Page 65 of Eight Years Gone

He held her again, hurting for her—hurting for both of them. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner—that I didn’t write to you or something. You had a right to know what his last words to you were before now.”

She sniffled against his neck. “I think we’ve both done the best we could with all of this.”

He nodded. “I just hate how much this has hurt you—how much I’ve hurt you.”

“You were my rock through so much. You worked so hard to protect me from the worst of Logan’s ups and downs. I miss him—our Logan. I wish he could be here with us right now, but since he can’t, I wish you peace, Jagger. He would want you to find peace.”

He closed his eyes with the next wave of emotion.

“You did everything you could,” Grace continued. “I know that. I want you to know it for yourself.”

How had he lived without this woman for the last eight years? “I think I do now.” Or he was going to try, but it would never be easy. It would take time.

“That’s good,” she whispered, holding him close for several minutes, resting her head on his shoulder. Finally, she looked at him again. “Do you think if we go back inside, you might be able to get some sleep?”

He nodded, standing, taking her hand as they headed toward the bedroom, feeling settled in a way he hadn’t been in years. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Fifteen

Grace stared out the window, listening to Jagger’s deep, steady breathing as the sun rose along the horizon.

When they’d come back inside, he’d wrapped her up in his arms, snuggling her against his powerful body as they’d settled under the covers to sleep. Even hours later, he hadn’t let her go, keeping her tucked close.

Her gaze trailed around her bedroom floor, studying their clothes scattered over the area rug after a long night of loving.

How many times had she woken just like this?

There were too many mornings to count—years of opening her eyes to Jagger’s face nestled in the crook of her neck while he cocooned her in his warmth.

But she also remembered that first cold, cruel morning when she’d awoken alone at Aunt Maggie’s house. She’d been so broken. Everything that had mattered had been gone.

It had taken months before she’d stopped rolling over to reach for Jagger in the dark. Years had ticked by before she’d been able to pick up all the pieces and make herself whole again.

So, what the hell was she doing? Because losing Jagger once had been more than enough.

Suddenly desperate for space, she carefully inched her way out of Jagger’s hold.

Sitting up, she found her freedom refreshing and vital as she hurried for the shower in the master suite, staring at her trembling hand as she opened the glass door and turned the nozzle to hot.

The steam rose to greet her as she stepped under the steady spray, closing her eyes as her mind raced.

What was she supposed to do when she loved Jagger as much as she feared him? Because she was suddenly terrified now that they’d officially crossed the line.

Last night had been for vulnerability, tenderness, and pleasure. Today, reality was back with a vengeance. How did she go back to keeping her distance—to protecting her heart?

She gasped when strong arms wrapped around her waist. Whirling, she felt her shoulders stiffen as she stared into sleepy blue eyes. “Jagger.”

He smiled before it quickly disappeared. “I was going to say good morning, but maybe it’s not.”

She stepped out of his hold, grabbing the bottle of shampoo, needing something to do with her hands. “I didn’t hear you open the door.”

He held her gaze, studying her, exhaling a quiet sigh. “Are you sorry now that the sun’s up?”

Pouring shampoo into her palm, she began working it through her hair. “No.”

“Then what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

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