by Mika Jolie
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 insecurities.
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 between 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 slipped 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 that 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 choice. 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 his 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 decade 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 clear 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 air 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 heart.
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. About 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 messages 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 Forrest’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 something 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.
Eventually he stopped trying. It wasn’t until she learned 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 o
f that mattered now. Forrest was in pain. Claire kicked the covers 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. Her 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 solidified 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, Claire,” 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 nutmeg 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 sickness, 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 through 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 was 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 intertwined. 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 across 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 whisper 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 her 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 his 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 course 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 doing 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, questions 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 years 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.