Tattooed Hearts (9 page)

Eventually he stopped
trying. It wasn’t until she learn
ed from Jason that
Forrest had left for medical school did she dare go back to the island. By
then, she had moved to campus and started school herself. As she made friends
and attended parties, she managed to convince herself this was the time for
Forrest
to explore. Not be tied down to her. Over the
years their paths continued to cross. At times, they’d been friendly, but the
static electricity continued to trigger sparks between them.

None of that mattered
now. Forrest was in pain. Claire kicked the cover
s
off, rubbed her knuckles onto her eyes, and jumped out of bed. She swiftly made
her way down the hall, the cold plank floor creaking under her bare feet.
Unlike last night she didn’t hesitate and pushed the bedroom door open. Her
eyes quickly scanned the
room.

No Forrest.

The door leading to
the shower was cracked open, she listened. Silence greeted her.

He was gone.

Streaks of sunlight
penetrated the unadorned window, tapping her face. She stepped inside and
walked over to the unmade button-tufted bed. H
er hand
brushed over the brownstone quilted comforter. A vision of Forrest in bed,
dealing with the loss of his father, flashed before her. Once upon a time, he
would have reached out to her. The unwillingness to share his anguish with her
further solidifi
ed the emotional distance between
them. A gut-wrenching plunge of regret crashed in her heart.

She exhaled and
skimmed through the room, cream colored walls bare, with the exception of an
airy abstract piece of artwork hung over a mahogany-stained dresser.
A brass photo frame lay face down on the drawer. She
walked over and fixed her gaze on the picture, but her attention was drawn to
the small collection of treasures scattered across. Among the assortment loomed
the talisman silver bracelet she gave him as
a good
luck charm the day before he took his MCAT. He no longer wore it, so naturally
she assumed it had been discarded or lost. She’d been wrong. It was simply
tucked away, like the infinity necklace she no longer wore and now sat on her
nightstand as a
reminder of something she once had.

She picked up the
picture and her heart crumbled. Forrest had his arm slung over his father’s
shoulder, both men laughing, looking happy, stared back at her. “Oh, Forrest,”
she whispered.

“What are you doing?”

Startled,
Claire jumped and almost dropped the picture. Turning
quickly, her eyes locked with Forrest’s probing gaze. He was dressed in a
medium weight pebbled sweater and low-slung denim. His hair wildly tousled. He
looked tormented, worn, and filled with anguish.
She
wanted to run to him, fling her arms around his big body and protect him.
Instead, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

“I spoke with Keely.”

Silence.

Irritation swelled up
inside her. The death of his father was bigger than the two of them. “Why
didn’t you tell me, Forrest? I felt something was wrong. I
asked you last night.”

Another
empty silence.
His gaze shifted to the frame in her hand, back to her face and ate her up with
cold, steady eyes.

Frustrated, Claire
drew in a deep breath and slowly
released before
speaking. “God, Forrest, do you hate me that much?”

In a few quick
strides, he stood in front of her. Without a word, he removed the picture from
her grasp, and put it back on the drawer. This time it wasn’t faced down.

“I don’t hate you, C
laire,” he said in a spectral voice.

“Then what is it?”

* * * *

Whiskey-colored eyes
glistened, one slow tear slipped out running down her high cheekbones. She
tried to wipe it away as quickly as possible, but the evidence of her shock and
grief were now
permanent in Forrest’s heart. His gaze
roamed over her appearance. Black hair scrunched up and secure, but thick
strands escaped and touched the nape of her neck, her lips full and rosy,
trembling with shock. Cotton black shorts revealed creamy, smooth nu
tmeg skin and
toned,
shapely legs. The white tee hugged her
petite frame, emphasizing every curve and angle of her
petite frame
.

He removed his glasses
and rubbed his eyes. His initial reaction was to take her in his arms and kiss
her until he ceased to
exist. Only that wouldn’t
solve anything between them. No, it would only ignite all the things he had
finally tucked away in the Claire compartment.

“It doesn’t mean I
hate you.” The emotional distance was for self-preservation. He chose not to
open up to
her last night. Not because of some macho
stance but the grief that swept through his system, leaving him with nothing
left him vulnerable. They would have made love. Hell even now he fought the
urge to touch her. She had that effect on him.
Neither sickne
ss, heartbreak, nor
death
would allow him to take or give anything out of pity.
Because of that he’d kept the searing pain in his heart buried deep until he
collapsed on his bed.

“You’ve shut me out.”
Her voice came out low and cracked. “Everyone called me
but you. Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would that have
done?”

She eyed him for a
beat. “I would have come to you.” Her voice seemed caught in her throat as she
struggled to form the words. Tears streamed unchecked down her face. “
I would have dropped everything and come to you.”

His heart rolled. He
was equipped to handle lots of things in his life. Claire had never been one of
them. “It’s not necessary.”

“We’re not strangers.
Once upon a time we were friends.” She looked at him th
rough damp eyes. “We were more than friends.”

He looked into her
grief-stricken face and felt a stab of pain deep in his gut. Shit. He didn’t
need this. They’ve played this yo-yo game long enough. Forrest exhaled and
raked a hand through his hair. “That wa
s the past,
Claire.”

“You and I grew up
together.” Her voice thundered between sobs. She stopped and inhaled. “You’re
still my friend. We…”

“Don’t make this about
us,” he interjected.

Her eyes were on him,
absorbing his words. She took a step closer to him
.
“You made it about us,” she said, chest heaving under her white tank. “You, me,
Jason, Adam, and Blake, we are a family. We’ve always been.”

He let out a low growl
of annoyance. “You walked away from us,
Claire,
do I need to remind you of that?”

She
glared at him and her lips curled in anger. “I didn’t walk
away from our group.”

She’d been to every
wedding, every major event. Saying she walked away wasn’t entirely true. She
only walked away from him.

They stood there in
silence for a moment, gazes int
ertwined. Memories
cascaded like a waterfall, their first kiss, the first time they made love, and
getting that damn tattoo together. Forrest took a step back and turned toward
the window.

“I loved your father,”
she said in a low voice, tears
brimming
her
eyes. “I
deserved to know.”

His gut tightened at
the past tense reference. No matter how many ways he sliced it, his father was
dead. Gone forever, leaving a void no one could fill, not even Claire. He
turned to face her once more. She swiped her hand acro
ss
her face.

“My father died
yesterday,” he muttered, eyes fixed on her. “My entire body is overwhelmed with
sadness. I feel weak and tired and all you can think about is why the fuck I
didn’t call you.”

She flinched at his
words and a small breathless whi
sper escaped her
lips. Her hands tightened into fists and crashed on his chest. He caught her
wrists and held her still. For a moment time stood still between them.

“I would have come to
you,” she said again.

She continued to stare
into his eyes. Layer by
layer, she stripped away his
shield.

The right thing to do
here was to walk away, let her go back wherever she came from. But he was too
lost to be logical and do the right thing, not even to save himself. “You’re
here now.” Lowering his head, he kissed he
r long and
deep and silenced that little voice in his head that told him nothing good
would come out of this.

Chapter Seven

“The heart knows what the heart wants.”

Keely Greene Alexander

The kiss was firm and
gentle as Forrest pulled her in, burning
her lips
with his mouth. Claire closed her eyes and became lost in a sea of lust. He
nibbled, stroked, and teased her
.
A
spicy, powerful combination that sent waves of passion
crashing over her and garnered a low helpless murmur of arousal.
She gripped hi
s
sweater for support as the kiss grew more urgent, rushed. Sparks flew and
Claire’s heart lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

She missed Forrest,
everything about him–his smile, his easy nature, and this. She missed kissing
him the most. Of cours
e she knew this wasn’t the
right time. He was using her as a Band-Aid to cover a deeper pain. She
dismissed the nagging thoughts biting her brain and gave in to the sheer
pleasure and kissed him senseless, making up for the last decade spent dreaming
of do
ing exactly that. When he pulled back, she
automatically met his gaze. His eyes appeared more blue than gray, filled with
lust and something else.

Regret maybe?

She couldn’t tell. But
whatever it was, it made her stomach tighten with discomfort. He licked
his lips and turned his large frame toward the door,
blocking her from view. It was then, she realized they weren’t alone. Jason
stood in the doorway in a black pea coat with matching colored gloves palmed in
his hands. Inquisitive eyes met hers briefly, q
uestions
in his.

She already knew what
he was thinking.
Stay away, Claire, you’re not ready to
commit
.
The four men were close, but there was this bond between Forrest and Jason.
Maybe it was the fact that their parents were close friends, or the many year
s Jason spent working on the farm with Forrest. It didn’t
matter, she always admired their closeness.

“You didn’t show up so
the guys sent a search party. That’d be me,” Jason said to Forrest. He tilted
his head and met Claire’s gaze once more, then back
to
Forrest. “I’ll be downstairs.”

Once alone, Forrest
turned to her, a deep furrow knitting his brow. He was back in charge and yeah,
his hooded eyes were definitely drenched with regret. The kiss had been a
momentary lapse of self-control, something he’d
always
been good at, until their first kiss.

The sight of his
remorse washed over her with the vengeance of a crashing wave. It was time to
make her exit. Catch the ferry to Chappy or ask Jason to have the Montgomery
boat take her to the other side of the
island. She
took a step forward to retreat, grab her overnight bag, and make a run for it,
but he caught her wrist and closed down her escape.

“Where are you going?”

“To
Chappy.”

Silence engulfed the
space between them. Claire adjusted her weight from one
foot to another. Typically she welcomed the soothing sound, let it
smooth her soul and take away her jagged edges from days on the road, but the
quietness magnified the line of disconnect between them.

“The funeral is in two
days,” Forrest said at last an
d released her hand.
“If you choose to stay, I’ll see you then.”

Without another look
in her direction, he walked out of the room. She watched him, the rippling
muscles of his back taut, straining his
sweater
. He’d shut her out for good. And just like that
her world came crashing down, piece by piece, all she
could do was watch.

On auto-mode, she took urgent steps out of the room, down
the hall, ready to go after him, but came to an abrupt halt at Jason’s voice.

“Arrangements made?”
Jason asked.

“Yeah,” For
rest's voice was solemn. “Mom is pretty bad. I’ll have to
stop by there later.”

Footfalls echoed from
downstairs. Claire envisioned the two men standing side by side. Jason, fair
with steel blue eyes to Forrest’s dark hair and gray eyes. Such contrast in a
ppearance, personality, yet so similar in their mannerisms.

“All right, man, wish
you had let us come with you.”

“Some things are best
done alone,” Forrest responded. His voice held a dark sad edge that made Claire
shiver.

“Holding up okay?”
Jason continu
ed.

“Yeah.”
The word came out flat and dull.

A
lie, of course.
Men were like that. They never shared their pain. But even from out of view,
the sorrow in Forrest’s voice cut her. Claire remained standing in the same
spot and listened, yearning to comfort h
im.

“Come on,” Forrest
said a few seconds later. “Let’s go meet the others.”

“Is Claire staying
with you?”

“No.” His definitive
tone left no room for argument. “She’s going to Chappy today to her mom.” Then
the door closed behind them.

For a few minutes,
Claire remained in hallway, lost in the silence of the
house, overwhelmed with emotion, pain, sadness, decisions made, and a
loneliness that couldn’t be described.

Once upon a time she'd
been welcome in his house. Not anymore.

The realization
slipped down
her throat, stealing her breath. It
spilled into her heart like a cold shot, sending chills throughout her body.
She stood there, frozen with sadness, left with no choice but to accept the
wedge between them. A wedge built as high as possible, a result of
her actions.

Claire stroked the
permanent ink inside her wrist. She needed to promote
Tattooed
Hearts
,
her first movie, write and record the theme song. Instead here she was back on
the Vineyard in the middle of
winter,
putting the career she spent years
building on hold to run to someone who no longer wanted
her.

Her life was a mess.

Releasing a deep
breath, she headed to the room where she’d spent the night. She grabbed her
phone and sent a group text to the three women she was closest to.

Lunch?

Lily
response came first.

Most definitely.
Vapor? Only place open in town.

But that meant she’d
run into Forrest again. The town’s favorite bar, owned by Jason and Adam, was
their usual meeting spot. She typed back.

Another option?

Her phone chirped.
Lily
texted
back.

The boys are meeting at our house. I
need to get away from Adam. He’s driving me crazy over this pregnancy.

Claire smiled. A
doting Adam, now that she had to see. She typed back

Okay, Vapor it is.

Keely and Minka’s
response came almost sim
ultaneously.

See you at noon.

* * * *

At exactly noon,
Claire pulled the Audi sedan into the empty parking spot one block down from
Vapor, stepped onto the street and was greeted by an ominous silence. Not a
soul on the street, no bird song typical on t
he
island during warmer months could be heard. Instead, the harsh winter air
prickled her skin with its ice-cold touch. Definitely different from her life
in Los Angeles where temperatures in the fifties and sixties were considered
freezing.

She tightened
the wool scarf around her neck and headed in the direction
of her friends’ bar. Her footsteps, the only sound to be heard, tapped away on
the sidewalk of Main Street. She passed familiar shops
.
Boneyard,
one of the many surf shops on the Vineyard, the inde
pendent
bookstore, restaurants, wine and coffee shops, all closed for the winter.
Everything was still, as if a magic spell had been cast over the island.

Pulling the door open,
she stepped inside the town’s favorite tavern. A mixture of rustic and contemp
orary décor greeted her–brick, glass, and reclaimed hemlock
wood throughout, vaulted ceiling exposing beautiful beams adorned by suspended
lightbulb fixtures illuminating the space with a warm inviting glow, giving the
eatery an upscale yet casual vibe. Sh
e scanned around
the boisterous room, voices over one another, beer mugs clinking. Someone
shouted, “To Luc.”

Goosebumps popped
along her skin. The whole island was here celebrating the life of one of their
own. She should have known. Vapor was one of the
few
places that stayed open year round, not because Adam and Jason needed to work,
but the bar, centrally located in Edgartown, was the heart of the island.
People gathered at Vapor for comfort.

On the Vineyard,
comfort was
key
.

She moved farther into
the
room, toward the bar when she spotted her friends
sitting at a corner table. Minka waved at her. Smiling, Claire switched
direction.

“Well,
look
who the cat dragged back to the
Vineyard and in the winter months too,” Lily said as the three women rose to t
heir feet.

They staggered
together for a big group hug, linking arms around their shoulders like a team
huddle. For a minute, Claire closed her eyes and let the familiarity of her
friends seep in. Although she spoke to them on a regular basis, nothing beat
the good feeling of being surrounded by some of the people
she trusted the most.

She stepped back and
appraised
each one of them. Underneath the
sadness over Luc’s death, their faces flooded with euphoria. After a year-plus
of marriage, Keely still had th
at blissful gleam,
Minka radiated with happiness and quiet confidence, and Lily seemed to be
glowing all over. They looked happy, in love, and at peace. Something pulled
every string of Claire’s heart, not envy or jealousy but a yearning, an ache.

She was
elated for each one of them, their road to happiness had
not been easy but they got there. Forrest’s unemotional and stolidly calm
disposition after their kiss flashed in her mind’s eye. Sadness panged from
somewhere below her ribs. Yeah, that ship sailed.
Once upon a time he’d been there, ready to give her everything her friends had.
She walked away, actually she ran away.

Here and there, she
managed to convince herself she left the island to chase her dream of becoming
a singer, but in reality she’d been
driven by
insecurities. She was a chicken, a coward.

She brushed aside the
little voice trying to tell her she wanted what her friends had—to wake up next
to the same person every morning, the feet touching, the secret smiles. She
turned to Lily and focuse
d on her friend’s round
belly. “Every pregnant woman should look like you.”

Lily stroked her
belly, a joyous smile lighting her face. “Almost seven months.”

“I still wish I had
designed your wedding dress,” Claire said with regret. Lily and Adam’s wedding
had been spontaneous with the two of them and their
parents.

“We’ll have a big
party after we give birth.” Lily patted her stomach again. “You can design a
kick-ass dress for me then.”