“Does that make it easier?”
“No,” I said. “More confusing.”
“Do you want to know your father, Cassie?”
I paused. Yes. But he left. He left twice, and I didn’t know if I could handle a third. We couldn’t make people stay, no matter how much we wanted them to. This life wasn’t for him, and I knew all about trying to fit a mold you couldn’t fit into. “Part of me says yes; the other part thinks maybe it’s better without him. What do you think?”
She lowered her hands into her lap. “I can’t answer that for you. No one can except yourself.”
“I figured.”
There was nothing else to say about it right now.
Dr. Lambert took my silence and changed the subject. “How long until Graham has to leave for school?”
“Six weeks.”
57.
Graham
I RAN MY FINGERS through Cass’s hair. I slept better with her beside me. That fear of waking up alone, of losing something in my sleep that I couldn’t hold on to that had plagued me every night, seemed to vanish now that she was back there beside me, and that she wanted to be there. I wanted her there forever. But right now, forever felt very close to ending.
It’d been three weeks since we made up, and in four weeks I was going to Texas. Neither of us had talked about school—or about the interview she flew to New York City for last week—but we both knew they were closing in on us.
Cassie stirred as I moved from the bed, but she didn’t wake. I couldn’t believe how quickly we fell back into a pattern of her and me, of us. It was like we were never apart. That was almost easy to believe, except we’d both grown. I felt it, and I saw it each time I looked at her. It was like she was rejuvenated, especially because she’s had these interviews in the city. Purpose looked good on Cassie.
The morning sun poured through my window, and I glanced out at the half-fixed fence. I had spent more time with Cassie than I had on that fence. I had to finish it before I left. To leave something as a standing reminder of what we’ve been through to get wherever we ended up. I kissed Cassie’s forehead and got the work boots out of my closet. I had a fence to finish.
CASSIE NEVER LET me drive the convertible, so when she threw me the keys I knew our day out was more than a date at the beach. But I didn’t question it, because Cassie did things in her own time. I knew that.
We found this little spot of empty sand where the shore and the grass started to come back together. We could see everything across the beach from there.
“It’s a nice day,” I said. “This was a good idea.”
I kissed her neck twice before she turned into me and met my lips. For the moment, we took it slow, but then there was nothing slow about it. She was mine and I was hers, and there was no one else around to stop us or see us or separate us.
When we stopped for air, my whole body inhaled it. Soaked it up. Cass was a sponge and being with her seemed to steal parts of me. It was an intoxicating effect, one that had never gone away. Not since that first time I kissed her all those years ago at our fence.
“I got a call this morning,” Cassie said.
I could feel this coming. This only meant one thing. “From the label?”
She smiled. “They want me.”
“Shit, that’s fantastic, Cass.”
I meant it. I really wanted this for her. This was going to be good for her. She loved music. She’d always loved it—long before she loved me.
“I know. I’m excited.”
She smiled, but I could tell she was sad. I could ignore that part for now. “What are the details?”
“They house me, pay me, and we take it six months at a time. Apparently, they loved me. They think I have the right spirit, whatever that means. Recommendations from Mom, one of my professors and Rohan didn’t hurt.”
I tensed a little at Rohan’s name. In my head, there was never a Rohan. I didn’t like thinking about Cass with another guy at all. Let alone a famous musician whose biggest hit was about her.
I kissed her quickly. She was going to be so good at this. I was trying to contain my excitement, but Cassie was made for music. “When do they want you?”
“Two weeks. I’ll leave the day after you.”
There it was. The real reason we were out here. We’d talked about this a lot. She wouldn’t be happy if she followed me. I wouldn’t have been happy if I tried to change my plans. We each had to find our own way.
“That’s great, Cassie.”
“Is it?” she asked, her big eyes staring up at me.
“Yes,” I said.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said. She looked down, biting the side of her cheek. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to stand in her own way, not because of me.
I tilted her chin up to look at me. “You’re going to New York. I’m going to Texas.”
“We’re going to be apart,” she said.
“We knew it was coming.”
“I just got you back, Graham.”
I pushed down the sadness I felt. If she saw me upset, she’d be upset. She had to go. “We’re not that far apart.”
“Only New York and Texas.”
“You always wanted an adventure. This is ours. Together.”
She smiled and kissed me. I wanted to touch her as much as I could. When we parted, she rested her head on my shoulder. “What if you move there and meet a girl? What if you fall madly in love?”
“I am madly in love.”
“With someone else.”
She’d asked this question a few times already. I knew she loved me; she knew I loved her, but she had this fear of holding me back from something better. I didn’t want anything better because it didn’t exist.
“I won’t,” I said.
“You don’t know that.”
I chuckled. “What if you fall in love with some musician?”
She shoved me. “I’m serious. It could happen.”
“I know.”
And deep down, I did. Love was one thing, but life wasn’t predictable. We couldn’t map it out. I didn’t want to think of ending up with anyone else.
“I don’t want to be that couple that tried to make it work long distance and ended up hating each other,” she said.
I sighed. “So what then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Me, either.”
We were both quiet for a beat before I pulled her to her feet, and drug her into the ocean. I didn’t have the answers either, but we had two weeks, and I was going to spend all of it with her.
58.
Cassie
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 Af
ter.
“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?”
59.
Graham
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.
60.
Cassie
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.
Acknowledgements
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 Perin
ovic 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.
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