by Marie Meyer
Can’t Go Back
Marie Meyer
New York Boston
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Table of Contents
An Excerpt from Across the Distance
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For my Darlings.
Always follow your dreams.
Chapter One
The headlights flashed across the PENNSYLVANIA WELCOMES YOU sign just as my playlist ended. Reaching for my phone, I scanned through others. I needed music to fill the growing hollowness inside me. Moving my best friend, Jillian, to design school was one of the hardest damn things I’d ever had to do.
With the cruise set at eighty, I watched the odometer tack on mile after mile. Jillian snored away in the passenger seat, her head against the window, legs stretched out, bare feet resting on the dashboard. Every now and then, I’d sneak a quick peek at her and smile, years of friendship playing on a highlight reel in my head.
Twelve years ago, after Jillian’s parents died during the 9/11 attacks, she came to live with her grandparents—my neighbors. The day she arrived, she refused to get out of the car. I climbed into the backseat with her, offered her my hand, and promised to always make her smile. I’d never leave her. Now I was driving her a thousand miles away, so she could leave me.
When she’d been offered a scholarship to an elite design school in Rhode Island, I was thrilled for her. Jillian had always dreamed of being a designer. After everything she’d been through, losing her parents at such a young age, and then blaming herself because she’d asked her parents for a souvenir, which in turn prompted them to meet a friend at the World Trade Center that morning. Not to mention her struggle to overcome her self-harm tendencies as she got older. It was time something positive came her way. But it wasn’t until now that I’d realized just how many miles stood between Rhode Island and Illinois…between Jillian and me.
“Uhhh,” I groaned, pressing my feet into the floorboard, stretching the best I could. I needed some tunes to liven up the drive. The lonely, dark road was fucking with my state of mind. With the pad of my thumb, I swiped through countless artists on my iPhone, finally deciding on the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I needed something heavy, loud, and bass-driven to pull me out of my current funk. Letting my head fall against the headrest, I fingered Flea’s bass riffs along the steering wheel.
Jillian sighed and moved her head from the window, placing it back onto the seat. Wisps of blond and orange hair covered her face and her neck slumped at an odd angle. No way was she comfortable. Hell, I wasn’t comfortable. It was almost eleven. I was tired and hungry, and I really needed a restroom.
Holding the wheel steady with my left hand, I used my right to rock her gently. “Jillian. Jillian, wake up.”
She blinked a few times and sat up, still half asleep. Her hair was a tangled mess on top her head, like a pile of vanilla ice cream swirled with orange sherbet. I ran my palm over her head, smoothing some of the pieces back where they belonged.
Jillian looked out her window, then back to me. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. What time is it?” She lowered her pale legs from the dash and raised her arms high, stretching.
She wore a faded t-shirt featuring the name of my band, Mine Shaft, and as with any red-blooded male, it didn’t escape my attention when the t-shirt rode up, exposing a small patch of skin above the waist of her yoga pants. She wasn’t the scrawny little girl who used to play in the dirt with me.
I removed my hand from her head with a sigh and adjusted the volume knob, reducing Anthony Kiedis to background noise. “It’s just after eleven.”
“Ugh, I hope there’s a good yoga class on campus.” She yawned, arching her back. “Where are we?”
I took the next exit, getting off the turnpike, following the blue signs to the nearest hotel. “We’re in Pennsylvania. Do you want to keep driving or call it a night?” It was up to her; if she wanted me to keep going, I would. But I hoped she didn’t. I was beat.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have taken over the wheel a hundred miles ago.”
“It’s all right.” I flashed her a smile. “You looked too peaceful to wake up.” More than peaceful, she’d looked gorgeous. Many times throughout the night, I’d fought the urge to run my fingers through her hair, or touch her porcelain cheeks.
But then I’d reminded myself, friends didn’t get to touch.
Three months ago I’d had my chance. Back in May, the easygoing friendship Jillian and I had had as children was obliterated the second she kissed me. In that moment I wanted to do a whole hell of a lot more than kiss her.
A light wind whistled through the doorway, causing Jillian’s long hair to float on the breeze. Without a second thought, her hand came up and she swiftly tucked the flying strands behind her ears. I would have liked to do that for her…but it was too late. I kept my hands in my lap.
Stretching out my legs, I leaned my back against the wall of the little old cabin. Jillian did the same, resting her head against the dusty log walls. This cabin had been our place in high school. Off the beaten path, in a forested section of the state college campus, the miniature cabin had become the home to many late-night talks and songwriting sessions, and countless other memories. Where most childhood friends have tree houses, Jillian and I had a tiny cabin in the woods.
After having dinner with my parents and sister, Jillian had insisted on coming out here. Since she was leaving for college in three months, it seemed fitting that we say good-bye to “our cabin.”
She’d been quiet since we’d gotten here. “What’s on your mind, Jillibean?” I nudged her with my shoulder.
“Hmm,” she hummed. “Nothing. Just enjoying the night. It’s always so peaceful out here.”
“Yeah, it is.” I closed my eyes and listened to the crickets chirp. In the distance an owl hooted.
“Griffin?”
“Yeah?” I answered, but kept my eyes closed. I liked the way her voice mingled with the sound of the wind.
“Griff.”
At a tap on my shoulder, I rolled my head in her direction and opened my eyes. Our faces were less than an inch apart. My pulse went from zero to erratic in a matter of seconds and the cabin grew stuffy. Jillian’s midnight eyes searched my face.
My eyes fell to her mouth. As so many times before, I wanted to kiss her. What would her lips feel like on mine? What did she taste like?
I moved my head closer…the tips of our noses touched and Jillian sucked in a tiny breath.
What noises could I elicit from her? How loud could I make her scream my name?
And while my mind conjured a dozen and a half erotic scenarios, Jillian closed her mouth on mine.
I shivered at the memory and readjusted in the seat, trying to accommodate the bulge in my pants.
It had taken every ounce of energy I possessed not to push my hands through her long, rainbow-dyed hair, press her against the cabin wall, and show her exactly why she couldn’t leave me at the end of the summer.
Her lips were hot and full, and I wanted to devour her. My hands itched to explore the curves of her tiny frame. With just one kiss, she’d released a flood of emotions I’d never felt for another woman.
And it scared the shit out of me.
Jillian was my
friend…my best friend. If we ventured down that path, I feared she’d give up on her dream to stay with me. I didn’t want her to blow off design school and stay in Illinois and end up at the junior college. She was too talented for community college. I wanted more for her. I’d spent so many years trying to protect her from every pain and sadness life threw her way, I worried she’d grown too reliant on me. She needed this opportunity to spread her wings and find herself.
With one infinitesimal nudge—all I could muster—I pushed her way. When our lips parted, I could still taste her, and like a starving man, I wanted more. Energy crackled between us. Jillian stared at me, desire and confusion pooling in her dark-chocolate eyes. Her expression begged me for an explanation. Then I told her the biggest lie of all: I only wanted to be friends.
And now she was leaving…without knowing the truth.
She yawned loudly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I’m such a slacker.” She scrubbed her hands along her face. “I don’t think I can make it any farther tonight. Let’s get a room.”
That’s my girl. “That’s what I hoped you’d say. My ass hurts, and I really need to piss.”
Not familiar with the area, I didn’t travel too far into town, sticking close to the freeway. I pulled the car into the nearest hotel parking lot and killed the engine.
The second I got out, I stretched my hands above my head, rising onto the balls of my feet. My body was stiff. What I wouldn’t give for a workout about now.
Jillian got out on her side and mimicked my stance. When she stretched, the bottom of her shirt came up again. My eyes were drawn to her tiny waist and flat stomach. Damn it, Griffin.
Attempting to keep my thoughts pure, I dropped my hands and went to check on the trailer carrying my motorcycle. Since Jillian was keeping her car at school, I’d need a set of wheels to get back home.
“Everything good?” she asked, coming to stand beside me.
I yanked on each of the chains securing my bike, checking for any weak links. “Yep. All good.” I gave one last tug and turned to face her. She smiled up at me with droopy eyelids. Dusting my hands on my jeans, I brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face.
“Thanks,” she said sleepily.
I smiled. “I’ll get our bags.”
* * *
Once we checked in, the desk clerk handed over our key cards. I hefted Jillian’s backpack onto my shoulder, and scooped my bag off the floor. “Ready?”
Jillian nodded.
I led the way, keeping watch for our room number as we walked down the hallway. Not too far from our room, I heard Jillian laughing behind me. I stopped and turned around. “What’s so funny?”
Jillian pointed at the wall. “The wallpaper. It’s the same stuff Jennifer has on the walls in the guest room…my room.”
“Leave it to Jennifer to troll cheap hotels for interior design inspiration,” I said, laughing.
Jennifer was Jillian’s older sister and guardian. When the girls’ grandparents had become too ill to care for them, Jennifer, being in her early twenties at the time, assumed guardianship of Jillian. Something Jennifer’s resented ever since.
Jennifer was always cold and distant to Jillian, never kind. She wasn’t a fan of me either, and the feeling was mutual.
Five years ago Jillian started cutting herself, a way to cope with the loss of her parents. She kept it a secret from everyone, until I found her unconscious and bleeding on her bathroom floor.
I stayed by Jillian’s hospital bed all day long, praying for her to wake up. When visiting hours ended, Jennifer sent a nurse into Jillian’s room and demanded that I leave. That night Jillian was all alone. Even thinking about her waking up scared and by herself made my blood boil. From then on I didn’t give two fucks what Jennifer said or did, she’d never keep me from Jillian again.
Finding our door, I slid the plastic card into the handle and was denied access. The blinking red light taunted me. I tried again. Access denied.
I turned around. “Did I ever tell you how much I hate these things?”
“Scoot over, let me try.” Jillian plucked the card from my hand, threw her hip into my leg, and pushed me out of the way. For a tiny thing, she wielded a lot of power in those hips.
She stuck the card into the handle and pulled it out quickly, just as I had done. But this time the light blinked green and the latch clicked. Access granted.
“It’s OK. You can’t help it.” She patted my shoulder. “It’s not your fault you lack rhythm.”
I swallowed a laugh. I lacked rhythm? That was funny. She never said that when I played the bass or guitar for her. I shook my head and shouldered past her. “Definitely a smartass.”
I walked into the dark room and tossed the bags on the bed, beating a quick path to the john. I took care of business and hopped in the shower.
The hot water loosened my tight, sore muscles. I made it quick, though, careful to save some hot water for Jillian.
Shutting the water off, I pulled the curtain open, realizing I’d left my bag on the bed. “Shit,” I mumbled. Even though I’d known Jillian for years, things have been awkward between us since she kissed me. And I was certain my girlfriend wouldn’t approve of my next move.
I yanked a towel from the rack and dried off. Wrapping it around my waist, I stepped out of the shower and opened the bathroom door.
Jillian was lying on the bed, right beside my bag. I crossed the room, doing my best to ignore her, but I felt her eyes on me. My pulse quickened. A bead of water rolled down my neck.
“Whoa,” she said breathily. “Where did those come from?” She pointed to my arms.
Ignore her. Ignore her. Remember Erin, your girlfriend? I chanted in my head while I unzipped my bag.
I pulled out a t-shirt. “What?” My face heated. Being naked next to this girl was bad news. I was thankful she was fully clothed or I’d cross a serious line.
“You’re looking good, Daniels. Real hottie material now.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
Keep it friendly, Daniels. Don’t forget about Erin.
“I’m serious, Griff. Your tat looks amazing now that your arms are bigger.”
At the mention of my arms, I flexed. My ink did look damn good. Put it back in the friend-zone, Daniels. “Enough, Jillian. I don’t want to talk about my arms. The shower’s all yours.” I snapped my t-shirt at her. “Move over.”
She slid off the bed, and I took up her spot. I fished a pair of boxer briefs from my bag.
“Touchy, touchy. Remind me not to give you any more compliments,” she said with a pout. When she leaned over me, I caught a whiff of coconuts…her shampoo. She pulled her backpack off the bed and froze.
“You didn’t tell me you got a new one.” She leaned over me farther, trying to get a better look. Our close proximity wasn’t helping matters. With my lack of clothing and her tropical scent, my blood went south, fast. “Turn around. I want to see it.” Placing her hands on my shoulders, she guided me around, and I let her.
My back on display, she drew a hot finger over the lines of the griffin spanning from one shoulder to the other. I closed my eyes, memorizing the feel of her hands on my skin.
“Griff, this is amazing. When did you get it?” she asked.
“Um, it was finished up about a month ago.” I wanted her to keep touching.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Her hands left my back and she swung her backpack in my direction.
I threw my arms up as a shield. “Sorry, the band’s been busy.”
Cocking her head to the side, she put her hands on her hips. “Well, you certainly look the part now: Mr. Hardcore Rocker all tatted up and sexy.” She emphasized the point with a little shimmy. Me? Sexy? She was one to talk.
I pulled my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and yanked it over my head. “I do have an image to uphold.” I smirked.
One side of her mouth pulled up and she shook her head. “I’ll be out in a bit.” Turning, she headed for the showe
r.
I fell back onto the bed and growled, throwing an arm over my eyes. The next few days were going to be impossible.
While Jillian finished up, I climbed into bed, anticipating her body pressed to mine. I would behave myself. She and I cuddled all the time. We were just friends.
When she emerged from the bathroom I feigned sleep, wondering what she’d do about our sleeping situation.
She picked up a pillow and slowly dragged a blanket toward the foot of the bed. “What are you doing?” My voice broke the silence.
She froze. “Uh…getting ready for bed?”
“Get over here.” I patted the space next to me.
She sighed. “Griff, I don’t feel right about this. What about Erin?”
Yeah, this probably wasn’t something Erin would approve of, but I didn’t have much more time with Jillian. We were about to be separated by time and miles. Something neither of us was used to.
I would behave. Right now I just wanted to be close to my friend. “Jillibean, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep. Erin’s fine. Now get over here, I’m not letting you sleep in a fucking chair.”
Tossing the pillow next to mine, she spread the blanket out and climbed in beside me. “You’re already in trouble, aren’t you?” she asked, snuggling into the covers.
Damn, she smells good. Like the ocean. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Her scent was intoxicating. I needed a distraction. In my head I recited the starting lineup for the 2006 St. Louis Cardinals. Number 4, Yadier Molina…number 29, Chris Carpenter…27, Scott Rolen…I rolled over, putting her at my back. “Good night, Bean.”
“Good night,” she whispered, turning to face the other wall.
I listened to her breaths even out as she fell asleep. Staring at the wall, I forced myself to get my shit together. Jillian had too much going for her to throw it all away for me. I pushed all notions of us as a couple from my mind. Not only for my own sanity, but because I wouldn’t jeopardize Jillian’s dreams…her future…for my selfish desires. She deserved so much more than I could offer. I didn’t have the best track record when it came to women and it scared the shit out of me to think Jillian and I could end badly. Maybe distance was what Jillian and I needed. A chance to reset our friendship.
