Flashback One
Grace
Then – Twelve Years Ago
Two Days Since Leaving
My first two days in Chicago have somehow simultaneously been everything I’d expected, and yet unlike anything I’d imagined.
Through long days and even longer nights, I’ve managed to unpack nearly all of my boxes.
Looking around the small, two-bedroom rental, it doesn’t feel like home yet, but I know it will just as soon as Tucker gets here.
I’ve been checking in on him almost hourly, hating that I’m not by his side during these early days of grieving.
I wanted to stay, to drop everything for him and the rest of the Beaumonts, but he insisted I stick to our original plans.
The funeral was a week later; the day before I left.
“I’ll meet you there soon, Gracie. I promise,” he’d said against the crown of my head as I’d hugged him goodbye, crying into his chest. I hadn’t seen him cry once.
Although he’d never been the type to show too much emotion to those around him, I’d thought this would be different.
And it has been, but in a way I didn’t expect—he’s been the strong presence that his family needed.
Holding them while they’ve cried, rubbing their backs to help calm them down; whatever his family needed this past week, he provided it.
He’s been so strong for them, but who’s been looking out for him?
I’ve tried my best, but it’s difficult when I’m hundreds of miles away from him.
With school starting in just a few days, I can’t even afford to make a quick trip down to help Tucker pack, or to just be there to support him and his family.
Thank God this place came furnished, because that’s one less thing Tucker will have to worry about—he’ll just have his own things to unpack, and I can help him get settled in. I can’t wait to have him here with me.
Even though I know I’ll see him soon, it sucks being here and starting this chapter without him.
I grab my phone off the table, checking for a reply from Tucker.
I deflate slightly when I don’t see a text from him.
It’s been several hours since I last heard from him.
I don’t hesitate to hit the call button, needing to hear his voice and make sure he’s okay.
A tiny well of disappointment forms deep within me, slowly but surely filling with each ring that goes unanswered.
A small spark of hope ignites when the ringing stops, but it’s snuffed out as soon as the prerecorded voicemail message starts.
It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice at all in two days, and it makes me want to cry.
I wouldn’t usually leave a voicemail, but something compels me to.
“Hey Tucker, it’s me.” I pause, feeling awkward and unsure how to continue.
“I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, or if there’s anything I can do—probably not, given I’m nowhere near you, but just in case.
I miss you. Text or call me when you can, and give everyone a hug for me. Love you.”
Hours later, as I lie alone in the bed we picked out together, I check my phone one last time for the day—no notifications. I roll over, pulling the blankets tight around me, and drift off into a fitful sleep.
It’s not until I wake the next day that I finally hear from him.
Cowboy
Sorry, had a busy day yesterday. Talk soon, love you.