Tattooed Hearts (8 page)

She spotted the orange
Jeep right away. Her heart leaped with anticipation and n
erves. Stepping out of the car, Claire rushed across the
lawn, avoiding any patches of snow, all along convincing herself a phone call
hadn’t been necessary.
Once a
friend, always a friend.
But now he’s an ex- lover,
reason whispered.

Well, too late now. S
he knocked on the door and waited.
Nothing.

She knocked again, a
little firmer this time.
Still
nothing.

Claire reached in her
purse and grabbed her phone. Damn, no signal.
Another perk of living on the island.
Phone signals were capricious. She
turned on
her heel to the back of the house where she
knew he kept the emergency key,
then
headed back to the front. The night
wind penetrated the wool coat with absurd ease, making her shiver. She drew her
shawl around herself more tightly to keep out the cold as s
he fumbled with the key.

The door slowly
creaked open. She stepped inside and was greeted by a muted house, not typical
of Forrest. She headed down the hall to the family room, the click of her heels
amplified with each step on the wooden floor. In here, E
SPN always blared in the background. Tonight, there was nothing but an
eerie, hollow silence.

A bad feeling
slithered up the back of her neck.

She dug in her purse
for her phone again. One finger dragged along the screen, it lit up.
Still no signal.
A kno
t of
fear twisted in her gut.

“Claire.”

The sound of Forrest’s
voice, infused with a question mark, caused her heart to jump and fill with
joy, relief. She whipped around and faced the main reason she came back to
Martha’s Vineyard.

Chapter Six

“How to save your heart…Should: never
demand”

Anonymous

He stood still,
barefoot and casually dressed in an unbuttoned white shirt that appeared to
have been thrown on at the last minute and worn jeans that hung low to his lean
hips. The hard muscles he
earned from hours of manual
labor on his parents’ farm on full display. Try as she might, Claire couldn’t
tear
her gaze from the exposed skin—
the broad expanse of his chest, his toned, sculpted stomach
and narrow waist.

He slid his hands in
the pockets of
his unsnapped jeans, giving her a
peek
of black and red waist boxer briefs.

“Claire.” Forrest’s
voice cut through the air, forcing her to look at him.

Through black-rimmed
glasses, smoldering slate gray eyes with slight azure tinge jolted through her,
his
facial expression taut with tension.

At a loss for words,
she stared.

“Did you speak to
Jason? Keely?” he asked when it became obvious she’d lost all ability to speak.

His voice sounded
cracked and strained. Something was definitely wrong.

Claire shook he
r head. “No one knows I’m on the island.” She took a few
steps closer, erasing the space between them. One hand rose to caress his face.
He didn’t move, but she caught the slight clench of his jaw and pulled her hand
back at the last moment. “What’s wrong,
Forrest?”

Faces inches apart,
eyes locked on one another, the air between them charged with static
electricity. For a beat neither spoke, her question hung in the air. His jaw
flexed and his eyes wavered, breaking their connection. He walked past her into
the room. His movement pulled her to him like a lion being
turned into a hunter’s spear.

She glanced around,
rich leather furnishings and a shaggy rug grounded the airy room, giving it a
relaxed coziness that balanced the panoramic view of the ocean. The
natural world outside echoed inside with
wildlife-embroidered pillows. A
Twelve Monkeys
poster hung over the fireplace adding a
pop of color.
Polished, yet
welcoming and casual, a perfect representation of the man standing before her.
Everything was the sa
me, except for the dispirited feeling in the room.

“Something is wrong, I
can feel it.”

“Aren’t you supposed
to be on a promotional tour or something?” he asked while stacking the books on
the reclaimed-wood coffee table as if she had not spoken at all, qu
ietly closing the door that led to his emotions in her
face.

His aloof manner
showed how distant they’d become. Her heart wobbled like a train on a rickety
track. She was unequipped to deal with this detached man speaking to her as if
they were strangers,
instead of two people who’d
known each other all of their lives, had been friends, ex-lovers.

She hadn’t expected an
enthusiastic welcome but his chilly composure knocked her off her axis. “Yes.”

“Then what are you
doing here?”

If I must, to let you go
.
Claire let out a long breath. Coming to
him was a mistake. Instinct told her to run. She was after all the queen of
running away, a total passive aggressive, at least when it came to Forrest. But
for once, her feet didn’t give in to the will of her insecu
rities.

He continued to watch
her with those intense eyes of his as if he was pondering her existence. She
felt naked, vulnerable.
Exposed.

“I needed a break.”
she answered. That was partially true.

“How long is your
break?”

A dead, cold silence
settled be
tween them.
You’re
temporary, Claire, I don’t want temporary.
He didn’t need to say them this time,
through the indifference in his stare each word pricked into her heart and
stung her.

“Two weeks.” Her voice
sliced through the silence.

“And you came to my
house for your break.”

Well, when he put it
that way, she sounded pretty selfish. She walked away from him a decade ago
without an explanation, and never looked back until
four months ago
. Not that she hadn’t wanted to. The
temptation, the desire never sl
ipped away but deep
down Claire knew any chance to regain Forrest’s trust was slim.

For one there was her
career, which consisted of long months away from everyone, flying all over the
world, often jet-lagged.
And
loneliness.
Along with the success came th
at
too. As much as she loved and appreciated her fans, no amount of unrecognizable
faces screaming
I love you
or sold out concerts could fulfill that
empty spot in her heart.

Ten years ago, hurt,
and shattered into a million little pieces, she made a choic
e. Leave the island, make something of
herself
and prove the naysayers wrong. The
decision had been an easy one to make because in her heart of hearts, even at
the tender age of eighteen, she knew nothing was permanent. Especially a
relationship between a
wide-eyed teenager and one of
Martha’s Vineyard’s elite, one who was on his way to medical school in New
Hampshire. The son of millionaires and she…well, she belonged in the have nots.
Even now, a decade later, the phrase still had a bite.

She learned from
her African-American mother, who’d been foolish and given
her heart unconditionally to a Japanese heir. In the end, he walked away
without a glance back, the fact her mother had been pregnant didn’t convince
him to change positions. He left and married hi
s
equal. Happily Ever After only existed in fairy tales, at least for the Peters
women. Some things were best left untouched, that included a relationship with
Forrest. But she’d touched. She couldn't resist the temptation and gave in to
her heart. Now a d
ecade later, no longer trapped
under fear of being deserted like her mother and accomplished in her own right,
her heart still burned for him.

“Claire,” he said her
name again, snapping her out of the hypnotic trance.

He continued to watch
her, the vibes c
lear and loud he wasn’t particularly
pleased to see her.

What did she expect
coming to his house unannounced?

A
welcoming parade.
Yeah deep down, she had wished for warmth, or maybe even a
tepid reception. She would have taken that, anything but the cold a
ir that slapped her face.

She pinched the inside
of her mouth with her teeth. Her mind fogged with uncertainty. The well-laid
out plan…Wait. There was no plan. Nothing had been thought out. Everything
she’d done had been on impulse and governed by her hear
t.

Stupid
heart.

“I’ll leave.” She
turned on her heels and started toward the long corridor when Forrest caught a
hold of her wrist. At the slight touch, her
skin tingled and her body swelled with
longing
. Claire turned and
their gazes locked until he
slowly released his grip
on her.

“Stay,” he said in a
low voice. “Stay the night. You can go to Chappy tomorrow.”

By Chappy, he meant
Chappaquiddick, the small island off the eastern end of the larger island of
Martha’s Vineyard and part of Edgartown. Abou
t a
decade ago, a storm breached the beach and the two islands became separated.
That’s where the Montgomery compound resided and where she grew up.

“Take any room you
want. I’ll get your bag from the car.”

Not until he
disappeared into the night, did she
dare move and
make her way up the stairs. She paused behind the master bedroom, the one room
she’d never been in. Unpolished fingernails brushed over the door, all she had
to do was push it open and take a peek.
Bad idea.
Shaking off the temptation, Claire
walked down the hall until she reached the room the
farthest away from Forrest’s.

* * * *

The buzzing sound of
her phone on the nightstand pulled Claire from sleep. Lids half shut, she
reached for the phone and peered at the screen
—
an incoming text from
Keely,
along with a slew of messages and missed calls from her friends, her mother and
Charles.

Urgency screamed at
her. The gnawing sensation from last night resurfaced. Pulling her weight to a
sitting position, she read the text.

Why aren’t you answering your phone? Is
everything okay? You need to come back to the island ASAP. Call me.
Luv, Keely.

She skimmed through
the other text messages, missed calls, from Blake, Jason, Minka, Adam and Lily.
None from Forrest.
All of the messa
ges carried the same pressing tone, asking her to call them back as soon
as possible. Her gut tightened, whatever happened had serious and grave written
all over it. Shit!

She tapped in Keely’s
name and pressed
TALK
.

“Where are you?” Keely
asked, answering
the phone at the first ring.

With anyone else she
would have hesitated on revealing her location, but not with her BFF. Outside
of Jason, Keely was the only other from the group who knew all the ins and outs
of her brittle relationship with Forrest.
“At F
orrest’s.”

“Oh.”

Claire picked up the
surprise in her friend’s voice. “I arrived last night and came straight here.”
She sighed. “I don’t think that was a good idea.”

“Claire, you don’t
know.”

The wretchedness in
Keely’s voice made Claire cringe. “What
don’t I know?
What happened, Keely? I can tell something is wrong but Forrest didn’t really
say much.”

There was a long beat
of silence,
then
Keely spoke. “His father was in an
accident.” Her friend paused and sniffed. “
Luc
… passed away yesterday.”

Claire
winced. A chill turned the pit of her stomach to ice as
sadness seeped into her bones. Luc was dead. She shut her eyes, but a vision of
Forrest from last night burned her mind. She should have pushed, forced him to
open up. Everything in her had sensed som
ething was
wrong. She’d felt his pain. Some connections never died.

“Claire?”

“I have to go, Keely.
I’ll stop by later.” Claire dropped the phone on the bed and sat in a fog.

It hit her then,
Forrest had managed to shut her out and sever their connection
. Her heart mangled beyond recognition, her mind numb,
racing in circles. Once upon a time they used to spend hours talking, teasing,
and laughing with each other. Now he chose to keep her in the dark, silently
telling her she wasn’t needed or wanted.

She
should understand that, at least that’s what her logical
side said. After all, she’d been the one who left the day after they chose to
brand themselves with the infinity tattoo, a symbol of their love. Unlike most
restless teenagers who sought to leave the
island and
move to Boston after high school, she had run all the way to a shitty apartment
in New York, busied herself with two waitressing jobs, and ignored all of his
text messages and phone calls.