Page 55 of Eight Years Gone
She nodded. “Okay.”
He brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry, Grace.”
She held his gaze, swallowing as another tear fell. “I want to go.”
He kept her hand in his as they started back toward the van.
This wasn’t exactly how he’d hoped their dinner would go, but he also wasn’t sorry. They’d both finally said what they needed to say.
Thirteen
Grace stared at the moon, swiping at another stray tear as Jagger drove the delivery van closer to home.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled another steadying breath, finding herself exhausted after her outburst on the beach.
She’d never meant to say half the things she’d said, but once she’d spewed her first question, she couldn’t stop with the rest—the nearly decades-old pain and anger she’d bottled up had finally burst free. Now, she felt wrung out and raw.
Jagger braked at the stoplight on East Main Street, sliding his thumb along her skin as he held her hand.
When he’d reached for her as he pulled out of Rafferty’s parking lot, she’d intertwined her fingers with his as she had hundreds of times before, craving the connection, even when she needed space.
“How are you doing over there?”
She looked at him in the glow of the dashboard and streetlights, sending him a small smile. “I’m all right. How about you?”
“I’m hanging in there,” he said, smiling back. “How about I drop you off at your place? I’ll bring the van back to the shop and grab my car. We can deal with the lattice tomorrow.”
She shook her head because tomorrow she planned to pack up her camera and head out of town for the day.
She craved the peace of getting lost in her passion. She knew exactly what to do with her camera—something she couldn’t say about any other aspect of her life. “Let’s just put it in my garage, so it’s done. We don’t need it at the shop until Thursday, but Aunt Maggie will feel better knowing we have it.”
“Sure.” He accelerated again, taking a left onto Summer Street, eventually backing up in her driveway.
She took off her seat belt, intending to reach for her purse as she moved to get out, but Jagger snagged her hand before she had a chance.
“Grace, wait.”
She met his gaze as he nudged her knuckles up to nuzzle them against his jaw.
“If I could go back… If I could do things differently…”
The regret radiating in his eyes also strained his voice. Both of them wished things could have been different. But they weren’t. She nodded. “I know.”
He sighed, gently squeezing her fingers. “We’ll make this quick.”
She sent him another small smile, understanding that he was in just as much pain as she was. It was hard not to believe what he’d said to her by the water—that he’d loved her all this time. “Okay.”
Jagger got out as she did, meeting her at the back of the van. He opened the door, pulling the massive piece of lattice forward. “Ready?”
“Almost.” She walked over to the garage, punching in her code, sending the door up.
“Let’s do this,” he said.
She moved to face him on the other side of the sturdy, oversized panel, pulling the wooden piece farther forward.
Jagger walked to the opposite end. “If you hold that there, I’ll grab this side. We can swing it around, and I’ll walk in backward.”
She nodded, moving farther back until Jagger swung around, walking backward into the tidy space. “Watch the shelf on your right.”