“You’re not sure,” she says with understanding, causing me to look up at her.

“It means I can go. It means that . . . there’s nothing making me stay anymore. It’s my choice again. I didn’t expect that today. I thought I’d have another month of no driving and definitely no flying ever again.”

“Do you want to return to your old job?” Dr. Warvel asks.

“Yes and no. It’s not that I’m eager to return to the plane. God knows, I will probably be a damn mess. I honestly don’t care about that part. It’s that I didn’t think it was ever going to be an option, so I made peace with it because I found him again.”

She nods in understanding. “Flying is what made you feel free, though. You said that a few times.”

“I don’t want to be free.”

Dr. Warvel moves her chair a bit closer. “Explain that.”

“I want to be here. I want to be with Grayson and Amelia. We are going to tell her about us and make plans.”

Her eyes are soft as she stares at me. “Why do you think that changes because you’re cleared?”

Grayson has this thing about me wanting to fly and be away from Willow Creek Valley. He says how he knows I don’t want to be here. How clipping my wings will break me.

He’s what makes me soar, not my job.

“I just feel like he’ll push me away.”

She nods. “I see, and that scares you because you want . . .”

“I want him.”

“Then tell him that, Jessica. Be honest and communicate because you two have been doing that very well. If you can be open and start off by saying how happy you are about being cleared but that it changes nothing about your desire to stay with him, then what can he say?”

Maybe she’s right, but I don’t think that’s the case.

Chapter 27

Grayson

There’s a knock at the door, and I’m hoping it’s Jessica. It’s been a rough few days. Amelia came down with some virus that had her running a fever, vomiting, and completely miserable for almost nine days.

Then I got a call from my mother, who demanded I be at dinner next weekend, a dinner in which I am forbidden to walk out on and have been ordered to bring Jessica.

I open the door, but it’s not Jess, it’s Jack. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, except I can smell the whiskey coming off of him in waves.

“Did you know . . .” He slurs. “I don’t even want to like her.”

“Like who?”

“Her!” Jack yells and then slams his hand on the porch railing. “She’s insane.”

“Most women are. How much have you had to drink?”

He shrugs. “Don’t matter. It’s gone. She’s gone.”