Across the Distance

by Marie Meyer

Genres: Coming of Age; Sagas; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance

Synopsis

"I could not put it down... Loved it!" --- Jen McLaughlin, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author There's a drawer I never open. It holds a picture I never look at. It reminds me of a day I hate to remember, but I'll never forget. I'd give anything to be like the other girls on campus. Going to parties, flirting with boys, planning for a future. But that's not me. And hasn't been since the day my parents died. The only thing that got me through was Griffin. Even though I didn't have my family, I always had him. Only, now I'm not so sure I do. It's not just the eleven hundred miles separating us now that I'm at college. Or his band finally taking off, and all the gigs and girls suddenly demanding his time. It's as if everything is different-the way we talk, the way we text . . . the way he looks at me and the way those looks make me feel. Griffin has been the only good thing in my life since that horrific day. But I can feel our friendship slipping away-and I'm terrified of what will be left in its place . . .

Release date: May 5, 2015

Publisher: Forever Yours

Print pages: 338

Sample

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 surprised 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 brave. 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.


I held my breath while my eyes welled up with tears. Not today, Jillian. You will not cry. I refused to give her the satisfaction. I stood up taller, giving myself a good two inches on her, and swallowed the lump forming in my throat. She was not going to ruin this day. The day I’d worked so hard to achieve.


“Ready to go?” Griffin said, coming around the corner. “The boys are waiting by the door to say good-bye.”

Jennifer stepped away from me and gave Griffin a disgusted once-over. “And yet another reason why I’m glad Jillian decided to go away to school,” she said. “At least I get a respite from the white trash walking through my front door.” Piercing me with an icy stare, she continued, “With the endless parade of women he flaunts in front of you, the tattoos, the music,” she scowled, “I’ve never understood the hold he has on you, Jillian.” She stifled a laugh. “Pathetic, if you ask me.”

Griffin took a step in her direction. “Excuse me?” he growled, his expression darkening. I knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but he was damn good at intimidating her. He wasn’t the little boy who lived next door anymore. He’d grown up. With his deep voice and considerable size, he towered over her, the muscles in his arms flexing.

She shuffled backward. “Just go.” With a dismissive flick of her wrist, she sat back down at the table.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, all bark and no bite.” Griffin pulled on my arm. “Come on, Bean. You don’t have to put up with her shit anymore.”

I glanced back at Jennifer; she’d already gone back to her broccoli-laced brownie recipe. Griffin was right; I wouldn’t have to put up with her shit while I was away. But he was wrong about her bite. When he wasn’t around to back her down, she relished the chance to sink her teeth into me. It hurt like hell when she latched on and wouldn’t let go.

We walked down the hallway. Michael and Mitchell were waiting by the door. “I need big hugs, boys,” I said, bending down and opening my arms wide. “This hug has to last me until December, so make it a good one.” Both of them stepped into my embrace and I held onto them tightly. “You two be good for your mommy and daddy,” I said.

“We will,” they replied.

I let go and they smiled. “I love you both.”

“Love you, Aunt Jillian,” they said.

“Now, go find your mom. She’s in the kitchen.” Knowing the boys’ penchant for sneaking out of the house, I wanted to be sure their mother had them corralled before Griffin and I left.

I stood back up and looked into Griffin’s dark eyes. “I’m ready.” I tossed him the keys.

“I’m the chauffeur, huh?” Griffin smirked, pulling his eyebrow up. He opened the door for me and I stepped out onto the porch.

“You get the first nine hours; I’ll take the back side.” This time he gave me a full smile. What would I do without him? On the porch, I froze. It finally hit me. What would I do without him? Sure, I wanted out of Jennifer’s house, but at what expense? Couldn’t I just go to the junior college like Griff and get my own apartment? Why had I made the decision to go to school eleven hundred miles away? How could I leave him—my best friend?


The lump in my throat had come back but I forced the words out anyway. “Griff…” I sounded like a damn croaking frog.

Griffin wrapped his arms around me. “Yeah?”

“Why am I doing this?”

“What do you mean? This is all you’ve talked about since you got the scholarship.”

“I know.” I sniffled. “But, I don’t know if I can do this. We’ll be so far apart.”

“Uh-uh. Stop that right now. I am not about to let you throw away the opportunity of a lifetime just because we won’t see each other as often. You’re too talented for Glen Carbon, Illinois and you know it. Now go, get your ass in the car.” With his hand, he popped me on the backside, just to get his point across.

I jumped, not expecting his hand on my ass. My heart skipped and my cheeks flushed. “Hey!” I swatted his hand away.

“Get in the car, Jillian.”

Damn, I already miss him.


Chapter Two

Jillian. Jillian, wake up.”


Griffin shook my shoulder while I blinked away a dream. “I’m sorry,” I replied groggily. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. What time is it?”

“It’s just after eleven.”

I pulled my legs from the dashboard and sat up, my back popping and snapping in protest. “Ugh, I hope there’s a good yoga class on campus.” I stretched my back and legs the best I could and took in my surroundings. “Where are we?” Griffin pulled off the turnpike and headed into the business district of some small town.

“We’re in Pennsylvania. Do you want to keep driving or call it a night?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have taken over the wheel a hundred miles ago.”

“It’s all right. You looked too peaceful to wake up.”

“I’m such a slacker.” Yawning, I rubbed my eyes, hoping to lubricate my dried-out contacts. “I don’t think I can make it any farther tonight. Let’s get a room.”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say. My ass hurts and I really need to piss.”

Griffin found a cheap hotel right off the turnpike. At the check-in desk, Griffin showed his ID and paid for the room.

As soon as the desk attendant handed over our key cards, Griffin picked up his duffle bag and slung my backpack over his shoulder. We headed down the dimly lit corridor toward our room and a small chuckle escaped from my lips.

“What’s so funny?” Griffin asked.

“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,” Griffin replied with a smirk.

We turned down another hallway and were immediately assaulted by the overpowering scent of chlorine. “I wonder if this hotel has a pool?” I inquired sarcastically.

Griffin shook his head and smiled. “You’re such a smart-ass.”

“I know. I learned from the best.”

“Damn straight.”

Griffin stopped in front of our door and slid the key card into the lock. The little red light flashed each time he pushed the card into the door. “Did I ever tell you how much I hate these things?” he said, turning around.

“Scoot over, let me try.” I checked him with my hip and he playfully stumbled to the side. I shook my head and snatched the card from his hand. These kinds of locks required a certain rhythm—in, out…green light…and we were in. I turned to him and stuck my tongue out. “It’s okay. You can’t help it.” I patted his shoulder. “It’s not your fault you lack rhythm.”

An indignant smile spread across his face. “Yep. Definitely a smart-ass.” He nudged me aside with his shoulder and stepped into the room.

I followed and flipped on the light. There was one queen-sized bed in the center of the room and a large plasma screen TV sitting on the dresser. Griffin tossed the bags on the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. I flopped down next to our bags and contemplated never moving from that spot. It baffled my mind: I had done nothing but sit on my ass for almost ten hours, minus the occasional bathroom breaks and food stops, and yet I was completely exhausted. I heard Griffin turn on the shower. I closed my eyes and waited for my turn.

My body relaxed into the fluffy down comforter and my mind drifted to the dream Griffin had awakened me from. My mom’s sweet voice still echoed through my head. She and my dad had been gone almost twelve years. Years of therapy had gotten me to the point where I could think about them and not cry…or run a blade across my skin. But no amount of therapy would ever diminish the guilt I harbored for them not coming home. It was my fault; I knew it and so did Jennifer.

A few minutes later the shower shut off. Griffin stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, coal-black hair stuck to his face and neck as he padded over to the bed where his duffle bag lay. Oh, sweet Jesus. The temperature of the room spiked and my pulse raced. Why did he have this effect on me? He’s just your friend, Jillian. Get it together. But as I watched him cross the room, his olive, tattooed skin still damp and glistening, that was no easy feat.


I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. With his body on full display, I couldn’t keep my eyes from roaming even if I’d wanted to. I didn’t know where to look first; every part of him demanded attention. His broad shoulders… his sculpted arms…the hard plains of his chest…and his chiseled abs, that gave way to the beautiful v-shaped outline right where the towel hugged his waist. My eyes lingered at his waist. Curses…that wretched towel. Every part of him was perfect.


Avoiding my gaze, he rummaged through his bag, ignoring me completely.

I had to pull myself together. Yes, he was gorgeous, but he was also MY BEST FRIEND. He’d made it quite clear that was all he wanted. Besides, if I put myself out there again, not only would I feel the sting of rejection bone-deep, I’d risk losing him altogether. I needed him in my life way too much. I refused to jeopardize our lifelong friendship because I couldn’t keep my hormones in check. I needed to lighten up the awkward tension in the room.

“Whoa, where did those come f. . .