Between Before and After Page 15

  He turned in a slow circle as he scanned the area, finally coming face to face with Kate. The anxiety fairly hummed around her, mirroring his own.

  “I only took my eyes off him for a second!” Her eyes filled with tears

  Without thinking, he went to her, drawing her into his arms. “It’s okay, we’ll find him.”

  “He can’t have gone far – let’s split up,” Gavin suggested, an unmistakable sense of urgency in his voice.

  “Good idea. Lace, can you and Kate go up to the road and see if you can spot him?” He released Kate as she wiped her eyes, sniffing. “He might be walking it off. He shouldn’t be out on the road in the state he’s in – we might have to tail him if he is.”

  “We should check the jetty, and the boat shed,” Gavin said, already heading that way.

  Lacey immediately headed back up the lawn towards the house, Kate hurrying after her. Finn jogged after Gavin as they headed towards the jetty.

  “Do you think he could have fallen in?” Gavin’s gaze swept the bay.

  Finn didn’t answer him. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he was having trouble breathing. Deep down inside, he clung to the hope that he had just taken a walk to cool off, but the niggle working its way up from his gut just wouldn’t go away.

  As they reached the boat shed on the corner of the beach, Finn saw that, unusually, the pair of rickety wooden doors were open. Drawing even with them, he peered around the open door to find Max sitting in the old wooden dinghy, staring at him coldly. The instant relief he felt at finding him was immediately replaced by anger when he saw the bottle of whisky in his hand.

  Max continued to eyeball him as he slowly and deliberately brought the bottle up to his lips and took a long swallow. Finn had to fight the urge to grab the bottle out of his hand and hurl it against the wall.

  “We were wondering where you got to,” Gavin said, appearing beside Finn.

  “You found me. So does that make you Sherlock or Watson?”

  Finn’s gaze rested pointedly on the bottle in Max’s hand. “Where the hell did you get that?”

  Max looked down at it as if he had almost forgotten it was there. “Rainy day supply.”

  Finn’s teeth were clamped together so hard his jaw ached. The sense of helplessness and frustration that squeezed his throat made breathing difficult.

  “Can you shift? You’re spoiling the view,” Max muttered, waving the bottle in his hand at the beach behind them.

  Finn didn’t move, although Gavin hesitantly took a step to the side.

  “Do you have even the slightest idea that we’re trying to help you here?” Finn said, refusing to back down.

  “Who said I needed your help?”

  Max took another swig and Finn shook his head, trying to keep it from exploding. A thousand thoughts and images rattled around inside his brain, not one of them pleasant. Thinking became impossible so he gave up, instead speaking from his heart.

  “Can’t you see what’s happening?” he said, struggling to maintain control. “You’re drinking yourself into a coma because of this shit with Danny – because you won’t talk about it! That doesn’t make you a hero, Max – it makes you a fucking idiot! None of this is going away unless you deal with it, because if you don’t, it’s gonna haunt you for the rest of your miserable fucking life. Is that what you want?”

  “Hey!” Gavin’s hand gripped his arm but he shook him off angrily.

  “I mean it – you have to fight back! Stop acting like you’re the victim here and take control for once!”

  They stared at each other for a series of long moments that seemed to drag out endlessly. Max broke the silence first.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing. “I am taking control. You have no idea.”

  “So this is taking control, is it?” Finn insisted, his breathing heavy as he fought his rising temper. “You’re burying yourself in a mountain of booze. How’s that working out? Is it making everything better?”

  His eyes scanned Max’s, searching for some sign that he had managed to break through the barrier finally – that Max understood. But all he saw reflected there was anger and hatred. The same anger and hatred that he felt himself, only for different reasons and directed at someone else.

  Max shook his head slowly, his blue eyes dark. He was calm. Shut off. Closed down. Unreachable.

  “Jesus.” Finn shook his head helplessly. “You should see yourself. I don’t know who the hell you are anymore.”

  “Finn.”

  He heard the warning in Gavin’s tone. He was close to crossing the line – he may even have already crossed it for all he knew, but he was beyond caring. Propelled by an overwhelming sense of frustration, Finn marched to the back of the boat shed, grabbing at anything he found – filthy old lifejackets, oars, deflated plastic beach balls – looking for anything that might resemble alcohol. If he had one bottle hidden in here, he could have more. Coming up empty, he turned to face Gavin over Max’s head, his breath coming out in frustrated huffs. Gavin looked worried, upset and more than a little uncomfortable. Incensed at having to take the lead again, Finn began to frantically search the dinghy, roughly pushing Max aside as he did so.

  “Hey!” Max hissed.

  Finn ignored him as he climbed into the dinghy to continue the search. Time and again, the same thought flew through his head: Danny’s fault – all this is Danny’s fault. Selfish, inconsiderate bastard.

  “Why don’t we go inside?” Gavin interrupted, a hint of desperation in his voice as he tried to diffuse the situation.

  “Good idea – why don’t you go inside?” Max retaliated, taking another swig out of the bottle he held.

  Finn gave up the search and climbed out of the dinghy. He backed up against the side of the boat shed wall, his whole body tense. His head pounded. There was obviously no point reasoning with him while he was drunk – nothing was getting through. Once he sobered up, maybe they had a chance. But what if there were more bottles stashed away? He had already checked his room and his bag. Where else might he have hidden them?

  Realisation dawned with a sharp stab to his chest. The boat shed wall creaked ominously as he pushed himself away from it, heading back onto the beach without another word. Leaving Max and Gavin in his wake, he jogged back along the sand and up onto the lawn. Gavin called after him but he ignored him, covering the lawn swiftly, his heart pumping. With each step, the cogs of his brain turned, going over every possible hiding place Max could have thought of. It had become more than just a search for alcohol now – it was a battle of wills, a battle for survival. Max’s survival.

  He rounded the side of the house and headed straight towards Max’s car, still parked at the rear of the house.

  “Did you find him?” Kate called, jogging down the driveway towards him with Lacey.

  “Yeah, he’s in the boat shed with Gav.”

  “Thank God!” she breathed, slowing to a walk.

  Finn ignored them both, making a beeline for Max’s car.

  “Finn?” Lacey questioned, as he walked right past them.

  He tried the door of Max’s car and found it unlocked. Yanking it open, he climbed into the driver’s seat, his hands automatically gripping the wheel as he tried to tune out Kate and Lacey.

  He leant over and popped open the glove box, searching around inside it, unceremoniously scooping the contents out and dumping them onto the passenger foot-well. Nothing. He slammed it shut, his eyes scanning the interior of the car.

  “Hey – what’s going on?”

  He ignored Kate, his full concentration on the task at hand. He leaned forward and ran his hand under the driver’s seat a few times but came up empty again. Reaching over under the passenger seat, he did the same, with the same result.

  Damn it!

  He turned, leaning over into the back, his eyes and hands searching desperately for any hidden bottles Max may have stashed away. Again, nothing. Hauling himself out of
the car, he turned to face Lacey and Kate, both looking confused and frightened. He shook his head, the wind sucked out of his sails momentarily by the identical looks on their faces.

  “He’s fine, Gav’s with him – but he’s got a bottle of whisky that he’s knocking back like there’s no tomorrow.”

  Kate shook her head in disbelief.

  “I’m going down there,” Lacey said, heading towards the beach.

  Kate stared after her, finally turning back to Finn. “What are we gonna do?” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes.

  She hung her head and Finn lost sight of her face amongst the mane of auburn hair. Instinctively, he pulled her close, running a gentle hand over her head. Tentatively, her arms crept under his ribs and curled around his back. Just like that, he felt less alone. Maybe he didn’t have to do this all by himself after all. He closed his eyes. He still needed to find Max’s ridiculous secret stash, but right now, with Kate’s arms around him and his emotions running rampant, he selfishly wanted to take a moment for himself.

  He kissed the top of her head absentmindedly. Her body shuddered ever-so-slightly against his as she looked up at him. Realising what he had done, he immediately released her and stepped backwards. He had to learn to give her some space, but with those tears in her eyes all he wanted to do was make it better, somehow. She reached out for him, grabbing his hand.

  “I’m sorry about what happened this morning,” she said. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m sorry if that’s how it felt.”

  He shook his head, not sure that now was the right time to be having this discussion. He had so much on his mind with Max, he needed every ounce of brainpower he had if he was going to outsmart him. He opened his mouth to tell her as much.

  “Please – just let me finish?” she said. “I’m scared, and it’s not of you – I’m scared of me. I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I don’t want to lead you on or give you false hope or anything like that – you deserve better.”

  After a slow start, her words were tumbling out now and he struggled to keep up.

  “What happened between us at New Years wasn’t planned – it just happened, and it scared me to death because I wasn’t expecting it. But all I’ve done since then is think about you and about changing my life and about moving on, and it’s a big deal, Finn. I don’t want to just jump into something unless I know I’m ready to give it everything I have. And giving everything I have means I have to give something up, and I think that has to be Danny. I think I have to give him up, and on some level, I know that. But on a whole other level, I’m not sure if I can. Actually, that’s not strictly true – what I mean is that I don’t know if I know how.”

  Danny – again. Why isn’t he just fading into the past like normal dead people? Why does he have to hang around like this? Can’t he just leave us alone to get on with our lives? Isn’t it enough that he had to kill himself? Do we have to live with his ghost forever now too?

  “Finn?”

  He concentrated on slowing his heart rate down, of making everything manageable again. He felt like his chest might burst open at any moment and all the frustration, guilt, helplessness, grief and anger might pour out into the air around him, leaving him empty and hollow. He wanted to feel empty and hollow – he craved it. Anything would be better than this. Maybe Max had a point. Maybe the answer lay in numbing the pain with alcohol.

  Max.

  Focus, for God’s sake!

  Turning back to Max’s car, he opened the driver’s door and reached in to pull the boot release. He purposefully avoided looking at or answering Kate, afraid of what would come out of his mouth if he tried to talk. His heart pumped double time in his chest and he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

  “Please – just talk to me?” Kate pleaded.

  Ignoring her, he threw open the car boot. Blindly reaching in to scope out the cavern with his hand, his vision was clouded with blossoming anger. It wasn’t until he dug underneath the lining and his fingers touched something cold and hard that his heart almost stopped.

  Slowly, he withdrew the object, staring at it in shock.

  Fuck.

  “Oh my God,” he heard Kate whisper, her voice seemingly lost in a wind tunnel, the same tunnel that robbed him of his breath, sucking him into a swirling vortex.

  No. Not again.

  In stunned silence, he stared at the gun he now held in his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The handle was smooth, deadly, and it made him shiver. It was heavy and awkward. And it was Max’s. How the hell could this be Max’s? Why does he have a gun in his car? Why the hell does he have a gun at all?

  Danny’s face flashed through his head briefly, leaving him breathless. He was mesmerised by the gun – the feel of it, the look of it. It was like something out of the movies. It didn’t belong here – not in his hand, not in Max’s car. He stared at it, the barrel glinting in the sunlight, as he tried to catch his breath. It felt as if all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs.

  Somewhere deep down inside of himself, he desperately wanted to believe that none of this was real. Not again. It was too much. What had they done to deserve this? What the hell was Max thinking? Where did he get this thing? He tore his gaze away from the gun to look at Kate.

  She stared up at him, her tears reflecting horror and disbelief. Everything he felt, only magnified. It was like standing in the sand, watching the waves break over your feet and having the sand disappear from underneath you with the retreating water. He was being dragged asunder, all over again. Solid turned to liquid, the world tilted sideways.

  Suddenly, he was moving. He practically levitated across the lawn towards Max and the boat shed. It loomed in front of him, and he was only vaguely aware that Kate was following him. She was talking, her voice weird and detached, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. The boat shed filled his field of vision and suddenly he was there. Max stood next to the boat, the bottle of whisky still in his hand. Gavin and Lacey hovered near the door, but he ignored them.

  Everything melted away. The boat shed, Gavin, Lacey and Kate – everything. All he saw was Max. All he felt was the gun, a dead weight, heavy in his hand.

  Dead weight.

  Dead.

  He saw Max’s eyes fall to the gun as his knuckles grazed against the leg of his jeans, struggling to hold it in his grasp. It was heavy. It was awkward. It was smooth. And it was Max’s.

  Max’s gun.

  It was Max’s gun.

  With no recollection as to how it happened, he was suddenly on top of Max. They were on the ground and he was punching him, only he didn’t feel it. It was like he was watching someone else do it. He could see himself punching him and he knew he was yelling at him but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He punched him again, once more, for good measure. Only it wasn’t Max’s face he was punching. It was Danny’s.

  Danny’s face staring back at him from the dirt floor of the boat shed, eyes wild and confused – frightened.

  He blinked away the vision, straddling him, panting heavily. He still held the gun in his hand. He didn’t want to put it down, he didn’t want anyone else to touch it. It was misery and it was death and they had had enough of both.

  Then he was being dragged bodily upright. The sound came back into his world with a loud whoosh and everyone was talking at once.

  “Finn!”

  “Jesus, get off him!”

  “Stop it!”

  He stumbled slightly, then found his footing again as Gavin pulled him backwards by his shirt.

  “What the hell is going on?” Lacey demanded.

  He turned to look at them all, shrugging Gavin off him in the same instant. Staggering backwards as Gavin let go, he kept backing up until he couldn’t retreat any further. His back pressed up against the boat shed wall, his entire body tense and trembling. He stared at them in silence, his breathing laboured. Except Max. He didn’t dare look at Max.

  Slowly, he held the gun
out to show them. It was heavy and it was awkward and it was Max’s gun.

  Max’s gun.

  With a sickening feeling, he saw the realisation and horror bloom on their faces. He tore his eyes away from them and stared at the gun for a moment. It was shaking. He was shaking. He couldn’t hear anything. No birds calling to each other across the bay. No cicadas. No water lapping just a few feet from where he stood. No breathing, no crying. Nothing.

  “Who… whose is… where did you get that?” Lacey stammered, tearing her gaze away from the gun to stare at him in disbelief.

  Blinking slowly, trying to wrap his head around it himself, he turned to look down at Max.

  “Fuck,” Gavin whispered.

  Max still lay on the gravel floor of the boat shed, his lip split and bleeding. All the bravado and animosity from earlier had disappeared. He looked like a frightened child, but Finn had no sympathy for him. The anger had burst forth and he could see nothing else.

  From somewhere deep down inside, Finn found his voice. “Why was this in your car?”

  Max stared up at him, clearly petrified.

  “It was in his car?” Gavin choked.

  Finn didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was so busy trying to organise the thoughts banging about inside his head, he couldn’t do two things at once – try to stay sane and speak. It was impossible. This was impossible. This wasn’t happening. He hadn’t just found a gun in the boot of Max’s car. Not possible, not again.

  “Why?” Kate whispered.

  The heartache in her voice grabbed Finn by the throat and squeezed.

  “Why do you have a gun in your car?” she prodded, the merest hint of hysteria creeping in.

  Finn’s stomach rolled and lurched, and he felt seasick. She had tears rolling down her face and she looked so much like she did that day at the hospital, after Danny died. Blood rushed to his head as the anger burst to the surface once more. He whirled around to address Max.