Days Like This (25 page)

I SHADED MY eyes from the
setting sun and watched out the back door at Graham as he hammered another post
into the ground. We were both leaving. Him in the morning; me tomorrow. It was
a whole lot of uncertainty, and he was determined to finish that thing.
Apparently, they were a lot harder to build than to destroy.

 “That boy is
working himself to death,” Nora Jensen said, moving to stand next to me. “You
should take him some water.”

Nora was mom’s
new roommate/nurse/companion. She was a few years older than mom, widowed with
grown, married children in another state. She was bored, she’d said in her
interview, and she wanted something exciting. When we asked her what her
favorite Stevie Nicks song was, she didn’t answer. Instead, she gave a full
rundown about the differences in Stevie’s solo work and in Fleetwood Mac and
about the dynamics between Stevie, Christine McVie and Lindsay Buckingham.
Well, she was pretty much a shoo-in.

I handed
Graham a bottle of water, and he smiled at me, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“Almost done?”

He took a
breath after gulping half the bottle. “Better—I’m finished.”

“You did it.”

The fence was
nice. It was better than before. The back part was darkened from the original
wood, and the new addition was brighter. It made me smile because he’d told me
it was like us, and it sort of was. Old and New. Before and After.

“It took me
too long. I kept getting distracted,” he said, wrapping me in his sweaty arms.
It was gross, but then he was kissing me and it didn’t matter.

 “This is
new,” I said, moving toward the swinging entrance.

“I thought
this fence needed an adjustment. Now you can’t threaten my life for crossing
over since there’s a door that swings both ways,” he said.

“You’re a
genius,” I said, kissing him again. I didn’t want to stop doing that ever. “You
should’ve thought of that years ago so it would’ve been easier to sneak into
your house.”

“That would’ve
been brilliant,” he said.

“Ten hours,” I
said.

“Then, let’s not
waste any more time,” he said. He swooped me up in his arms, and carried me
into his apartment. I knew Mom and Nora were probably watching, but I didn’t
even care.

I SAT ON the edge of Graham’s
bed and watched him put the last of his things into a suitcase. This was it.
This was the end. He was leaving. His whole apartment was empty and it was
surreal. This was happening.

“Walk with
me,” he said, and I took his hand.

Outside, the
sun had barely risen, but they were driving all the way to Texas. His parents
were rushing around the kitchen, so Graham and I took a seat on the steps of
his front porch. This was hard. Harder than leaving. Partial goodbyes.

“What are you
thinking?” he asked me.

I ran my
finger in circles over the back of his hand. “This is hard. I don’t want to say
goodbye.”

“I don’t
either,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “It’s not goodbye, though. We’ll
talk tomorrow.”

“And as much
as we can, I know.”

That was the
decision we came to. Together. Graham and Cassie would be separate, free. He
could do anything he wanted; I could do anything I wanted. We were going to be
friends who were in love and separated. I wasn’t his girlfriend, which he was
against at first, but I was adamant. He’d never left; I had. I knew what it was
like in a new place. We would Skype or talk on the phone and email, and we
would see what happened. No expectations, no guilt.

“Have you
changed your mind?” he asked.

I knew he
meant the arrangement. “No. You?”

THERE WERE A few days where
Cassie thought she would come with me. And that thought was really appealing.
Coming home to her every single day. But I wanted her to be happy, and music
made her happy. Architecture made me happy. We had separate paths, and that was
the thing I’d overlooked all along. I was so worried about keeping her close,
about protecting her, that we pushed each other away. I wouldn’t let that happen
again.

“It’s not what
I want, but you’re right,” I said. I didn’t really think she was and I really
didn’t want to be only her friend. We’d tried that and it didn’t look good on
us. I would fight for her to stay in my life though. “Besides, maybe we end up
together anyway. I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“Me either.” She
smiled.

I kissed her
lips softly. I couldn’t resist her. Everything about her was connected to me.

“I could still
end up like her,” she said.

I nodded. I’d
thought about that, too. About all the things that have happened to us, and I
know that if she did, we could handle it. “I won’t leave you. I’ll always be
your best friend and anything you let me be.”

“I know.”

“You’re
already pretty crazy. What’s a little more?” I said, trying to lighten the
mood. It didn’t work.

“We never know
when a day will be good or bad.”

“I never know
that now,” I said.

She shook her
head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“We both know
this won’t be easy,” I said. She knew what I meant—leaving her, leaving us. Being
Graham without Cassie but with her all the same. “We did it once before; we can
do it again.”

She rested her
head on my shoulder. “Some days are torturous, horrible, no good days.”

“I know it
will be okay. We all have good days. We all have bad days. On the bad ones,
I’ll remember the good things. Days like this. Moments like this.”

“Like this?”

She kissed me
softly.

“And this?”
She kissed me again, wrapping her arms around my neck. This time, it was
longer, and God, it really was some kind of torture and I hadn’t left her yet.

“Exactly,” I
said.

GRAHAM’S PARENTS FLEW outside
like they were on fire. They were always like that. Mr. Tucker wasn’t a hugger,
but he shook my hand and tossed Graham’s last bag in the truck.

“Good luck,
Cassie, honey. Timothy said to call him when you get there,” Mrs. Tucker said,
swooping me up in a hug. She’d made all these plans that Graham’s brother would
show me around. It was sweet, really.

“Have a nice
drive,” I said.

She waved at
me then yelled: “George, did you get the GPS?”

“I got it. I
got it!” he called back. “Come on, son. Let’s go!”

The doors
slammed around us and they disappeared inside the cars. Graham and I looked at
each other one more time. He hugged me again, pressing a kiss onto my temple, and
then he let me go and went toward the car. I wasn’t going to cry. I would see
him tomorrow.

I turned back
to go to my house, but tomorrow suddenly felt like forever. Like too long.

Tomorrow would
feel like nothing for someone who was just a friend.

That wasn’t
Graham. I didn’t want it to be.

 I ran.

Graham’s truck
was only two blocks away, just past the stop sign. I could make it. But then it
went, and I yelled Graham’s name. Then the break lights came on, and I ran
faster as the door opened and there he was.

“And don’t
forget, this,” I said. I pressed my mouth against his, and his fingers burned
into my back. I couldn’t get close enough to him. My brain was spinning, my
body aching, and somewhere in that kiss the tears escaped my eyes. I didn’t let
it stop me though. I relished in our kiss, in the heat between us and the
emotion. I let it sweep me away, and when I thought I couldn’t take anymore,
Graham pulled away.

We stood
there, foreheads together, panting. He breathed my name.

“Moments like
this,” he said.

I kissed him
again softly and his parents honked, a few feet in front of his truck. I didn’t
want to let him go, but he had to go. We each had our own paths now.

 “I should
go,” he said.

I shook my
head. “Not until you say you’ll be my boyfriend.”

Graham’s eyes
widened. “What about all the hot girls waiting for me in Texas?”

He wove his
fingers with mine. This was worth it. I knew that completely.

“I know it
won’t be easy,” I said, “but I want to be with you. I’ll visit, and you’ll
visit, and we’ll have breaks and—we’ll just work it out somehow. I don’t want
to give up on us just because of distance.”

“That’s the
best thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. Then he kissed me again, and I smiled
under his lips.

“I love you,
Graham Tucker.”

“I love you,”
he said, as he backed away slowly and didn’t take his eyes off me until he
couldn’t walk backward. “I’ll call you when I get there.” He was smiling as he
got into the truck, and I stayed in the road until I couldn’t see him anymore.

Back at my
house, I took a seat on one of our old beat up metal chairs on the porch, and stared
down the street where Graham had gone. I didn’t know what would happen, but
Graham was right. We would always have days like this, days layered with the
perfect amount of happiness and sadness and hope. Days that were captured and frozen
into a beautiful song.

This book has been a labor of love for so many people, myself included. But since I can't thank myself, I'll thank everyone I can think of (and probably some that I will fail to mention!)

To Jenny Adams Perinovic who designed my book inside and out, who inspires me with friendship and never lets anything stand in her way. You were there the very first day I had the idea for this story and you've stuck with us (me and this story) for years now. I would not have had the courage to pursue publication without your support, encouragement, dedication, patience and endless guidance.Thanks for having my back as I have had yours, and I can't wait to see what we do next!

Thank you to my agent, Nicole Resciniti. She found me with this book, fell in love with Cassie and Graham, and championed the story -- and me -- each day. You believe in me more than I believe in myself some days, and I'm so grateful to have you in my corner, Nic!

To Patricia Riley, Lelia Nebeker, and Cindy Thomas, who are three of my best friends and cheerleaders. You three have read, re-read, loved, supported, cheered for, and cried over this book so many times. You're each part of the reason it's a real thing that everyone gets to read now. I wouldn't be able to survive daily life (and writing) without your friendship!

To Madelyn Rosenberg, Christina Ferko, Traci Inzitari and Kelly Hager for reading, loving this book and providing feedback. To my copy editor Sarah Henning and two proofers, Sydnee Thompson and Rachael Kirkendall, for going above and beyond to help make this perfect! To Rachel Harris for cheering me on.

The writing community of readers, bloggers, authors and writers has been extraordinary. I thank you for your excitement, encouragement, understanding and alcohol!

You're all priceless to me.

To musicians everywhere who inspire and shape lives. I, like Cassie and so many others, find my way in life because your stories. Never stop sharing.

This book is dedicated to my mom, who has fought harder, loved more, made mistakes, learned from them and grown more times than I can count. You're a beacon to me, even when we're malfunctioning or on different ends of something, and I always know that I can turn to you. Thank you for always letting me by own person and go the way I felt was best. Cassie and Joyce's story isn't ours, but there's so much I learned from it. I love you always.

And lastly to you, the one reading, buying, reviewing, promoting Days Like This. Sharing powerful stories about characters who overcome with you is the reason I write. I hope Cassie and Graham's journey resonates with you. Life is hard, love is harder, and finding the space to open yourself to both those things is the ultimate gift. And that's not fictional, not in any way.

If you liked the book, please leave a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and/or
Goodreads
.