Between Before and After (11 page)

Kate stood at the window in Finn’s bedroom, looking out over the bay. She had hoped that increasing the physical distance between them would help, but she was disappointed to find the opposite was true. She couldn’t think straight and the fact that he hadn’t spoken a word to her since he apologised wasn’t helping. God knew what he must think of her. Once was possibly forgivable, but twice?

One minute they were about to kiss, the next Danny’s face flashed in front of her eyes. It was so real, like he was standing right in front of her. It had scared her, both seeing Danny like that and the realisation that Finn was about to kiss her – that she had
wanted
him to kiss her. Was her subconscious trying to tell her something? If so, what? Because she was getting more and more confused by the minute. The messages seemed to be mixed and she was getting impatient for the fog to clear.

Finn sat on the bed behind her, silent and distant, waiting. He hadn’t run off. Neither had she. Was that another sign, or was she seeing things that weren’t there again?

“Kate?” 

She heard the uncertainty in his voice, plain as day. He needed answers. He deserved them. Afraid to turn around lest he see the fear in her eyes, she remained with her back to him. Her gaze fixed on the bay, she began to talk, mostly to organise the thoughts in her head.

“They say you never forget your first love,” she said. “Mine was Aaron Thompson. I was thirteen, it was my first year at high school. I followed him around for half the year before we even spoke to each other. Then one day, we passed in the hall between classes, and he said hi. I nearly died from the excitement of it.” She shook her head at the memory of her shy, thirteen-year-old self. “I remember it was a Friday afternoon and I had a sleepover at my best friend’s place that weekend. That was all we talked about. We dissected every single moment that led up to it, and he only said one word to me. I was completely in love with him and we’d never even so much as touched or held hands then – or ever. He probably has no idea, even to this day, how I felt about him.” She dragged herself mentally back to the present before continuing. “Then, a few boyfriends later, there was Danny. I thought he was the one. I’m not saying it was all roses, all the time, but I loved him and I thought he loved me. Turns out I may have over-estimated that doesn’t it? I wasn’t enough. When he really needed me, I couldn’t help him.”

She saw his reflection running a tired hand down his face.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he said gently, his hand falling back into his lap as he stared at her back. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She exhaled, long and deep. She had been wanting to say that out loud for a very long time.

When he really needed me, I couldn’t help him.

Somehow, it felt as if saying it out loud would help her come to terms with it.

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t change the facts.” Her heart felt like it was going to jump into her throat. “I’ll never forget Aaron Thompson because he was the first boy I gave my heart to, whether he knew it or not. And I’ll never be able to forget Danny, because he was the last one to break it.”

This time the silence was deafening. Eager to fill it, she pushed on.

“I feel like I failed him,” she said, the words almost choking her as they came tumbling out. “I feel like we were in the middle of something important and he just bailed on me. I have all this stuff to say to him, to ask him, and he’s not here. I just miss him so much.”

Shocking herself into silence, she clammed up. She had no idea where that came from – it was a like a direct route from her heart to her mouth. Thinking it was bad enough, but hearing the words spoken aloud seemed to make it much worse.

“I miss him too.”   

Hearing Finn say it didn’t help as much as she thought it would, either. They might be in the same sea, but they were paddling two different boats.

“Maybe you don’t have to stop missing him to move on,” he suggested gently. “Maybe there’s a way you can miss him and still get on with your life.”

“Yeah?” She stared at her reflection in the window, sniffing back tears. “Well, when you figure out how to do that, let me know because that’s a nifty trick I’d like to learn.”

“I know what you mean.” He frowned, scratching his chin. “Let me get back to you on that one.”

Her chin quivered and the tenuous control she had over her emotions began to unravel. She fought the stinging tears with everything she had left, but still they came. She told herself that she was done with crying and that it didn’t help, but still they came. She told herself that the very last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Finn, but still they came.

Then he was turning her around and pulling her into his arms and there was no turning back. She craved it – the warmth, the tenderness, the contact. Too tired to fight it, she let him draw her closer. Almost immediately, to her absolute horror, she heard one heart-wrenching sob after another burst forth. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She buried her face in his shoulder and gave in to it, oblivious to everything except the fact that he held her in his arms. She felt so safe there, as if she belonged there. It had been such a long time since anyone had held her like that. For once, she just wanted to let someone else take control of her life. She wanted someone to save her. She wanted that someone to be Finn.

Eventually, the soul-cleansing sobs gave way to shuddering whimpers and then they finally died away as well, leaving her nose running, her eyes puffy and her head pounding. She pulled away from him slowly, embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sniffing as she ran a trembling hand under her nose. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Having stepped out of his arms, she suddenly felt cold and alone again and in a moment of weakness, she wanted to just crawl back into his embrace and stay there.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

A quiet sadness cloaked him, hanging over him like a cloud. He seemed depleted, somehow – empty. Guiltily, she realised that in sharing her grief with him, she had doubled his own. She wasn’t the only one who had lost Danny.

She wiped at her eyes, trying to erase the sorrow with a pass of her fingertips over her cheek. She hadn’t felt like this for months now – out of control, overwhelmed. But being back here, at the house, with everyone here and Danny so obviously missing, it was like the hole had opened up inside her again.

“You were right, what you said last night,” she said. “About being scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

She hung her head, afraid to look at him. Her legs felt like lead, making it impossible for her to move.

“Everything. I don’t know if I can do it again. Love. Commitment. Partnership. Trust – any of it.” Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. “You spend all those years getting to know someone, trusting them, and then it’s all just… gone, and you realise that you never knew them at all. It was all just a ruse – sleight of hand. Nothing.”

“He loved you.”

She huffed out a ragged breath, shaking her head. “He shut me out.”

“He shut everyone out.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, trying to ignore the bitter disappointment that settled in her heart. He was right, and deep down she knew it. On the surface though, the wound was still raw. She wasn’t ready for this. “Maybe we should just forget this ever happened.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” he said deliberately, his voice low. “Do you – really? Because it seemed like you wanted it as much as I did a few minutes ago, or am I wrong?”

Her heart raced. Wrong? No, he wasn’t wrong. He was right. So right, it terrified her.

“Danny’s gone. It’s up to you now – it’s your life. What do
you
want?”

She lifted her head to look up at him, unable to formulate an answer. Danny was gone. She could do whatever she wanted. So why did she feel so guilty for wanting to move on, for wanting to be happy again, for wanting to share her life with someone again? Why did it feel like she had unfinished business she had to take care of? Why did she feel like she was missing something?

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I wish I did.”

“We haven’t talked about what happened at New Years,” he said. “I know we were drunk, but I knew what I was doing. It wasn’t just the booze, Kate.”

She bit her bottom lip. Hard. Pain was better than desire. It was easier to handle, more familiar.

“Did I read the signals wrong? Did I misunderstand?”

Unconsciously, she shook her head. God forgive her, she shook her head. No, she wanted to say, you didn’t misunderstand. But speech was a physical impossibility, especially when he was standing so close to her and looking at her that way.

“So you feel it too?”

He reached for her hand and she let him take it. Twin tentacles of longing and grief wrapped themselves around her insides, a curious mix she was becoming used to lately. His fingertips wrapped gently around hers, then his palms, until his hand enclosed hers entirely. Her body hummed with desire, coursing through her, obliterating everything else. She silently begged him to kiss her – right now, before she had a chance to think twice about it.

“Do you want this?” he murmured, slowly running his hand up her arm, making her skin tingle. Goosebumps rose beneath his touch and a shudder of pleasure ran through her. The teenage fantasies she had berated herself for only hours before came flooding back, feeding her desire.

She nodded, her eyes finding his and locking onto them. He reached up to cup her face with his free hand and she melted into his touch, lost in the moment. He had his hands on her, he wanted her. And holy hell, did she want him in return.

“Are you sure?”

The very air around them seemed to hum with anticipation. Don’t ask, she begged silently, just do it. Don’t make me think too hard.
Just do it
.

“I think so,” she said, losing herself in the blue of his eyes.

A chill crawled up the back of her neck as his hand fell away from her face.

“You
think
so?” he said warily, backing off. “That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just meant…”

“Just talk to me,” he said, backing away further. The chasm between them widened, gaping at her feet, giving her the sensation she was falling. “I don’t want to force you into anything. I know what’s at stake here, and I don’t want to mess anything up between us. I think you might want this but I don’t know, because
you
don’t seem to know. I don’t want to tiptoe around this anymore, Kate. Maybe you could think about it and get back to me once you know what you want.”

She stared at him in silent, naked desperation.

Lacey sat on the edge of her bed, leafing through the guest book she had seen on the kitchen counter. Danny’s familiar scrawl just added to the emptiness that had curled up inside her. It had felt good to cry, but she was sorry that Max had been there to see it. He had his own problems.

“Hey.”

She looked up to see Gavin standing in the doorway.

“Max said I should come and see how you’re doing.”

The love and concern that floated above his words had her sniffing back more tears. A few moments ago, she had been feeling better. Now, she wasn’t so sure. As if realising that, Gavin sat down on the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms.  She let the guest book fall onto the bed as she wrapped her arms around him.

“What was all that about? He’s really worried about you.”

She pulled him closer, shaking her head as she tried to understand it herself.

“Talk to me.”

He rubbed her back and she sniffed, gently pulling out of his embrace. “I don’t know. It just all got on top of me, I think. Being here again is harder than I thought it’d be.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, his hand still resting on her back.

“You know what I keep thinking about?” Her chin quivered as she fought to keep her voice even. “Nina and Jim. How do they do it? How do they get up every day and carry on? How do they face every day, knowing what he did? He was their only son. They’ll never get to see him walk down the aisle or have kids of his own, or any of those things – any of the things that any parent wants for their child. Nina carried him inside of her for nine months – how can she make it through the day with this pain?”

Gavin reached for her hands. “Are you talking about Nina or about you? Is this really about Danny?”

He had always been too smart for his own good. She glanced up at him just as the desolation really took hold of her, latching onto her empty womb and squeezing tight. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

“It hurts so much. It’s like a hole inside of me, Gav. I never knew it could hurt like this.”

He drew her into his arms as she gave in to the urge to completely let go. Now that they were alone, now that the magnitude of what they were facing had made itself known, she felt the options dwindling. It was either let go or scream. She began to sob, deep heart-wrenching sobs that were dragged out from deep inside of her. She had no control over them anymore. The pain seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

“It’ll get easier,” he whispered, stroking the back of her head.

As Finn strode down the hallway and into the living room, he felt an overwhelming desire to punch something. The desperate frustration bubbling up inside him was all consuming. First Max and now Kate. The helplessness seemed to be compounding. He kept a tenuous hold on it for now, but he knew it couldn’t last. He had to get out, get away from this place and the misery and confusion that seemed determined to tear him apart.

He marched out the door. As he stormed out through the carport, the sight of the Monaro did nothing to ease his temper. 

“Hey! Hang on a sec!”

He turned to see Gavin jogging towards him.

“I thought we’d get the kayak race out of the way this morning. You in?” Gavin asked.

“Maybe later. Got stuff to do.”

“Where you off to?” 

Finn racked his brains. “Into Picton, for supplies.”

“Okay, cool. We can do the race later. I’ll come with you.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, heading for the car. 

Gavin followed, climbing into the passenger seat. Finn scarcely waited for the door to close before he gunned the engine, turning the car around in the small turning bay and heading up the driveway at breakneck speed. At the top of the driveway, he barely looked as he threw the car around the corner and onto the road, leaving a shower of small stones in his wake. He saw Gavin covertly reaching for the seatbelt and securing it around himself but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. Finn threw the car into each bend as if Danny were standing in the middle of the road and he was trying to run him down. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his fingers hurt. The atmosphere within the car was stifling but neither of them spoke.

The winding road eventually brought them back into Picton. He took the indirect route to the supermarket, driving to the bottom of town and then aimlessly up a couple of streets, doubling back on himself eventually. What he really wanted to do was find a pub and camp out in it. Giving himself a mental shake, he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, spying the supermarket up ahead. He pulled into a parking space outside and killed the engine.

Over the past three years, he had told himself that Danny did what he did because he didn’t think there was any other way out. He wasn’t thinking ahead, he didn’t know what it was going to do – to any of them. He was living purely in the moment, and he needed an escape. He told himself this time and time again, but he could never fully believe it. It was a means to an end – a way to accept what Danny had done and move on with his life. In short, it was a lie – at best, a guess. An estimation based on what everyone told him and what he thought he knew. A house of cards. One false move, one errant whisper of doubt, and it all came crashing down, taking his peace of mind with it.

After what had happened with Max, and then Kate, all he could see was a never-ending spiral of destruction. It wasn’t a whisper, it was a scream – from the rooftops, with a loud-hailer. Danny should have known – he should have foreseen this. He had no right to leave them to deal with this themselves. Just look at the effect his decision had had on them – and was still having on them. It wasn’t fair. They didn’t deserve this. He felt nauseous. It all seemed so big – so impossible. So unfixable.

“Are we going in or shall we just sit here and wait for them to bring the stuff out to us?”

Finn blinked and turned to stare at Gavin. “What?”

Gavin jerked his head towards the supermarket. “Doesn’t look like they have online ordering, mate – we’re probably gonna have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Finn cleared his throat. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

He led the way into the supermarket, trying to concentrate. What did he need? The truth was, the only thing he needed was a magic wand to make all of this go away. A time machine would be handy, too. He’d turn back the clock to the day when they first started noticing that Danny was out of sorts, and he’d bail him up about it. He’d make him tell him what was going on. He’d avoid the whole fucking mess.

Gavin wandered off, leaving Finn to drift aimlessly from aisle to aisle, picking up random items and then discarding them. When they met at the checkout several minutes later, Gavin’s arms were full and he unloaded them gratefully, giving the young girl behind the counter a quick smile.

He looked at Finn sideways and noted his empty hands, but he didn’t say anything. Finn turned his back to the cashier, leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. Gavin paid and bagged up the groceries and they trudged back to the car in silence. The simmering anger that had fired Finn up earlier had been replaced with a quiet melancholy.

“Let’s find a pub,” Gavin suggested, as they climbed into the car.

“Best idea you’ve had all day.”

Finn was in no hurry to go back to the beach house. They found a pub in the next street over and parked the car, walking along the busy street in silence. Tourists surrounded them, flooding into the gateway town either on their way to or from somewhere else. It gave the town a peculiar feeling to it, almost dreamlike. The physical location added to the feeling of surrealism, nestled as it was at the base of the inlet, the hills rearing up behind it, dwarfing the town and its inhabitants. Finn had often wondered what it would be like to live here all year round.

They stood at the bar, waiting for their beers to be poured, and Finn spied a table by the window. The pub wasn’t busy, just a handful of patrons at this time of the day. The view was of the street outside, and the harbour at the end of the road, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here for the view.

Finn had known these few days were going to be tough – they always were. This time though, he was looking forward to moving on. It had been three years since Danny’s death. Max should be getting better, not worse. He had been looking forward to telling Kate about Kelly and seeing her reaction for himself. But, with a sinking feeling, he realised that nothing was turning out the way he had hoped it would. Everything was just as screwed up as it had ever been, and he found himself laying the blame firmly at Danny’s feet for that – or he would have, had he been here. Taking a large gulp of beer, he acknowledged that that in itself was the problem. If Danny had been here, he would have demanded he stop torturing Max and let Kate go. But as it was, he had no one here to blame and there was no easy fix. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table top and staring sullenly at his beer. Gavin kicked his foot under the table.

“What?” Finn frowned over the table at him.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

He leant back in his chair, staring out the window, not really paying attention to anything in particular. His brain churned over and over what Kate had said. The guilt in her eyes had been unmistakable and that was what bothered him the most. What did she have to feel guilty about?

“Bullshit.”

“Just leave it, Gav,” he warned. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Really? Can’t say I noticed.” 

Finn glared at him briefly, silently warning him off, before turning his attention back to the window. 

“Come on, spit it out. Is it this thing with Max?”

Finn opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it and promptly closed it again. He wanted to say yes – it was Max, and it was Kate, and above all, it was Danny. It was every-bloody-thing. Sucking it all down, he crossed his arms in front of him again and leaned forward on the table, his head down.

“It’s Kate,” he admitted.

It was as good a place to start as any. If Gavin wasn’t going to drop it, he had to say something – and he didn’t feel like spilling his guts about his concern for Max again, especially after what happened this morning. As for Danny, he was doing his best to handle that, to keep a lid on it, but he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it.

“Okay,” Gavin said. “What about Kate?”

Finn cleared his throat as he considered how much information to divulge. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Right. So… does this have anything to do with what happened at New Years?”

“Maybe.” Finn frowned. “Except it seems much more complicated than I thought.”

“Christ, you sound like her,” Gavin groaned, rolling his eyes.

Finn stared morosely at the glass of beer on the table in front of him. Why couldn’t things be simple? When did everything get so damn complicated? If only Kate knew what she wanted. Then, maybe, he would know where he stood. One minute she seemed sure, the next she was backtracking, looking for a way out. Twice they had almost kissed, and twice she had backed off. Maybe he should just see the signs for what they were – flashing neon lights, ten feet tall, reading NEVER GONNA HAPPEN.

“Hey come on – what’s the big deal?” Gavin said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“The big deal is that she’s my dead friend’s girlfriend.”

“No – she
was
your dead friend’s girlfriend,” he grimaced, recovering quickly. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there? I don’t think there is – not in her eyes, anyway.” Finn sat back in his seat, deflated.

“What happened?”

“I’m an idiot, that’s what happened. I tried to kiss her - again.”

“Wow – go you. Sober and everything,” Gavin nodded, clearly impressed. “And?”

“And she backed off. Again.” Finn stared at the table top, sticky with condensation rings. “What a fucking mess.”

“Hmm.”

“What the hell does ‘hmm’ mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she just needs more time?”

Finn huffed out a breath and raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “Yeah.”

“Now you’re the one being vague. Care to explain that one?”

Finn stared at him for a moment, frustration welling up inside him again. He glanced out the window, ignoring him. What was the point of discussing this with Gavin? He didn’t see the look on her face. The guilt was there, plain as day. It’s not something you forget.

“Finn?”

“I’m beginning to think it’s got nothing to do with time,” he said, his gaze firmly on the street outside. “I’m beginning to think it’s me.”

Flashing neon lights, ten feet tall.

“If that were the case, then why would you guys have had these two close encounters over the past couple of months? She’s not the type to play games and she’s not desperate – she hasn’t even had so much as a one night stand since Danny died, never mind an actual, honest-to-God relationship. God knows, she hasn’t tried to kiss me, so she clearly has boundaries.” He winked, trying to throw some levity at the situation. “Lack of taste notwithstanding.”

“Not helping.” Finn said, but his words began to sink in nonetheless. He had a point. Maybe he should just let things rest for a while and see what happened. He had been clear about it earlier.