Return to Us

  Return to Us

  Willow Creek Valley

  Corinne Michaels

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Books by Corinne Michaels

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Return to Us

  Copyright © 2021 Corinne Michaels

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN—ebook: 978-1-942834-53-3

  ISBN—paperback: 978-1-942834-54-0

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written consent of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative

  Editing: Ashley Williams, AW Editing

  Proofreading: Michele Ficht & Julia Griffis

  Cover photo © Henry Jimenez

  Model: Michael Yerger

  To Carrie Ann Ryan and Chelle Bliss. Without you two, this book would’ve never been written. There are no words to describe the gratitude I have for our friendship and our mornings spent writing together. Thank you.

  Chapter 1

  Jessica

  I hear the bing from the cockpit, the one that we train for. The one that makes my heart fall to the pit of my stomach because I know everything in my life is about to change. Training is great, but reality is a bitch.

  There is a problem with the plane.

  I lift the receiver and hear the pilot’s voice. “Engine failure. Emergency landing. It’s going to be rough, Jessica. Brace.”

  I don’t reply to Elliot. I just slip into survival mode. There’s only one passenger on the plane, and I need to ensure that we’re both safe. Of course, he happens to be a famous celebrity, so I guess if I’m going to die, at least it’ll be with Jacob Arrowood.

  “What the hell is going on?” Jacob asks as I approach.

  Somehow, I keep my voice calm. “There is an engine failure. We are going to make an emergency landing. I need you to get into a bracing position and try to stay calm.”

  I want to laugh because, on the inside, I’m anything but calm. However, if I don’t do what I’ve been trained to do, we will die. There’s a chance that Elliot and Jose can land the plane safely. There’s also a chance they will not, and for that, I have to give him instructions.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  Keeping my eyes on him, I speak clearly and with as much confidence as I can muster. “I need to go to my jump seat, but I’m going to be right here with you. I need you to know how to get out of the plane if something happens to me. This is the door. You need to pull the lever up and then you’re going to push. If I’m incapacitated, I need you to unbuckle me and take me out of this aircraft with you if you’re able to.”

  “We’re going to crash?”

  “We’re going to make an emergency landing.”

  I buckle the first of two seatbelts, and thank God that if I die, I won’t be leaving behind a spouse or kids.

  But my heart sinks because if I don’t make it, then my sister will be left to deal with my mother by herself. I hope she finds someone strong who can help shoulder her burdens. I’ve tried to help financially, but I haven’t been back to Willow Creek Valley in years, and now, I probably never will be again.

  And then there’s Grayson. Grayson Parkerson is my one regret in life. I loved him so much, and yet, I let him go. Now I’m going to die, and he’ll never know that leaving him is my biggest regret.

  All these thoughts jumble in my head as I try to buckle the second connector. My fingers are trembling as I fumble with the latch.

  I close my eyes, trying to focus. I have to get strapped in or death is a certainty.

  I check over the panels, making sure everything is locked. The door handle slides up and I look at it, visualizing what I’ll do if I need to. My job is to get off this plane, not worry about all the things I haven’t done or the love I lost.

  “Jacob?” I say, needing him to focus on what matters. “Do you remember what I said about the door?”

  He nods, and I see the fear in his eyes. I pray he doesn’t see mine. “Stay calm and just follow my directions,” I instruct.

  Jacob’s gaze stays on me. “What’s your name?”

  “Jessica.”

  My heart is pounding, and the only thing holding me together is my training. If we panic, we don’t make it out of here. All of us will have to be a team, and that means one of us has to be the voice of reason. I’m shaking, feeling a sense of dread like I’ve never known, but there’s nothing I can do but pray.

  Jacob’s voice is much stronger as he speaks again. “Okay, Jessica, it’s great meeting you, and we’re about to go down in a plane crash together, so that means we’ll be lifelong friends if we survive.”

  I try to smile, but it feels mangled. “Get in your position, Jacob.”

  He nods. “If I don’t make it, I need you to tell Brenna I loved her and I was thinking of her.”

  “Don’t think that way.”

  “My family. I need them all to know that I love them.”

  “Focus, Jacob. Remember, getting off the aircraft is imperative.”

  “Will you tell them?”

  I’m not making that promise. We aren’t going to even discuss it. There is one final ping, alerting me that it’s time and we’re nearing the ground.

  “Jacob.” My voice is strong and forceful.

  “I’m ready.”

  I look to Jacob, keeping my gaze on his. He mimics my position, and I start to chant, all the while praying this isn’t our last moment. “Brace. Brace. Brace.”

  I sit up, gasping for air, clutching my throat as I struggle to breathe. Sweat soaks my shirt, and my heart is beating so hard I wonder if it’ll bruise my chest.

  It was just a dream.

  It’s okay. I’m okay. I survived.

  I’m in my room, in my bed, and I’m safe.

  I repeat that over and over until I can feel my heart rate starting to decrease. Every night, it’s the same dream. The same panic that makes it so I have to fight for air. Then it’s the same inability to sleep for the rest of the night.

  The last three weeks have been absolute hell. I’m so tired of being tired. The crash haunts me. The memories, fear, and darkness make it impossible for me to move on when all I really want is to move forward.

  I throw the covers off my legs and head downstairs.

  Over the last few weeks, my mother has grown accustomed to the nightmares, no longer
waking when she hears me—or maybe I’m not screaming anymore. If that’s the case, I’d really love it if the dreams would just stop. Since tonight is not that night, I start my ritual of coping with a few hours of rest.

  I make myself a cup of tea, grab the blanket off the back of the couch, and head out to the front porch. The swing that my father hung the weekend before he walked out on us is still there, welcoming me to rock and ignore the world.

  I curl up, holding the warm mug in my hands, and slowly sip while surrounded by silence.

  Willow Creek Valley used to be my favorite place in the world. It’s quiet, beautiful, and allows total seclusion. We’re surrounded by woods, and even the poorest members of the town—my family—get to feel as if we at least have privacy.

  I would sit on this very swing, dreaming of a life just like my mama and daddy had. I wanted the husband, kids, and the perfect Southern life.

  It was all there. In a perfect world, I would’ve opened an inn with Grayson and lived the life we talked about. It was all within reach. And then I realized that dreams are lies we feed ourselves.

  Husbands leave.

  Daddies never call.

  Kids are destroyed by it.

  And I want no part of it.

  Instead, I wanted to see the world, which I did until it ended with the plane coming down.

  My head is beginning to ache, and I start to rub my temples.

  Please don’t let this be a crippling one this time.

  My phone pings with a text from the only friend I kept in touch with from Willow Creek.

  Delia: Want to get breakfast?

  Me: Why are you awake?

  Delia: I never went to sleep. So . . . food?

  She works in the factory a few towns over, which is one of the few job options around here. The thing is, the idea of leaving the house makes tears form in my eyes. For weeks now, since I’ve been back in Willow Creek Valley, I haven’t left unless it was to see the doctor. I’ve been here, and no one really knows I am in town other than my mother, my sister Winnie, and Delia. Going out and seeing others will solidify that I failed and had to come back.

  Going to get food early, though, might be the safest way to ease myself out.

  My therapist has been trying to encourage me to take one small step, and in the back of my mind, I hear Dr. Warvel saying, “Take the hand outstretched when you’re weak and let it lend you strength.”

  I gnaw on my thumbnail, take two deep breaths, and reply.

  Me: Sure, but you’ll have to pick me up. You know, TBI and all means no driving.

  Until the fainting, debilitating migraines, and periods of confusion go away, I’m not allowed to drive, ride a bike, or do anything that could throw my equilibrium off. Yet another awesome side effect of my plane crash.

  Delia: Be there in fifteen.

  More like ten if I know her driving. I head back inside and throw on a sweatshirt, brush my hair and teeth, and sigh as I see my reflection in the mirror. The dreams may make me feel as if it were just yesterday, but all my visible injuries have healed.

  There are no more bruises on my face, and the scar from where they had to drain the fluid from my brain is still healing but hidden beneath my hair. My ribs are still healing, but again, that isn’t something you would look at me and know. To anyone on the street, I look like the same Jessica Walker who was ready to take the world by storm.

  Inside, however, I’m something else.

  I’m broken.

  I can’t always speak correctly, I can’t drive, and I will probably never be able to fly again due to the air pressure changes.

  Being here is a different sort of pressure. The kind that gives me a whole other thing to be anxious about, the boy I left. The man he’s become and the people who made me feel small, all of them are still here and probably salivating over the chance to be cruel.

  “She’s not good enough. She’ll never fit in to do more than scrub the floors. You’ll see, she’ll never amount to anything and will end up just like her mother.”

  I hear the words, the voice of a woman so disgusted with the idea of being in my presence, playing in my head like a lyric that won’t be forgotten.

  There’s a knock on the bathroom door. I open it to see my mother. “Oh,” she says looking startled. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

  “Had another nightmare.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “I thought they ended.”

  “No, I wish.”

  “Where are you going this early?” she asks as she looks over my outfit.

  “Delia is calling in. Eating.” I stop myself, knowing the words aren’t right, and take a few seconds. This is what I can’t handle. My brain says: Delia is coming over so we can go get breakfast, but my mouth says something else. My mother doesn’t say a word, she allows me the time I need to collect myself and try again. “Delia is taking me to breakfast.”

  “Is that a good idea? To go out and see the people in town?”

  And here is where I want to rail against the world. For the last fourteen years, I’ve been on my own. The day I left for college, I learned how to survive on my own and be worth—something. I’ve spent my time taking care of myself, proving that I don’t need anyone to make it.

  More than that, I’m getting better each day. I’m trying to do more so that I can stop living in this prison and get back to the life I want. “Mom . . .”

  She raises her hands. “I know, I know, you’re grown now and don’t need me to worry over you. I just don’t want to see you struggle, honey. That’s all. I know how the people here are, and there’s a lot of gossip around you returning.”

  I exit the bathroom and lean against the wall. “I have to try.”

  “Yes. You do.” There’s defeat in each word, but there’s also a bit of pride. “Did you take your medicine?”

  I swear she just said I didn’t need her to worry.

  “Yes.”

  If I don’t, I’ll be curled in a ball, begging for someone to put me out of my misery.

  “Then I guess have a good time.”

  I walk over, squeeze her hand, and smile. “Thank you, Mom.”

  She sighs. “I’m trying, sweet girl.”

  “I know. We both are.”

  “Go on now.” Mom kisses my cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  For all the things that my mother has struggled through, giving love has never been one. My father leaving her was a blow she never recovered from. Winnie and I knew that my mother was doing her best. She loved us and did everything she had to in order to make sure we survived. Her heart was broken, but all we saw was strength.

  My father, on the other hand, is a piece of shit. He walked away from his daughters without a second glance.

  I get downstairs in time to see the headlights shining through the window. Delia made it in fewer than ten minutes, which is somewhat impressive.

  Since I’ve been back, she’s the only person outside of my family who I’ve allowed to see me. The first few days were terrible because I was in so much pain and the bruising was awful. As all of it started to heal, it became more of a protective shell. Staying here meant I didn’t have to explain what happened.

  I could pretend this was just an extended vacation.

  As soon as I’m in the car, my hands tremble as fear starts to grip me.

  Delia reaches over, taking both of them in her hands. “You’re okay. We’re just getting breakfast on a random Tuesday morning.”

  I release a deep breath and force a smile. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Yes. It will.”

  I do the breathing exercise, and Delia backs the car up. Thankfully, she doesn’t give me time to work myself up too much as she drives toward town. I close my eyes, allowing my thoughts to center on the techniques I’ve been learning the last few weeks.

  The drive doesn’t take very long to get to the diner since we are not considered to be on the wealthy side of Willow Creek Valley. Those h
ouses are far away from the center of town. Which is not where Delia and I grew up. We’re from that side of town. The one the rich kids avoid at all costs because they don’t want to be seen with us.

  However, there was always one boy who never treated me that way. Regardless of his parents absolutely hating that we were together, Grayson Parkerson didn’t care. He loved me even though my mother worked at the grocery store, cleaned rooms at the inn, and then at the bar just to cover our bills. He didn’t see rich or poor, he just saw me.

  Well, if he could see me now.

  Last I heard, he was married and had a beautiful little girl, running one of his family’s inns somewhere in the country.

  I sure showed him.

  I could always ask Delia, but we made a promise not to ask a question we really didn’t want the answer to, and I definitely don’t want to know this one.

  Leaving him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I saw what our future would be after his mother told me I’d never be a part of their family. He would leave me, so I left him first, and it broke me in half.

  Delia parks the car and turns to me. “All right, let’s go get some food, I’m starving.”

  Inhale. Five, four, three, two, one. Exhale.

  I repeat that three times and then nod. “Okay, let’s go.”

  We enter, and sure enough, Ms. Jennie is still working as the waitress. “Well, if it isn’t Jessica Walker! As I live and breathe, my God. You are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”