Page 150 of Eight Years Gone

Two hours passed in centuries before they eventually pulled into her driveway.

Grace looked behind her again, giving Colton’s leg a gentle shake. “We’re here.”

Colton sat up, staring at the house. “This is it?”

“This is it,” Grace said, getting out and glancing toward the pretty home she’d made. “We’ll get you settled in.”

Colton followed them up the walkway as Jagger unlocked the front door, letting Colton in first.

He turned a slow circle, nodding. “Nice place.”

Grace sent him a small smile, trying to gauge if he meant it. “Thank you.”

“It’s not what I was expecting. I figured there would be more rooms—more square footage. I mean, you’re loaded, right? Dr. Dad had to be worth a few million.”

Jagger clenched his jaw as he took off his coat. “Your room’s down the hall—second on the right. Feel free to close the door and stay there for the rest of the night.”

Colton scoffed out a laugh as he headed in the direction Jagger had mentioned. “No problem.”

Grace looked at Jagger, knowing she’d made a horrible mistake. “We should get some sleep.”

Before Jagger could respond, she headed for the bedroom.

Thirty-Seven

Grace headed toward the drawer to grab a pair of pajamas but moved to the French doors instead. She walked outside into the cold, struggling not to burst into tears.

Sitting on the memorial bench under the maple tree, she stared up at the stars as she took several deep breaths.

The familiar heartsickness and stomachache were back—the fearful, helpless energy she hadn’t felt in years. Not since Logan had been alive.

Driving to Millsdale had been a terrible idea. Bringing Colton home to Preston Valley had been an even bigger mistake.

Jagger came out, sitting down, settling her favorite fleece blanket over them. “Hey.”

She tried to smile. “Hey.”

He hooked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and kissing her hair.

She nestled against him, breathing him in, savoring the warmth as she stared into the dark. “You were right. I look at Colton, and I see Logan. But he’s not. He’s his own person. He’s my brother, but he’s not. Logan was my brother, but by the end, he was just as much of a stranger as that boy is inside our house.”

Jagger sighed, wrapping her up tighter. “Grace—”

She shook her head, needing to finish—to say out loud all of her thoughts. “Over the last few days, I let myself create these fantasies about having with Colton what I’d had with Logan—our Logan before the injury and the drugs. But that’s not possible. Logan and I had each other our whole lives. Our bond was irreplaceable and something that can’t be duplicated. And I wouldn’t want to.”

Jagger kissed her head again. “Everything about this situation is tough.”

Her eyes watered as she sat up, looking at him. “I’ve been terribly selfish, and I’m sorry. We’re going to miss our trip. I put him before us, and that never should have happened.”

He skimmed his knuckles along her jaw. “We can still go to Montana, Grace. We just have to finagle some things.”

She pulled away from his touch. “Please don’t be kind when I don’t deserve it. I messed up.”

“Do you think it doesn’t mess with my head when I look at him? You wanted to help him. How can I be pissed about that?”

She closed her eyes as she shook her head. Everything was so complicated again. “I see a kid who needs help. I see someone who’s dealing with the aftermath of my father’s carelessness. I don’t think I can walk away from that.”

Jagger nodded as he captured her hand. “I get it.”

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