Page 15 of Eight Years Gone

“I guess so.” He cleared his throat as he gave her shoulder a gentle bump. “You know, I was going to try the new restaurant on Main Street tomorrow night. If you want, I can make the reservation for two.”

She stared at him—friendly brown eyes, dark-brown hair, his olive complexion darker after the summer. The complete opposite of Jagger. “Okay.”

He blinked as he raised his brow. “Okay?”

She grinned. “You act so surprised that I would want to have dinner with you.”

“That’s because I’ve been subtly asking you out for over a year now.”

And she’d gently shot him down every time. There’d only ever been one man for her. She’d only ever let there be one man for her. But after New York, she knew she couldn’t put her life on hold any longer. She’d been waiting for someone—hoping for something that had long since been over. “Right about now, I don’t know why that is.”

“I say better late than never. What time would you like to eat?”

“How about seven?”

“Seven it is.” He glanced at his watch. “But right now, it’s almost eleven. I’m heading out. If you’re leaving, too, I can walk you to your car.”

She was exhausted. Sleep hadn’t come easily last night or the one before that. As much as she enjoyed Ben’s company, she wanted to be alone. “You go ahead. I need to thank Tony and Camille, but I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“I’ll pick you up at a quarter to seven?”

She nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

“Have a good night, Grace.”

“You, too.” She waited until Ben got into his spiffy BMW, tossing him a smile and a wave before he settled in. Then he left, and she stared up at the moon again.

Why did she feel so guilty? Why did she feel so sad? She closed her eyes as a tear trailed down her cheek.

This was the right thing to do. It was time to move on. “Goodbye,” she whispered, then walked back inside, finally ready to leave the past in the past.

* * *

Jagger cut across Milton Avenue with the bag of mixed nuts and a bottle of Gatorade he’d grabbed at the gas station—his only options for a shitty-ass dinner because everything else was closed.

He glanced toward the town center’s fountain lit up like glory in the dark, still trying to figure out what he was doing in Preston Valley as he walked the quiet streets back to his hotel.

Yesterday, he’d checked out of The Ritz, rented a car, then drove the four hours to Hagerstown, Maryland, to pick up his Stingray.

Long ago, Colonel Hinders had backed it into one of the extra spaces in his four-car garage and kept it running. Jagger could only be thankful that the vehicle had been thoroughly cleaned, erasing the horrors of the worst night of his life.

He’d shipped out for Operation X the morning after Logan’s death. There’d been no time to think past the contracts he’d signed, enlisting him into the Army’s secret fast-track program to make him one of the United States military’s best of the best.

Eight years ago, his goal had been to start over with an entirely different life. This morning, he’d intended to do the same when he got in his car and headed west—until he found himself swearing and flipping a U-ey just miles from Columbus, Ohio.

Before he could change his mind, he’d gunned the engine, starting back toward Aunt Maggie’s place in Preston Valley, Pennsylvania.

How many happy summer days had he, Logan, and Grace spent helping Aunt Mags at her florist shop in the beautiful, upscale town? He’d always felt comfortable and at home in the community of about thirty-five thousand.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Grace—how she’d called herself “your Gracie” as they stared at each other in shock. It had been years, yet he was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to Grace Evans.

He needed to find her—to see for himself that she’d gotten everything she’d dreamed of.

Tomorrow he would sweet-talk Aunt Mags into telling him where he could find the woman who wouldn’t stop haunting him. He’d drive or fly to wherever she was in the world, check on her from a distance, and then he would go.

He headed down Second Street, thinking of the camera Grace had cradled around her neck while they both caught their breath off the wooded path. The Canon had been a much fancier version of the one he remembered from their college days.

He smiled because he loved the idea of her taking her pictures.

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