Across the Distance Read online

  ACROSS THE DISTANCE

  Marie Meyer

  New York Boston

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  Table of Contents

  Newsletters

  Copyright Page

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This book is dedicated to all the families who suffered losses as a result of the tragic events of September 11, 2001, especially the children who lost their parent(s).

  Acknowledgments

  All thanks and praise to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, through whom all things are possible.

  This last year and a half has been a whirlwind of non-stop excitement! From writing Across the Distance, then tossing into Pitch Wars on a whim, to finding representation…every step has been a dream come true. But, without the love and support of so many amazing people, Jillian and Griffin would still be on my computer and not in your hands.

  My phenomenal agent, Louise Fury, who favorited my Pitch Wars entry and changed my life. Thank you for believing in my work and loving Jillian and Griffin as much as I do. You’re always there for me, answering my questions at all hours of the day. You’ve patiently guided me through the publishing process, and I’m eternally grateful. I’m so blessed to have you in my corner.

  To my editor extraordinaire, Megha Parekh, at Grand Central Publishing, thank you for taking a chance on me and my story. You gave Jillian her wings to fly. I’ve loved working with you. You’re a gem!

  My publication team at Forever Yours, thank you for making AtD the best it can be. From the gorgeous cover, detailed edits, and publicity, you’ve packaged Jillian up nicely, so I could share her with the world.

  Team Fury, especially Lady Lioness, for not only choosing my Pitch Wars entry, but fighting like a momma lion for AtD, and making me part of The Pride. Thank you for believing in me, your kick-butt edits, and all your brilliant ideas. You’ve taught me so much. Because of you, I am a better storyteller.

  Jen McLaughlin, my agency sister, thank you for taking the time to read AtD and supplying a blurb. I’m humbled by your kind words and praise.

  To my husband and two Darlings, who are currently buried under a mountain of laundry, if you can hear me, “Thank you for your unwavering love and support! I’ll dig you out soon! I love you forever!”

  My parents, Jim and Judy, thank you for fostering my love of the arts. Without your support, love, and encouragement, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I love you.

  My Arizona family: Dot, Kris, George, Brendin, and Pat, I can hear you cheering all the way from the desert! Thank you for believing in me. I love you.

  The Pride, Sarah Blair and Annie Rains, hear us roar! It was a pleasure working with both of you during Pitch Wars. Thank you for your cheers and constructive criticism. You helped make AtD what it is today.

  My SS Sisters: Heather Brewer, Sarah Bromely, Cole Gibsen, Emily Hall, Jamie Krakover, Shawntelle Madison, L.S. Murphy, and Heather Reid, thank you for your friendship. What happens on the farm, stays on the farm! Love you, ladies.

  Brenda Drake and the Pitch Wars crew, thank you for your time and dedication to helping aspiring authors become real authors. Pitch Wars will forever hold a special place in my heart.

  My lovely CPs: Molly Dean Stevens and Meredith Tate, my writing is better because of the two of you. Thank you for the time and consideration you put into helping me perfect my craft.

  The NA Collaborative: Ara Grigorian, Amanda Heger, Sophia Henry, Kate L. Mary, Laura Salters, Annika Sharma, Jessica Ruddick, and Meredith Tate, you’re all amazing! I’m so fortunate to be a part of such a talented group of authors. The future of New Adult is very bright. Much love and thanks to you, my friends!

  To Brandy, my first reader, your enthusiasm for my story was all the encouragement I needed to send Jillian and Griffin out in the world. Thank you! Love and cosmos, my dear friend!

  Chapter One

  The tape screeched when I pulled it over the top of another box. I was down to the last one; all I had left to pack were the contents of my dresser, but that was going to have to wait. Outside, I heard my best friend, Griffin, pull into the driveway. Before he shut off the ignition, he revved the throttle of his Triumph a few times for my sister’s sake. Jennifer hated his noisy motorcycle.

  Griffin’s effort to piss Jennifer off made me smile. I stood up and walked to the door. Heading downstairs, I slammed the bedroom door a little too hard and the glass figurine cabinet at the end of the hall shook. I froze and watched as an angel statuette teetered back and forth on its pedestal. Shit. Please, don’t break.

  “Jillian? What are you doing?” Jennifer yelled from the kitchen. “You better not break anything!”

  As soon as the angel righted itself, I sighed in relief. But a small part of me wished it had broken. It would have felt good to break something that was special to her. Lord knew she’d done her best to break me. I shook off that depressing thought and raced down the steps to see Griffin.

  When I opened the front door, he was walking up the sidewalk with two little boys attached to each of his legs: my twin nephews and Griffin’s preschool fan club presidents, Michael and Mitchell.

  Every time I saw Griffin interact with the boys, I couldn’t help but smile. The boys adored him.

  I watched as they continued their slow migration to the porch. Michael and Mitchell’s messy, white-blond curls bounced wildly with each step, as did Griffin’s coal black waves, falling across his forehead. He stood in stark contrast to the little boys dangling at his feet. Their tiny bodies seemed to shrink next to Griffin’s six-foot-four muscled frame.

  “I see that your adoring fans have found you.” I laughed, watching Griffin walk like a giant, stomping as hard as he could, the twins giggling hysterically and hanging on for dear life.

  “Hey, Jillibean, you lose your helpers?” he asked, unfazed by the ambush.

  “Yeah, right,” I said, walking out front to join him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the familiar scents of leather and wind. A combination that would always be uniquely him. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I sighed, relaxing into his embrace. I felt safe, like nothing could hurt me when I was in his arms.

  Griffin’s arms circled my waist. “That bad, huh?”

  I slackened my grip and stepped back, giving him and the squirming boys at his feet more room. “My sister’s been especially vile today.”

  “When isn’t she?” Griffin replied.

  “Giddy up, Giff-in,” Mitchell wailed, bouncing up and down.

  “You about ready?” Griffin asked me, trying to remain upright while the boys pulled and tugged his legs in opposite directions.

  “Not really. I’ve got one more box to pack and a bunch to load into my car. They’re up in my room.”

  “Hear that, boys? Aunt Jillian needs help loading her boxes. Are you men ready to help?” he asked.

  “Yeah!” they shouted in unison.

  “Hang on tight!” Griffin yelled and started running the rest of the way up the sidewalk and onto the porch. “All right guys, this is where the ride ends. Time to get to work.” Griffin shook Michael off of his left leg before he started shaking Mitchell off of his right. The boys rolled around on the porch and Griffin playfully stepped on their bellies with his ginormous boots. The boys were laughing so hard I wouldn’t have been s
urprised to see their faces turning blue from oxygen deprivation.

  Following them to the porch, I shook my head and smiled. Griffin held his hand out and I laced my fingers through his, thankful he was here.

  “I’ll get the trailer hitched up to your car and the stuff you have ready, I’ll put in the backseat. You finish up that last box; we’ve got a long trip ahead of us.” Griffin leaned in close and whispered the last part in my ear. “Plus, it’ll be nice to say ‘adios’ to the Queen Bitch,” he said, referring to my sister.

  “Sounds like a plan.” I winked. “Come on boys,” I held the door open and waved them inside. “If you’re outside without a grown-up, your mom will kill me.” They both shot up from the porch and ran inside.

  “Giff-in,” Michael said, coming to a stop in the doorway. “Can we still help?”

  Griffin tousled his hair. “You bet, little man. Let’s go find those boxes.” Griffin winked back at me and the three of them ran up the stairs.

  I trailed behind the boys, knowing that I couldn’t put off packing that “last box” any longer. When I got to my room, Griffin held a box in his hands, but it was low enough so that the boys thought they were helping to bear some of its weight. “Hey, slacker,” I said to Griffin, bumping his shoulder with my fist. “You letting a couple of three-year-olds show you up?”

  “These are not normal three-year-olds,” Griffin said in a deep commercial-announcer voice. “These boys are the Amazing Barrett Brothers, able to lift boxes equal to their own body weight with the help of the Amazing Griffin.”

  I rolled my eyes at his ridiculousness, and smiled. “You better watch it there, ‘Amazing Griffin’, or I’ll have to butter the doorway to get your ego to fit through.”

  Still speaking in a cheesy commercial voice, Griffin continued, “As swift as lightning, we will transport this box to the vehicle waiting downstairs. Do not fear, kind lady, the Amazing Barrett Brothers and the Amazing Griffin are here to help.”

  “Oh, Lord. I’m in trouble,” I mumbled. And as swift as lightning (but really not), Griffin shuffled the boys out of the room and down the stairs.

  I grabbed my last empty box and walked across the room to my dresser. I pulled open a drawer and removed a folded stack of yoga pants, tees, and dozens of clothing projects I’d made over the years. Shuffling on my knees from one drawer to the next, I emptied each of them until I came to the drawer I’d been dreading. The one on the top right-hand side.

  The contents of this drawer had remained buried in darkness for almost five years. I was scared to open it, to shed light on the objects that reminded me of my past. I stared at the unassuming rectangular compartment, knowing what I had to do. I said a silent prayer for courage and pulled open the drawer.

  Inside, the 5x7 picture frame still lay upside down on top of several other snapshots. I reached for the stack. The second my fingers touched the dusty frame I winced, as if expecting it to burst into flames and reduce me to a heap of ashes. Biting my lip, I grabbed the frame and forced myself to look.

  There we were. Mom, Dad, and a miniature version of me. Tears burned my eyes. My lungs clenched in my chest and I forced myself to breathe as I threw the frame into the box with my yoga pants. I pulled out the rest of the photos and tossed them in before they had a chance to stab me through the heart as well.

  Downstairs, I could hear the boys coming back inside and then footsteps on the stairs. Quickly, I folded the flaps of the box and pulled the packing tape off the dresser. With another screech, I sealed away all the bad memories of my childhood.

  “Well, my help dumped me,” Griffin said, coming back into my room alone. “Apparently, I’m not as cool as a toy car.”

  Before he could see my tears, I wiped my wet eyes with the back of my hand, sniffled, and plastered on a brave smile, then turned around. “There. Done,” I proclaimed, standing up and kicking the box over to where the others sat.

  “You okay?” Griffin asked, knowing me all too well.

  “Yeah.” I dusted my hands off on my jeans shorts. “Let’s get this show on the road.” I bent down to pick up a box, standing back up with a huge smile on my face. “I’m ready to get to college.”

  * * *

  Griffin took the last box from my hand and shoved it into the backseat of my car. “I’ll get my bike on the trailer, and then we’ll be ready to hit the road.” He wiped his upper arm across his sweaty forehead.

  I looked into his dark eyes and smiled. “Thanks,” I sighed.

  “For what?” With a toss of his head, he pushed a few errant curls out of his eyes.

  “For putting up with me.” He could have easily gotten a plane ticket home, but he knew how much I hated airplanes. The thought of him getting on a plane made me physically ill.

  He swung his arm around my neck, squeezing me with his strong arm. “Put up with you? I’d like to see you try and get rid of me.”

  With my head trapped in his viselike grip and my face pressed to his chest, I couldn’t escape his intoxicating scent. Even though it was too hot for his beloved leather riding jacket, the faint smell still clung to him. That, coupled with the heady musk clinging to his sweat-dampened t-shirt, made my head swim with thoughts that were well beyond the realm of friendship.

  I needed to refocus my thoughts, and I couldn’t do that pressed up against him. I shivered and pulled away. Taking a step back, I cleared my throat. “I’m going to tell Jennifer we’re leaving.” I thumbed toward the house.

  He scrutinized my face for a minute, then smirked. “Enjoy that. You’ve earned it.”

  I turned on my heel and let out a deep breath, trying desperately to rein in my inappropriate fantasies.

  Months ago, our easygoing friendship had morphed into an awkward dance of fleeting glances, lingering touches, and an unspeakable amount of tension. I thought he’d felt it, too. The night of my high school graduation party, I went out on a limb and kissed him. When our lips met, every nerve ending in my body fired at once. Embers of lust burned deep inside me. I’d never felt anything like that before. The thought of being intimate with someone made me want to run to the nearest convent. But not with Griffin. When our bodies connected, I felt whole and alive in a way I’d never felt before.

  Then he’d done what I’d least expected…he’d pushed me away. I’d searched his face for an explanation. He, more than anyone, knew what it had taken for me to put myself out there, and he’d pushed me away. Touting some bullshit about our timing being all wrong, that a long distance relationship wouldn’t work, he insisted that I was nothing more than his friend. His rejection hurt worse than any of the cuts I’d inflicted upon myself in past years. But, he was my best friend; I needed him far too much to have our relationship end badly and lose him forever. Regardless of his excuses, in retrospect, I was glad I wouldn’t fall victim to his usual love-’em-and-leave-’em pattern. Griffin was never with one girl for more than a couple of months; then he was on to the next. That would have killed me. So I picked up what was left of my pride, buried my feelings, and vowed not to blur the lines of our friendship again.

  Climbing the steps to the porch, I looked back at him before going into the house. Griffin had gone to work wheeling his bike onto the trailer. His biceps strained beneath the plain white tee he wore. I bit my bottom lip and cursed. “Damn it, Jillian. Stop torturing yourself.” Groaning, I reached for the doorknob.

  “Hey, Jennifer, we’re leaving,” I said, grabbing my car keys from the island in the middle of the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table poring over cookbooks that helped her sneak vegetables into the twins’ meals. Poor boys, they didn’t stand a chance. Jennifer fought dirty…she always had.

  “It’s about time.” She turned the page of her cookbook, not even bothering to lift her eyes from the page.

  “What? No good-bye? This is it, the day you’ve been waiting for since I moved in. I thought you’d be at the door cheering.”

  Usually I was more reserved with my comments, but today I felt brav
e. Maybe moving to Rhode Island and going to design school gave me the extra backbone I’d lacked for the last twelve years. Or maybe it was just the fact that I didn’t have to face her any longer. By the look on Jennifer’s face, my mouthy comments surprised her as well. She stood up from the table, tucked a piece of her shoulder-length blond hair behind her ear, and took a small step in my direction. Her mannerisms and the way she carried herself sparked a memory of my mother. As Jennifer got older, that happened more often, and a pang of sadness clenched my heart. Where I’d gotten Dad’s lighter hair and pale complexion, Jennifer had Mom’s coloring: dark blond hair, olive skin. But neither of us had got Mom’s gorgeous blue eyes. The twins ended up with those.

  Beyond the couple of features Jennifer shared with Mom, though, their similarities ended. When mom smiled, it was kind and inviting. Jennifer never smiled. She was rigid, harsh, and distant. Nothing like mom

  Jennifer curled her spray-tanned arms around my back. I braced for the impact. Jennifer wasn’t affectionate, especially with me, so I knew something hurtful was in store. I held perfectly still as she drew me close to her chest. The sweet, fruity scent of sweet pea blossoms—Jennifer’s favorite perfume—invaded my senses. For such a light, cheery fragrance, it always managed to weigh heavy, giving me a headache.

  Jennifer pressed her lips to my ear and whispered, “Such a shame Mom and Dad aren’t here to see you off. I’m sure they would have told you good-bye.” She slid her hands to my shoulders and placed a small kiss on my cheek.

  And there it was. The dagger through my heart. Mom and Dad. She knew they were my kryptonite. For the second time in less than an hour, I felt acidic drops of guilt leaking from my heart and circulating through my body. But what burned more than the guilt was the fact that she was right. It was a shame they weren’t here. And I had no one to blame but myself.