Eight Years Gone, page 8
“Jagger,” she yelled louder.
He stopped and turned.
Her heart betrayed her, fluttering in her chest just from looking at him.
Jagger wasn’t the same man he’d been when he left her all those years ago, but he was still beautiful. “Wait up,” she said breathlessly, knowing it was as much from his effect on her as the fast pace she’d been forced to keep.
He started moving in her direction.
She stopped in front of him. “You’re leaving.”
“It’s time for me to go.”
The double meaning of their conversation wasn’t lost on either of them. She couldn’t meet his eyes, so she stared at the ground.
“We, uh, we have a big shipment of flowers coming in on Friday. There’s a big wedding this next weekend. I know we could use your help—”
“Are you happy?” he blurted out.
She met his gaze but found it impossible to speak, so she nodded.
“He makes you happy?”
She swallowed past the emotions choking her throat. “We just started dating, but I think so. I think he can. I think we can make each other happy.”
He nodded.
She closed her eyes, fighting to keep her composure, feeling the tear trailing down her cheek as she lost the battle. “I don’t know how to do this with you here,” she said in a shaky whisper.
“I just needed to know that you’re okay.”
More tears fell as he broke her heart all over again. “I’m okay.”
“Let me give Todd a couple of weeks to figure things out. Then I’ll go.”
Why was this so hard? She needed him to leave if she wanted to live her life, yet she didn’t know how to let him go.
“If it’s okay, I’m still going to help Maggie, but I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll be gone before you get to the shop. Just like we’ve been doing things.”
She sucked in an unsteady breath. “I’m so sorry, Jagger.”
He brought the rough side of his thumb up to wipe at the new tear sliding down her cheek. “There’s no need to apologize.”
How was there so much tenderness when edgy eyes stared into hers?
He dropped his hand. “I’ll see you around.”
She nodded as he turned, fighting the urge to run to him—to let herself forget about the past and take what she’d wanted for so long.
She looked over her shoulder toward the noise of long-honored traditions, then back at the man she didn’t want to love.
Pulling out her phone, she texted Christy.
Can you let Ben know I’ll be right there? I need a couple of minutes.
Christy messaged back. I’m assuming this has to do with Jagger. Are you okay?
She didn’t know what she was anymore—mostly just confused. He’s leaving. In a couple of weeks.
It’s supposed to be hot tomorrow. Come swim with Brennan and me at the lake. I’ll pack us a picnic. We can talk about everything.
She wanted to lay around and wallow on her only day off. But that wouldn’t get her anywhere. Okay.
Take as much time as you need. I’ll take care of Ben.
You’re the best.
She wandered over to her Sorento, leaning against the hood, no longer in the mood to capture life’s precious moments with her camera. Pressing her face into her hands, she inhaled and exhaled a steadying breath.
Jagger would be gone in two weeks. That’s what she’d wanted since the moment he showed up in town, so why was she on the verge of sobbing? Why did the idea of sitting next to Ben on a blanket by the bonfire feel so wrong?
She’d told Jagger that she thought Ben could make her happy. A week ago, she’d been far more certain than she was right now.
Taking another deep breath, she looked toward the noise again. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
Pushing off the hood, she started toward her friends, doing her best to muster up some enthusiasm for the evening ahead.
Nine
Jagger stood in the bright light on Maggie’s front porch, hesitating before he pressed his finger against the doorbell.
Right about now, he had no idea why he was there. Twenty minutes ago, he’d been ready to grab his shit and go. Then Grace had run after him in the parking lot, breaking his heart with her tears. Before he’d known what he was doing, he heard himself telling her that he would be sticking around for another couple of weeks.
“Come on in,” Maggie’s voice carried through the screen door of the beautiful Victorian home nestled in Preston Valley’s historic district where the Wilson family had lived for three generations.
Maggie and Rose’s parents had passed long before Jagger had met Grace. Bonnie Wilson had died after complications from a stroke at the age of sixty-two, and Gabriel Wilson had died six months later from a massive heart attack brought on by a broken heart.
Jagger let himself inside, following the sound of the TV down the short hallway to the living room, sending Asa a nod as he and Maggie sat on the couch, watching a movie.
Maggie set down her knitting as she smiled. “Well, isn’t this a surprise.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry to bother you guys.”
“You’re not. Asa was talking about snacks anyway.”
“That I was.” Asa paused the movie as he gained his feet. “Can I get you something, Jagger? Iced tea, coffee, a beer?
Jagger shook his head. “I’m all set, but thanks.”
“I’ll be back,” Asa said as he left the room.
Maggie held Jagger’s gaze as she studied him. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
She patted the arm of the chair next to her seat on the couch. “Take a load off and tell me about it.”
He sighed as he sat because this wasn’t his style. He wasn’t a talk-it-out kind of guy—or he wasn’t anymore. He’d learned to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. It had served him well over the last few years. “I’m going to head out.”
Maggie frowned. “Tonight?”
He shook his head. “In a couple of weeks.”
“Well, that’s a shame.”
He jerked his shoulders. “I don’t belong here.”
She held his gaze again as the silence stretched out between them. “Why did you come back to Preston Valley?”
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.” He huffed out a breath when he knew Aunt Mags didn’t believe that any more than he did. “I needed to make sure she was okay. I haven’t been able to walk away.”
“That probably means something, don’t you think?”
He scrubbed his hands over his face because he’d never been more confused. Grace had moved on. She was dating someone else, but he felt the familiar sparks whenever they looked into each other’s eyes. “She says she’s happy. He makes her happy.”
“You two talked, then?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
Aunt Maggie put her project in the basket next to her. “I think somewhere along the way Grace convinced herself that this is the life she wants.”
He frowned. “Nothing much stands in Grace’s way. She’s always gone after what she wants.”
Maggie nodded as she sighed. “That used to be the case, but things have been different. Grace never got all of her sparkle back. Eight years was a long time ago, but time doesn’t heal all wounds.”
He swallowed, understanding exactly what Aunt Maggie meant.
“Grace had a rough go of it. The vibrant, confident girl you remember fell apart, honey.”
He clenched his jaw, loathing Aunt Maggie’s words. The only way he’d been able to live with his choices was to imagine how much better Grace’s life had gotten after he left. “Will you tell me about it?”
Aunt Maggie nodded. “She lost the two loves of her life. First, Logan, then you on the same night. All of it was so tragic—so sudden and unexpected.”
“I had to go—or I thought I did.”
She nodded, touching his hand. “I know you did, honey.”
He gestured for Maggie to go on, impatient to understand what Grace’s life had been like—not the fantasy he’d dreamed up.
She gave his hand another squeeze. “The morning she arrived here in Preston Valley… The day after you left… Steve called to tell me Grace was on her way—that she wasn’t well. When she pulled up in the driveway three hours later, Asa and I hurried out to meet her. Grace looked so different—so broken and disheveled. She got out of her car and sank to the ground, sobbing in a way I’ve never seen anyone cry before.”
Jagger shook his head, staring at the floor, needing to hear what his cowardice had done to Grace.
“Asa carried her into the house, and I tucked her into bed. She slept until the next morning. When she woke up, she cried all over again. Other than the day we spent in Philadelphia for Logan’s funeral, that was Grace’s routine for about eight weeks. I could barely get her up to do much of anything, especially eat. She got so thin. I was afraid I would have to put her in the hospital.”
“Fuck,” he whispered, resting his elbows on his thighs as he settled his face in his hands, hardly able to tolerate the idea of Grace’s suffering.
He’d been kicking ass in training, focusing only on forgetting while Grace had struggled to get out of bed. He lifted his head to look at Maggie. “Things got better after that?”
“I could tell you they did.”
He shook his head. “I want you to tell me the truth.”
Aunt Maggie sighed. “I’m not sure what magic Asa worked, but one afternoon, he and Grace showed up at the shop. Grace didn’t have a lot of energy. Her clothes mostly hung on her tiny little frame, but she helped me with the flowers for a few hours. That night, she took a couple of bites of the meal I made instead of pushing it around on her plate. She started coming in every day after that. I think being creative was her salvation.”
“What about school? When did she go back to Syracuse?”
“She didn’t.”
He restlessly scratched at his jaw with the next shock. That was all Grace had ever wanted—to study photojournalism at the best program in the country. She’d been working toward her goal long before they ever met. “She didn’t finish school?”
“She did. But not the way I wanted her to. About six months after everything changed, I thought we were finally getting somewhere. Grace was eating regularly, and she didn’t cry nearly as much. She slowly started innovating and updating the business end of the shop. Christy and Gabby convinced her to go out with them for a movie or dinner every now and again. I was certain that I would be able to convince her to head back to school for the fall semester, but then I got my MS diagnosis. I think it scared her more than it did me—another major blow to her already-shaky foundation.”
Maggie paused for a sip from her glass of water. “It wasn’t until our argument two years later when I told her that it would break her mother’s heart as much as it was breaking mine that I was the reason she wasn’t going back to school. That sparked something in her because she came home later that day with a full course load of classes for the fall semester at Timmins.”
The shitty four-year party school twenty minutes up the road. “Timmins?”
Maggie rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “Don’t get me started. Grace changed her major to business and breezed through the classes. She lived here with Asa and me and helped me keep the shop open during my spells.”
“What about her pictures? Her photography?”
“She didn’t take pictures for a long time, honey. I think it was about a year and a half before she picked up her camera again.”
The idea was unfathomable. Grace’s camera was practically an extension of her.
“Christy asked her to photograph Brennan’s birth. I think Christy knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse.”
Christy had always been an excellent friend.
“Grace has kept a few of the connections she made at Syracuse,” Maggie continued. “One of her friends is an editor at Travel. He loves her work, so she does some freelancing for him. More often than not, he buys whatever she gives him—the pictures she takes when she goes off on one of her adventures.”
Maggie settled herself more comfortably after she put her glass back on the end table. “I know Grace was offered a job with one of the international magazines, but she turned it down. She bought her house instead. She refuses to leave me and the shop for longer than a four- or five-day trip now and again.”
He stood, walking over to the fireplace, studying the pictures of Grace and Logan on the mantle. She’d been so sure of herself once upon a time—so bold and ready to take the world by storm. “Everything was supposed to have been better…”
“Oh, honey, I think there have only ever been two people who thought you weren’t good enough for Grace: yourself and Steven.”
He turned to face her.
“Ben’s a nice man—calm and steady. But Grace was made for adventure. She needs someone who challenges her as much as he loves her. You never had any trouble keeping her on her toes.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.
“Grace’s friends have introduced her to several men over the years, but it’s never taken her more than a day or two to find something wrong with every single one of them. I think the only thing that has ever been wrong is that they weren’t you.”
He swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt her again.”
“Then don’t. You’re here, Jagger. Grace is here. Second chances are a rare thing. I hope you don’t let yours slip away.”
Maggie stood with the help of her cane. “Come with me for a minute. I have something I’ve been holding on to for a while.”
He followed her down the hall to the room he’d slept in every summer night that he hadn’t snuck up to Grace’s bed.
“If you open the closet door, there’s a box in there that belongs to you.”
He frowned. “A box of mine?”
“It’s some of your stuff from the house in Wakeview.”
He opened the door, looking at the large box labeled Jagger in Grace’s familiar handwriting. “I don’t understand.”
“Grace grabbed some of your stuff. It’s yours to take with you.”
He picked it up, eager to bring it back to the apartment and look at what was in there.
“I’ll see you at the store on Monday morning?”
He nodded.
“Good because we have a busy week—a big wedding next weekend. Jen’s twin boys just came down with chickenpox, so we’re down a set of hands. Grace and I will need all the help we can get with this one.”
“Count me in.” He sent her a small smile. “Thanks, Aunt Mags.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
He headed for his car, putting the box on the front seat. Tonight he would be taking another trip down memory lane.
Jagger flipped on the apartment’s overhead light as he used his foot to shut the door behind him. He didn’t bother taking off his jacket or ballcap as he sat on the couch that converted into his bed.
Setting the box on the small coffee table, he pulled the tape off the top, lifting out the large collage of pictures in a frame that Grace had made.
He didn’t know whether to smile or sink further into despair as he stared at the snapshots of a long-ago life he no longer recognized as his own.
He and Logan in their football uniforms, cheesing it up for Grace’s camera. Summer days spent out on the boat in Preston Valley’s small lake. Movie nights in the mansion’s massive living room with all of their friends. Grace and him snuggled up and smiling with the Eiffel Tower as their backdrop during their two-week European adventure for their junior class trip. Posed shots of junior and senior proms. Then there was the picture of him, Logan, and Grace standing in front of the Syracuse University sign on their freshman move-in day.
Setting down the frame, he reached in again, pulling out ticket stubs from the games where he and his football team had been state champions three years in a row.
Three game balls came out next—all were signed with his and Logan’s names.
Then he chuckled when he grabbed the ugly-ass stuffed opossum Grace had picked out for him at the fair during their sophomore year in New York.
“It’s a little archaic that the guy always has to win a prize for the girl, so I won this for you while you waited in line for the bathroom.”
He took the rodent-type thing Grace offered him, holding it up by its tail. “What the hell is it?”
“I think it’s an opossum.”
“You think?”
“I guess it could be a rat.”
“Gee, thanks for the present.”
Grace shrugged. “Ugly stuffed animals need good homes too.”
He chuckled again as he shook his head, reaching back into the box. His smile faded as he stared at the last picture in a frame—a close-up of him and Grace that Christy had taken during their final trip to Preston Valley—the day they had spent at the waterfalls.
Grace squished her cheek against his, hugging him tightly as he leaned back against her while she sat on one of the big rocks. Their hair was wet, and they had droplets on their faces while they grinned for the camera—young and carefree.
His hand moved to the scar on his chest as he stared at Grace’s palm barely covering her name tattooed over his heart. Gracie.
It wasn’t long after this that everything had gone so wrong. Two weeks later, Logan had called Jagger to come pick him up. Then all of their lives changed forever.
He moved to stand but spotted his old cell phone in the corner of the box—the last item he hadn’t realized was there. Snatching out the ancient iPhone 5s, he pressed the power button, surprised that the damn thing turned on.
He immediately tapped the camera icon, intending to scroll through the hundreds of photos, but he stopped on the first, staring at his last picture with Grace.
