Days Like This by Danielle Ellison Read Free Book Online

record scratched as I turned on Billie Holiday and let “ Moaning Low” play through the house. I waited until
she started singing before going to face the living room.
    The fireplace
wasn’t white brick anymore. Now, it was black. The wall around it was charred,
beams and insulation showing through the burnt drywall. I stepped closer to
examine it. What was she doing? This would cost a fortune to fix.
    “It’s probably
not safe for you to touch that,” a voice said behind me. I jumped, but I knew
it was Graham. My heart was already pounding, and I willed it to calm down. It
was early morning, but there he was. I felt him behind me, attached to me, and
that was terrifying. I stepped away from the wall, but couldn’t turn around. I
was frozen. Hearing his voice reminded me how much I missed it, missed him, and
I couldn’t see him. If I did, that would be it. I would be face-to-face with
the boy I loved for years, the boy I walked away from.
    Graham groaned
behind me, like he was stretching. He never could stand still.
    “You just get
here?” he asked.
     “Yeah, long
day,” I said. It came out a whisper.
    I didn’t move
my gaze from the wall while all the words pierced through my head. I’m sorry. I still love you. I hope you
can forgive me. I want to be friends. I pressed my eyes shut, quickly, and inhaled.
    “It’s not as
bad as it looks,” he said. The wall, he meant. “No structural damage since they
caught it in time. It’s all surface level.” His voice was oddly calm. Maybe
that was because I didn’t know I would be able to catch mine.
     “Cass,” he
said. It felt right hearing my name from his mouth. Then his hand was on my
arm. It was a gentle touch, but it set me on fire. My whole body responded to
it, chills covered me and my heart jumped around in my chest. After all this
time I still felt this way with him, he could still, with a touch, make my body
want him. I turned around, our eyes locked, and he stopped moving. I barely
breathed.
    I knew he sensed
our connection, too. He felt everything more than me. I always thought it was
because he wanted it more, wanted me and us more than I had. I thought it was
why he proposed, and it was definitely part of why I said yes. I knew at
seventeen that I wanted to be with him—but some of that was influenced by how
much he’d wanted me.
    Graham moved
his hand from my arm, but the chills didn’t go away as I took him in. He was
the same in all the ways that mattered. Same deep hazel eyes, but they looked
at me differently. Like I was a stranger. Short light brown hair tussled, as if
he’d just woken up, and this scruffy beard that made him look older, rougher,
and hotter. He was in grey sweats, white t-shirt, black flip-flops. The shirt
fit him a little tight around the arms; he was buffer now, like he’d been
working out. He’d always wanted muscles like that, and I’m glad he did it.
    He looked
better without me. He looked damn good, in fact.
    Graham cleared
his throat, pulling his gaze from mine. “If you want it, my mom made up the
guest room for you. She thought you might be more comfortable.”
    “She did?
Why?” It came out sharper than I meant for it to. The walls were closing in
around me. It was all him. Him being here, him touching me, me staying at his
house. I didn’t know where to put it all. It didn’t fit into a category, just
as we hadn’t.
    “I didn’t tell
her anything. She knows you went to school and that’s all,” he said. His voice
was a low grumble.
    “Why would you
do that?”
    Graham shifted
on his feet and scrubbed a hand down his neck. He was nervous. I was nervous
too, because I wanted to be here as much as I didn’t. I wanted to stand closer
to him and have him touch me again. Even something as simple as his hand on my
arm, or my hand in his, or our hips pressed against each other. I wanted to
feel him next to me, close as skin, and kiss him like I’d never left. I wanted
to touch him.
    But I
couldn’t.