After the End

by Natasha Preston

  “So?” she says the simple two-letter word like it’s nothing.

  “So, we can’t get involved.”

  “It wouldn’t be straightforward, I’ll give you that, but all anyone wants is for you to be happy. I’ve not seen you as carefree as you’ve been recently since before Robbie died. Lincoln is bringing you back, Tilly. Don’t throw that away.”

  “I didn’t go anywhere, Hanna.” My tone is defensive and snippy, heart racing with an edge of anger.

  She might think she’s helping, but telling me all the shit I already know isn’t.

  “Not physically. Look, I know you don’t want to hear this because you’re still not done pretending like everything is okay, but I love you, Tills, and I hate seeing you being less than you are. Where is my fierce best friend who was always ready to take on the world?”

  “What do I need to take on?”

  “Your life, babe.”

  My hand tightens around the phone, fingertips digging into the glass screen. “My life is fine.”

  “But don’t you want a great life? Don’t you want to do all of the things you planned, go on adventures, and fall stupidly in love?”

  “You sound like you’re in some dramatic teen TV show, Han.”

  And I have fallen stupidly in love. Heavy on the stupid.

  “Everything I just mentioned is attainable, Tilly. It’s not just for TV shows.”

  “Whatever, Han. I need to go and do something.”

  “Do what?” she pushes.

  Sighing, I shove myself up, so I’m sitting in bed. “Eat.”

  “I have to work this afternoon, but I can come over after that.”

  “Hanna, I love you, but I just want to be alone right now.”

  “Is that a good idea? You tend to think too much when you’re alone, and you’re already overthinking this whole Linc thing.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but I can’t deny it. Hanna is right; I do overthink Linc. I want to jump headfirst into whatever we have going on, and I usually would. Had there been no crash or had Robbie survived, I’m sure I would be in Linc’s bed now, not my own.

  But those things did go down.

  Ugh, I’m doing it again!

  Anyone have any cures to stop your mind from constantly spiralling?

  “I’m fine, Han. I’ll see you later.”

  “Come by the restaurant for dinner.”

  “All right, see you later,” I concede and hang up the phone.

  Well, she’s not going to stop now that she knows Linc and I are kind of, sort of, maybe a thing.

  Hanna is like a dog with a bone. She won’t give up until she gets her way. She has always been like that, getting puppies, holidays, men by sheer will alone.

  Hey, if she can fix my mind, she can go to town on me.

  I kick the cover off, letting out only a fraction of my frustration, and get up. My conversation with Hanna has woken me up too much to stay in bed, and my bladder is about to burst.

  After using the bathroom and getting dressed, I head downstairs to drink my body weight in coffee. Hanna asked me to come to dinner while she works, which means she’s going to tell Linc the same thing and she will feign surprise when we both turn up.

  Bloody interfering woman.

  Linc and I don’t need to be set up. We’ve got that part down ourselves. The issue we have is being able to stay together.

  If I were smart, I would do what my uncle Jeffrey did and emigrate to Australia. But I can’t even move thirty miles from my parents, let alone thousands.

  I bypass the kettle and go for the coffee pod machine for a much stronger hit of caffeine. Coffee used to be the answer to a lot, but recently, it’s been letting me down.

  I grab a mug from the cupboard and almost drop it. Either my hand is weak or the mug suddenly weighs a ton. I take in a ragged breath and grip the edge of the worktop, but I can’t get enough oxygen.

  My eyes bulge.

  Why the hell is this happening?

  Slow it down.

  I drop to the floor, my knees hitting the hard tiles, and plant my palms on the cupboard door in front of me.

  “You’re okay. You’re in the kitchen. Breathe in for five. Breathe out for five.”

  In my mind, it’s Jennifer speaking. I listen to my therapist’s soft Northern accent coaching me through the panic attack, telling me exactly what I need to do to calm down.

  After a few more seconds, my lungs fill, and my tense shoulders relax.

  I rise to my feet, my legs still uneasy.

  You’re fine. Make your coffee.

  The pod slips into the machine, and I make the coffee with shaky hands.

  Nothing is wrong.

  My heart is racing as I take my coffee to the table and sit down. It’s only when my butt hits the seat that the tsunami of emotions pulls me under, and I break down. Bending over and collapsing with my head on the table, my chest, tight and heavy, rocks with deep sobs that make me want to sink into the ground.

  I need to see Robbie.

  36

  Linc

  It took me all morning to realise that Tilly isn’t going to come knocking on my door, so I went to her house, knowing her parents were working. I couldn’t wait until tonight when she would undoubtedly be at the restaurant, too. I’m on to you, Hanna.

  The first day at the cabin was perfect, until after the poker game. Then the rest of the weekend she was distant.

  Why can we never have a good end?

  When Tilly didn’t answer, I knew exactly where she would be.

  The cemetery is blossoming with a dozen different colours. Flowers line the boundary to brighten the place up and make it inviting. It’s hot today, the sun strong in the sky, but Tilly doesn’t seem to be aware.

  It’s now early afternoon. I have no idea how long she’s been here, but I’ve been standing by my car for the last twenty-five minutes, and she’s not moved an inch.

  I need to check on her even if I only get a load of mouth for doing so. Hey, at least she would be speaking to me, right?

  I push off my car and head down the long gravel path toward her. She left her car at home, so she must have walked here.

  She hears me approach and looks up from where she’s sitting by Robbie’s headstone. Her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and her cheeks are tearstained. I hate seeing her like this. But I don’t know the cause.

  I mean, we’re at Robbie’s grave, so I can take an educated guess, but she’s not talking.

  Before she can tell me to get lost, which is on the tip of her tongue—I can tell by the frown on her forehead—I say, “Tilly, I’m not going anywhere. Please talk to me.” I sit opposite her.

  She flinches as I reach down to touch her.

  Fuck.

  I breathe through the pain of her latest rejection. “Tilly,” I whisper.

  “Why did you come back? Why you?” Her face crumples, and tears spill from her eyes.

  My God, that hurts like a bitch.

  “What?” I clear my throat.

  “You should have stayed away. Everything was okay before you came back.”

  I suck in a breath. “I don’t know where this is coming from. Everything started off great at the cabin, Tilly. What’s changed?”

  My eyes flick to Robbie’s headstone holding Tilly up as she lies back.

  She covers her face and shakes her head. “I don’t want to want this.”

  “Want what?” My heart thuds. I think I know where she’s going, but I need confirmation. “Tilly, want what?”

  “You!” She throws her arms down and scowls at me.

  At the same time, rain starts to drizzle from the sky.

  My lips part. One word is all it took to send my pulse into a frenzy. I’ve wanted to hear her say she wants me again so badly. It’ll never get old.

  “Can we go to mine and talk about this?” I ask.

  Her eyes don’t leave mine, and she doesn’t make any attempt to move. So, I guess we’re staying here and get
ting wet.

  “I can’t go home with you.”

  “Why not?”

  You just said you wanted me.

  “Something will happen.”

  “Something? You’re worried about us having sex?” I’m fucking not.

  “That and everything else.” She clenches her hands into fists by her sides. “Tell me we’re never going to happen. Tell me you’ve changed your mind and that you don’t want me.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  The rain starts to come down harder, wetting my clothes through. Still, she doesn’t move, like she’s not even realised it’s raining yet.

  “Yes, you can! Tell me you don’t have feelings for me.”

  “No, I can’t, Tilly, because I want to be with you!” The words are out before I have the chance to stop them. We’ve established that we’re both attracted to each other but the whole idea of us being a couple has been off-limits.

  Her body stills, but her eyes widen. “No,” she whispers. “You can’t want to be with me. Take it back.”

  The rain mixes with her tears, but she makes no effort to wipe either from her face. I bite back the urge to reach out.

  Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t take it back. I want you.”

  Silence stretches out before us. I can hear her ragged breath mixing with the sound of pouring rain hitting stone and grass.

  The temperature has dropped drastically, but I barely feel it as I wait for a response.

  She closes her eyes and leans her head back against Robbie’s grave. With a breath that sinks her chest, she replies, “Linc … I think I’m ready for more, too.”

  On a gasp, I reach out and grab her hand. It’s instinctive. I need to touch her. She doesn’t push me away, but she does cry harder. It’s so fucking painful to see how much this is hurting her.

  “Tilly,” I say, tugging her to me.

  This time, she slumps forward, straddling me, as the rain hammers down on us harder. Her chest rocks as she cries into the crook of my neck. There’s nothing to be said right now, so I hold her closer and enjoy what I’ve been craving for years.

  She’s here, in my arms, and it feels like the biggest lottery win. I bow my head and breathe her in.

  Tilly lets me hold her for almost ten minutes. But then her wet body begins to shake, and I know that, as much as I don’t want to move, I have to.

  I stand up, taking her with me. Her legs wrap fully around my waist, clamping me like a vise, as if she’s worried I’ll make her get down. As long as she’s not letting go, I sure as hell won’t.

  I don’t know if she’s even noticed that we’re moving because she doesn’t say anything. I walk her back to my car through the rain. I come to a stop by the passenger door, and she finally slides down my body and stands on her feet.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, cupping her chin and making her look up at me, my heart wild at the contact.

  Her beautiful amber eyes are mixed with pain and love. Blonde hair is stuck to her neck and down her back, and her skin is paler than usual. Shit, I should have moved her sooner. She looks like she’s freezing.

  “I don’t know,” she admits.

  “Let’s get you home, dry, and warm, and we’ll go from there, okay?”

  Tilly nods, so I get her in the car. When I get in, I crank the heating up and drive back to hers.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask when we approach our houses.

  “Yours.”

  Good.

  Neither of us speaks as I drive. Her eyes stare out the windscreen, but they’re glazed over, like she’s not really seeing anything. She’s lost in her thoughts.

  I park in my drive, and Tilly immediately gets out. She dashes to my front door like she’s scared her parents will see. I don’t even think they’re in since it’s two in the afternoon.

  “Do you want to have a shower?” I ask.

  She spins around, eyes wide with alarm.

  “I meant, on your own, Tilly.” But I sure as hell wouldn’t say no.

  “Oh, er … yeah, please.”

  Neither of us has yet to address the wanting to be together bomb we both dropped. I desperately want to. I want to hear her say she’s mine.

  I grab her some sweats that should fit her and a clean towel, and she goes for a shower. When the door closes, I force myself to walk down the stairs. Knowing that she’s in there, naked and wet, is sweet torture.

  In the kitchen, I make a coffee and sit at the table. Tilly drinks, but I don’t have any alcohol in the house since Jack and Ian drank the last of their beer, so I’m pretty limited in what I can offer her to drink. She probably won’t care though.

  We have more pressing things to worry about than refreshments.

  I’m not really sure how I can get her past this guilt she feels over wanting me or even if I can at all.

  I’m draining the last of my coffee when she walks into the room. Her hair is damp, and she hugs her arms around the oversize sweatshirt.

  You look beautiful.

  The words are on the tip of my tongue. But she looks scared again. Her eyes stare at me like she’s trying to figure out what the hell to do, and I don’t know which way she’s going to lean. Maybe she’ll think it’s worth the pain, or maybe she’ll just want to walk away.

  “Do you want anything to drink?”

  She shakes her head and slowly walks to the table.

  I watch her, completely lost. She’s so hard to read right now, and that’s probably because she doesn’t know how she feels.

  “Okay,” she says, resting her hands on the table as she sits opposite me. “Will you tell me about that day now? We didn’t get a chance before. I couldn’t make it.”

  “Yeah,” I rasp as memories of Robbie’s lifeless body rush my mind.

  This is the conversation she wants to have first?

  I want to discuss us, but the two things go hand in hand. Maybe she needs to understand what happened before we got into the car with Stanley she can focus on what we do next. Her own imagination is her curse.

  What she wants to do could depend on what I tell her now, so I’m tempted to give her the watered-down version. But I would never do that. She deserves the whole ugly, devastating truth.

  “You were at the pub all day.”

  “There was a group of us—about ten or eleven, I think. As you know, we were celebrating my cousin’s birthday with a pub crawl. Robbie and I were on the beer. Stanley had three pints before we all ate at around one in the afternoon. After that, we thought he’d switched to Coke.”

  Tilly’s eyes fill with tears. Her fingers thread together like she’s looking for comfort. I don’t leave my seat even though I want to. She needs to hear this.

  “At eleven, when we were leaving, I didn’t want Stanley to drive at all, but he assured me he was fine.” I take a breath. “Robbie assured me it was okay. He and Stanley had both driven a car after a beer as long as it had been a while. It had been ten hours since we thought Stanley had stopped drinking, and he had eaten twice since. And,” I say on a sigh, “that wasn’t the first time he’d had a beer and gotten behind the wheel.”

  “So, you both got in the car,” she whispers, her eyes darkening.

  “We both got in the car,” I confirm. “After ten hours and him only having a few beers, I didn’t think there would be a problem.”

  Her eyes snap shut, and she inhales.

  I go on, “Stanley has always been larger than life—you know that—so it’s never easy to know when he’s drunk. I mean, it takes a lot, and he’d obviously not had enough to slur his words or stumble. Robbie and I believed he was okay …” I grip the side of the table as Robbie’s bloodied face slams in front of me. The picture never fades or gets distorted. I can see it in my head as if it’s a photograph.

  “What happened next?” she asks when the silence stretches to minutes.

  I swallow. “Everything was fine at first. We were ripping Stanley for losing out with a girl to Robbie. Then, we came to a
bend. Stanley started braking, but he was going too fast. He slammed the brakes on, and that’s when he lost control of the car. We flipped … I don’t know how many times … and a tree stopped us.”

  She bites her lip. This is stuff she knows. She would have been told by the cops about the bend and the car flipping and hitting a tree. This next part she doesn’t know. No one does because I don’t talk about it. The police wanted facts, Tilly wants everything between.

  “I woke up, and there was silence.”

  “You were unconscious?” she whispers.

  I nod. “Stanley was, too. I was the first to wake. I lunged forward to check on them in the front, but my seat belt was locked. For a few seconds, I fought against it, not really knowing what was going on. I was disorientated. When I took off the seat belt, I leant between the two front seats so slowly. It was eerily quiet, and I was so scared they were both dead. But I managed to convince myself that they were unconscious, like I had been, and needed my help.

  “Everything moved fast then. I checked Stanley’s pulse. His head was tilted toward me, so it was easier to get to him. He had a pulse, and I could see his chest moving.”

  I gulp, knowing I’m coming to the part I fear the most. The part where Robbie died.

  Before I checked him, I could pretend that he was still alive like Stanley and me, and he just needed to wake up. There was hope. I believed I would be able to do something to get him out.

  “I moved to Robbie. My hand froze just inches from his neck when I saw how still he was. His face was … bloody, and his eyes …”

  Fuck.

  I grip the table harder, my heart tearing apart.

  “His eyes what?” Tilly asks, her voice clogged with unshed tears she’s trying to hold in.

  “Were … open. They looked so much like yours, same colour. He was looking at me.” Well, he wasn’t, but that’s how it appeared. “He was already gone,” I whisper.

  Tears roll down her cheeks. “What did you do then?”

  “I tried anyway. I got out of the car, which was difficult since the doors were bent in, and I pried Robbie’s door open and tried to get him to wake up. He wouldn’t fucking wake up.”