Return To You: A Small Town, Second Chance Romance

10. Ethan

ten

It’s the last day of preseason camp, and last night, I had a sense of dread. Of loss. Of something good coming to an end that I didn’t want to.

Sure, it was the kids. That’s what I told myself. They’re great kids.

But, really, who am I kidding?

It’s Grace.

Of course it’s her.

It was always Grace.

I’m about to, probably, never see her again. For real, this time.

I don’t think I can ever come back to Emerald Creek.

Fuck me, but the pain is too sharp. Too real. Too present, even after all these years.

It’s almost as if it’s now condensed.

But before I go, before the curtain, really, really falls, I want to know.

I want her to talk to me. Tell me what happened, in her mind, that she could just drop me like that.

So, throughout the week, I came up with a plan.

Bring her to the crime scene.

Bring her to the lake.

And what better excuse than an end-of-camp barbecue? It’s what everyone does. Hell, one of the parents even suggested it—with a tactful hint, on my part. They even ended up organizing it.

Before her massage, I take Tracy aside. “You make sure Grace comes, will ya? She works too hard.”

“Gotcha, Coach. On it.”

And then I hear them. On the other side of the wall. Grace and Tracy.

“Oh, I don’t know. I need to get home to my cat.”

Giggles.“Grace, don’t tell me you’re a cat lady!” She calls her Grace now? No more Ms. Grace.

(Grace, offended.) “I’m not a cat lady.”

(Hilarious giggling.) “You so are. Wait ’til I tell coach K.”

(Grace, slightly angry.) “Tell him what? That I have better things to do than go to his barbecue?”

This time it’s Tracy who’s offended. “It’s not his barbecue, swear to god. It was all our idea! I don’t even know if Coach K wants to come. He’s so grumpy anyway.”

“Oh. For real?”

“Yeah, totes. You’re cool and all, but really, we’re hoping to get rid of Coach K early so we can have some fun, if you see whaddimean.”

“Tracy! No! No-no-no! What—okay, you win. I’ll come.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

What is she doing?

“Um, Tracy, after what you told me? Yeah, I kinda have to come.”

Oh thank Christ.

A couple of hours later, the lake breeze barely tampers the scorching sun. We’re all down to our swimsuits, goofing in the water.

Or most of us are.

Grace is sitting on the beach, still wearing a long summer dress, her arms wrapped around her knees, looking into emptiness. Is she thinking of us? Is her mind’s eye taking her back to what happened between us here?

Or is her soul filled with other, more meaningful memories? She’s had a whole life. I put mine on hold.

A couple of parents show up with the food and the dad starts the barbecue. I come out of the water to help, and as I set foot on the sand, Grace stands and leaves to chat with the mom, who’s walking back to the cars.

Then the parents leave, and it’s just the kids, me, and Grace. But she and I might as well be miles apart. She stands a little to the side. I can feel her observing me, but she averts her gaze every time I seek the connection. She’s friendly with the kids though, open with them. They like her, and the girls seek her company.

It’s just with me that I feel like she built a wall.

Insisting that she come was stupid. What was I hoping for? I just let it go and focus on the kids.

Later, as we’re gathered around the fire pit roasting marshmallows, I feel it’s time for a little wrap up chat.

“Wanna go around and tell me what your main takeaway for the camp was? Just one per person.”

“Trust your teammate in power plays.”

“Strengthen the line chemistry.”

“Improve my endurance.”

“The difference between impulse and instinct.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get that one,” someone interjects.

I pull my marshmallow out of the fire and let it cool. “Impulse leads to mistakes. Instinct is what leads you to avoiding mistakes.”

“But how can you tell the difference?”

That’s a tough one. “Instinct is like your sixth sense. Like that voice telling you something is off, or your hair straightening on the back of your neck when something’s not right. You gotta learn to listen to that. Impulse is action-reaction. We often act on impulse when we’re angry, losing our footing. That’s when we make mistakes. You’ll learn with time. It’s important to listen to yourselves and reflect on your actions often. Look back on why you did what you did and grow from that.”

The group stays silent.

“Look, guys, you’re gonna make mistakes, on the ice, in life. It’s how it is. The question is—and you know this already—what do you learn from them?”

“So you don’t repeat them,” someone volunteers.

My gaze involuntarily slides to Grace, then back to the fire. “And sometimes, so you can fix them.”

“What mistakes do you regret?” someone asks.

“Those I could have fixed and I didn’t.”

“Aww,” one of the girls coos, while another asks, “Coach! Why aren’t you married yet?”

“Maybe he was, you idiot!” another girl hisses.

“How old are you, five? You don’t ask those questions,” a third one says.

The girls keep pestering me with questions. The boys are watching the girls.

Graceis listening.

“Grace, is it true Coach K was super popular?”

Grace’s deep brown gaze glides over me, her eyes reflecting the light of the embers. She turns her marshmallow, seeming to have to think about it. She twists her mouth. Bends her head this way and that. “You could say that, I suppose. He was really popular with some girls.” Then she giggles like she’s pulling my leg. Like there’s this joke we’re all in on. She even looks at me straight in the eye to drive that point home and fake-laughs harder.

Pretending this is so much fun.

I know she’s pretending. Because I know how she looks when she’s hurting and acting like she’s not. I’ve seen that look on her.

I’ll never forget it.

A whole group of us were here, at the lake, on this very beach. It was daytime. Hot and sunny, like today. It was the summer after my first year of college, and I hadn’t been around a lot that year. I hadn’t seen Grace in months.

She took my breath away. It was her, lovely, adorable Grace, with the confidence of her youth, the life-loving energy that had always been Grace.

But looking at me like a woman looks at a man.

Making me look away, she was so obvious.

That day, the girl I was dating noticed. What was her name again? Anna? Annie? Something like that. Anyway, she started teasing Grace. Not in a fun way. I could tell by Grace’s reaction. Grace was always someone who could take a joke about herself. No, this girl was making fun of Grace in a mean-girl type of way. We were all on a large, flat stone jutting high over the lake, the water deep below us, and the girl just wouldn’t stop picking on Grace.

“Leave her alone,” I finally said, not adding, she’s just a kid, because that would have been flat-out ridiculous. But really—how could she think it was okay to make fun of her that way?

Not-Annie said something else, and it made me angry. So angry. Why did I care? I’d probably say the same sort of stuff to my brothers or Haley.

But I saw Grace’s shiny eyes on me—not on the girl—her gaze going from my face to my arm still wrapped around my sort-of girlfriend laughing wholeheartedly, and her lower lip trembling, and the way she bit on it to make it stop.

“It’s not nice,” I told the girl, and then I did add, but I thought it was to shut her up, and shame her a little, “she’s just a kid.”

What undid me, was the look in Grace’s eyes as her gaze went back to me and the utter despair as she looked at the two of us.

And then the girl shouted something else, and Grace jumped into the water. She didn’t dive. She jumped in and let herself sink like a stone and didn’t resurface.

I jumped after her.

Opened my eyes under water—it hurt like hell—and didn’t see her. Resurfaced, took a breath, and saw her there, looking at me, lip steady. Then she disappeared below the surface again, swimming away from the shore, and this time I followed her, promising myself I wouldn’t lose her.

She dipped under water again, and I dipped with her. Her moving limbs touched mine at times and it was electric. I opened my eyes again, her hair flowed around her, her lush lips moved as if she was talking to me.

And she smiled.

The most beautiful smile a man has ever seen.

Then she swam up, and I followed her to the surface.

“What are you doing?” I asked, relieved she was okay.

“Shutting down the noise.”

Then Not-Annie shrieked, and Grace plunged again, and I followed her.

That day I broke up with Not-Annie.

The following year, Grace kissed me in the projection room of the church basement, at youth nights, and as I pulled her softly away from me, my world began to change.

It wasn’t so much the taste of her lips on mine, or the feel of her body fleetingly pressed against me, that affected me so deeply. No, it was the way she gave herself to me—wholeheartedly; the way she trusted me with her feelings; the fact that she chose me, that deeply moved me in a way that would prove life-altering.

I didn’t kiss her back.

I had to push her gently away, explain I was too old for her, watch the pain on her features as she bit her trembling lip. I did everything I could not to hurt her too much.

Over the following months, knowing her feelings for me, I let myself fall more and more for her. The distance I kept between us didn’t affect the depth of my feelings for her. It only strengthened them as I saw her mature.

Two years later, I was lost to her.

A couple of hours later, it’s just Grace, me, and Tracy waiting on her ride home. “I can take you home,” Grace offers.

“No, my cousin’ll kill me.”

“Can you call her?”

“She’s not picking up. I’m so sorry I’m keeping you. She’s such a pain.”

“It’s alright,” I say. Then, because I feel I have to, I tell Grace, “You can go home if you need to.”

Tracy snickers. “Take care of your kitty.” Then she leans on Grace, giggling affectionately. “Ohmygod, I didn’t mean it that way, swear I didn’t!”

Grace laughs. “It’s alright. I am a cat lady. Who cares?”

I turn my head to Grace, and catch her gaze on me. In the shining bright department, the stars have nothing on her eyes.

“Seriously, I don’t mind,” I tell Grace. And then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “It’s so beautiful here. Brings back a lot of memories.” She whips her head around, but not before I see the color on her cheeks.

“I—you shouldn’t stay alone with Tracy. It’s…”

Tracy sighs. “It’s cool.”

“It’s just not good protocol,” Grace says.

“She’s right,” I concede.

“Ugh. I hate my cousin,” Tracy says for the umpteenth time just as an engine roars down the dirt road. She jumps to her feet. “That’ll be me! Bye guys!” I follow her, to make sure it is her cousin and she’s all good.

A woman comes out the car and ambles my way. “Ethan! Ohmygod! Ethan!”

Oh fuck. Please. “Annie?”