Page 15 of Life After You

And just like that, I know this isn’t going to be as easy as I told myself it would be.

Lola’s voice cracks. “I’ve been worried about Mac. She hasn’t been around in a while. I come by every day…I’ve been… looking after Braden’s—” Her voice hitches, the words breaking apart like fragile glass. “His plot.”

Her eyes well up, tears slipping down her cheeks before she can stop them. She looks away, blinking hard, swallowing the grief that’s been choking her since the day we lost him. And fuck, it’s obvious she’s been carrying this weight alone.

I knew she and Braden hooked up before he died. Never asked how serious it was—wasn’t my business—but looking at her now,her pain so raw it practically bleeds into the air around us, I realize it must’ve meant something to her. Maybe everything.

I tap her shoulder lightly. She looks up, her gaze glassy, lost in the past.

“That’s really kind of you, Lola. I’m sure he appreciates it. Mac too.” The words feel weak, like a flimsy Band-Aid over a wound too deep to heal. But it’s the truth. Whatever else I feel about her, she’s been here. She’s been trying.

She nods stiffly, sniffing.

“Come here.” I pull her into a hug before she can overthink it. She’s stiff at first, then melts into it, her forehead pressing against my collarbone. I hold her until she steps back, swiping at her face with her hoodie sleeve.

“Have you seen Mac?” My voice is steady, but I feel the weight of my own worry creeping in.

“No…I thought maybe she was with you? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know.” The words are heavier than I want them to be. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

“Oh.” Her face falls, something like fear flashing in her eyes before she masks it. “Well, if you see her, tell her I’m worried. She…she doesn’t need to go through this alone.”

I swallow the sharp bitterness rising in my chest. That’s exactly what Mac wanted. To be alone. To lock herself away in this house and drown in the past. I push the feeling down, nodding. “That’s why I’m here.” The conviction in my voice feels like a lie. Because the truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’m walking into.

Lola studies me for a beat, then turns to leave, but there’s hesitation in her steps, like she’s unsure if she should say something else. Instead, she just nods again and heads down the street.

“Lola,” I call after her. She pauses. “Thanks for looking after Braden.”

A faint, sad smile touches her lips before she disappears around the corner.

The moment she’s gone, the silence closes in, thick and suffocating.

I turn back to the house, my fingers tightening around my keys. My gut twists with something ugly. Dread? Guilt? Maybe both. I slip the spare key from my keychain and stare at the door like it might swallow me whole.

My mind feeds me worst-case scenarios on a fucking loop.

What if she’s inside, hurt?

What if she’s not inside at all?

What if she—

No.

Mac wouldn’t do something like that.

Would she?

I want to tell myself it’s impossible. But then again, I would’ve said the same thing about a world without Braden in it, and look how that turned out.

I glance back at my bike, at the refuge it offers. I could leave. Walk away. Maybe she’s fine. Maybe I’m overreacting.

Stop being a fucking coward, Logan.

I grit my teeth and shove the key into the lock, turning it. The door creaks open without resistance.

I step inside.

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