Page 115 of Eight Years Gone

“It’s true.” He pressed his lips to hers. “Tell me the rest.”

She exhaled another long breath. “My dad worked hard. He helped so many people. We had our problems, but he left me a legacy. Most people would kill to be in my position, but I like my life right now—or the life I had a week and three days ago when my dad was alive, and his money was still his.”

“You don’t sound ungrateful, Grace. You know what most people don’t—lots of cash doesn’t equate to happiness.”

She loved that he understood. Jagger had grown up with nothing, but he’d witnessed firsthand that money didn’t always make the problems disappear. Sometimes it made them worse. “I want my normal back—the normal I’ve built over the last eight years. The normal you and I are making together.”

“So do something with the money. Make donations. Create scholarships and grants in Steve’s name. Talk to the lawyer about unloading a serious chunk of change into the charitable hospitals or talk to the doctors about starting another one somewhere else in the world. Then forget about the rest.”

She frowned. “It’s not that simple.”

“Can’t it be?”

She opened her mouth to tell him no, but she closed it when she couldn’t see why not. “You’re okay with it—walking away from millions of dollars?”

“I just want you, Grace. The stuff we’ve always dreamed of together—even if the dream’s changed a bit.”

She closed her eyes as a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. “That sounds really good.”

He made a sound in his throat as he kissed her jaw. “Preston Valley’s our home base. We’ll travel occasionally, throw in a little freelancing on both our parts, then eventually add a couple of kids to the mix.”

New dreams sprinkled in with the old. She laughed, wrapping her arms around him. “Yes.”

His mouth moved to her ear. “Do you want to extend our trip down memory lane to the shower, or do you want to look around?”

She grinned as he met her gaze. “The shower’s tempting.” She pinched his butt. “But the shower works at home, too.”

“True.” He nipped her chin, then growled, nuzzling her neck in the way that tickled her.

“Jagger!” Squealing, laughing as she bucked about, she pushed at him. “Stop it!”

He nuzzled her again, laughing as he lifted his head to look at her.

Still grinning, she shoved at him. “I hate when you do that.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

She snagged her lip with her teeth because he wasn’t wrong. She loved it when he was silly and playful. “Maybe I hate it just a little.”

He kissed her. “I’m glad this happened—that we could lie here again and make this space something good to remember.”

She kissed him this time. “Me too. Let’s get up. I want to pack up some of the pictures in here before we look around.”

“How about I pack what you want to take while you look around?”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Definitely.”

Twenty-Seven

Grace wandered the massive house she’d once called home, starting in the kitchen. After her sexy little tryst upstairs, she needed a glass of water.

Quickly washing up the dish, she opened a drawer, automatically grabbing a towel. She paused because it felt so normal. Everything was where it had always been, yet nothing was the same.

Being back here again with Jagger had turned into a good thing. For years, she’d tried to forget about her life on Sheraton Way. The memories had been too painful. But today, when she left for the last time, she could do so with peace.

Even as she thought it, she couldn’t ignore the deafening silence in a place that had always been so full of noise and fun.

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