Page 14 of Eight Years Gone

Sighing, she walked farther into the dark, leaning her arms against the metal railing in the parking lot, letting her shoulders relax as she stared up at the bright half-moon in the starlit sky.

For the first time in hours, she didn’t have to fake a smile and pretend that all was well. Because it wasn’t.

It had been two days since she’d left Manhattan—since she’d seen Jagger. For the last forty-eight hours, she’d forced herself to move through her schedule and get on with her life—the way Jagger so easily had.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at her. He’d been so harsh—so awful. It was as if the years they’d spent together had meant nothing.

Her sigh returned as she touched her hand to her heart, remembering the marred skin on his chest.

Grace nibbled her lip as she held Jagger’s hand, watching as the tattoo artist used his machine to start tracing the looping A stenciled on Jagger’s left pec.

When Jagger had asked her to write her name on a piece of paper, she’d had no idea he had any intention of turning it into a tattoo. “Does it hurt?”

Jagger shook his head as he lay on the table, staring at her. “It’s not too bad.”

“And you really want to do this?”

He raised his brow as the artist moved on to make the C. “I’d say it’s a little late for that.”

She laughed as he grinned. “It’s my name, Jagger.”

“Not yet, but close.”

Her smile was back. “It’s so permanent.”

“That’s true. But you’re the only woman who’ll ever own my heart, so I think we’re safe.”

She felt her eyes go soft as she brought his hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles. “I love you.”

He winked. “I love you, too. Happy eighteenth, Gracie. I hope we’ve made this into a birthday you’ll remember.”

Pretty flowers and a nice dinner at her favorite restaurant, followed by the sweetest of gestures. She kissed his skin again. “Always.”

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, wishing so desperately she could forget.

Jagger had walked away. Then he’d erased her. He’d loved her until he didn’t. One minute she’d had everything. Then she’d had nothing.

The restaurant door opened, bringing the sounds of music and laughter as Ben O’Brien stepped outside. The noise disappeared again when he shut the door. “I was starting to think you’d left.”

Grace sent her friend a small smile. “I wanted some fresh air.”

Ben made a sound in his throat as he wandered over to lean on the railing next to her. He was tall and handsome—successful, too. Preston Valley’s favorite chiropractor. But better than that, he was kind and easy to talk to.

“Tony and Camille know how to throw a party.”

She tried her best to tuck away her unhappy thoughts. “That they do. Several people will be sorry in the morning.”

Ben chuckled. “That’s for sure.” His smile faded as he held her gaze. “You look beautiful tonight.”

She’d gone with the strapless floral print maxi dress she found in the city. She’d also taken the time to curl the ends of her hair and carefully cover the dark circles under her eyes. “Thank you.”

“You look sad, too. You have since you got back from New York.”

She shrugged because she didn’t have the energy to deny it. “Manhattan wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She made her lips curve. “I guess that’s life sometimes.”

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