“I know that, of course I do, but would it really be so bad for you to keep an open mind and let things play out rather than fighting yourself every step of the way.”
“Play out? Who knows when I’ll see him again, if ever.” I ignore how the thought of never seeing Abel again makes me feel because it’s too unsettling to face.
“Come to Mulligan’s on Thursday. Aaron and I are going to see Abel play. Come with us.”
“Why? So I can play the third wheel?”
“No, so you can feel out this Abel situation a little more and see if maybe something is there.”
“I don’t want to see if something’s there.”
“Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.” Henna smacks her leg.
“Are you done now?” I laugh at her ridiculous behavior.
“Not until you agree to come with us on Thursday.”
“Henna.” I shake my head.
“Please, Peyton. Just come with us and if by the end of the night you’re convinced there’s nothing to explore then I won’t say another word on the matter. You have my word.”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“Because I want to see you happy.”
“And?”
“And because Aaron wants to see Abel happy.”
“Please don’t tell me Aaron is in on this too,” I grumble.
“Just say yes, Peyton. It’s one night of your life. What’s it gonna hurt?”
I resist the urge to tell her just how much it might hurt and instead consider my options. I can either sit at home on Thursday and obsess over not going to see Abel or I can go see Abel and obsess over him while I watch him play. Either way I’m obsessing over a man that I can’t have.
“You promise you’ll get off my ass if I go?”
“Cross my heart.” She makes an X over her heart with her pointer finger.
“If I tell you I’ll think about it, will that be an acceptable answer for the time being.”
“As long as I’ll think about it equates to a yes, then yes, I’ll accept it.”
“You’re impossible, you realize this, right?”
“And that’s what makes me so damn lovable.”
“Yeah, let’s go with that.” I give her a knowing look, laughter filling the car moments later.
Chapter Ten
Abel
“So, Peyton seems nice.” Claire grins at me over the rim of her cocktail glass.
“She is,” I agree, not taking the bait she’s so clearly trying to reel me in with.
“And pretty,” she adds, setting her glass on the round bar top table we’re sitting at.
“She’s okay.” I shrug, knowing she’s a hell of a lot more than just okay, but I’m not about to admit that to Claire.
“Oh, come on. You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” She gives me a knowing look. “You forget, I was there tonight. I saw the way you looked at her. You’re clearly attracted to her.”
“So, she’s attractive.” Again, I shrug.
“Abel.” She sighs, shaking her head.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you like this girl. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re fighting it.”
“You know why.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t blame your inability to pursue this girl on Finley.”
“I’m not blaming anything on Finley.”
“Maybe not, but you’re using her as your excuse.”
“So what if I am?”
“What did she ask you?”
“Huh?” I question, not sure what she means.
“What did Finley ask you to do before she died?” She waits a long beat before she continues when I don’t respond. “She asked you to embrace it. When you found someone that made you feel again, to not push it away. She asked you to not close yourself off to loving again.”
“I’m not closing myself off.”
“Yes, you are. I’m not saying this girl is the girl, but she could be. How will you know unless you’re willing to explore the obvious chemistry the two of you share?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a pull of my beer, completely content giving her vague responses all night rather than being honest with her, and myself.
“Yes, you do. I can feel it so I know you sure as hell can. Don’t make Finley the reason you don’t get to know her. Make her the reason you do. Because you know it’s what she wanted for you. To live, to love, to find happiness... again.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I know that. And I know how hard this is for you. I know it’s easier for you to take a random girl to bed you feel nothing for than to share a real conversation with a girl you actually might like. But Abel, that’s part of moving on. You have to give yourself a chance. It may turn into nothing. You may find that she’s not what you’re looking for. But how will you know if you don’t try?”
“Is this going to be all you talk about tonight?” I give her an irritated stare.
“Until you give me a straight answer, yes.” She challenges me in the same way Finley would have.
“I see her, Claire. Everywhere, in everyone, I see her. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason I’m trying to ignore my attraction to Peyton is because when I touch her, I feel Finley? When I hear her laugh, I hear Finley. When I close my eyes and open them the first thing I feel is disappointment that it’s not Finley staring back at me. How is that fair to anyone? I don’t know Peyton well, but something tells me she’s a woman who wants more than that.”
“Give it time. Right now, you associate Peyton with Finley because she’s the first girl that’s actually ignited a spark in you since Finley died. That doesn’t mean those feelings will always be there.”
“And what if they are? What if they never go away?”
“They will,” she reassures me, reaching across the table to rest her hand on my forearm. “You just have to be willing to open yourself up to the possibility. You have to be willing to look at another woman and not see Finley. To touch another woman and not feel her, and not feel guilty when you finally do.”
“But I do feel guilty. Every fucking day I feel it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m alive and she’s not.”
“But that’s not your fault. You can’t feel guilty for something you had no control over. Finley died because she was sick. She would have died whether you loved her or not. Be grateful for the time you got with her and not angry for the time you didn’t.”
“I’m not programmed that way, Claire. I can’t see the positive in everything. Not when it all hurts so fucking much. It’s not like some switch I can turn on or off.”
“I know that. And as your friend I want to tell you to do things in your own time and when you’re ready. But as Finley’s sister, as the person who promised her she’d make sure you’d be okay, I can’t help myself. I want you to be happy, Abel. More than I want it for myself. Because until you are, I don’t feel like I can let her truly rest.”
“It’s not your job to look after me.”
“No, but I’m going to keep doing it until I feel like I don’t have to any longer. Because that’s what we do for the people we love. And I do love you, Abel. You are my brother, maybe not in blood but in all the ways that matter.”
“I love you too, ya know?”
“I know.” She gives me a sly grin. “I mean, how could you not? I’m pretty fantastic.” She giggles and the sound reminds me so much of Finley’s laugh it almost takes my breath away.
“If you weren’t, there’s no way I would let you get away with making a comment like that.” I chuckle, pushing past the tight knot in my throat.
“So, Peyton.” She jumps right back into it without skipping a beat.
“What about her?”
“You going to call her or what?”
“No,” I answer flatly.
“Have I achieved nothing?” She throws her hands up t
o the sky dramatically.
“Sorry to disappoint.” I grin.
“Abel Collins, so help me god. If you don’t open those pretty blue eyes of yours and look around, I’m going to be forced to remove them from your head and make you.”
“Did you just threaten to rip my eyes out?” I give her a humorous look.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” She waves a finger at me.
“Hold that thought.” I raise my hand as the waitress passes and signal for another round. “If we’re going to keep talking about this, I’m gonna need a hell of a lot more than just one beer.”
“Dealing with your stubborn ass I’m going to need more alcohol as well,” she shoots back, picking up her glass before killing off the remainder of her drink in one long gulp.
“Maybe we should save ourselves the headache and call it a night,” I suggest playfully.
“Nope. If I have to get you shit faced drunk for you to open up to me then that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I am being open.”
“No, you’re not. I just can’t figure out if you’re purposely downplaying your feelings or if you’re so blind you can’t see them yet.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about at this point.” I scratch my head and laugh.
“We’re talking about you liking a girl.”
“I don’t even know her.” I sigh. “How can I know if I like her if I don’t even know her?”
“How long did you know Finley before you realized you were in love with her?”
“If I’m being honest, less than an hour,” I admit, knowing she had me hook, line, and sinker before we ever left the bar that night.
“Exactly. Is it so farfetched that you could like someone after a few short interactions?”
“Peyton is not Finley.”
“Of course she isn’t. I’m just trying to make a point that if it happened once it can happen again.”
“Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice.”
“Says who?”
“I don’t know, people.”
“Technically speaking, lightning can absolutely strike the same place twice. It may take millions of years, but the inevitability is that it will happen again.”
“Millions of years is a lot longer than one lifetime.”
“Shut up.” She swats at my hand. “You know what I’m saying.”
“Do I?” I cock my head to the side and lift my eyebrow.
Claire bites back whatever it is she was going to say when the waitress reappears with our drinks, setting my beer in front of me before placing Claire’s pink drink in front of her.
Emptying the remainder of my existing beer, I hand the waitress the empty bottle as she turns to leave.
“What I’m saying,” Claire pauses to take a drink, “is that your logic that what has happened can’t happen again is flawed.”
“Is that so?” The corner of my mouth hitches upward.
“It is. And I’m going to prove you wrong, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“And how exactly are you going to do that?”
“I’ll let you know once I figure that part out.” She laughs, going in for another drink. “Do you still have her ashes?” The abrupt switch in conversation sends my mind into a spin. It takes me a full minute to gather my thoughts enough to answer.
“I do.” I take a long pull of my beer.
“Abel.” She gives me a sad smile.
“I went to the beach, the one where I proposed. The one where she asked me to leave her ashes, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready to let her go. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.” The last part comes out as a murmur, meant more for me than Claire.
“You will be. One of these days. It may not feel like it now but one day, Abel, one day you will find someone that fills the void she left behind. And when you do, you’ll know the time is right.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you,” I think aloud.
“Thanked me for what?”
“For being my friend. For understanding when no one else could. For your patience and your kindness. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without you, Claire.”
“You know, that goes both ways.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well you shouldn’t. You gave me a piece of my sister to hang onto when I needed it the most and because of that, because of her, I have you. And you, Abel Collins, mean the world to me. That’s why I push you so hard. Why I’m always up in your business. Because I want the world for you and I fear that while you’re still holding onto her, you’re never going to get it.”
“She was the world to me.”
“I know, but you can’t spend your entire life chasing after a ghost.”
“I know that,” I grumble.
“Do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then prove it. Ask Peyton out on a date.”
“What?” I choke out a laugh.
“You heard me. Ask her out. What do you have to lose?”
“I’m not asking her on a date.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can barely talk to her when we don’t have a choice but to be around each other. What makes you think I could carry on a conversation for an entire evening when it’s just her and I?”
“You’re a pretty charming guy. I think you’ll figure it out.”
“Still, not happening. At least not yet.”
“Not yet.” She smiles. “That’s not a no.”
“Can we please talk about something else?”
“Fine.” She crinkles her nose. “But this isn’t over,” she warns.
“Like I didn’t already know that much.” I chuckle, lifting my beer bottle to my lips.
Chapter Eleven
Peyton
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I tug at the hem of my shirt nervously as I follow Aaron and Henna into Mulligan’s.
“Just relax,” Henna hisses back at me, snagging my hand to pull me through the thick crowd as Aaron leads us toward the bar.
“This place is packed,” I state the obvious, looking around the large space that appears to be standing room only. “You think they’re all here to see Abel?” I ask when we stop in a long line of patrons waiting to place their order at the bar.
“Must be.” Aaron shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place this busy on a Thursday night. I haven’t been to a show like this in years, but from what I gather from some of the guys, Abel always pulls in a good crowd.”
“Probably because he’s ridiculously talented.” Again, I state the obvious.
“He really is,” Henna agrees. “Too bad you didn’t get some of his musical genes, babe.”
“Are you saying you think my brother is hot?” He gives her a questioning look.
“I mean, yeah, he is, but that’s not the point. I just think you’d be even sexier if you could sing like he does.”
“I’m going to pretend like you’re not comparing me to my brother right now.” He can’t seem to decide if he should be offended or find her behavior humorous.
“Oh hush. You know I think you’re the sexiest Collins brother out there.”
“You better say that.” He wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her to his chest seconds before his mouth crashes down on hers.
I look away, feeling even more awkward than I did on the drive over. These two have trouble keeping their hands to themselves, which is cute, but a little uncomfortable when you’re forced to bear witness to their affections.
“Get a room,” someone yells seconds before Abel appears through the sea of people standing around us.
Henna and Aaron break apart, Aaron offering his brother a humor filled “fuck you” before securely tucking Henna into his side.
I try to avoid Abel’s gaze but find it impossible to do so.
“You came.” He smiles at me, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was
happy about this fact.
“Henna didn’t really give me a choice.” I hitch my thumb in the direction of my friend.
He nods, something unreadable passing over his face. “Well, for the record, I’m glad you’re here,” he says directly to me before turning his attention to Aaron and Henna. “All of you. Means a lot,” he says directly to his brother.
“Happy we could make it. Hell of a crowd you got here.” Aaron gestures around the room.
“Not too bad considering I haven’t played here in like three and a half years.”
“Guess people remember talent.”
“Can I get you guys a drink?” Abel redirects, not commenting on his brothers’ statement.
“We can wait,” Henna speaks up.
“What about you?” He turns to me. “I can grab you a drink if you want one.”
“That’s okay. I can wait with them.”
“Okay.” He nods rapidly. “Well, I guess I should head up there and make sure we’re all ready to go.” He gestures toward the vicinity of the stage. “I’ll come have a drink with you after my first set,” he says to the group, not honing in on one specific person.
“Sounds good.” Aaron claps his brother on the shoulder. “Knock ‘em dead.”
“I’ll do my best.” Abel smiles, offering me the briefest glimpse of his dimple before he turns to walk away.
——
By the time Abel finishes his first set, I’m as good as gone. If I wasn’t ready to admit my ever-growing desire for him, there’s no denying it now. Not when I’ve spent the last forty-five minutes practically drooling over the man. I can’t help it. When he took the stage, I became transfixed by his incredible voice and the way his fingers move so effortlessly along the strings of his guitar.
Where this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him play, it is the first time I’ve seen him on stage since getting to know him a little. Knowing him only intensifies how incredible I think his talent is. Because now it’s not some stranger up on stage. It’s a man who has consumed my thoughts for days on end. A man that I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try.
Every song he sang I imagined he was singing directly to me. Every time his eyes swept to me, I felt like it was intentional. As if he was trying to portray something to me in the song. Of course, it’s probably all in my head, but damn if it didn’t feel good to pretend it was all true.
What Comes After Page 8
