Tattooed Hearts (13 page)

She looked them over,
noticing they were in their dresses from yesterday. “What happened?” she asked
looking at Lily. “I thought you guys left before the storm hit.”

Lily rolled her eyes.
“Had
we been driving a car equipped for this weather,
we probably would have made it home.”

Minka chuckled. “Your
little Mercedes isn’t any better in the snow.”

“Adam turned around
because he was worried about your safety,” Keely said while filling her plate
wi
th freshly cut kiwi, blood orange, and pomegranate
seeds.

“Why do you guys
always stick up for Adam?” the soon-to-be mother asked without a hint of anger
in her voice.

“I don’t know.” Minka
shrugged,
a dreamy look on her face. “He’s one of
the good guys and he’s so in love with you.”

Claire nodded in
agreement. “Is my mom here?”
 

Keely shook her head.
“She left with Charles. My guess is they are in Edgartown at his house. No way
was the boat going to
make it to the other side of
the island last night.” Claire made a mental note to call her mother later.
“And Marjorie?”

“She went home with
Adam’s parents,” Minka answered. “How’s Forrest? He didn’t answer any of
Jason’s calls.”

Claire shrugged. “Hurt
an
d angry.”

“You look like you had
a crazy night,” Keely noted and the other women gave Claire
a
once-over. “A terrible morning and now you’re ready to
have the earth swallow you.”

Claire offered a faint
smile. She’d never been good at one-night stands. Hell
,
let’s be real, she’d never had one and now she went there with Forrest. “That
pretty much sums it up.”

Keely chuckled. “So
you and Forrest went there after ten years?”

By there, Claire was
sure her BFF meant doing the wild thing with the Vineyard’s favor
ite doctor. She could deny it of course. But, she’d never
been good at lying and these women were her partners in crime.

“Yup,” she admitted.
“You’d think I’d be smarter than that.” Shaking her head, she picked up a
freshly baked biscuit from the basket. F
orrest had
offered to make breakfast but knowing it had been out of politeness, she had
declined and chose not to overstay her welcome.

“You’re pretty smart,”
Minka offered gently.

She’d argue otherwise,
because what she did was the complete opposite. She had fed the beast known as
heart
and even though she felt like shit, the
stupid muscle wanted more. “I’m actually not smart at all.”

 
“Honey, you’re in love,” the forever
logical Ke
ely chimed in. “Quit running and face the
big l-o-v-e monster. You did come back here for him.”

Technically, she
hadn’t been running away from Forrest. Their paths crossed on many occasions
and would continue to do so. It was inevitable. Their worlds were
forever connected by family and friends. At every moment
their lives intersected, her heart took the opportunity to remind her it was
branded with the island’s favorite doctor. She needed him there. She loved him.
Infinitely.

“Last night was just
sex,” she
muttered.

Lily pulled her iPhone
from her purse and tapped on the screen, drawing Claire’s attention.

“Is everything okay?”
she asked her friend. Lily’s brother Zander was a Navy SEAL and her friend
constantly worried over his safety.

Lily nodded, her eye
s never leaving the screen of her
phone
as she typed away. When she finally looked up, she had a
satisfying grin on her face. “I just added you to the bidding war on the most
eligible doctor on the Vineyard.”

Claire frowned. “I’m
lost.”

The twin sisters ch
uckled, but it was Minka who spoke. “The guys are doing a
fundraiser to help raise money to move Gay Head Lighthouse back from the
cliff’s edge. A lucky bidder will win a date with Forrest.”

From the few articles
she’d read in the
Vineyard Gazette
, Claire
knew
the iconic landmark was in danger of falling into the sea as the nearby cliffs
continued to erode.

“The first day of
spring, they will announce the winners,” Lily added. “Now you have a reason to
stick around, especially after you
and sexy doctor had
out of this
world sex
.”

Claire’s heart twisted
at the idea of Forrest on a romantic date with someone. Last fall, she caught a
glimpse of one of his dates. Kerry had been all over him, but Forrest hadn’t
seemed to mind. Ugh! “I’m not bidding on Forrest.”

“Why
not?”
Keely asked. “What better way to show him you still want him?”

She stared at Keely.
“And how would that help other than making a fool of
myself
?”

Minka leaned in.
“Maybe you can just tell him you’re in love with him and want him back.”

Lay all o
f her cards on the table and
be
honest about her feelings with Forrest.
Under normal circumstances that
would be the most reasonable approach, but after ten years?
She stood no chance. So why did she
walk out of her promotional tour and back on the island
again?

All right, she was a
bit lost and confused. Sue her.
“Nope.
Never gonna happen.”

Lily slid her phone in
front of Claire. “Your screen name is Tattooed Hearts. Password is
foreverectomy.
All one word and
lowercase.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m going
for the whole Gray’s Anatomy thingy.”

“Isn’t that ominous,
considering?” Keely’s expression said she thought so.

“Hence
why that’s not the password.”
Lily beamed.

Minka and Keely
stifled a laugh. Claire exhaled.

“Foreverectomy,” Minka
said.

Lily nodded,
her face glowing with pride. “It means a surgical procedure
that lasts a very long time.” She glanced at Claire. “Like the hold Forrest has
on you.”

Keely arched a brow
then nodded in agreement. Claire sighed.

“Your account is ready
for you to bid whenever
your heart desires,” Lily
continued.

Claire glanced down at
the phone. “I won’t be here by then. As soon as I can catch the ferry I’m
leaving.”

While at it, she’d
gladly sell off her heart. The creative part of her brain already had a catchy
phrase to get
rid of the damn thing
.
For sale—One heart.
Condition—Horrible.
Asking Price—
Will
take anything for it. Just cut it out of my chest and end this suffering.

Chapter Eleven

“I am proud of my heart. It’s been played, stabbed, burned, and
broken. But somehow it still works.”

Anonymous

After a snowbound day in
his house and filled with pent-up energy, Forrest sprang from the mat and was
immediately greeted by another body shot from Blake. This one to his ribs sent
fresh ripples of pain through his torso. He didn’t fall–he made absolutely
sure that didn’t happen. Ignoring the excruciating
pressure with promises to be sore later, he covered the distance between them,
threw three quick jabs.
Left-right-left.
Each one landing on his sparring partner’s headgear.

Blake seemed immune to the
blow
s and counterattacked.

Punches flew. Forrest
retaliated. He swung his leg around in a semicircular motion into a roundhouse
kick. Blake dodged and threw a haymaker. Forrest ducked but didn’t parry the
blow
,
it landed on the side of his head.

He stumbled to
the side, recovered, and responded with an uppercut. The
blow landed, forcing Blake to step back. With full force, Forrest charged
forward. A clean shoulder-to-shoulder hit arched Blake’s spine and the two men
came down hard on the mat. They tumbled over
each
other, arms and legs entangled, grappling as they brawled to pin each other to
the ground. Eventually they fell on their backs with arms splattered on their
sides and a whimper of exhaustion left their lips.

“You tapped out,” Blake
said between short
gasps of breath.

Forrest lay on the mat,
eyes closed,
sweat
dripping down the side of
his face.
“In your dreams.”
He rolled to his side,
bruised ribs protested in pain. A vision of Claire’s lips kissing his aching
muscles burned his brain.

Shit.

Shaking
his head, he hauled his weight to his hands and knees, head
hanging low, like a winded horse.

“I almost broke your arm,”
Blake insisted.

Forrest laughed for the
first time since his father’s death, but the act hurt his ribcage. He hoisted
himself to his fe
et and extended a hand to Blake. “We
can go at it again.”

“I can’t let you take all
of your anger out on me. Beside, you owe me a drink for picking you up at the
inn.”

Right.
 
He did drag Blake on his mission to
return Claire’s car.

Blake wiped his forearm
across the sweat trickling in his eyes.
“And for driving your ass back to get your car.”

Forrest grabbed his
bottled water, twisted off the cap and gulped down a few mouthfuls, quenching
his thirst.

“And by the way,” Blake
continued, “you’re chicken shit
for not facing her.”

Forrest couldn’t argue
there. Especially after she unselfishly gave herself to him to be done with as
he pleased. The bastard in him had done exactly that, until they collapsed
half-delirious with pleasure. In the morning he toyed with
the idea of asking her to stay for one more day, but the
sight of her looking for an escape brought back bitter memories and forced him
to automatically shut down.

Once upon a time she was
all he wanted.

His heart, safely tucked
in a steel cage, banged ag
ainst its rigid barrier.

He ignored the protest.
Claire was the last person on earth he should be involved with on any level.

Still, he probably could
have been–scratch that, he definitely could have been more appreciative. After
burying his pain in her, h
e’d made his body fit on
the crammed sofa with Claire basically on top of him so that they didn’t share
his bed.
A desperate attempt to
guard his heart.

He was a cad.

Regret emerged and tried
to consume him, but Forrest shoved it down. He would not analyze
every action or word from every angle and writhe in the
agony of paths untaken. He’d been down that road before. When she first left,
pangs of woe, remorse, and nostalgia would come to him in quiet moments, during
sleep or with his nose buried in a medica
l book.
Regret for not chasing her and demand an explanation would seep to the
foreground of his mind and commanded to be re-examined again.

No amount of analysis was
going to turn back the clock. He had to get on with the here and now. Tired of
thinking
about Claire, he vowed a long time ago he’d
make better choices next time around. That included sex, especially with
Claire. No matter how perfectly suited they were or that he wanted a replay of
last night as badly as his next breath.

He had to stay away.

For that reason, he hadn’t
gone inside Martha’s Way to return the car key. “I’m not running from Claire.”

“Could
have fooled me.”

Forrest grabbed his
workout bag and threw it over his shoulder. The movement burned his shoulder
blade. He hissed over the se
lf-inflicted pain.
“Thanks for the free counseling session. Meet me later and I’ll buy you a
beer.”

“See you at Vapor.”

“Pick another spot.”

“Avoiding Jason too?”
Blake shook his head. “He didn’t ask to be a Montgomery any more than you did.”

“I’m not a
Montgomery.”

Blake opened his mouth to
say otherwise, but seemed to think better of it.

“Gotta
go.
I have snow to shovel.”

“Wait, you’re the lucky
speed dial this time and not me?” Blake said in a dejected tone.

All four of them were on
Mrs. Kane’s speed
dial for emergencies. They loved
it. She was Maxie’s grandmother, one of the island’s oldest locals, proud
member of the town’s gossip crew, his favorite Lyme disease patient, and she
made the best damn S’mores cookies in the world. Today luck was on his s
ide. “I’m the lucky one. And she will probably make…”

“S’mores chocolate chip
cookies,” Blake finished.

Forrest chuckled. “Send me
a text with a location for drinks later,” he said over his shoulder before
walking out of the gym.

A little over an hour late
r, Forrest absently massaged the stabbing pain in his left
shoulder, and kicked off his snow boots before entering the colonial home. The
aroma of freshly baked S’mores chocolate chip cookies, full of heaven, filled
his nostrils. He walked into Mrs. Kane’s
TV room;
murmurs of undying love filled his ears. Mrs. Kane’s daily soap opera droned
out any other sound in the house and turned back
time
. His mother and Claire
had been soap opera addicts.

Memories flickered like a
blazing bushfire. While his mother us
ed to openly
dedicate at least one hour of the day to her favorite show, Claire had been a
closet addict. One day he'd walked away from a volleyball match at East Beach
to bike back to the Montgomery compound with her, only to watch her drool over
some act
or.

He’d teased her, over and
over, but like a true sap struck by Cupid’s arrow, he eventually started
watching with her. He could care less about the half-naked women walking
around, although the view had been an added perk for his young adult hormones.
B
ut most importantly, sitting there with Claire, for
one or two hours, just the two of them, had been the best part of his days. The
last time he’d watched any daytime television other than sports-related news
had been the day of her eighteenth birthday, ly
ing in
bed beside her with General Hospital as backdrop to their lovemaking.

Memories were the worst
kind of monsters.

He shoved them to the back
of his subconscious and focused his attention on his patient. Earlier this
morning Mrs. Kane had called for s
ome assistance with
her driveway. Fatigue and body aches were two common side effects from someone
fighting Lyme disease. Since diagnosed the older woman was well on her way to
recovery, but Forrest always feared a chance of relapse.

“Forrest, I mean Docto
r Desvareaux,” The seventy-plus-year-old woman greeted him
with a bright smile. Her armchair perfectly positioned to face the television.
“Come sit down.” She gestured toward the antique wooden chair across from her.
“I baked some cookies. Would you like s
ome?”

Forrest watched her pick
up the plate of freshly baked cookies from the small lamp table. He smiled and
ran a hand over his abdomen, but reached for the cookies anyway. He and his
friends had a mutual understanding with the older woman. She baked coo
kies and they shoveled her snow. “You’re trying to fatten
me up, Anne.”

She winked at him with
eyelashes matted down with mascara. “Son, if I were twenty years younger, I’d
make a play for you.”

Twenty years would put her
at exactly fifty-four. Close to hi
s mother’s age.
But no need to go there.
“Your driveway is
spotless.”

Mrs. Kane stretched her
neck for a better view of the television screen. “I meant to call Jason or
Blake. Last thing you need right now is me bothering you.”

“You could never bother
me.”
He took a bite of the cookie and savored the
combination of chocolate, marshmallow, and graham crackers.
A total healthy lifestyle buster, but so worth it.
“What’s in these things?
So delicious.”

“Did you check on your
mother?”

“My mother is fine.” He
ign
ored the tightness in his gut.

“You spoke to her? She’s
all alone on that farm of yours.”

“It’s not my farm. And she
has help.” He reached in the leather bag for his stethoscope and thermometer.
“Let’s do a quick physical.”

Less than two minutes
later, Mrs
. Kane had the pleasure of hearing she had
no fever. Forrest tapped her knee and checked her reflexes, then her breathing.

“Looks like you’re healthy
as a fifty–year-old.” He picked up his phone and typed in a reminder to check
on her doxycycline prescript
ion. “Everything looks
good. Next time
call
me and I’ll come shovel
your snow or anything else you need done around the house.”

She smiled. “You’re a good
boy, Forrest. We need to find you a good woman.”

A vision of Claire
sleeping in his arms popped into
his head. He tapped
another reminder.
Claire: Poison. Stay away
. “Anything you need done
before I leave?”

The Lyme disease, a
rampant curse on the island, had left Mrs. Kane with some physical limitations.
Since she tired easily, he tried to keep her from
any
strenuous physical activity.

“I think I’ll be okay.
Have you checked on the auction?”

Truthfully, he’d forgotten
all about it. Late last summer, the guys decided to help raise money to move
Gay Head Lighthouse by having an auction. Each had agreed to p
ut something of theirs up for bids, but since they were all
married, happily so, he
’d
been coerced into a date with the
highest bidder. “No, I haven’t.”

She pulled out her cell
phone from somewhere in the sofa’s cushion and scrolled through. She studied
whatever she was looking at then smiled. “Well, Adam is
leading the bidding.” She grimaced. “But you’re a strong second.”

“Adam has the best prize,”
he said after another bite.

“What’s his prize again?”
Memory loss and confusion were side effects of the di
sease
that plagued the island.