Tattooed Hearts (17 page)

Tyler sat back, appearing
a little more relaxed. “Awesome.” He clapped his hands. “I’ll tell Adam. The
event will be
here at Vapor.” He stood up and
examined her for a moment. “He’ll come back eventually. The island is a part of
him. He can’t stay away.”

She watched Tyler walk to
the bar, her thoughts back on Forrest. Martha’s Vineyard was his home. Tyler
was right. In
her heart of hearts she already knew
it, but the reassurance from another local removed any doubts she might have
had. She picked up her phone, swiped on the screen, and scrolled to Lily’s last
text. Brows furrowed, she examined the link to the auction.

Di
d she dare?

Every fiber of her being
was vibrating with anticipation. Gathering her scattered impulses into one
single passionate act of courage, Claire clicked on the URL. Her heart skipped.
Adrenaline fueling her system, she glanced over the fine print a
nd selected the bidding option. Not giving herself any time
to think things through, she keyed in a thousand dollars, doubling the last bid
amount for a date with Forrest.

* * * *

Forrest checked Mrs.
Kane’s IV
filled with antibiotic
. After checking her
heart rate and temperature, he updated her chart. Mentally,
he let out a huge breath, releasing the tightening in his stomach since the
hospital called to tell him Mrs. Kane was admitted. “I will prescribe something
for your muscle ache.”

“Nothing
a shot o
f bourbon can’t help.”

Forrest smiled. “You are
responding well to the IV. I’m going to keep you here
until
tomorrow.”

Anne looked him over, a
contemplative look on her face. “I had to get sick to get you back to the
island.”

“Anything
for you, Anne.”

Leav
ing the island had been spontaneous, a desperate need for
solitude to escape everything and everyone. After leaving the potluck, he had
gone straight home, packed his bag and left. A move that was completely out of
character; typically he faced his problem
s head-on.
But late in the night, he’d found himself driving to the event he decided to
skip, for one reason only—to see Claire.

Seeing her there, dancing
with Tyler, laughing and looking like she had no worries in the world. Tyler’s
face lit up brighter t
han
a toothpaste
commercial. It took all
of Forrest’s strength not to punch his friend.

In a jealous rage, he told
her to go back to Los Angeles, when he really wanted to pin her against the
wall and kiss her until she begged to be taken. Instead, he’d
gone to New Hampshire and skied until his muscles burned. A
last-ditch effort to block Claire out of his mind, and put all the crap going
on his life on a temporary hold.

“What about your mother?”
Anne asked. “You can’t just get up and leave her all
alone.”

A sick feeling settled in
his gut. “I’m here to make sure you’re okay.”

“And that beautiful girl
of yours?” she continued, “She’s still here, you know.”

Forrest ignored the way
his heart nearly stopped at the mention of Claire. He hadn’t expected h
er to still be on the island. Deep down, he’d hoped she had
returned to L.A. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I’m talking about
Claire.”

“I know who you are
talking about.”

“Still
in denial.”
Anne reached for her phone. “Oh by the way, someone just
bid a thou
sand dollars on you.”

“I don’t really follow the
auction. It’s just a date.”

“Username Tattooed Hearts.
Sounds like a hidden message.”

He thought of the
permanent artwork on his forearm, a constant reminder of how devoted he’d been
to Claire. He ignored th
e familiar pain in his chest.
“It’s interesting.”

“Don’t you have a tattoo?”

“Drop it, Anne.
Time for me to head home.
I’ll be back
tomorrow
.”

“Forrest, I
mean
Dr. Desvareaux, welcome
home.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

“We missed you. Don’t ever
run away from us
again.”

“I needed a break.”

She nodded. “You’re back
for good?”

“I’m back.” He gave her
shoulder a gentle squeeze. “See you first thing tomorrow.”

About twenty minutes
later, Forrest steered his Jeep onto State Road. Today had been his first time
back at t
he hospital since Luc’s death. He scrubbed a
hand over his face and tried to eradicate the memory, but this one was forever
branded in his mind. Face pale, lips bloodless, chest weakly rising and
falling, struggling for breath, eventually laying still form
.

Sickness bubbled in his
stomach. In his profession, he’d seen many cadavers, worked on a few during
medical school. He should be immune to this part of life. Through experience of
having patients die, he’d learn not to dwell on what might go wrong and n
ot to experience the full sense of pain and loss of a
death. But, he’d never taken the class that taught people in his profession to
handle the emotions when the loss was one of your own.
In this instance, his father.

Father.
His stomach churned.
Charles
and his mother–their big secret, her
infidelity, her face frozen in apology, the words on her lips he’d never be
able to erase. His head hammered.

He once read that brains
were hardwired from caveman times to remember the bad stuff more, to help keep
them
alive.
Which was ironic
.
W
hat
he needed was the good
stuff, the fun days, the uplifting and hopeful. He wanted his father back.

His eye twitched as he let
out a yawn. Rolling his head from side to side, he tried to stretch out the
fatigue. Two hours and fo
rty minutes, driving from
New Hampshire to Woods Hole, with his mind on edge the whole time had sucked
all the energy out of him. If he stopped moving, he’d probably fall asleep.
Just what he needed.
Once home, he’d take a
long hot shower, then fall asleep
to ESPN.

ESPN or
Claire?
The devil in him taunted.

His hands moved of their
own accord turning the wheel toward Edgartown, the opposite direction to his
home in Vineyard Haven. Claire would be nice to have in his bed too, naked,
riding him
until
the room
shifted
and hazed. He shook the fantasy out of his mind.

He didn’t want her.

He didn’t need her.

He drove past Vapor and
caught a glimpse of the black Audi. His heart kicked into high gear. Half of
his brain told him to keep driving
,
the other half, the on
e owned by the devil, took over and hypnotized him. He
steered the car into the empty space three cars ahead and before he knew it,
exactly one month later, he was back inside Vapor.

As usual, it seemed
whoever dared to venture out in the cold was here. Be
er,
wine, food, and the jangle of voices greeted him. He spotted Adam at the bar,
talking to Tyler. At the far corner, Claire sat with her face buried in a
notebook. As if she felt
him watching
her, her head lifted and
their eyes locked. All the noise in t
he room fizzled
out. He looked her over–skinny jeans, oversized blush sweater,
winter
boots. Her hair pulled
back in a ponytail, lips bare, with the touch of clear lip gloss. She looked
innocent, vulnerable, and very much like the young girl he fell in lov
e with. Forrest groaned and headed to the bar.

“Look who decided to bless
us with his presence,” Tyler nodded at him.

“What are you doing here?”
Forrest leaned on the edge of the barrel wood bar top, his eyes fixed firmly on
the island’s favorite superstar
. He’d bet his money
Tyler was here to make a move on her. Not that he
cared
,
she was free to date
whomever she wanted.

“Having
a beer.”
He followed Forrest’s gaze. “You left her all alone for
two weeks.” Tyler shrugged.
“Fair
game.”

“Aren’t you dating Gwe
n?”

 
“Relax, big guy. I wanted to ask her for
a favor. Oh, and she said yes.” He grinned and placed a bill on the bar. “Good
to have you back on the island. I missed making you jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Tyler smirked. “Must be tough knowing you’ll never
be the first guy she kissed.”

Adam chuckled. “You have a
death wish, man.”

Tyler laughed. Forrest
mentally counted to fifty while reminding
himself
he actually liked the asshole.

“What’s your poison?” Adam
asked once Tyler left.

Forrest’s gaze skated over
Claire.

Adam snorted. “A month
later, she’s still here. Even after you got up and left.”

“I’m aware.”

“Tell me again she’s not
here for you.”

“She’s not here for me.”
He continued to look in her direction again. Their eyes met once more. Just for
a second
, a small tight smile curled up the corners
of her mouth before looking away. In his pocket, his phone vibrated, he ignored
it and turned his attention back to the bar.

“Look man, you have the
right to be pissed off, but you’re treating Claire and Jason
like shit.” Adam poured a shot of gold tequila and pushed
the salt-rimmed glass in front of Forrest. “This one’s on me. I’d have a shot
with you, but I’m working.” He reached for another glass. “But then again, I
own half this place.” He poured himself a t
wo-finger
shot of his favorite Scotch and raised the glass. “To us and the women we
love.”

Forrest lifted the glass
and threw the liquor down his throat. He welcomed the burn.

“By the way,” Adam
continued, “Lily mentioned you’re catching up with me in the
auction.”

Forrest glanced at Claire
again. She picked up her phone and scrunched her brows at the screen, seeming
to contemplate whatever she was looking at,
then
quickly typed something in response.
The powerful pull she had on him took over once more. “I
’ll be back,” he said to Adam and headed to the corner table.

She didn’t look up, didn’t
need to. Her body movement, especially the one tucking imaginary loose strands
of hair behind her ears, told him she was aware of him just as he was of her.
He pulled
out a chair and sat facing her across the
table. Claire looked up from her phone again, smiling in that tense way she did
when she was uncomfortable.

“You’re back,” she said,
in an even voice.

“Mrs. Kane is in the
hospital.”

She nodded. Of course she
knew.
This was Martha’s Vineyard, the island where
everyone knew everyone else’s business.

“How is she feeling?”

“Better.”

She picked up her glass of
water and drank in the silence between them. His eyes shifted to the open
notebook. "How’s the songwriting?" h
e
asked, filling the void with a noncommittal question.

“Great. I wrote down the
title five times.” She pushed out her lips just a little, and flashed him a big
fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes.