After the Crash (Brookhaven Lakes #1)

Chapter 1 – Rhiannon

“Come on, I never get a night off!”

My best friend Leo rolls his eyes at me before reluctantly taking the shot glass I’ve set in front of him and knocking it back.

I know it burns from the grimace that his handsome face makes, but I don’t care.

It’s my twenty-eighth birthday, and finally I have a rare night off from the multiple jobs that I juggle.

Which obviously means that tonight, we’re celebrating.

“Yay!” I cheer, loud and carefree like a child, because right now, that’s exactly how I feel.

I’m buzzing with energy, on my first night out in a long time in New York City and riding the wave of good vibes and tequila. If I could bottle up this feeling, I’d mist it on myself each morning like my favorite perfume.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Leo says with a chuckle.

“That’s the whole point.”

I never really get to let loose anymore.

My life doesn’t leave room for that. Most days, I’m either juggling one of my demanding, soul-sucking jobs, managing my younger sister’s schedule since I’m basically her full-time parent, or working with my older brother to scrape together enough to keep our family afloat.

What other twenty-somethings do on a Friday night? I couldn’t tell you. Movie night in? Hit some dive bar? Date? I wouldn’t know because I’m doing none of those things. That world feels light years away from mine, like a life I was never invited to live.

While everyone else my age is out doing whatever normal people do, I’m usually sitting at the kitchen table with Gabriel, our worn-down calculator between us, empty coffee mugs scattered around.

We’ll go line by line through bills and paychecks, trying to stretch what little we have, figuring out which late notice we can risk ignoring this month.

When the electricity bill is two months past due and we need to ask for leniency, it’s me who’s calling the company, begging for an extension and making promises I know I can’t keep.

And when the pantry needs restocked, I’m the first to head to the store.

It’s not glamorous. It’s not even hopeful most nights. But it’s ours. The three of us—Gabriel, me, and my little sister, Eden—crammed into the same old house we grew up in with the blue trim, trying to keep the lights on and the family thrift store from going under.

Sometimes, when the house gets quiet after everyone’s gone to bed, I’ll catch myself wondering what it would feel like to just breathe for once. To not have every thought tied to a dollar sign, every plan tied to survival.

But then the feeling passes, because daydreaming doesn’t pay the mortgage.

“So, birthday girl,” Leo teases, his eyes twinkling. “What do you want to do tonight other than get drunk in the city?”

I take another, long swallow of my tequila, trying to forget the last time I drank in New York City and what ended up happening later that night. I don’t want to think about that tonight, but some memories have a way of reappearing when you least expect them and at the worst times.

“I’m not sure.”

He nods as if he’s reading my mind. “Well, tonight feels like the perfect night to do something you’ve never done before.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“How about we catch a movie at Bryant Park? They’re showing that new action flick everyone’s been raving about.”

I learn forward eagerly. “The one with Vanessa Mayers in it?”

He nods with a wide grin, clearly knowing that’ll get my mind off things. He’s right.

“Ugh, she’s so hot.”

He chuckles. “I know you love her. The showing starts at eight. We can sneak that bottle of whiskey that I know you have tucked away in your purse.”

“You’re not going to ditch me, are you?”

He grins. “Only if Chris calls me.”

I smile because Chris is the only person that I’d let Leo ditch me for.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

We pay our check—well, Leo pays our check; it’s my birthday, after all. And while he’s a wealthy, single guy, struggling would be a polite way to describe my current situation. Then we grab a cab straight to the park.

Thirty minutes later, we’re tipsy, the city lights blurring through the window as we pass my bottle back and forth like teenagers breaking curfew. By the time we settle onto the grass near the front row at the park, my cheeks are warm from both the alcohol and the laughter.

The night air is cool and soft, brushing against my skin, carrying the smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and that faint metallic tang of New York asphalt after dark. It’s spring, so there’s a crisp bite to the air that makes everything feel alive.

The lawn is packed tonight. There are blankets layered edge to edge, couples curled up together, groups of friends sharing snacks under string lights. It’s the kind of crowd that makes this city feel small, almost intimate in a world that’s so impersonal.

The movie starts, the screen flickering with some action-packed blur of explosions and chase scenes, but Leo and I barely pay attention. We’re whispering nonsense, trading inside jokes and sidelong glances until we’re shaking with laughter, trying (and failing) to stifle it.

A few people turn to glare, one woman even gives us the death stare, but it only makes us laugh harder. It’s the lightest and happiest I’ve felt in months. I need to do this more often.

“Look,” he loudly whispers, showing me his phone. It’s a text message from his new boyfriend Christopher, asking him to meet up at a bar that’s just around the corner. “Do you want to skip the rest of this and meet up with him? He can’t wait to meet you.”

“And miss out on Vanessa Mayers?” I clutch my chest dramatically. “Absolutely not.”

He snickers.

“But you go ahead. I’ll meet him in the morning when I finally wake up from this hangover.” I shrug.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “I’m not leaving you on your birthday.”

“This has been a dream of mine to see a movie here. I’m seriously good. You made it happen. Go hang out with your new boy and I’ll meet you back at your apartment in a couple of hours.”

He hesitates. “Come with me.”

“No. Now go!” I shout, shoving him gently with a smile. “To be honest, you were a distraction anyway. Now I can actually watch the movie.”

“Rhiannon.”

I hold out my hand, and after a moment of dramatic hesitation, he drops his phone into my palm like I’m the problem here. I type a quick message to Chris, letting him know that Leo’s on his way to meet up, then hand the phone back with a smug little smile.

“We’ve been together since ten o’clock this morning. Honestly, I’m starting to get tired of you. You’re so obsessed with me.”

He snorts. “Fine. Okay. I’ll text my doorman so that he’ll let you in when you get there. You have a key to my place, right?”

“Of course.” I smile because I’m giddy for my friend. He looks the happiest that he’s been in a long time, and I know that it’s taken him a lot to trust again after his last partner’s betrayals.

He gives me a quick hug before heading out, weaving through the sea of blankets and lawn chairs until he disappears somewhere in the crowd.

The moment he’s gone, I take another discreet swig from the whiskey bottle that I snuck in, the burn warming my chest. My stomach growls, loudly enough that the couple next to me glances over, and I remember I haven’t eaten anything since those sad little appetizers we split before the movie at the bar.

I check my phone. Nine o’clock already. No wonder I feel lightheaded.

With a sigh, I get to my feet, fold up our blankets then step carefully over people and half-empty wine bottles as I make my way toward the food vendors parked on the outskirts that I spotted earlier. I’m mildly annoyed about losing my spot near the front, but too hungry to care.

By the time I reach the edge of the lawn, the smell of grilled onions and fried potatoes practically makes my knees weak. I order two hot dogs and a side of loaded fries, leaning against the counter while they cook.

I’m half watching the glowing movie screen through the trees, half scrolling through my phone as a distraction, when a low, warm voice comes from just behind me, close enough that I feel it before I even hear it.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you in line?”

My eyes flick upward, drawn by the baritone of his voice and the way he sounds like one of my romance book narrators.

Holy hell.

This guy’s tall, with chestnut-brown hair that catches the movie screen lights and is styled like he’s just stepped out of a high-end barbershop.

Short on the sides, a bit longer on the top.

His jaw is square and strong, with only the slightest bit of stubble like he meant to shave it completely, but the hair just grew back too fast.

“Uh, yes, I am,” I say, taking in the rest of him.

Green eyes behind black rimmed glasses, the most unique color in the world, sharp, and penetrating like he’s looking for the lies and secrets that I conceal so well.

He smells like heaven, like those cologne samples they used to have in the Teen Vogue magazines I read as a kid and rubbed on my wrists before my parents cancelled the subscription because it was getting too expensive.

This guy’s the definition of handsome. But not in a cookie-cutter way like most of the men who wear suits like second skins in New York City and bark into their cell phones all day. Those guys I would never notice.

No, this man’s good looks carry an edge, like he’s either going to rock your world or murder you. Maybe both.

Hopefully, in that order.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a slight smirk. It’s not cocky, not callous, but he’s curious of me and my obvious, probably glazed over eyes from way too much liquor that are staring at him.

He’s wearing dark, well-fitted suit pants and a crisp white button-up shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up, revealing tanned, muscled forearms.

I’ve always had a thing for arms.