Hereafter (Shadowlands 2)

“No,” Tristan said, appearing in a swirl of mist, his hand outstretched. “You can’t die.”

“But you can break every bone in your body,” Joaquin added, stepping up next to Tristan. “And believe me, that hurts.”

I let Tristan close the gap between us and pull me away from the edge. Down below, the surf crashed louder.

“It’s okay, Rory,” Tristan assured me, holding me at arm’s length. “No one expects you to take him.”

“Of course not,” Joaquin added. “We made a pact.”

“It’s not that,” I said, sniffling as I shook my head. “I may not take him tonight, but I’ll have

to eventually. I’m going to have to say good-bye to my father. I had to say good-bye to my mother, and next it’ll be my father, and then Darcy…” I felt as if my chest were splitting open. As if it would never be mended. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Tristan,” I gasped. “It’s not fair. It’s not…fair.”

“I know,” he said, pulling me to him and letting me cry all over his pristine blue shirt. “I know it’s not fair.”

“This is so intense,” Joaquin said. “We’ve never had a Lifer have to sit here and watch their family go, one by one.”

I let out a loud sob.

“Dude. Just stop talking,” Tristan said.

Joaquin blanched. “Sorry.”

Somewhere in the depths of the mist, a car door thunked shut, and an engine revved. A shiver went through me. No one should be driving in this mess, which made me wonder what sort of person would try, and for what reason.

“Listen, we’re not going to figure out what’s going on or how to fix it tonight, and no one is taking your dad,” Tristan said, releasing me. “So why don’t you just go home with your family? Spend some time with them tonight. That’s what you should be doing.”

“Yeah?” I asked, glancing back in what I thought was the direction of the house. “How do I get them to leave? Darcy hates me, and my dad is clearly on a date.”

“Tell your dad you’re gonna blow chunks,” Joaquin said. “He’ll go home with you.”

I shot him a disgusted look, but he just shrugged.

“And he’ll make Darcy come because he won’t want to leave her behind in this,” Tristan added.

“Great. Then she’ll really hate me,” I muttered. “She’ll think I’m lying just to ruin her night or something.”

“So stick your finger down your throat and puke if you have to,” Joaquin said. “That’ll get the job done.”

I laughed in disbelief, but they said nothing, and I knew then how urgent the situation was. This was no joke. It was time for me and my family to go home and spend some time together. We didn’t have any to spare.

“This movie’s stupid,” Darcy grumbled, snuggling further into the couch cushions.

“Bite your tongue,” my dad shot back, his arm slung around my shoulders. “This is one of the greatest films of all time.”

We were watching Superman—the original one from the 1970s—on his laptop, which glowed brightly in the center of the coffee table. It was ridiculously cheesy, but it was one of my father’s favorites, so at the moment, I didn’t care.

“Fine, but we’re watching Footloose next,” Darcy muttered.

“Kevin Bacon?” Dad said hopefully.

Darcy gave him a look, as if she was embarrassed to share the same air with him. “Please. Do I look like I’m forty?”

“Okay, fine. We’ll watch your version. What about you, Rory?” my dad asked. “What’s your pick for this little all-nighter you’ve got planned?”

“I don’t care,” I said honestly, tugging the musty afghan up over my shoulders. “I’ll watch whatever.”

“The Natural it is, then,” he announced.