Page 39 of What Comes After

“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 to 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.”

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