Tomorrow Will Be Better: A Novel Novels & Stories

Callie woke up the next morning with her entire right side burning up, she had another weird dream. In the dream she had painted a pretty water fall and the blue paint travelled up her arms forming veins, she felt the same ice cold sensation she had felt the day before and the sensation didn't stop till after she had gone through her painting. The painting led her to the same waterfall she had painted and she felt it in her spirit that she wasn't in a human world.

This future had his face in it, and the garden, and burnt toast made together in a quiet kitchen, and all the unremarkable ordinary days that were, she now understood, the whole point. Tomorrow was not something to survive anymore. It was something to walk toward unhurried, unafraid, with her hand in his and the long, open, unwritten road of it ahead of them. Their first tomorrow had been beautiful. She was looking forward to the rest.

We were going to welcome a new member into our family. Farther down the hall, Cassian sat in the corner and watched from a distance, his face full of nothing but envy and regret. At last, he understood. The woman who had once looked at him as if he were her whole world would never cry for him again, never smile for him again, never risk herself for him again. She already had a new future. And in that future, there was no place left for him.

She slipped her hand into his. “The best kind.” The rain continued through the afternoon. Steady. Patient. The lake accepted every drop without complaint. Inside Tomorrow House, people read books and shared conversations and rested in rooms built from stubborn hope and relentless love. And for perhaps the first time since the project began, Adrian understood something that had been quietly waiting for him all along. Tomorrow House was no longer becoming something. It had become something. Not perfect. Not finished. There would always be improvements to make and people to reach and ideas still waiting to grow.

Tomorrow is going to be the kind of loud that the world has been for four days, and the kind of loud that the world is going to be for a long time. But tomorrow is also going to have Aiden in it. Tomorrow is going to have Lincoln in it. Tomorrow is going to have the small, quiet, real version of a man in a hoodie, in a kitchen, in a small Silverlake apartment, who is going to text me at 11:14 p.m. and tell me he is alive. Tomorrow is going to have a kiss in a hallway in it. Tomorrow, he is going to have a small grey dog asleep on his back in it. Tomorrow is going to have a candle lit in it. For the first time in months, tomorrow is not something to survive.

“The truth is red, so is his love for me.” —Ava Heavens In an empire where gunshots speak louder than words, Ava found herself as a pawn in a crossfire she never wanted to partake in. One minute she was in love with her best friend, and looking forward to their future together. In a second, all that was gone and she’s being used as a sacrificial lamb to appease the devil himself! — “Either way you choose to go about this, I win and you lose. So if I were you I’d surrender my Ava to me, or the next body bag delivery will be one of your sons.” — Caden Tuhka.

The ER has been short-staffed lately, and you'll cover there for a few days. I looked out the window at the darkening sky and allowed myself a faint smile. "Understood. I'll report tomorrow." After hanging up, I walked to the minibar and poured myself a glass of red wine. Elliot's immune system had already been completely destroyed. At most, he would survive until tonight before going into shock. Jeannie was about to experience the most desperate moment of her life. "Cheers." I raised my wine glass toward my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window.

And one page containing a single sentence written in neat, careful handwriting. Tomorrow.

Dangerous. “Tomorrow.”

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