Page 152 of Eight Years Gone

“Come lie down with me.”

She got in, settling beside him, sighing with her head on his shoulder. “This feels good.”

He stroked his fingers along her arm. “Get some sleep.”

She nodded. “I’ll make us a nice breakfast when we get up. We can try to break the ice with your favorite French toast.”

“That sounds like a hell of an idea.”

It was the least she could do after she’d ruined their vacation. “I’m sorry again, Jagger. About Montana. About everything. I’ll see what I can do about our reservations after breakfast.”

She felt him shake his head. “It’s all going to work out. Get some sleep, Gracie.”

“I love you.”

He snuggled her closer as she turned on her side. “I love you too.”

Thirty-Eight

Jagger opened his eyes with Grace wrapped up in his arms as he stared at the sunlight shining through the windows.

They should have been out of the house hours ago to catch their Denver-based flight, but here they lay in Grace’s bed in Preston Valley.

Determined to make the best of their mostly shitty situation, he nuzzled his face against Grace’s soft neck, then kissed her skin as he wrapped his arms tighter around her when she stirred. “I have French toast on the brain. I’m pretty sure that’s your fault.”

“Mmm,” she said as she rolled over to smile and kiss his lips.

He slid her hair back from her face, studying her sleepy blue eyes. “Morning.”

Her smile returned. “Morning.”

“How did you sleep?” He glanced at the bedside clock. “For six whole hours.”

“Like a rock.” She kissed him again. “I’m rested and ready to make your favorite French toast. With cinnamon apples, of course. We can also add eggs and bacon.”

He groaned. “Now you’re just trying to turn me on.”

She laughed. “I’m always happy to turn you on.”

He grinned as he moved to settle himself on top of her. “So, you’re thinking like me—a quickie, then breakfast?”

She laughed again as she rolled her eyes. “Mostly, I was just thinking about breakfast.”

Still smiling, he kissed her forehead, then her nose. “Hey, it’s your loss.”

She chuckled. “I agree. But I’ll make it up to you later, handsome.” Her smile dimmed as she slid her fingers along his temple. “Now that it’s six hours later, how do you feel about our conversation—about helping Colton?”

He sighed, recognizing that the life they were building had the potential to change in a big way. But he wasn’t ready to turn his back on the lost, angry kid in the room across the hall. “I’m still on board. What about you?”

She nodded. “Me too.”

He opened his mouth to say something more when the quiet bump in the hallway and the shoes tiptoeing down the hall caught his attention. Hurrying out from beneath the covers, he moved to the door, already certain their guest was planning his escape.

Caring little that he only wore boxers, Jagger headed down the hallway as Colton’s hand reached for the front doorknob. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Colton whipped around with his eye looking worse than it had last night. “Home.”

Grace walked past Jagger, pulling a sweatshirt over her sleep top. “You must be hungry. I was going to make us some breakfast.”

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