Eight Years Gone, page 7
When everything had fallen apart, Aunt Maggie and Asa had been the ones to help her pick up all the pieces. “I’ll be back in a little while. Call if you need anything.”
Aunt Maggie nodded. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Grace slowed in front of the bank, then eased her way into a parallel parking space when she realized that the miserly few spots in the parking lot were full. Friday mornings were always busy downtown.
Eager to focus on her to-do list and forget about her conversation with Aunt Maggie, she snagged her cell phone from the console and her purse off the seat.
But she paused with her hand on the door handle when she spotted Jagger through the large windows in Todd’s dojang across the street.
Jagger looked amazing—perfectly right—wearing his black-and-white dobok with the black belt wrapped around his waist.
Currently, he sat on the blue and red floor mats while five preschool-aged children sat in front of him. Todd did the same with another small group not too far away.
The children followed Jagger’s lead as he showed them different striking motions at a super slow speed. Occasionally, Jagger reached over to correct one of the children’s forms.
Abruptly, Jagger and the kids stood, then dropped down into push-ups. Sweet little faces beamed as Jagger clearly made it into some sort of game as he effortlessly pushed himself up and down five times.
Within seconds, both groups of children stood in rows, taking the same stance Jagger did. He moved them into the next exercise, kicking his leg high, then balancing with one leg in the air.
Grace chuckled when several little ones did their best to follow along but lost their balance and fell. She full-out laughed when Jagger showed them a spin kick in slow motion. This time, all the children ended up on the floor when they tried to copy.
He clapped for all of them as they gained their feet before they imitated his bow—the ending of the class.
“Look how much they love you,” she whispered as she smiled sadly when the kids crowded around him for high fives. This was what he’d always wanted—his own dojang where he could teach and share his passion for the martial arts.
Jagger’s endless talents had always boggled her mind. There wasn’t much he couldn’t do.
Taekwondo and the Olympics hadn’t been out of the question. Neither had football nor the NFL. And Colonel Hinders had always talked up the military due to Jagger’s remarkable marksmanship skills and excellent brain.
But Jagger hadn’t been interested in any of that. He’d always shaken his head at the offers from interested parties, forever reminding everyone that he planned to travel the world with his girl.
She sighed, resting her head against the seat because that had never happened.
Grace barely paid attention as she drove closer to the mansion in the dark. It was well after two a.m. as she blew through one of the stoplights close to Sheraton Height’s grand stone entrance.
She’d been on the road for hours. For almost two days, she’d mostly been awake, fueling herself with coffee and a desperate sense of hope.
But that was gone now.
Blinking dry eyes as she traveled through the neighborhood she’d lived in for years, she forced herself to navigate the sharp curve in the road when it was tempting to accelerate, take her hands off the wheel, and see what fate had in store as she careened off the hill that overlooked downtown.
A keening moan escaped her throat when she held the wheel tighter, knowing that ending her life wasn’t the answer. She’d already come to understand what death felt like—an empty abyss of nothingness where time stood still.
She took a right on the next road, needing to cry—to scream away the overwhelming, desperate grief—but there were no more tears left to fall.
It was still sinking in that she’d lost Logan. Now, Jagger was gone, too.
Finally, she slowed, pulling around the mansion’s circular driveway, wanting nothing more than to ram the front end of her car into her father’s precious Jaguar.
She hated that she was here at the house—that she’d had to return to Wakeview at all. This wasn’t her home without her brother and her boyfriend.
She noted the lights on inside—the homey warmth—as she shivered, finding that she’d been cold ever since the police officers showed up at the door many long hours ago.
The front door opened, and Dad rushed outside as Grace got out of the Audi she no longer wanted.
“My God, Grace,” Dad said, wearing jeans and a wrinkled button-down. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen his handsome face unshaven. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”
Brushing past him, moving up the walkway into the massive entryway, Grace ignored her stepmother as she hurried upstairs.
Dad grabbed hold of her arm as she reached the bedroom doorway. “Grace—”
She yanked away as she turned, realizing that there were indeed more tears she had yet to cry as they flowed down her cheeks. “Get him back! Make him come back!”
He dropped his hand, shaking his head. “I can’t. The colonel said he signed a contract. He’s gone.”
The rush of pain from hearing the truth of her new reality nearly brought her to her knees. “Go away!”
But Dad stayed put.
Rushing around her room, she shoved her clothes and camera equipment into whatever bags she could find in her closet.
For a moment, she paused when she caught sight of herself in her dresser mirror: wrinkled clothes—the same outfit she’d been wearing since last night; pale, drawn skin; haunted, red-rimmed eyes she barely recognized as her own, and messy, tangled hair mostly falling from her ponytail.
“Grace—”
“No!” Not interested in listening to anything that her father had to say, she elbowed past him, moving into Jagger’s room, breathing him in as she plucked up the things that she knew he loved best, tossing them into the bags along with her stuff.
She picked up a picture frame of their smiling faces and lost it all over again with the next wave of despair. “God, Dad. How could you do this to me?”
He crossed his arms. “He’s never been good enough for you.”
“He was good enough when he won you your games.”
“Eventually, you’ll move on—”
“You go to hell!” she screamed, rushing across the room, barely stopping herself from balling up her fists and punching him.
He hadn’t given her a choice in the matter. He’d decided her life for her when he’d never had the right.
When her father had confessed to her that he’d demanded that Jagger leave—that he’d threatened to cut her off and ruin her internship, she’d been frantic to find him.
She’d spent what was left of the night searching for him everywhere she could think of, eventually remembering her father’s friendship with Colonel Hinders and the colonel’s obsessive interest in Jagger’s remarkable abilities.
After ransacking Dad’s home office late in the morning, she’d found the colonel’s address. Within minutes, she’d raced out the door, heading to Hagerstown, Maryland, eager to convince the love of her life to come home.
When she arrived four hours later, she’d nearly wept with relief when she spotted Jagger’s car in the colonel’s driveway. She’d given a hopeful knock on the front door, certain that everything would be okay if she and Jagger could talk.
When the colonel told her that Jagger had left earlier that morning, she’d refused to believe him, pushing past the man, calling for Jagger as she moved from room to room, certain that he had to be there.
When she found Jagger’s cell phone and one of the sweatshirts he kept in the trunk of his car folded in half on the guest bed, she’d grabbed them both and headed back toward Pennsylvania in a hazy trance, unsure of how she’d go on.
“Grace,” Dad tried again.
Her breath heaved in and out as she attempted to step around him. “Get out of my way.”
Dad refused to move.
She clenched her teeth, finding herself on the slippery edge of shattering entirely. “I swear to God I’ll jump out the damn window before I’ll let you keep me here.”
Dad stepped aside.
Without a last look, she ran down the stairs and outside, with Dad following her to her car.
“Where are you going?”
“To Aunt Maggie’s.”
“That’s a three-hour drive. You’ve barely slept. You’re half-wild, Grace.”
She was more than half-wild. She’d never felt as unglued as she did right now. Without warning, everything about her life had imploded. Nothing was the same as it had been twenty-four hours ago.
Yesterday, she and Jagger were packing for college, laughing, and making love. Yesterday, Logan had been alive. “Since when do you care.”
“I’m your father.”
This time she struck out as she whirled around, cracking him on the cheek with her palm, watching him recoil and press his hand to his face. “How dare you! You’ve hardly been around. You forgot what that word meant shortly after Mom died.”
“Grace—”
“What happened to Logan isn’t Jagger’s fault,” she continued, eager to hurt him as much as he had her. “It’s yours. He’s dead because of you! He was never, ever good enough for you! You always pushed and pushed and pushed! It’s hardly a wonder he turned to the pills!”
Tears tracked down his cheeks. “I did the best I could.”
“You did the best you could for you. It’s always been about you. Logan’s blood is on your hands, and I will never forgive you!”
She put her bulging bags in the trunk. “Don’t call me. Ever. Don’t talk to me at Logan’s funeral. You’re as dead to me as he is.”
She got in the car and turned over the engine, now floaty with an exhaustion that threatened to swallow her whole. Peeling out of the driveway, she headed to the closest thing she had left to salvation.
Grace blinked when a car honked in the distance, startling her from her memories. Sniffling, she glanced around at the hustle and bustle of the busy downtown, realizing that tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Dashing them away, she shook her head, taking several steadying breaths. Wiping her cheeks dry once more, she peeked in the rearview mirror to make sure she still looked put together.
When all appeared well, she got out, purposely avoiding another look at the dojang.
The past was gone. This was all she needed to worry about now—the present. She never had to go back. Her life was her choice. Only hers. She never had to put herself in a position to feel that type of loss and heartache again.
Eight
Jagger weaved his way through the crowds on the outskirts of town, making his way toward the massive firepit in the center of the field.
He’d walked through this clearing several times before—every year when he, Grace, Logan, and whoever Logan was dating at the time would drive up to Preston Valley for the annual fall bonfire.
He hadn’t planned to come tonight, but Ruby and Todd had convinced him to stop by for a little while.
Figuring it couldn’t hurt to check off another box in the average Joe category, he’d changed out of his shorts and pulled on a pair of jeans.
At the last minute, he’d zipped a light jacket over his T-shirt, then added a ballcap, anticipating the cooling temperatures as the sun faded closer to the horizon in the cloudless blue sky.
He glanced around, listening to the live band covering popular songs from several musical genres, breathing in the scent of the fire and food from the dozens of food trucks lined up on the shortly cut grass. Everything was as it had always been—or sort of.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything normal like this. Over the last several years, his life had revolved around covert and clandestine operations.
More often than not, he’d spent his time behind enemy lines. If he’d wandered about at a public event, a Unit or CIA mission had undoubtedly been involved. The objective had always been gathering intelligence and not fucking it up by getting himself captured or killed in the process.
“Excuse me,” he murmured as he bumped into a couple walking by.
Instinct had him looking left. And there was Grace, crouching down with her camera to capture two kids in a red wagon, making a mess as they ate their pink cotton candy.
She laughed when one of the parents said something to her before she snapped another shot.
Damn, she was a beauty.
She’d plunked a black beanie on her head, leaving all that long, glorious blond hair to flow freely. The snug denim and simple black cardigan she’d chosen accentuated everything that was spectacular about Grace.
Then she looked up, and their eyes met. Her smile faded as she stood, but she held up her hand in a quick wave.
Surprised that she’d acknowledged him at all, he waved back. When she started walking his way, he moved in her direction, meeting her halfway.
“Hi,” she said, letting the camera hang around her neck by the strap as she let it go.
“Hey.”
“I didn’t realize you were coming.”
Christ, he could stare into those big blue eyes for days. “It was pretty last minute.”
Her lips curved slightly as she glanced around. “Um, it’s a nice night for this.”
He nodded, hating that things were so awkward between them. Long ago, they would have held hands and walked around together, sampling food and talking about whatever. Eventually, they would have snuggled up on a blanket and enjoyed the fire. “It is.”
“I haven’t seen you since… It’s been a few days,” she quickly corrected herself.
What they both knew she’d been too polite to say was that she hadn’t seen him since he nearly beat the shit out of her buddy.
He’d kept his distance, making certain he’d finished with whatever Aunt Mags had needed done before Grace arrived at work. They still needed to talk, but crowding her wasn’t the answer. He wanted her to come to him when she was ready.
“You’ve been helping Aunt Maggie a lot,” Grace continued. Then she shook her head. “You’ve been helping us both. Thank you.”
He nodded. “Aunt Mags has always been good to me. I want to return the favor.”
“The ramp is great—really beautiful.”
He shrugged because he wasn’t looking for Grace’s gratitude. “She needs it.”
“Yes, she does.”
“I was happy to do it.”
She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to say something more when they both spotted Ben. Grace smiled and waved at her date far more comfortably than she had at Jagger.
Ben looked from Grace to Jagger and back before raising his hand.
“I should go,” she said.
He wanted to snag her hand and ask her to stay with him. But he let her go. “Yeah.”
“Have fun tonight.”
He nodded, watching Grace walk over to Ben and grin as he hooked his arm around her shoulders. He yearned to turn away but forced himself to stare at the truth as Ben and Grace met up with Christy and Christy’s husband, Mike.
The small group laughed as they talked, standing in a circle—friends in the town they all lived in.
Grace moved closer to the man she was dating as Ben’s fingers intimately caressed her arm.
She was happy. Her life had turned out differently than the dreams they’d woven together so long ago.
Grace took her pictures as more of a hobby than a profession. She helped her aunt run the florist shop on Main Street instead of traveling the world. But that didn’t mean that this wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
He’d walked away, leaving the woman he loved on the worst night of their lives, and she’d moved on.
He shouldn’t have come—or he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t belong in Preston Valley.
He’d wanted to help her—to try to make things right. Maybe somewhere deep down, he’d let himself hope that they might find their way back to one another after he’d realized that she wasn’t married.
But it was time to go.
Looking at Grace again, knowing that this would be how he would remember her—rosy cheeks and bold blue eyes on a mid-September night, he turned away, heading for the car.
He needed to pick up his things, then swing by Maggie’s for a quick goodbye.
“We’ve saved you a spot by the fire,” Christy tossed over her shoulder as she and Mike headed closer to their blankets.
“Thanks,” Grace said, smiling at Ben as their friends walked away.
“Should we head over?” Ben asked, looking casual and handsome in jeans and a red plaid button-down covering his white T-shirt.
Grace glanced toward the sunset—toward the treasured golden hour when the light did magical things to a picture. “Uh, I want to get a few more shots before I lose the light.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll grab us a couple of hot chocolates. Maybe we can meet back here in twenty minutes?”
She smiled again. “That sounds perfect.”
Ben headed toward the long lines at the trucks as Grace turned, glancing toward where she’d left Jagger.
He was gone.
Her gaze tracked through the crowds as she searched for him. Finally, she spotted him heading toward the makeshift parking lot.
Something about how he walked—the purpose in each step—had her moving in his direction.
He was leaving. An instinct—a messy mix of panic and heartsickness—warned her he was walking away again.
And this time, he wouldn’t come back.
She picked up her pace as he crossed the dirt road, moving closer to the hundreds of cars parked in neat rows in the next field.
“Jagger,” she called, even as she tried to figure out what the hell she was doing.
She’d made the first move when she spotted him ten minutes ago, taking a chance by closing the distance between them to talk to him.
She’d replayed her conversation with Aunt Maggie numerous times. She desperately needed to protect herself from the pain of having Jagger back in her life. But as much as she didn’t want to hurt, she didn’t want him to hurt either.
