Page 1 of Life After You

Chapter One

Kayla

Have you ever felt suffocated?

Not just in a physical sense, but as though the weight of your life is pressing in on you, smothering every breath? That’s how I feel.

Every second.

Every day.

This house, this town, even the faces I’ve known all my life—they’re like a noose tightening around me. The part-time job I still drag myself to, the strangers offering well-meaning condolences, the candlelight vigils… I can’t escape it.

I’m not grieving—I’m drowning.

I step into the small grocery store on the corner of Main Street, my hood pulled low, hoping to avoid any familiar eyes. It’s been weeks since Braden died, but his face is still everywhere. On the TV mounted above the checkout lanes. On the glossy magazines in the aisle I try to avoid. Even in the whispers of the cashier, who shoots me a pitying glance as I pay for my coffee. I grip the cup like a lifeline and head for the door, but the sound of rapid camera clicks freezes me in place.

They’re here again. Paparazzi. Heartless vultures with their questions and flashing lights, chasing a story no matter how much pain they leave in their wake. I lower my head and push past them, my breath catching in my throat. By the time I reach my car, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely fit the key into the ignition.

I sit there for a long time, staring blankly out the windshield, the coffee cooling in my hand.

This isn’t living.

It’s surviving.

And just barely. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve made my decision.

At home, I climb the stairs to my bedroom and grab the essentials. Two photographs from my bedside table, my toothbrush, and my mom’s old black leather purse. The costume jewelry piled on top jingles as I dig it out of the drawer, but I don’t stop to sort through it. None of it matters anymore. My hands find a pen and a yellow sheet of paper, and I scribble a single word.

Folding it carefully, I leave it on my bed. Logan will come looking for me. I know he will. And the thought of him finding this note makes my chest ache, but I can’t stay here. Not for him. Not for anyone.

I’m halfway down the hall when my feet falter. My eyes land on Braden’s door, slightly ajar, as if he’s just stepped out and might return at any moment. For a second, I consider leaving it—closing the door would feel too final. But something pulls me in. I nudge the door open, the familiar scent of sandalwood hitting me like a wave. The sunlight streaming through the window bathes the room in gold, making everything feel too bright, too alive for a place that now belongs to the dead.

The bed is unmade, the sheets tangled as if he’d just gotten up. My chest tightens. It’s too easy to imagine him standing there, laughing as he teased me about some trivial thing. But he’s not here. He never will be again.

I step inside, my fingers brushing over the oak dresser. My hand finds one of his darts, worn from years of use. Braden always said darts were more reliable than flipping a coin. He and I used to bet on everything—who could clean their room thefastest, who could finish their homework first. We’d laugh until we couldn’t breathe. The memory brings a faint smile to my lips, even as tears sting my eyes.

My gaze shifts to the map pinned on his wall, the one with red circles marking all the places he wanted to visit. New York, Chicago, Portland, Seattle. Dreams he’ll never get to chase. My fingers tighten around the dart as anger wells up inside me—at fate, at the world, at everything that’s been stolen from us. Before I realize what I’m doing, I hurl the dart at the map. It lands with a faint thud, the motion leaving me breathless. I sink to my knees, the grief crashing over me in waves.

I cry until there’s nothing left, until the sobs give way to a hollow silence. The sun has climbed higher now, its rays illuminating the spot where the dart has landed. Portland, Oregon. I let out a shaky breath and rise to my feet, my legs unsteady but my resolve firm.

I turn back to the dresser, my fingers lingering over a bottle of cologne. The faint scent still clings to the air, and I close my eyes, letting it fill my senses. “Braden,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “You were born six minutes and twenty-two seconds before me. You never let me forget it. You always had to be first. Stronger. Louder. Bigger.” My breath hitches as fresh tears spill over. “I don’t know how to live in a world without you. But I’ll try. For you. For us.”

I wish I could feel him now. A cold gust of air. A ghost of a touch. But the room is silent, too silent, like the tomb it’s become. I glance at the dart again. Portland. It’s as good a place as any to start over.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice breaking. Then I turn and walk out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. I press my back against it, the wood cool against my skin, and take a deep breath. This is it. No more ghosts. No more suffocation.Just a map, a dart, and the hope that somewhere out there, I can start again.

Chapter Two

Logan

Isaw her in my dreams again—the girl I’ve known for most of my life. She was laughing, running barefoot through the meadow behind her house, her braid adorned with the daisy I’d picked for her that day. The sun bathed her golden hair in its light, and I just stood there, watching her spin in slow circles, like the world had no end. I wanted to freeze time, let the moment stretch until the fireflies filled the air, the sun scorched the cerulean sky, and the air cooled. I wanted to be caught in that blissful moment, filled with peals of laughter—not the gut wrenching sobs and stifled sniffles that always followed.

¡Dios Mio!I wake slowly. Dawn is a hard mistress, touch pulling apart my dream like blindly stumbling through a cobweb of memory.

A soft hand slid across my thigh, grazing higher until it brushed my cock. I sift through memories of the night before—drinks, music, and debauchery. It was unfulfilling, like cheap fast food. I crack one eye open to find a redhead hovering above me, her breasts hovering inches from my face, her smile dripping with seductive intent.

“Morning, baby.” She purred, fingers trailing over my chest.

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