Tattooed Hearts (34 page)

Brows
furrowed, he continued to study his phone. No text from Claire. Not that he was
expecting one. Still his hea
rt sank. Yeah, she had
him by the balls. He threw the phone on the passenger seat and drove to catch
the ferry over to the mainland. He had one more stop to make.

* * * *

Death
welcomed Forrest as he entered the cemetery. Aside from the whispering wind a
mongst the trees, screeching silence awaited a trespasser.
Moving further in, a fresh chill ran anew along his spine. He stuffed his hands
in his sailor jacket as he passed people standing, crying and talking to
departed loved ones.

He
was here to the same
thing.

He
needed to talk to Luc and this was the only way. While his mind was still
processing the turns his life had taken, the anger had subsided. He was here to
let go. The proximity to his father’s frigid bones would close the gap between
them for a m
oment. Ignoring the raw emotions that
swelled inside him, he walked up to a slab of black granite and bent down to
read the gold lettering at eye level. “For a while I was angry because I
couldn’t accept you didn’t give me life, but you did. So did Charles
and Mom. I’m lucky. I’m not angry anymore,” he said to the
gravestone.

It
stood there with its youthful glow, strong, erect, ready to last a hundred
years or more. Yet his father had already perished and begun his inevitable
decay. Something so permanent
to mark something so
transient.

“If
anything,” Forrest continued. “I’m sad for you.” He ran a hand through his
hair. “For Mom, Victoria, and Charles.” He exhaled. “But I’ve learned something
from all of this. I am learning to let go. You’re right, it’s fre
eing.” He lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I will
love and cherish you always, and I thank you for the unconditional love. I’ll
be back to visit.”

Sucking
in a deep breath, he rose to his feet and walked over to his Jeep.

About
twenty minutes
later, Forrest entered Vapor. He
spotted the other three guys right away and headed to the table. Blake shoved a
beer in front of him.

“Here,”
he said, “We figured you were pissy.”

“Why
am I pissy?”

“Claire
dumped you.” This came from Adam.

“Claire
didn’t
dump me.”

“So
why isn’t she back with you?” Blake asked then took a sip of his beer.
“According to the tweet Keely sent to me, it turned out she’s dating her
co-star.”

“I
thought it was Rafa,” Adam added.

Rafa
was Lily’s brother who flirted openly with Cla
ire
when they met. Forrest groaned. “Claire is in Seattle for work.”

Blake
slid his phone in front of Forrest. “We know. You haven’t seen this picture.”

Forrest
glanced at the screen and was greeted by a picture of Claire with her co-star’s
arm around her
waist, a smile on her lips. Not the
smile she had for him, he thought. He pushed the phone back to Blake. “So you
guys decided to make me feel better.”

Jason
who had been silent took a chug of his beer. “Did you guys break up?”

“No.”
He swallowed a gulp of
the beer and shook his head.
“I really didn’t think men have these sessions.” He tilted his head in Adam’s
direction. “Well, he needed one a few months ago.”

Adam
flipped him the bird.

“You
all cornered me when I became a pothead,” Jason added.

“And
drank
too much,” Blake added.

“And
slept with too many women,” Forrest reminded his friend, his brother.

All
three of them looked at him.

“Yes,
that is wrong too,” Forrest said. “If a woman does the same thing, it…”

Adam
put his hands up. “Oh please stop we kno
w…no need for
the fucking lecture.”

Forrest
shrugged, but smiled. “Just sayin’.”

“Duly
noted.” Adam groaned.

Forrest
laughed because Adam had morals, strong family values, and worshipped Lily.
Good to see with all of that his friend’s edge hadn’t diminishe
d.

“So
what’s the issue?” Jason asked. “Why are you here and not wherever the hell she
is?”

“You
seem to forget I work.”

His
friends scoffed.

“I
have patients to see,” he said firmly.

“I’m
sure your list of sick patients,” Blake said, quoting the word
sick
with his fingers, “will dwindle now that you are in a
serious relationship.”

“How
many appointments do you have tomorrow or this week?” Jason continued to
barrage him with questions.

Maybe
two, but to answer them would be wasted breath. “And the farm,” he
said instead.

“You
have a full-time staff,” Jason pointed out.

Forrest
really wished they weren’t brothers. And for fuck’s sake, he was older by three
whole months. “I think I’m smart enough to get your point.”

Adam
chuckled, clearly enjoying the fact the
tables had
turned and he was no longer the one getting cannonade.

“Claire
will balance her schedule once this madness is over,” Jason continued, as if he
hadn’t heard a word spoken by Forrest. “These obligations were made before
you.” He looked at Forrest
. “You know that’s how she
dealt with not having you in her life.”

Forrest
placed his glasses on the table and scrubbed his face. “I got it.”

“So
you’ll wait for her?” Jason asked.

“What
the fuck. Who is more invested in this, you or me?”

Blake
and Adam sn
ickered.

“You
and I both know how long I’ve loved her.”

“Good.
I’m glad you remembered.” Jason smiled, seeming pleased. “Now don’t fuck it
up.”

“When
am I known to fuck up?”

All
three fuckers stayed mute.

Okay,
so he kind of messed shit up with Jason, and
maybe he
could have gone after Claire after she left and demanded an explanation, but
that one could go either way. “I fucked up once and now we are talking again.”

Jason
snorted. “I’m sure there’s more. I’ll think about it.”

Blake’s
phone dinged on the
table. He looked at it and
frowned.

“What’s
up?” Forrest asked his friend.

 
“My parents.”

All
three men sat a little straighter.

“It’s
time to send them money again,” Blake continued and picked up his phone.

“Where
are they nowadays?” Adam asked.

“England,
” Blake answered casually.

“Do
they know you’re back on the island?” Adam asked, chugging his beer.

“Nope.”

Forrest
wasn’t fooled by his friend’s unconcerned tone, and he guessed none of the
others were either.
Hell the whole island was well-versed on Bla
ke’s parents, but this was one of the few topics on the
Do Not Discuss
list. “Because…” Forrest said carefully.

“Because
if they find out, they’ll be here breathing down my neck and driving me bat
shit crazy. You all know I ran off as soon as I was able to
. I don’t want them here.”

Neither
of them said a word. They picked up their beer and quietly drank.

By
the time Forrest entered his house, it was dark. And he was tired…a good thing
because that meant it’d be easy for him to pass out.

After
he showered, h
e realized he had two text messages
from Claire.

Doc, thought you might
be available to chat. Heading to Wisconsin tomorrow for three days. Say you’ll
meet me. Miss those sexy glasses of yours. BTW, check your suit pocket. Left
you a key. Come by
whenever.

The
other text was shorter and to the point.

I love you.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Home is where the heart is.”

Anonymous

For a decade happiness had
been an elusive shadow for Claire. Now finally within reach, she had no
intention of letting
it slip through her fingers.
Sitting on the terrace of the open air Japanese restaurant on Rodeo Drive,
she examined the crowd. Everyone looked to be in good spirits. Excitement
radiated from their faces. They smiled and laughed with ease. They hugged hell
o and again for goodbye. They talked rapidly, gesturing
with their hands while drinking wine or a cocktail.

Why not her?

Until the night of her
eighteenth birthday, her childhood had been happy. Her life on the island had
been happy. Her relationship with
Forrest had made
her happy.

She breathed in the early
spring air and welcomed the relaxed atmosphere. Just in time. Two weeks of
non-stop action had taken its toll on her physically and mentally. The only
reason she made this one-day pit stop in L.A. was t
o
meet with her manager before flying on to New York.

She needed sleep.
Desperately so. Not a power nap either. Only the state where her nervous system
was relatively inactive, postural muscles relaxed, and consciousness
practically suspended could possibl
y get rid of her
deep despondency.

Maybe in her own bed,
she’d be able to get a good night’s rest. It had evaded her so far. In the
inkiness, she’d tossed and turned, never able to find the right position. A
lingering haze of sleep hovered somewhere at the
back
of her mind but always too far away to reach, floating in the pool of memories.

She missed her family. She
missed her friends. She missed the island. But most of all, she missed Forrest,
his kisses, his face, the way he smiled.

They talked regularly,
even managed a routine. They called, sent text messages,
and emails. But what she craved the most remained out of reach–that deep
physical and emotional union that only happened when two people touched. It
didn’t even have to be sexual. Holding hands, tuc
ked
in his arms. Whatever. Anything. She ached for it.

Here and there during a
late night conversation, they talked about possibly connecting midway or at one
of the places she was scheduled to make an appearance. Those plans fell into a
yawning black hole
and never came to fruition. Mostly
on her part, because her daily itinerary barely left room to sit down and enjoy
a decent meal.

To think, the grueling
schedule was not even at its end. After the promotional tour came the movie
premiere in the U.S. and o
verseas. That in itself
consisted of another whirlwind of traveling. But the madness should be shorter.
By the end of the month or maybe summer, she should be free to go back to the
island.

Back home.

Back to Forrest.

The movie had already
garnered a posit
ive buzz. Her fans were eager to see
her stretch her wings. This was her big break as an actress. She should be
walking on air instead of feeling so down in the dumps. Problem was what once
filled her with excitement now left a void in her life.

She waved
at James as he entered the restaurant. After hugs and a
quick update on his children, he slid a thick envelope across the table to her.
She eyed the package then her manager. “What’s this?”

“Another script for you to
read to see if you’re interested.” His
tone was
casual and warm, without any pressure. “If yes, then you’d start filming in the
fall.”

She took a sip of her
wine, sat there and listened to her manager go on about meetings and filming
sessions. Something shriveled inside and her stomach knotted.
“I’m not interested, James.”

He stopped, leaned back in
his chair and appraised her. Then he smiled. “It’s time?”

She had everything she
ever wanted. A thriving career. A big bank account. Fame. For ten years she
told herself those things, although superf
icial, were
sufficient. They validated her. She should be ecstatic. Actually, for a while
she’d managed to persuade herself she had been. But after returning to the
island and reconnecting with Forrest, everything had shifted.

She yearned to be
someone’s p
ermanence. And that person was back on the
Vineyard. It took ten years to stop running and accept what her heart wished
for. Family, friends, and Forrest.

Always Forrest.

He was her home.

“All of this means nothing
if Forrest is not in my life.”

“As your m
anager, I’m supposed to make you aware of any opportunity
that is presented to you.”

James had always looked
out for her; she had no
doubt
he’d continue to do so. “I
know and I love you for that.”

He took the envelope and
put it back in his messenger bag.
“But I’m glad
you’ve decided to pass on this.”

The waiter approached
their table. After a quick polite exchange ensuring their needs were met, he
took their order and left.
 

“For now,” she went back
to the reason she’d requested to meet with James. “I’d l
ike to only focus on my music. That’s my passion.”

“What about the touring?”

 That part she hadn’t
figured out yet. “I don’t want to spend months on the road anymore.” That piece
she was sure of. “Maybe a few concerts here and there.”

Concern touched James
’ face. She understood it. Out of sight meant out of mind.
Fans were fickle that way. To stay relevant she had to stay current and worth
seeing. Once upon a time consumed by the need to prove her self-worth to the
Victorias
, and even to herself, might have
steered her decision, but not anymore.

Luckily, that Claire, the
person with the doubts, and daddy issues had found peace of mind. “I love my
career,” she said with conviction because it was true. “But I don’t really care
if I become yesterday’s news. The
re are other things
I want and a man I want those things with.”

“Listen, Claire,” James
said after a long, hard stare. “You’re allowed to take a break or slow down.
For ten years you’ve been going non-stop. You don’t need the money.” He signed
the check an
d pushed his chair back. “I know Ava is
stopping by later to bring some documents to you. Should I have her bring your
flight information?”

“I already have it.”

James arched a brow. He
knew her well enough to know she had something up her sleeve.

“I take i
t you’re stopping somewhere.”

A smile touched her lips.
“I’m going home.”

* * * *

Claire zipped her
overnight bag while humming the tune of 
Tattooed Hearts
. It was recently released for air play,
and climbing several charts, even sitting at number one in
several categories. The tune was catchy in that elegantly
minimalist approach with only her vocals, the guitar and the piano. It made
sense that her best song yet was written about Forrest. The thought made her
grin.

Tomorrow they’d reunite.
Her insides v
ibrated with joy. Unable to stand still,
she moved about the bedroom and picked up her phone. She started formulating a
text to share her pending arrival with Forrest then stopped.

To surprise or not to
surprise? Forrest hated to be caught off guard. She c
ould
see his handsome face. Pinched brow, eyes sharp behind his glasses, the
chiseled lines of his mouth edged up in a half-smile.

Surprise him it was going
to be.

A buzzing sound came from
the speaker announcing she had a guest arriving. She checked her w
atch. Ava was due to arrive. Claire threw the phone on the
bed, bit down a smile and headed to the living room and came to a screeching
halt. Her heartbeat raged out of control at the sight before her.

Forrest.

He stood still for her
inspection. His intens
e stare allowed her to take him
in before a full-face smile deepened the creases around his eyes. “I owe you a
date.”

Surprised into
speechlessness, she watched as he stepped inside her apartment. All
six-foot-three of him in a relaxed wardrobe that never
renounced his elegance. Faded jeans, black crew neck tee and a black
bomber jacket, his dark hair tucked under a low crown, torn and tattered Boston
Red Sox baseball cap, and an overnight bag slung over his shoulder. 

He looked so delicious.

Her heart ache
d suddenly because she’d miss seeing him every day and
every night. Unable to contain herself, she ran to him. He dropped the bag and
wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her tight as if she were the most
precious thing in his life, as if he couldn
’t wait
another day, another second, to touch her.

She loved the feeling.

She held on. Butterflies
did a crazy bounced low in her belly.
He
feels so good.
“I love you,” she breathed, the air from her lungs stolen
by the moment.

“Forever,” he said, his
mout
h touching her earlobe.

It wasn’t a question, but
she answered anyway. “Yes. Infinitely.”

He gave her one last
squeeze and then he kissed her with a passion that took her breath away. When
they finally broke for air, he led her to the sofa.

“I was going to
come to you tomorrow,” she said, heart still pounding so
fast it threatened to burst out from her chest.

“Oh yeah?” He looked
surprised. Pleased.

Claire nodded. “A quick
stop on my way to New York.”

There was a slight quirk
at the corners of his mouth. “N
ow you don’t have to.”
He smoothed back her hair and held her gaze. “I’m going with you.” He wasn’t
asking for permission. He was letting her know his intention.

She blinked. Martha’s
Vineyard was his home. He loved his house, the lake. “That’s three month
s on the road.”

Forrest smiled. His thumbs
caressed her cheeks. “You’re my base.”

Her heart was officially
at stroke level. To make sure, she didn’t pass out, she held on to him. “What?”

“I know I said the island
was my home before I left, but I was wrong.
You’re my
home, Claire.”

Goosebumps covered her
skin. Her heart squeezed tight, so damn tight she was bereft of speech.

A wrinkle appeared between
his brows as he studied her for a beat. “This is a bit sudden,” he said
quietly. “I understand if you need t
ime.”

Time.

For what?

She blinked again, forcing
her head out of the clouds and focused. He looked…susceptible to being wounded.
“I need you.” She could have sworn he let out a breath. “I want you.” She
kissed the dark shadow of stubble along his angular
jaw line “God, Forrest–” Unable to continue, she buried her face in his chest
and clutched tightly to him.

At times, love needed no
language. With his arms holding her, they sat in a beautiful silence for a
beat. When he stood, he stepped away, her gaze i
mmediately
followed him.

“I would have come
sooner,” he said, voice coiled with emotion. “But I needed to
find
someone to cover the
clinic.”

“I’m your home.” The
thought made her heart melt. Tears ran unchecked down her face.

“Yes.” He extended a hand,
whi
ch she gladly took. “Don’t cry.”