[a/n: guys thank you so, so much for all the support you're giving this story. also, i apologize in advance, as i wouldn't be able to update this coming week. however, i hope the #restin conversations in this chapter would make up for it. :) oh, and i also wanted to apologize for the fact that i seem to have a problem keeping the pace up of a story, as they always tend to be somewhat slow-paced (in terms of plot development). bear with me for a while, but i promise i'm working on it. sam xoxo]

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Chapter 25

"Seriously?" I looked at him in surprise, trying to refrain from raising my voice too much. "How is it possible that you have read all through Lord of the Rings, but you haven't, not even once, tried to read any of Arthur Conan Doyle's books?"

"I don't really see the connection here," Austin pointed out.

"Well, I just assumed you'd be an avid reader or something."

"I am an avid reader," he argued, giving me an irritated look. "I just... haven't had the chance to get a copy of his books yet."

I shook my head. "Well, you're missing out on a lot."

"Hey," he protested. "You're the one who still hasn't watched the Star Wars here."

"How does that even fit in the conversation? We were talking about books."

"We were talking about missing out on things. And Star Wars is a classic!"

"It's not."

"How can you say that if you'd never watched it before?"

That, I didn't have an answer to, so I just scowled and looked away, crossing my arms over my chest as he proceeded to ramble on about Luke Skywalker or whatever it was he was going on about.

If someone were to ask me how we'd gotten here, I wouldn't have the slightest idea, but there we were, me and Austin, Austin and me, walking around the deserted park like it was nothing out of the ordinary, and even though I knew that in all the things that had happened tonight, this was the one thing that made least sense of all, I didn't mind.

Almost by some unspoken agreement, neither of us brought up what he'd just told me moments ago, as well as what I'd told him. And, to my relief, he had also chosen not to discuss why we'd chosen not to go home and part ways when we could have already done that minutes ago.

Instead, we began to talk, and while it didn't seem like what we were talking about actually mattered, I didn't seem to mind either.

I told him about how much I hated The Notebook and how I'd "accidentally" cracked Tori's DVD of it after the fifth time she made me watch; he told me he once pretended to be asleep for a whole night because he wanted to spy on his toys to see if they'd move like Andy's from Toy Story when he was a kid, and we continued to exchange stories as we walked deeper into the night.

"Occupational Therapy?" I raised an eyebrow, sliding my disbelieving gaze to his. "You. Taking up Occupational Therapy."

"What's wrong with that?"

"But it's not like you at all!" I'd said, waving both hands in exasperation. "I don't know. You kind of seem like someone who'd take up a business course or something."

One corner of his lips lifted into a small smile. "And here I thought you were going to say you thought I'd be majoring in Assholery or something."

"Crap, I should've gone with that."

He let out a laugh—hearty and full and somewhat pleasing to hear. "Seriously, though," he said. "I'd always wanted to take up OT. I mean, I know it wouldn't be easy, but I don't know. It feels right."

I could hear the self-assurance in his voice and I couldn't help but feel a little envious. He seemed so certain and confident of what he wanted to do in the future and here I was still grasping at straws. "Good for you."

"I sense a lot of self-deprecation here," he remarked flatly, causing me to let out a small laugh.

"I'd probably enroll as a non-major," I admitted. "I'm hoping I can decide before the year ends, but I can't see how that's possible when I literally have no idea what I want to do."

"You have no idea what you want to do?"

He sounded way more surprised than I'd expected him to be. I gave him a curious look and said, "An hour ago you were saying it's normal for people not to have everything figured out."

"But you're.... you," he argued stubbornly even though he sounded more confused than indignant. "You don't seem like the type who doesn't have everything figured out."

"Well." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You don't seem like the type who has everything figured out."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I'll have you know that I'm actually someone who likes to always be one step ahead."

"Of what?"

The question seemed to have surprised him, if the look on his face was any indication. He let a few moments pass, contemplating on the thought, but when he spoke, all he said was, "I don't know. Of everything, I guess." He shrugged, his voice infused with a certain quality of thoughtfulness. "I don't like going into anything without a battle plan. It's like I'm playing chess, and I always need to think of the next moves in order to decide on my current one."

"You play chess?" If the surprised tone in my voice hadn't done anything to offend him, then my next words must have done the trick. "You gotta be kidding me."

"What?" he said, giving me a defensive shrug. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"You're telling me that you play chess?"

He gave me a look of mock offense. "I'll have you know," he said, "I've joined—and won—in various competitions, and I was vice president of the chess club."

"You play chess," I repeated, still unable to fit the image of him playing chess with the picture I had of him in mind.

He seemed athletic, and while I knew I was probably thinking in terms of stereotypes here, I couldn't help but think of him as someone more suited to play basketball or soccer or something like that.

Then again, he did have that somewhat calm demeanor to him, and there was something about the way he was able to think quickly at times when it seemed like panicking was the only option that makes him look like a chess player.

Now that I'd thought about it, I could actually imagine sitting across him with a chessboard between us. He'd have one hand covering his mouth, thinking of his next move, his eyes completely focused on the pieces set before us.

"What about you?" he said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Me?"

"Do you?" he said. "Play chess, I mean."

"Oh." I looked away, fixing my gaze on the road ahead of us. "A little."

"A little."

"Yeah, um..." I bit my lower lip and looked down at my hands. "I used to play with my dad. I'm not that good or anything, but I get by."

Playing chess with my dad had always been one of those things that I'd loved to do as a kid, and even though he'd always let me eat the Queen on purpose, I always felt so fulfilled whenever I did, never mind that I lost the game.

I never became as good as him, of course, but I was relatively good at it, but I'd eventually stopped playing it when he left, and the antique chessboard he'd bought way, way back when he was still in college had remained in the basement ever since.

Austin must have sensed the change in my mood because he didn't speak right away. I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to come out evenly. "I don't really think of it that much anymore, so yeah."

"You were really close with him, weren't you?"

I was surprised, to say the least, because I hadn't expected him to completely disregard my attempt at brushing the topic off. I would have persisted to do so, but something had changed between us the moment he told me about his past, and I knew, somehow, that there was no turning back from that, and telling him more about my dad was something that seemed almost as natural as arguing with him about whether or not John Green's books were good or not.

And so this time, I said, "Yeah."

The two of us walked in silence for a few beats. I wasn't sure what he was thinking of, but I didn't mind the absence of words between us, and I found myself finding comfort in the quietness of the night.

Our footsteps were in sync, our breaths nearly matching each other's, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I'd found someone I could actually talk to apart from Tori.

Austin had told me that after I'd stormed off and left the three of them back at the school, he and Lewis agreed to drop Tori off at her house, and then Austin had decided to look for me.

Of course, the thought still continued to puzzle me, if only because I couldn't get the implication of his actions out of my head, which was, ultimately, that he cared.

Of course, I knew it had a lot to do with what had happened between him and Parker, but no matter how much I'd tried to erase the thought of him giving a shit about what might happen to me, it stayed in my mind like a pesky note someone had written in permanent marker.

And then, there was the fact that he'd said we don't have to go, he'd said, and I'd said yes.

I didn't know why, and I didn't want to dwell on it, but I'd said yes, and now here I was, offering bits and pieces of the secrets that I'd always kept hidden from everyone else's view.

"Have you ever thought of forgiving him for what he'd done?"

My eyes to meet his, only to find out that he was looking at anything but me. I could hear the hesitation in his voice, and while I knew I didn't owe him an answer, I found myself replying anyway.

"I don't plan to," I said, struggling to keep my voice even.

"But do you want to?"

I hadn't expected the question and now that he'd thrown it at me, I faltered, flailing almost as though I couldn't quite catch it in both hands.

"It's not the same thing, you know," he said when he'd seen the expression on my face. "Wanting to forgive him and actually planning to do so."

Of course it wasn't, but I hadn't looked at it that way until now because years ago, I told myself I'd never forgive him, and since then I'd treated those words not just as a promise, but as the truth. In essence, there was no need to rethink the decision any further.

But the question had taken me by surprise, and, perhaps for the first time ever since I'd found out that my father was never coming back for real, I found myself wavering.

I could have said no. I could've told Austin that the thought of even wanting to forgive him had never crossed my mind before. I could've told him that there was no way I would ever want to see him back on those front porch steps.

I could have said all of this, but then I would be lying, and after what he'd told me tonight, I knew I owed him the truth.

So I said something I'd never even let myself admit in the past ten years. "Yes." I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words as they rolled past my tongue. "I'd wanted to forgive him for years now."

I felt my shoulders lighten. It was like I'd been carrying these words with me for so long that I'd forgotten I had them with me all this time, and saying them out loud made me feel as though someone had removed a load off my shoulders.

Austin remained silent, but I could feel his gaze on me, and I knew he must have known just how big of a deal it was for me to admit this.

He let few beats pass, then, quietly, he said, "Why haven't you?"

I felt my lips tug into a tired smile. "Because he had never been sorry."

* * *

It was true.

In all the years that had passed ever since my father left, he had never, not once, actually apologized for abandoning the wife he'd sworn to love all his life and the daughter who looked up to him as though he was the one who made the sun rise every morning and the stars shine by nightfall.

Mom had once asked me what more my father needed to do for me to forgive him, claiming that I was luckier than most kids because he hadn't completely severed ties with us. Most, she'd told me, would have been eager to start anew and forget they'd even had kids outside of this new, shiny life, but my father hadn't done that.

He continued to help mom with our financial needs once he settled back into a more stable life. He made sure he called me every now and then. He offered to bring me along on trips with Sally and my half-siblings.

But while it was true that he never really stopped trying to reach out to me, there was something different about our relationship, and I suspected that nothing could ever bring us back to how we used to be because we might have stayed in touch on the surface, but we'd lost contact in the ways that really mattered.

What I really hated, however, was the fact that he pretends that nothing is wrong. He pretends not to notice when I don't return his calls. He pretends not to mind the monosyllabic responses I kept giving him whenever we had conversations. He pretends not to see that I was never going to treat him like I used to. He would just keep calling, or open new topics or smile and laugh around, bringing up inside jokes we used to share when I was younger, as if that would make everything all right.

And why would anyone apologize for something when he keeps pretending that nothing's wrong in the first place?

"Maybe he hasn't apologized because he doesn't know that you feel this way," Austin offered when I finished telling him all this. "I mean, it's not entirely impossible."

"But that's not the way it should go," I protested, feeling something catch at my throat. "I shouldn't have to spell it out for him because what asshole leaves his family alone without finding the decency to apologize?"

At first, he didn't say anything, but then he drew in a deep breath and said, "I don't know." He shrugged. "If you never call him on it, he might never apologize at all."

"Then I guess I might not forgive him after all."

"What about me?"

My eyes snapped to his. He'd stopped walking, and so had I, and for what felt like forever, the two of us just stood there. There was a lamppost to my right, but the light didn't do much to give me an idea as to what expression he was wearing.

"You?" I'd asked, feeling my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"If you were Parker," he murmured, his voice quiet in the darkness, "would you have forgiven me?"

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Whether it was because of the fact that I hadn't expected him to bring the topic up or because of the shift in his tone, I wasn't sure, but all I was certain of was that I didn't know how to answer.

Normally, I would have tried to put myself in the situation. I would have thought of how I would react in the off chance that Tori had done the same to me, but this time, I couldn't quite imagine it. The argument we had still weighed down on me even though I'd already pushed it back to the deepest corners of my mind.

Austin waited for my answer, and even though I couldn't see much in the darkness of the shadows, I could feel his gaze on me.

I opened my mouth to speak, only to find myself closing it again. The words were already at the back of my throat, just waiting to be spoken, but the funny thing was that I had no idea what they were; almost as though my subconscious had already found an answer when my consciousness was still struggling to connect the dots.

I heard him take a breath. "You know what?" he said. "Don't answer that."

I wanted to stop him, to tell him to wait while I struggled to find the right answer, but then he was already walking away, stepping out of the darkness like he was stepping out of the moment, and when he spoke again, it was like the last few seconds hadn't just happened.

"What other games do you play?"

For a moment, I just stood there, watching his retreating back as he continued to lead the way, finding it unfair for him to have abandoned ship when he was the one who had set the sail in the first place. The moment was gone in a heartbeat, and soon enough, there was nothing I could do but follow, replying with the same indifferent tone he'd used to dismiss the previous topic.

But even as the new one caught on, I couldn't seem to fully remove the question from where it lodged itself in my brain.

Would I have forgiven him?

Moreover, hadn't I already?

* * *

I wasn't sure how long it took us, but soon enough, we finished circling the quiet park and we slowed to a stop until we reached the Bench.

Both Austin and I stood in silence for a few painfully awkward seconds. 

We'd reached the finish line, and it was time to go home.

But neither of us said anything.

I was waiting for him to speak, gauging what he'd do before deciding what I would do, but he seemed to be doing the same.

The awkwardness beat down on us, almost like a ticking time bomb that pressured us into deciding what the next step should be, and sure enough, the fuse ran out and I blurted out "Should we head home?" just as he said, "Do you want to head back?"

If anything, this only seemed to make it even more uncomfortable. I dropped my gaze and reached up to tuck my hair behind my left ear.

"Yeah," I said, keeping my gaze on the pavement. "It's getting pretty late after all."

The silence between us was all kinds of uncomfortable as we made our way to where we'd both parked our cars. It must have been a three-minute walk from the Bench, but to me it felt as though we'd been walking for nearly an hour by the time I caught sight of Georgina and my car.

And all of a sudden, my legs turned to lead.

My steps slowed down, and so did his, and I felt an unexpected rush of panic kicking into my system.

I didn't know why, but it felt like I still had so many things we still needed to talk about and we were going home way too soon, but even just the thought was embarrassing, so I clamped my mouth shut and just headed for my car.

"So," Austin said, finally breaking the silence that seemed to have settled over us. "Are you sure you can drive home?"

Despite everything, I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Yes, Austin, I'm pretty sure."

"Right."

I fumbled for my keys just as he did too, and it felt weird for me to be standing here next to my car when I'd spent nearly the whole night in his passenger seat, and the weird part was that it felt like that night was long gone now.

So much had happened that it seemed impossible for all of it to have unfolded in just a matter of hours.

And it was weirder to think that I still seemed to want the night to go on.

Then, as if on cue, I heard him say, "Hey."

I looked up. "Mm?"

He ducked into his car, and when he straightened up again, he was holding something in his hands. "Think this'll still be good in the morning or should we eat them now?"

For a moment, I could only stare at the paper bag he was holding, drawing a blank as to what he was talking about, but then I thought back to earlier this night and remembered the garlic croissants the guy from Coffee Overdose had given to us for free during our search for Tori.

"Well," I said, "everything's better fresh."

One corner of his lips rose. "You know, if you want to stay longer, you can just say so."

I felt my face burn. "You know what? You can fucking have those to yourself."

I opened my car door and got in as quickly as I could manage. Just when I was about to pull the door close, his hand shot out to stop it. Then he leaned forward so we were at eye level.

"Hey, I was just kidding."

I didn't say anything.

"Come on, Reed," he said. "I don't know about you, but these smell fantastic. Though they might be better with some coffee."

I kept my mouth shut for a few stubborn seconds, keeping my eyes fixed on the road ahead of the windshield: the road that would inevitably lead me home.

But then I surprised myself by saying, "There's a convenience store down the block."

"Within walking distance?"

I nodded.

"Then what are you waiting for?" He stepped back, giving me room to get out of the car. When I looked up at him, he was giving me an almost cryptic smile. "Let's go."