Page 44 of Eight Years Gone

Master Isaac and Wakeview Taekwondo had saved his life when he’d been a lost, angry kid from the shitty side of town. Master Isaac and Wakeview Taekwondo had given him a life. Everything he had now started the day the man opened the door to the eight-year-old boy with the nasty black eye.

“You should bring him over—let him check it out. He can take a class with us for fun.”

Christy beamed. “I’ll talk to Mike.” She looked at her dinner. “I should get this home.”

“Have a good night.”

“Thanks.” She moved past him, then stopped. “She’s afraid, Jagger.”

Sighing, he turned to face her. “I know.”

“You’re here, so that has to mean something.”

He nodded.

“If you want her, do something about it. Stop being so polite and get in her way. Ben’s a nice guy, but she belongs with you. She always has.”

Jagger nodded again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll see you around.” Then Christy turned and left.

Jagger exhaled another long breath as he grabbed a spot in line, still coming to terms with the fact that he’d caused Grace so much pain, but he liked Christy’s advice.

It was time to make things as right as he could. It was time to start reminding Grace of exactly what they’d had before he’d thrown it all away.

* * *

Grace stared at her bedside clock, huffing out a breath as one thirty-nine turned into one forty. She’d been lying in bed for hours, but sleep wouldn’t come. She’d been too busy thinking about Jagger.

Rolling to her back, she settled her arm behind her head, staring up at the ceiling fan blades.

When she told Jagger that his life was his own, she’d so badly wanted that to be true. Who he was and what he did were no longer supposed to matter. But she was quickly concluding that thoughts of Jagger would haunt her for the rest of her days.

She’d tried everything to get him off her mind. Editing pictures was a strategy that usually worked. But when her thoughts kept wandering to fantastic muscles and dark-blue eyes, she’d snatched up her keys and headed over to Simplicity to get a jump on inventory and prep for next weekend’s big wedding.

Now it was pathetically late while she rehashed their conversation in the car. Again.

“Delta Force,” she murmured, sitting up, pulling back her covers as she got out of bed.

She’d resisted all evening, assuring herself she couldn’t care less about what Jagger had done for the last eight years. But she walked down the hall to the kitchen table, opening her laptop seconds after she plunked herself down in a chair.

She typed Delta Force into Google, glancing at the pictures that popped up on the side of the page.

Unable to resist, she clicked on Images, studying heavily armed men in combat gear with their faces smudged out in every shot. Top secret, she remembered Jagger saying.

Eager to learn more, she clicked back to All, diving into the available information. “Hostage rescue and direct-action missions,” she absently murmured as she read. They only recruited the best of the best—and that was absolutely Jagger Tennyson.

Scrolling down, she moved to the videos, watching in equal parts fascination and terror as she got glimpses into Jagger’s life over the last several years. He’d said his job had been dangerous, but that was an understatement.

She went back to Google, typing in Private Contractor next, repeating the same process for her research. Again, there were images of highly armed men. Again, his job had been fraught with peril and a high probability of a loss of life.

With her curiosities satisfied, she closed her laptop, staring out into the dark. Jagger was here. He was safe. He wasn’t going back. But he wasn’t staying either.

Sighing, accepting that her night would most likely be a sleepless one, she walked back down the hall and crawled into bed, realizing that along with all of the sorrow and helpless anger she’d felt over the last eight years, there was now a new layer of pride for the man who’d broken her heart.

Jagger had vanished from her life in the cruelest of ways. For so long, she’d been left to wonder. But Jagger had done massively important things.

Confused all over again, she rolled back to her side, staring at her bedside clock, watching the next hour pass until she finally fell asleep.

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