Page 13 of Life After You

“A party?” I ask, caught off guard.

“Yeah, it’s her birthday. Nothing crazy—well, okay, it might be crazy, but it’ll be fun. You’ve been here a week, right? If you’re thinking about sticking around, you should meet some people.”

I hesitate, chewing on my bottom lip. I’ve been keeping to myself since I got here, and I know I can’t hide out forever. If I want to stay, I need to start making an effort—Braden would be berating me, and I can do social. New place, new me? Ugh… I can do this. Friendly chats with the locals at the diner has been fine, mostly. It can’t be any different then…Did you watch that show last night? Wild, right? Gooo, local sports team. Yay, sports.

“Okay,” I say finally, “I’ll come.”

Dean grins. “Cool. I’ll be ready to leave around eight. Dress to dance.”

I climb out of the truck and step inside Patty’s, the bell above the door jingling as I push it open. The familiar smells of coffeeand baked goods waft around me like a blanket, and I take a deep breath, ready to throw myself back into the chaos. If I can do this social thing then maybe, just maybe, I can fire a text back? A snap to the boys, A post on my reels?

No…No, it’s too soon. What am I getting myself into?

Back at my room in the boarding house, I kick off my sneakers and collapse onto the bed, grateful for the little window of time before heading out. Work today at Patty’s had been a blur, but a satisfying one. There’s something grounding about pouring coffee, taking orders, and making sure the syrup dispenser is always full. As I stretch out, I catch sight of the shopping bags piled neatly in the corner. A small, guilty smile tugs at my lips. During the week, I’d made a trip to the mall for a few “essentials”. It had started out with some basics –jeans, sneakers, T-shirts, but somewhere along the way, I’d veered into a complete wardrobe overhaul. I push myself up and dig through the bags, pulling out the black dress I’d splurged on. It’s sleek and simple, knee length, with thin straps, and a neckline that toes the line between elegant and daring. I’ll admit, it had felt a little indulgent at the time, but now I’m glad I went overboard. At least I have options. Before getting ready, I grab my phone from the nightstand and flop back onto the bed. My thumb hovers over logan’s name in my contacts, the cursor blinking in an empty text box. I type.

Mac: Hey, how’s it going?

No. [Message Deleted.] Too flippant.

Mac: I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry I haven’t replied sooner.

No. [Message Deleted.] Nope, can’t say that.

I don’t know what to say.

Maybe I should go with

Mac:Hey Handsome, I miss you. Sorry I fucked up and left. I’m so scared, Lo.. So damn scared that…

Also, a big fat nope. [Message Deleted]

I sigh, setting the phone face down on the bed. It feels like no matter what I write, it won’t be enough—or maybe it’ll be too much. Guilt gnaws at me, but I shove it down. Not tonight. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. I grab the bottle of hair dye, having noticed some roots showing through earlier. I Push myself up, grab my towel and head for the shower. The hot water feels amazing, washing away the grime from my work at the diner and the tension in my shoulders. I go back over making sure I haven’t accidentally destroyed their shower with dye. When I step out the mirror is fogged up, my reflection is a blurry outline. I almost prefer it that way. Back in my room, I dry my hair and slip into my black dress, smoothing it over my hips. The fit is perfect, hugging my body in all the right places. I add a pair of silver heels and grab the matching clutch, I keep the makeup light—just a touch of mascara, some eyeliner, and a swipe of nude lipstick. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. It’s been a while since I’ve dressed up like this. Too long, maybe.

I head downstairs, the sound of my heels clicking against the wooden steps echoing in the quiet house. Dean and Clay are waiting by the door, both leaning casually against the frame. Dean grins when he sees me, his blue button-up rolled to the elbows, looking effortlessly cool. Clay, taller and broader, gives a low whistle.

“Damn, Kayla,” Dean says with a smirk. “I didn’t know we was bringing a celebrity tonight.” I roll my eyes but smile despite myself. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.” They both laugh, and Dean holds the door open for me. As I step out into the night, I let myself relax, the nerves from earlier fading with each step. Maybe tonight will be good for me. A chance to let go, even if just for a little while.

Dean pulls his car up to the curb and my eyebrows lift slightly. It’s not the same car he used last time. This one is a sleek, black Porche SUV, polished so well it practically glows under the streetlights. Even the rain seems to intimidated to stick to it. The back door is already open, so I slide in, catching the scent of leather and something crisp—pine needles? Dean clearly takes pride in his car. Not a stray candy wrapper in sight. It’s the kind of perfection that makes me feel like I should apologize for existing in it.

Dean and Clay are quiet as we pull away, and it’s the kind of silence that presses down.

“So, Dean, nice car. How’d you swing it? Lottery win? Bank Heist?” I ask, keeping my tone light. Dean glances at me through the rearview mirror, his lips twitching. “Something like that,” he says.

“Consolation prize from our dad,” Clay cuts in, smirking as he twists in his seat to look at me. “You know, to make up for being a colossal prick.” Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Thanks, Clay. Real smooth.” I open my mouth to apologize for steering into touchy territory, but Clay beats me to it. “Relax Kayla, it’s not like you’re the one handing out Porsche shaped apologies.” He winks, and I can’t help but smile. Maybe this isn’t going to be as tense as I thought.

“So, where exactly are we going?” I ask.

Dean shoots me a quick grin. “A club called The Night Owl.”

We turn the corner, and the club comes into view. It’s not just packed; it’s a madhouse. Neon lights flash in a chaotic rhythm, and the line to get in snakes around the back.

“Don’t worry,” Clay says, hopping out as soon as Dean parks the car. “We’ve got connections.” I step out feeling the cool night air against my skin. Clay jogs around to my side, “Milady.” He bows, offering me his arm with a flourish.

“You’re ridiculous.” I laugh, feeling my shoulders loosen. Dean hands his keys to the valet, then falls into step beside me.

At the entrance, a towering guy with a clipboard greets us. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Thompsons.” he booms. Then his eyes land on me. “And who’s this?” His grin is wide, warm but curious.

“She’s my date.” Dean says smoothly, taking my hand. I blink in surprise, but before I can say anything, he leans in, his voice low, “Trust me, this’ll make the night easier. Unless you want half the guys in there bothering you?” He has a point. I nod, squeezing his hand lightly. “Fine. But just so we’re clear, this is purely strategic.” Dean’s grin turns playful. “Darling, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.” The doorman laughs, unclipping the velvet rope. “Go on in, and miss, if this man bothers you, you know where to find me.”

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