After the End

by Natasha Preston

  Why is he my rail mechanic?

  “I feel like that all the time,” he admits.

  “What about before Robbie?”

  “Yeah, I felt like that before Robbie died, too.”

  “That’s why you’ve always been so brooding?”

  “Brooding?” His face brightens a fraction with a ghost of a smile.

  “Tell me you know you’re moody and brooding.”

  “Can’t say I’ve thought about it much. I don’t like many people, and I’m happy to be alone, but I didn’t think I was that moody.”

  He doesn’t think he’s that moody. Amazing.

  “Well, you are. That was the appeal for all the girls when we were growing up—who would be the one to make you laugh.”

  “I laugh, Tilly.”

  “You know what I mean.” I roll my eyes. “You never seemed happy, though you never really seemed unhappy.”

  “Can’t say I was either. I was just me.”

  “I don’t think I’ve felt happy at all in the last four years.”

  He takes a breath that sounds like he’s been inflicted with pain. “Have you been unhappy the whole time?”

  “Not exactly. At first, I was, of course, but I haven’t been constantly unhappy.”

  “Greg helped with that. Are you going to be okay now?”

  I smile at Linc and curl my fingers into my palms to stop myself from reaching for his hands. We’re in a very public place. Thankfully, everyone else seems more interested in their drinks and company to notice me and Linc. Yet.

  “Greg did a lot. I won’t take that away from him, but I’m in a different place now.”

  “Are you?”

  My spine stiffens. “You didn’t see me before, Linc. Maybe I’m not totally together like I was, but I’m not the same as a year ago either.”

  “All right,” he says, conceding. “I just worry; that’s all.”

  “Because I’m wasting my life here, doing nothing?”

  “Not exactly the words I was going to use. If you want to be here, Tilly, be here. But you want more, don’t you?”

  “I’ll have more. My life isn’t quite over yet.”

  He looks away and purses his lips, irritated with my tone. I’m getting defensive when I shouldn’t be.

  Linc is right to be concerned. For years now, I’ve buried my own nagging worry about where I’m going. When someone else comes to the same conclusion as me though, I feel like a loser.

  “Do you want a drink?” he asks, turning his head back to me.

  “A really big one, please.”

  “You know it’s ten o’clock in the morning, yeah?”

  “Are you judging my drink choices, too?”

  He leans in, getting a bit dangerously close. I can smell his aftershave and his hair.

  “I’m not judging your drink choices, Tilly.”

  Oh, great.

  “It’s fine. I want a Coke now anyway.”

  Linc’s eyes search mine for agonising seconds before he gets up without a word and heads to the bar in the corner of the restaurant.

  Is my life some sort of Truman Show? Are there people watching this train wreck right now, some shouting at me to follow Greg, some wanting me to get with Linc already, and others turning off because they can’t take how stupid I am?

  While Linc has his back to me at the bar, I unlock my phone and tap a quick text to Greg. I should just leave it, as he walked away for a reason, but my stomach is heavy, nerves buzzing with uneasy energy.

  I have to at least apologise for how messy things have gotten. We were friends, and I hate that I’ve hurt him.

  Tilly: I’m sorry. I hope you’re okay.

  The time on my screen ticks by another minute. He lives close by, so he should be home now. I can’t expect a reply. He seemed to want nothing to do with me.

  Tears burn behind my eyes, but I can’t be that tragic, so I take a breath, feeling my chest expand and then deflate. I concentrate on my lungs getting bigger and smaller.

  Ground yourself.

  I only stop when Linc puts a bottle of Coors Light down in front of me with a little more force than necessary.

  “Beer?” I ask. It’s far too early for beer, but I don’t want to lose face. Besides, I could really do with one after losing a friend.

  “You want a drink, Tilly, so drink.”

  “Why are you mad at me?”

  I blink, and the tears for Greg have been replaced with contempt for Linc because he’s pissing me off … and I’m not too sure why. It’ll be the shortest bout of contempt in history because, no matter what happens, I can’t stay angry with him.

  He slumps back in his seat. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. But thanks for the drink.” I grab the cold beer and take a swig. “I’m also going to need a lift home.”

  His lips smile around the rim of the glass. “I know.”

  I wonder if he thinks a little less of me for still drinking. It’s my brother who died, but he’s the one sitting with a Coke. He said he doesn’t drink, and for the most part, Linc doesn’t judge anyone, but perhaps that’s because he doesn’t really pay attention to anyone.

  Okay, time to stop overthinking that one.

  “You don’t like Greg.” I don’t ask him because I already know the answer, but I want to explore why. I can take a good guess and say it’s over me, but back in the day, we were all purely friends.

  “I don’t like most people.”

  “Glad I made the cut.” I lean over. “Have I still made the cut right now?”

  “You’re still there, Tilly,” he replies like I asked the dumbest question ever.

  I straighten up again and smile. “Good. Back to Greg …”

  Linc puts the glass down on the table and folds his arms. “You’re intelligent, Tilly. Don’t ever pretend you’re not.”

  “There has never been anything between me and Greg.”

  “Not from your point of view,” he counters.

  “Okay. So, maybe not, but nothing has ever happened between us.”

  “Yeah, I know that, too.”

  “Have you spent the last four years stalking me?”

  That stifles a low, dark laugh out of him. It’s a good sound.

  “Nah, you’ve not made the stalking cut.”

  “Hmm. Who is on your stalking cut? I have Tom Hardy, Stephen James, Brant Daugherty, any Hemsworth, David Beckham—when he’s wearing his Royal Wedding suit—and Kit Harington.”

  His shoulders are free of the tension Greg put there. “Anyone else?”

  “Probably. The list keeps growing.”

  “Wow, you’re a little bit of a stalker slut.”

  Gasping, I slap his upper arm as he laughs freely. “That’s rude.”

  “I’m only kidding. Stalk however many people you like.”

  “I plan to. You’ve still not told me who is on your list.”

  “I don’t have a list of people I want to stalk, and if I did, I would probably be on a list.”

  “Well, there’s a surprise. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be meeting Ian and Jack?”

  He shakes his head. “Not anymore. I texted them when I went to the bar.”

  “Aw, you ditched your boys for me. Isn’t that, like, some sort of treason? Hanna would have a lot to say if I ditched her.”

  For about ten seconds, time sits still. I wait for Linc to respond, but he stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. My smile fades as my heart starts to pound.

  “What?” I say, brushing my long hair behind my ears. “Linc?”

  “Nothing.” He lowers his eyes and grabs his drink.

  “No, what was that?”

  His scrutiny has made me self-conscious.

  “You just sound like you.”

  Huh?

  “Who do I sound like the rest of the time?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  His sharp words seep through my skin, deep into my bones, and leave me cold. Linc isn�
��t the only one unsure of who I am now.

  How do you get back to who you once were after losing so much? It’s like expecting a human to breathe underwater just because they don’t want to die.

  I duck my head and grab my beer, my half-drank coffee now completely abandoned.

  26

  Tilly

  It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party on the beach. Mostly due to the fact that I’m not seventeen anymore. But, tonight, I’m going back. A lot of us are actually because it’s Mel’s birthday, and she wants a night like the old days.

  There seems to be a lot of old-day reenactments going on recently. It’s like Hanna and Mel have a plan. That plan being to get things back to how they were. To remind me of how good things were. As if I’ve forgotten. It’s something I think about and mourn on a daily basis.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it. The sun is heating up; the beginning of June is usually kind to us here. So, I’m wearing a knee-length white sundress and flip-flops with a denim jacket in case the temperature drops.

  Ian and Mel offered to give me a ride, but since Linc is going and lives next door, it seems silly to make them come out of their way.

  So, that’s how I find myself walking to the end of the road where Linc is going to meet me. I’ve not broached the subject of him with my parents yet. I need to, and I know that, but it’s always so hard to talk to them about anything Reid-related.

  I sigh as Linc pulls up on the road beside me. Taking a breath, I get in.

  Sweet mother …

  He’s wearing a white T-shirt, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. I’m momentarily stunned.

  “Hey.” His mouth curves as his eyes flit a little bit south.

  Definitely the right dress.

  “Thanks for picking me up,” I say, chucking my bag on the backseat. I’m going to stay with Hanna and Jack tonight, so I’ve brought my stuff.

  He nods and pulls off toward the beach. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive to where I spent so long as a kid. Though I used to enjoy walking it.

  “Did you get much done in the house today?” I ask, biting on my lip as I watch him grip the steering wheel just a little too tight.

  What’s up with him?

  Sighing, he shakes off whatever was just eating at him. “It’s been productive. What have you done?”

  “Nothing quite so productive,” I admit. But then my days are filled with working a job I don’t particularly want to do and tiptoeing around my parents.

  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I’m not the same person you knew, Linc.”

  He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know; I’m seeing a little more of her each day.”

  When did this topic get so heavy?

  “Are you staying at Hanna and Jack’s, too? A bunch of us are.”

  “I’m not sure. I won’t be drinking, so I don’t really need a place to crash.”

  “You don’t have to be drunk to stay there.”

  “Will you be drunk later?”

  I wish I were drunk right now.

  “Probably.”

  Dipping his chin in a curt nod, he accelerates as we join the main road for a short stretch.

  “You don’t like drinking yourself or you don’t like anyone drinking?” I ask.

  “Myself. I don’t really care what anyone else does.”

  Okay, ouch.

  “You’re in a bad mood. Why?”

  If I’ve managed to piss him off in the two minutes we’ve been in the car, I think it’s a record.

  “Everything is fine, Tilly. I just need to relax and forget.”

  “What are you forgetting?”

  He cuts me a look, but his eyes are back on the road a nanosecond later. “The house.”

  “Okay. Well, if it’s worth anything, I think the house is looking great.”

  With a sigh, he nods. “Thanks.”

  And he doesn’t think he’s moody.

  A very long fifteen minutes later, we pull into the car park at the beach, and there are already a few cars here I recognise.

  “Looks like the party started without us,” I say as I unbuckle my seat belt.

  Linc grumbles something that sounds like, “Good,” and gets out.

  Great.

  He’s going to be a bundle of laughs tonight. It’s times like this I wish he would drink, so that would lighten him up a little.

  Grumpy fucker.

  “Are you going to stand around all night with your arms folded, looking like someone just kicked your cat?”

  “No,” he replies. “I don’t have a cat. And I planned on sitting.”

  Irritation bubbles in my stomach. I turn and walk toward the steps that have been worn into the terrain over time, leading down to the beach. Linc is behind me. I can hear his heavy footsteps.

  “You’re a regular comedian, Linc,” I say as he catches up.

  He chuckles, and—hallelujah—his face looks a little happier. “You used to tell me that all the time,” he says overtaking me and walking backwards so we can talk.

  “You have a shit sense of humour,” I say.

  He stops dead in his tracks, so I have to grip his upper arms or fall forward into him. He fake gasps. “How dare you.”

  Mayday.

  We’re close.

  We’re too sodding close!

  He’s a step below me, so that puts us more or less at the same height.

  “You falling at my feet, Tilly?”

  Rolling my eyes at him, I let go now that I have my balance. “You stopping like that nearly made me fall, you psycho.”

  “You said I have a shit sense of humour. That wasn’t very nice.” His dark blue eyes glow with the reflection of the setting sun. They’re even more devastating in orange light.

  My insides flame.

  He is so fucking gorgeous. I just want to jump him.

  This is a very bad idea. But then I’ve never been a massive fan of the good ones.

  Robbie. Think. Of. Robbie.

  My brother popping into my head is like a bucket of cold water being chucked over my body—and not just because he’s my brother.

  I straighten and avert my eyes because I know, if I keep looking at Linc, I’ll end up doing something I’ll regret. I’m not ready. I’m working on my feelings for Linc—between being scared, excited, and trying to hide from them. I don’t understand why I feel like this or what it means for my loyalty to my brother. If it even means anything at all.

  “We should get to the party. I can see the fire from here.”

  Something passes through Linc’s stunning eyes, and he knows the moment, or whatever it was, is now over. He turns and replies, “You think the fire will last longer than thirty minutes?”

  I follow him as we continue our decline. “I hope not. We need to relight it at least three times; it’s tradition.”

  “You remember when I offered to light the fire, so it wouldn’t keep going out, and you lost your pretty mind.”

  Inside my head is the word pretty in big, flashing letters. But, on the outside, I’m going to be ice cool. The seventeen-year-old me who thought Linc was the hottest thing on the planet is back out to play, it would seem.

  “I did not lose my mind.” My pretty mind. “You were about to ruin two years’ worth of tradition, and I couldn’t have that.”

  “It doesn’t make sense to keep relighting it.”

  “Of course it does. We’d get cold if we left it.”

  His steps falter a little as he looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “Sure,” he replies.

  “You never seemed to like the parties on the beach,” I say as we head across the sand to the fire in the distance.

  At the other end of the beach is another fire surrounded by teens. That used to be us. Now, we’re the older ones on the sand.

  He shrugs. “I don’t dislike it, but some of your friends are annoying as hell.”

  “Which ones?”r />
  “I like Hanna and Mel.”

  “Just those two?”

  “Yeah. And you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Duh.”

  He grins. “Well, you do think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

  Not as much as I used to. I’ve let so much of myself slide. A part of me died with Robbie, and I’ve let the rest of me remain stagnant. Moving forward is hard; it means letting go.

  “Someone has to,” I reply sarcastically.

  “Oh, please, golden girl.” He sees that I’m about to protest and gets in there first. “Don’t even try to deny it. Everyone loves you, Tilly.”

  I snort. “You should tell that to Shawna Ferguson and her band of big-boobed clones.”

  “The girl in your year who thought she was the next Beyoncé?”

  “Yeah. She did not like me.”

  “She tried to get me to go home with her at a beach party once.”

  “Did you? Because, if you did, I’m going to need you to never touch me again.”

  Lies. I want his hands all over me, no matter who has been there before.

  “Nah. I could tell the kind of person she was. Besides, a try-hard is not attractive.”

  “Hey, I’m going to use that one when my parents are on at me to do something.”

  “Do what?”

  “We’ve not had the uni conversation, as that will lead to many more Robbie-related questions since I’m only home still because Robbie is gone, but they constantly ask me what I’m doing, and I know it’s more than them wanting to know what I’m doing that day.”

  Linc stops and folds his arms.

  “Ah!” I point at him. “That’s the stance! Getting some practice in?”

  “Now, who’s the comedian?”

  I wave my hand toward him. “Go on. You’re obviously about to say something, so let it out.”

  “I’m not afraid to have that conversation with you.”

  “It won’t be a very long conversation. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “It’s not my place, and I know that, but you need to go to uni like you planned. You have so many more things to do than work in a restaurant, Tilly.”

  I grind my teeth and pick at the only thing I can. “There’s no shame in—”

  “I’m not saying you should be ashamed, but you shouldn’t stay there when you don’t want to. Your parents will be happy for you if you move out for uni.”