Page 1 of What Comes After

Chapter One

Abel

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“Abel.” Her voice isso clear, like an angel calling to me from the darkness. “Abel.” I follow the sweet sound. “Abel.”

My eyes shoot open and I blink rapidly, taking in the blackness of the room, my chest rising and falling in quick succession.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fall back into the dream. It’s one I’ve had hundreds of times before. I’m standing in a hallway. Everything is white. The floors, the walls, the ceiling. There’s white everywhere I look. And then she calls to me. I chase the voice, desperate to find her, but I always wake up before I can. It never changes. Over and over I search for her in my dreams.

“You okay?” Moments later, a hand slides across my stomach.

I flinch at the contact.

“Fine,” I grumble, quickly rolling out of bed.

I don’t know how I fell asleep here. I’m usually up and out within minutes of finding my release, but tonight, too little sleep and too much whiskey seems to have gotten the better of me.

“Where are you going?” Melanie whines. Or maybe it’s Michelle. Fuck, I can’t even remember her name.

“Home,” I say flatly, fumbling around the dark room in search of my clothes.

“You don’t have to leave.” She shifts in the bed, light flooding the room seconds later.

I squint at the brightness, snagging my jeans off the floor before stepping into them.

“Come back to bed,” she coos. I look at her just long enough to see her propped up on her elbows, her breasts spilling out over the top of the blanket.

She’s an attractive enough woman. Long red hair, blue eyes, a body that would make even the most committed of men take notice. But she’s not the person I want to see. That person is gone, and she took my heart and a piece of my soul with her when she left.

“I can’t.” I slip on my shirt and grab my shoes off the floor.

“Can I see you again?” I feel her eyes follow me toward the door.

“I told you earlier. I’m moving back to Chicago in two days.” The thought alone has my insides turning in on themselves. It’s time, I know that. California is beautiful and has offered me an escape when I needed it the most, but it’s not my home.

While I’m ready, a part of me knows how hard being back there is going to be. It’s been three years, yet those three years have done nothing to lessen the tremendous amount of loss I feel. I’m starting to wonder if the pain will ever go away.

But I’ve gotten good at hiding it. At burying it down deep and pretending like everything is okay. Only it isn’t okay. I don’t think it ever will be again.

“But that’s in two days. What are you doing later today? Do you want to meet up for dinner or something?”

“I can’t.” I don’t try to hide the irritation in my voice.

It’s nothing she’s done, of course, and I feel mildly bad for being so short with her, but this is what it means to get involved with someone like me.Emotionally unavailable. Closed off. Here for only one thing. I made it clear what this was from the beginning. She’s the one who chose to bring me home. I guess you could say she brought it on herself.

“Can I at least get your phone number?” Her voice stops me right as I’ve stepped out into the hallway.

“Thanks for a good night,” I tell her, not answering her question.

This feels wrong. It always feels wrong. And yet randomly hooking up with strangers is the only thing that makes me feel even remotely better. So I keep doing it, even though in the long run it usually makes me feel worse.

I don’t wait around to hear her response. Slipping on my shoes, I make a bee line for the door, not able to get out of here fast enough.

It isn’t until I step out into the cool night air that I feel like I can take a real breath. I cross the parking lot toward my car and quickly slip inside and shut the door, letting my head fall back against the headrest.

Trying to ward off the wave of nausea making its way through my gut, I take a deep breath in, letting it out slowly.

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