Page 131 of Eight Years Gone

Jagger took a left on Summer Street, smiling as the lights on in Grace’s house came into view.

The place looked warm and homey. The woman he loved was inside. Soon they would be eating dinner and the double-fudge brownies she’d mentioned she was making for dessert. They would enjoy some great conversation, then some even better sex. All in all, they were in for a perfect night.

Pulling into the driveway, he wasted little time grabbing his travel bag, their dinner, and the flowers he’d snagged at the grocery store—not as pretty as something he would have found at Simplicity, but it was about the gesture.

He walked up the path and inside, pausing in the doorway as he stared at Grace sitting on the floor, surrounded by long sheets of paper and her mother’s journals.

Her head whipped around. “Jagger.”

He set the food on the entryway table and his bag off to the side. “That’s me.”

She frowned as she looked at the clock before her eyes grew wide. “I completely lost track of time.” She stood, walking to him, wrapping him up in a hug. “I lost track of time,” she said again.

He held her close, breathing her in. “That’s okay.”

“I didn’t make your brownies.” She eased back enough to kiss him. “I’m so sorry.”

He frowned this time, studying her troubled eyes and the dark circles her concealer didn’t quite hide. “We’ll make them together another time.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Don’t worry about it.” He looked toward the mess on the floor. “That looks like quite a project.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been looking into some things.”

Needing to touch her, he slid his hands up and down the sides of her waist. “That sounds intriguing.”

She jerked her shoulders again. “I found some stuff in my mom’s last journal. I think my dad might have cheated. I think I have another brother—”

His palms froze against her sweatshirt. “What?”

“I know.” She huffed out a breath as she shook her head, stepping away, pacing as she talked. “I went to Philly to talk to Bea. Then I went to Dad’s apartment. I called Dennis Fitch to ask him about it, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

The surprises kept coming. “You did all of this today?”

“Well, no. I found the entry on Monday. I asked Asa a few questions on Tuesday, but he couldn’t help me much. I went to Bea’s and to Philly yesterday, but I didn’t get a whole lot of information there either.”

He shook his head this time because he was certain he’d heard her wrong. “You’ve known about this since Monday?”

She nodded. “I’m not actually sure that this is anything at all. It seems like it is, but…”

He slid his fingers through his hair, more than a little shocked. “Are you serious right now? We’ve been talking on the phone for the last three days. We had dinner together every night.”

She winced. “I know. I just— It seems so unimaginable—so ridiculous. I didn’t want to mention it until I needed to. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me, damn it. Because it’s not a bother.” He walked to the counter, setting the flowers on the quartz, feeling the slow burn of his temper blooming to life.

“Jesus, Grace. Since when is this a thing? We used to talk about everything. You used to tell me everything.”

“Jagger—”

“I need a few minutes.” Mad in a way he’d never been—at least not at Grace, he headed for the door, grabbed his bag, then walked out.

* * *

Grace stared at the door, flinching when Jagger turned over his engine.

This wasn’t the way their evening was supposed to go.

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