The After of Us (Judge Me Not Spin-off) Read online

  Judge Me Not series

  I Stand Before You

  Never Doubt Me

  Just Let Me Love You

  Inevitability duology

  Inevitable Detour

  Inevitable Circumstances

  A Harbour Falls Mystery trilogy

  Harbour Falls

  Willow Point

  Wickingham Way

  Laid Bare novella series

  Exposed: Laid Bare 1

  Unveiled: Laid Bare 2

  Spellbound: Laid Bare 3

  Sacrifice: Laid Bare 4

  Promises series

  Tomorrow’s Lies

  Can the ending of one dream lead to the beginning of a new one?

  Will Gartner made a lot of mistakes in the past, but he finally has his life together. Leaving his reckless teenage years behind, he’s recently graduated from college and is all set to move from Las Vegas to New York to start a prestigious new job. But when an unexpected guest shows up at his farewell party, all Will’s dreams are smashed to pieces. Suddenly, he’s taking a crash course in how to be a father to the five-year-old daughter he never knew existed.

  Will changes direction and heads to Harmony Creek, Ohio, and the only person who’s ever really been there for him, his brother Chase. Chase saved Will in the past, but will he rescue him yet again? Some lessons—like fatherhood—can only be learned by doing. Is Will up to the challenge?

  And where does Emma Metzger fit into Will’s suddenly upside-down world? Emma knows all about his troubled past and sees his hesitation to commit to his new daughter. How can she commit her heart to a man who doesn’t know what the word means?

  Chase always told Will “Follow your heart. Always try to be a good man.” But will following his heart be enough for his daughter, and for Emma?

  The After of Us is a story about letting go of old dreams, and, in the process, discovering what you really needed to make you happy was right there in front of you all along.

  The After of Us is a spin-off of the Judge Me Not series and a standalone novel.

  Will

  “College graduate, that’s me.”

  It’s so hard to believe that I have to utter those words again, out loud, one more time. And then I need more, just to make it really real.

  Leaning my head back to stare up at an azure-blue sky, I rise up in the seat of the nice, new BMW convertible I’m driving and scream as loudly as I can, “I’m a goddamn college graduate, motherfuckers.”

  Take that, all you pricks who didn’t believe in me.

  I jerk the wheel back just in time to keep from veering off the road, and thus into vast desert nothingness. But yeah, once I’m back on track I think about how no one thought I’d succeed. Not my ex-girlfriend, Cassie, not my mom, and certainly not my stepdad, Greg. I should mention that Greg’s not technically my stepdad. Dude never bothered to “officially” adopt me. Not that it matters, not anymore. I’m about to turn twenty-two.

  I’m all grown up…and a fucking college grad, as established.

  As I hit the gas, the Mojave Desert becomes a hazy blur, my great trek to Las Vegas almost near its end. Yeah, good ole Sin City is where I’m headed. So many Californians take this trip for pleasure. But me, I’m going home.

  I estimate I should hit the state line in about another hour—maybe less, at the rate I’m flying—then I’ll be back in my home state of Nevada. Of course, I won’t be there for long. I’m all set to fly to New York City at the end of the week.

  Shit, I have to laugh. I’m a goddamn coming-home success story, if ever there was one. That’s right—I, Will Gartner, former fuck-up extraordinaire, have not only graduated from a prestigious college—with honors, no less—but I’ve also lined up a sweet-ass job in the largest city in the country.

  As of next Monday, a week from today, I’ll be putting my fancy new graphic design skills—some taught to me at college and others I just have an innate talent for—to work.

  And for fat stacks, no less.

  When I arrive in New York I’ll have a couple of days ahead of me in which to settle in, which is good. Gotta get myself set up in the cool apartment I think I want. If I back out, though, it doesn’t matter. Mom and Greg have me booked in some fancy Manhattan hotel for however long I need.

  Still, what I really want is to do this shit on my own from day one. It’s time to cut the ties to my past and quit relying on other people to do shit for me, especially when I can manage things for myself. This is the new me, you see: A Will Gartner who is finally free.

  Funny how I don’t feel so very free.

  I guess I’ve always seen myself as more of a freelance kind of artist. My dream was once to publish a comic book line, one I created a long time ago. I used to hope maybe I could turn my early work into a graphic novel, and possibly create a whole series from there. I dreamed of bringing to life in vivid color the characters on my sketch pad, praying one day they’d be seen by others, even if it only ever turned out to be a few.

  Oh, well. Guess I’ll learn to adjust and be content with the knowledge that my ad work will be viewed by thousands—probably tens of thousands.

  Should make me feel good, right?

  Yeah, it should. So why is it I feel like nothing but a sellout to corporate greed?

  “Quit thinking that stupid idealistic shit,” I chastise myself. “Get real.”

  Refocusing on my itinerary for when I arrive in Vegas, I ponder the one last blowout I plan to have at my parents’ house. Not that I’ve done much planning on it, but the groundwork is set. Mom and Greg are gone, so they aren’t a factor. My folks took off for an extended three-month vacation, following my graduation ceremony. That means they won’t be back for several weeks. Those two are always traveling, jetting from one place to the next. They were so anxious for this trip to begin that they flew out of LA on Saturday, the day of my graduation. In fact, they even had me drive them to the airport that very night.

  I blow out a breath, recalling our final moments at the curb of the passenger drop-off area.

  As I helped Mom unload her baggage from the trunk of the graduation present she’d given me—the ice-blue convertible Bimmer I’m driving this very moment—she gave me free rein over her not-so-humble Vegas abode. She has no problem with me staying at her and Greg’s oversized McMansion, seeing as I’m about to become what she always dreamed I’d be—a clean-cut business professional.

  Nonetheless, my mom, knowing my background and no doubt recalling my reckless younger days, was sure to add, “Have fun, but don’t trash the place, Will.”

  I feigned indignation, placing my hand over my heart and acting hurt. “Would I do such a thing, Mother Dear?”

  She gave me a withering look, and Greg chimed in with, “Seriously, Will. No parties.”

  He returned to his task of loading their bags onto a cart and didn’t see me roll my eyes at him. I swear that man will forever view me as fifteen.

  Mom, always quick to defend me, dressed Greg down immediately. “Oh, Greg,” she said, “a tiny party is fine. My son”—she reached up and ruffled my hair—“can have a few friends over if he likes. I’m sure they’ll all behave like perfect ladies and gentlemen.”

  Ha!

  Another eye roll was in order, but I played along, knowing it was to my advantage.

  Don’t think I can’t recognize how fucked up our family dynamic is, with Greg trying to set boundaries and Mom continually shutting him down. That’s just her, though. My mom, Abby Gartner Vintner, simply sucks at discipline. I guess that’s part of the reason why my brother, Chase, and I had so many problems growing up. Losing our real father and living on the streets for a while didn’t help matters, no
r did Abby’s onetime-pervasive gambling problem, but her overall permissiveness led me and my brother to make a slew of bad choices.

  That’s all in the past now. Chase is a success story these days.

  The one-time felon, who spent four years in prison, runs a thriving business and has a great family. He and his wife, Kay, plus their young children, Jack and Sarah, all came to my graduation this past weekend. They had to fly back directly afterward, however. Chase told me he had work to do on Sunday, something about checking in on a job site that’s running behind schedule. He builds homes—like our father once did—in Ohio.

  And then there’s me. “College graduate,” I murmur, savoring the sound of those words one more time.

  Still, though. Despite how many times that phrase passes my lips, it just doesn’t feel real. But it is real. I did it. I survived the fancy school in Malibu that Mom and Greg paid far too much for. And now it’s on to the big city to live out my dream.

  Or live out someone’s dream, a little voice whispers.

  “Think about the party,” I mutter in response.

  Yeah, the party…

  I’m thinking one low-key bash at the house won’t hurt anyone. No one will probably show up anyway, seeing as I’ve lost touch with most of my old friends. Probably a good thing, considering how my early high school years were filled with drugs and partying with those exact same people.

  Oh, and with my one-time girlfriend, Cassie Sutter.

  That chick and I were bad news once we got together. Shit, we were high more often than not. She was my enabler, and I was hers. She also holds claim to the title of “my first love.” Walking away from her was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. But if ever there was a toxic love, it was ours.

  Think I’m over-exaggerating? I’m not. Hell, I almost killed a man in cold blood for Cassie, if not for Chase intervening.

  Chase. Reaching up from the steering wheel, I run my hand through my hair. It’s the same light brown color as his. My hair used to be lighter, much lighter. I was once a towheaded blond, back when I was a little kid. My hair also used to be wilder. Not all that long ago, either. Sadly, I had to get a haircut last week, to appear more “professional” for my new job.

  What is it that people say? Need to look the part to play the part, right?

  Chuckling, I rake my fingers through my hair once more. Thankfully, there’s still enough there to grab and pull. Chase does the same thing, all the time. Family trait, I suppose. Wonder if our dad had the same hair-raking quirk?

  I can’t ask him, seeing as he’s dead and gone. Suicide, back when I was eight. My dad drove off a cliff, located in the same exact mountain pass I’ll be driving through in roughly thirty minutes.

  How fucked up is that? Thanks, Dad.

  My father, Jack Gartner, is part of the reason why Cassie and I fell in together. She lost her dad when she was young, just like me. And let me tell you, that shared sympathy bonded us hard and tight.

  But our woven-together grief, sadly, led to disaster.

  On those days when finding solace in each other’s arms just wasn’t enough, we searched for outside sources to ease the pain. And, oh, did we find shit to do—weed, Oxy, X, cocaine, and other drugs Chase would kill me for if he ever knew I even tried them.

  Bad enough he knows what he knows. But there is more, so much more.

  Chase also thinks Cass and I never spoke to one another after I broke up with her, back when I was fifteen. For a while, it was true, we didn’t talk. I was clean, and Cassie…well, she wasn’t. She had done a stint in rehab back when we were in high school, but it didn’t stick. Her mom ended up transferring her to a private school on the outskirts of Las Vegas. I guess she was hoping the move would get Cassie in with a different crowd, a straight-laced crew of kids.

  It didn’t work. Cass was still using, only with a whole new set of people, kids that were far from straight-laced. She still texted me too, all the time, even when I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore.

  I knew it was time to move on. Like, for real.

  But, I had just turned sixteen and was horny as hell. So when Cass started asking me to meet her just to hook up, I’d go.

  Every … single … time.

  As a result, we ended up having sex all over town—in the backseat of the car my mom had given me for my sixteenth birthday, in alleys where we once scored drugs, and in cheap motels, located in the parts of Vegas tourists never see.

  I wasn’t doing any drugs that summer. Except for one—Cassie.

  I’d given up all the bad things, but I couldn’t quite give up on her. Not until her mom found out we were seeing one another did it end. Mrs. Sutter made sure it was over for us when she moved away. Taking Cassie with her, of course.

  Off to a different state, they flew. At least I think they settled in a different state. I don’t really know for sure. All I do know is I haven’t seen Cassie since the last day we were together, almost six years ago.

  That doesn’t mean I still don’t think about her from time to time. Not a lot, granted, but sometimes, like now.

  I wonder if she ever got her life together, the girl I once loved. I wonder if she got clean. Did she go to college? Maybe she got married? Hell, she could even have a kid by now, for all I know.

  But mostly, beyond all those things, I hope my first love found the inner peace she so desperately sought.

  Will

  I spend the next day just chilling. Mom calls to remind me she has an appointment booked for me with Greg’s tailor the following afternoon.

  “Oh, joy,” I mock.

  “Will.” Her voice is stern, but there’s an underlying excitement. She’s amped I’ll be wearing suits to work, and it shows when she adds, “I already informed the tailor to put whichever suits you like on my tab. Go and get fitted, and whatever you choose can be sent to you in New York.”

  “Okay, okay,” I acquiesce.

  Too bad I don’t share my mom’s enthusiasm for all this business-man shit.

  Nonetheless, like the dutiful son I’m striving to be, I show up at the tailor’s on Wednesday afternoon, cheery and ready to get some suits fitted. I even go so far as to don a nice white dress shirt, all crisp and new, so the guy fitting me can get the measurements for my suit jackets exactly right.

  I stick with washed jeans on my lower half, though, simply so I still feel like myself.

  It all goes smoothly at the tailor’s shop, and afterward I stop by the supermarket to pick up some beer for the party tomorrow. The bash is definitely a go for Thursday night. I managed to get word out, albeit on a limited basis. I just don’t have the contacts I used to.

  At the store, however, I run into an old friend, Nash, who has more than enough contacts to make this party a raging success. Nash is a guy with messy blond hair and surfer-boy good looks. He also possesses killer charm and knows everyone.

  After the obligatory fist-bump, bro hug, and quick catch-up on what’s brought me to town for a few days, he says, “Graduated from Pepperdine, huh? That’s cool.”

  “It is,” I agree. “I never thought a kid like me would make it through a school like that.”

  Nash eyes me curiously then, making a face as he takes in my starched button-down and overall clean-cut appearance. My look is a definite contrast to his long hair, faded board shorts, and ripped tee.

  “I’m not surprised,” he says quietly. “It seems you’ve changed a lot.”

  I let out a nervous chuckle. “Hopefully not too much, man.”

  It’s true; I don’t ever want to lose who I am. Though I have changed in good ways, I don’t ever plan on ending up being seen as some stuffy, boring dude.

  Smoothly switching the subject from me to him, I ask Nash, “So, what’ve you been up to lately?”

  “Oh, hell, not much. Just the same old shit, you know?”

  I nod, and he shrugs, the tips of his blond hair brushing at his shoulders. “I was in school for a while,” he goes on, “but I ran
out of funds. I got a job now, though. Over at that lab on Santa Rosa.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I reply grimly. “I know the place.”

  I do know the lab, all too well. I was sent to that damn place too many times to count, for piss tests when Mom didn’t quite believe I’d quit doing drugs.

  Nash rouses me from my reverie when he asks where I’m off to once I leave Las Vegas. I’m happy to talk about something else, so I tell him about my new job.

  “Sounds like a great gig,” he says, once I’m finished. “When you leaving town?”

  “Not till the end of the week. I fly out bright and early on Friday morning.”

  Nash’s eyes—a little blue and a lot bloodshot—take me in once more. “Damn, dude.” He points to my shirt that he scowled at earlier and says, “Looks to me like you’re ready to leave, like, fucking today.”

  Laughing, I explain. “My mom made me an appointment with my stepdad’s tailor. I just came from there. I was getting fitted for some new suits.”

  “Wow.” Nash snickers. “I can’t believe Will Gartner is going to be wearing a suit every day, joining those nine-to-five fuckers. That’s pretty unbelievable, man. You know, based on all the crazy shit you used to do.”

  I can’t disagree, so I say, “It is pretty shocking, huh?”

  “For sure,” he agrees, nodding.

  Nash hasn’t changed one bit since high school, so I have no hesitation in relaying the details of my party to him. I figure he can dig up more party guests, no problem.

  I finish up my party-plan spiel with, “So, if you know anyone who might want to stop by the house—”

  Nash cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Say no more, my man.” He pats me on the back. “Gartner, dude, I promise you one thing.”

  “Oh, yeah, what’s that?”

  “I am going to make it my personal mission that your last night in this goddamn town is a fucking night to remember.”

  His words are meant to make me feel good. But suddenly, an impending sense of doom, like my world is about to fall apart, comes over me.