Page 105 of Eight Years Gone

She kissed him. “Are you ready?”

“Sure.” He shut off the water as she grabbed the two plush towels off the heated bar.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him one.

He stepped out next to her. “Thanks.”

She wrapped herself in another layer of coziness. “This feels nice.”

“What about this robe?” He pulled the white Egyptian cotton off the hook on the door, enveloping her in softness, then snagged its mate for himself. “Nice.”

She hummed her approval as she tightened the tie around her waist. “Very.”

He opened the door. “Shall we?”

“Definitely.” She followed him into the main suite, grabbing a makeup wipe from her bag, then quickly removed the mess before she moisturized. Snagging her toothbrush and toothpaste, she headed toward the bathroom.

“Hold up,” Jagger said, stopping beside her with his big to-go carton.

She shook her head at the spoonful of soup he held up to her mouth. “I’m not hungry.”

“A couple of bites, Grace. It’s clam chowder, but it settles well.”

Seeing the worry in his eyes, she opened up, finding the creamy broth surprisingly soothing. “It’s good.”

“Award-winning,” he said, helping himself to another bite, then giving her several more, trading bites until the carton’s contents disappeared.

She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I think I might explode.”

He tossed the items into the designated recycling bin. “Good. You can sleep off your full stomach.”

Mostly, she wanted to return to the hospital, but Jagger needed a nap. “I’m going to brush my teeth first.”

“I’ll grab my toothbrush and join you.”

They made quick work of brushing and heading for the bed.

Grace pulled back the covers. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

Jagger got in on his usual side, turning on the TV. “So, we’ll just lie here for a little while.”

She settled next to him, pulling the blankets over them.

He wrapped her up, cocooning her against him. “Let’s make sure we keep you warm.”

She rested her cheek against the smooth skin of his chest, breathing in lavender and Jagger. “Just for a couple of hours.”

“Just for a couple of hours,” he agreed, flipping through the channels, stopping on the weather forecast.

She stared at the screen as Jagger’s hand slowly stroked along her back. Lying like this was everything comforting. Her life was falling apart again, yet her eyes grew heavy anyway.

“I love you, Gracie,” he whispered.

She wanted to tell him she loved him too. That was her plan. But exhaustion snuck up to claim her before she could say a word.

* * *

Three and a half hours later, the phone rang on Jagger’s nightstand, startling him out of a deep sleep.

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