and while her eyes are on me, she speaks to Jess’s mother. “Be sure to ask about the baby.”

  And then I sink to the ground, no longer able to hold myself up for the second time in as many hours.

  Chapter 33

  Grayson

  I walk to her room and stand at the doorway, thankful that the curtain is drawn and I can’t see her.

  I’m not ready. I’ve seen burn victims. I’ve watched people struggle to breathe after smoke inhalation, and I curse the knowledge that comes with this. They are preparing another short session in the hyperbaric oxygenation chamber because, even with her being pregnant, it’s the safest and fastest way to treat her lungs. They’ve already done several tests, and are finally allowing us to see her before they put her in this round.