Page 88 of Eight Years Gone

Jagger sat down, tapping Grace’s shoulder.

She turned, politely smiling, before her eyes lit up with unmistakable delight. “Jagger!”

Gaining her feet, she launched herself into his arms.

He laughed, returning her embrace, breathing in her shampoo as he kept her close. This moment had made every frustrating second of the last four hours worth it.

Easing back just a little, she kissed him. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until tomorrow.”

He kissed her this time. “We had a date. I wasn’t missing it.”

“Aw.” Her big blue eyes went soft as her mouth found its way back to his. “You’re still in your suit.”

Needing to touch her, he played his fingers through her hair. “The plane was late.”

She rested her forehead against his. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

The crowd erupted around them as the Bulldogs got their first down.

“They did it, Aunt Grace!” Brennan looked at Jagger. “They did it, Master Jagger!”

Jagger roughed up Brennan’s black hair. “That’s good stuff.”

Brennan beamed at Jagger, then at his mom.

“Come sit with me,” Grace invited.

“There’s not a lot of room.”

“There’s plenty.”

“Okay.” Jagger settled on the uncomfortable metal bench, taking Grace’s weight as she sat on his thigh. He nodded to Ben, aware that Grace’s buddy wasn’t his number one fan. “Hey, man.”

Ben nodded back. “Hey.”

“They need to get two touchdowns to tie the game,” Brennan informed Jagger.

“They’re going to go for one right now,” Jagger said, watching the quarterback searching for an open receiver as he took the snap. “Right there on the ten-yard line—number twenty-two.”

As he said it, the quarterback threw to twenty-two, and the crowd went wild again as the kid ran it into the endzone.

Brennan blinked as he stared at Jagger. “How did you know that?”

“I read the field.”

Brennan frowned as he looked at the defense running in to take their places. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“So, let’s teach you.”

Grace snuggled against him as they cheered the Bulldogs to a nail-biting victory—as Jagger gave Brennan his first lesson on seeing the open pockets.

* * *

Grace sat on one of the comfy barstools at her kitchen island, sipping a cup of tea while Jagger leaned against the counter, eating a big bowl of cereal in the dim light glowing from above the stove. “Are you sure you don’t want something else? Grilled cheese is super easy, or we can make you some eggs.”

Jagger shook his head as he spooned up the last bite. “This is easier. And it hits the spot.”

She shrugged, studying him in his dark-gray slacks and the snug tank undershirt he wore after he’d tossed his tie and white button-down on the couch when they stepped through the front door.

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