As soon as the Ethics exam is over, chatter and laughter fill the lecture hall. I'm one of the last students to hand in my question paper. While waiting for Dr. Garcia to finish talking to my classmate Lee, I glance around the room. The seat Elena used to occupy is Emma's now. She smiles when she catches me looking, and tips her chin up as if asking me how the exam went. I give her a thumbs up, to which she winks, grabbing her bag from the seat beside her.

The way Emma stood up for me was the talk of Bartley University for weeks, and Elena transferred colleges, seemingly unable to cope with being a pariah. Luckily — or unfortunately, all things considered — I was too busy to pay attention to college gossip.

Lee says goodbye to Dr. Garcia, and I approach the lectern.

"Miss Van Doren." He smiles, the fine wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "Is everything alright?"

His questioning gaze descends to the papers in my hands, and I put them on top of the stack of other students' works on his desk. "Oh, yes. I just wanted to—"

"Thank you." Sebastian wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. Pleasant tingles race over every inch of my skin as I lean into him.

"Yes," I say. "We just wanted to thank you for being so understanding these past few weeks."

Dr. Garcia waves his hand. "It's nothing. Are you feeling any better, Mr. Hutches?"

Bast's hold on me tightens a fraction. "Getting there."

"Enjoy your break," Doctor Garcia says. "And see, being partners turned out to be a good thing."

Sebastian smirks, bending his head so he can kiss me. "The best thing ever."

Our professor's laughter accompanies us as we exit the classroom.

"What happened to the anti-PDA grump I used to know?" I ask,  batting my lashes at Bast.

"He's still here, little caterpillar," he says.

The smile he gives me is unconvincing. His face pales, and I cup his cheeks. "Are you okay?"

Bast nods. "Just need to sit."

It takes us ten minutes to get to the canteen where our friends are waiting. Brian and Leah have already ordered for everyone. Bast and I join them, Connor, and Drew at a table by the window.

I smile at the way Brian keeps his hand on Leah’s baby bump. She's glowing, and he watches her like a hawk now that she's back to class and their daughter is doing well.

"Got a name yet?" Bast asks Brian, plucking a fry from the plate.

"Yes," Leah answers instead. "But we're keeping it secret for now. This way, nobody will make us doubt our choice."

"Knew it." Drew points his finger at Brian. "You chose a weird-ass triple name."

"Double." Leah giggles, covering Brian’s hand on her belly with hers. "And it's not weird. It's beautiful."

Bast pats his mouth with a napkin and crumples it into a ball. "Let them be, Evans. As long as they like it, we'll just have to suck it up and spoil the little Lavender Rose rotten."

"Dude!" Brian tosses a napkin Bast's way.

"Hey!" I shield Bast with my arm. "He's injured."

"I like Lavender Rose," Connor says, a pensive look on his face. "It's original."

Bast fist-bumps him, and both Brian and Leah roll their eyes.

"Leave our daughter alone," Brian says. "Better tell us when you two will be back. Cause you're coming back, right?"

"Of course." I nod and take a sip of my water.

Sebastian pierces a piece of tomato with his fork. "No worries, man. We'll be back in time for Lavender Rose's birth in September."

***

I wish we could stay with our friends, chatting about our plans for the summer and pretending Bast’s wound doesn't exist, and my father isn't in jail.

But the reality is very different. In it, my father pleaded guilty and got a fifteen years' sentence, and Bast has to take it slow for a while.

He's waiting in his Mustang while I shift on the hard chair in the prison visitation room, discreetly watching other people talk to their husbands, brothers, fathers, or friends, and wondering whether they have the same mixed feelings I do.

My father did despicable things, but he cried when he called me, and my heart hasn't hardened enough for me to be indifferent.

"Tara."

His voice sounds quiet and resigned. He sits across from me, and my lips quiver as I fake a smile. "Hi."

Dad clasps his hands on the formica table that serves as a barrier between us. As if years of miscommunication and resentment weren't enough.

"How are you?" he asks. "How's Sebastian?"

I run the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip. "He's better. We're flying to Norway the day after tomorrow."

"The house is precious," my father whispers. "Your Mom chose a wonderful place. You'll understand when you see it."

My heart breaks all over again. Despite the many hours doctor Jennings and I spent talking, the hurt is there, permanent like the deep scratches on the cheap tabletop I'm staring at not to look at Dad's face.

"Just tell me why," I say, finally pulling myself together enough to lift my eyes to his. "We had it all. We had a good life. You," I draw in a lungful of the stale air, "had a family."

My father examines his hands. "I don't know, Tara. I wanted to give you more. I knew Inger was struggling, and I was an idiot to believe more money would fix it. They made an offer, and I accepted like a fool. I didn't think about the consequences. Didn't realize once you got in, getting out wouldn't be easy. Because they knew I had a wife and a daughter. And although I managed to keep you away from The Flavor and out of my business, you'd always be a target if I didn't comply with their demands."

Angry tears sear my eyes. "Demands like making you bring girls your daughter's age to our property? How did it feel to think I could've been one of them?"

I want to tell him about Ian and feeling desperate enough to accept his money in exchange for my innocence. But my father's eyes brim with tears, and he covers my hand with his. His touch is still familiar. He's still my dad. And he's already paying for the shitty choices he made.

"If I could turn back time," he says, his voice breaking. "I would've said no. I would've chosen my family. This," he gestures at our surroundings with his hand, "isn't the real punishment. The real one is knowing the love of my life killed herself because of me, leaving the list of victims as her last goodbye, and my daughter despises the person I've become."

Pain contorts his features as he speaks, and the same all-encompassing pain strums into me.

"I want to turn back time too," I say, tears garbling my voice. "But neither of us can. Why don't we just live?"

Dad's jaw trembles. He reaches for my hands again, nodding. "Your mom would’ve wanted that.”

***

Half an hour later, I get in Bast’s car. He holds me as I sob, giving me comfort and his silent support until I calm down.

“Maybe doing what we planned is too much for one day,” he says. “We can just go home and go there once we’re back.”

I wag my head. “No. I can’t carry this weight any longer.”

“Okay. I get that.” He kisses my temple and starts the car. His hand hardly leaves my knee on our way to the cemetery. Once we’re there, we stroll to my Mom’s grave, our fingers laced.

Bast stands behind me, sliding his arms around my waist. Trees cast a shadow over the tombstone, the new leaves trembling each time the warm wind touches them.

“It's such a beautiful day,” I say.

Bast chuckles into my hair. “We'll miss it while freezing our asses off in Norway.”

“I want to see my mom's homeland, Basti. And it's not that cold there in summer.”

“I know. I was just kidding. I don't mind freezing as long as it's with you.”

My gaze lingers on Mom’s name on the headstone as I ask myself the same questions.

Why didn’t she stay for me?

Why didn't she confide in anyone?

Something feels different, though. Maybe Dr. Jennings’s words have finally sunk in. He said I wasn't responsible for my parents’ choices, but I'm fully in control of mine.

And today, I know exactly what choice to make.

“I think I'm ready,” I whisper.

Bast bends his head and kisses my cheek.

I breathe in and out. Mom appears in my mind — beautiful, loving, young, laughing with me and Dad.

I let it hurt for a few heartbeats.

Then, I say the words.

“I forgive you.”

***

The sun isn't even up yet when I wake up the following morning. I extend my hand, but Bast isn't next to me, and panic catapults me out of the warm bed.

I find him standing in the middle of our living room, our open suitcases on the floor.

“Good morning,” I say, yawning into my fist.

Bast walks over. He cages my face between his warm palms and presses his lips to mine. “Hi.”

“What are you doing up so early? I kind of got scared.”

We exchange a look that carries way too much meaning, silently acknowledging that we're not quite okay yet.

We still double-check if we locked the door each night, although the chances of someone working for the company that cleans our apartment complex just to break into our home like Blanche did into Kenny’s are slim.

We still send each other worried texts if the other one takes a few minutes longer to get home and avoid movies with guns in them.

Like most things, healing takes time. But we're in this together.

“Sorry,” Bast breathes out, engulfing me in a hug. “The suitcases won't close. Thought we agreed on fewer pairs of shoes.”

“Let's just take another suitcase so you can pack your pencils and stuff. Wait…”

I squint, and the light blush coating Bast’s cheeks gives away the true reason for his insomnia even before he speaks. “You're nervous about today, aren't you?”

He expels an annoyed huff, making me grin. “Aw, Basti, it's gonna be awesome.”

“We should've just kept it secret. My parents wouldn't even care.”

Wouldn't care? That's all Nora has been talking about for the last week, but I choose not to toss more drywood in the fire pit of Bast’s unease.

“But I care.” I loop my arms around his neck, molding my body to his. “And I'm super proud of you.”

***

“Where’s Seb?” Kenny asks me a few hours later, holding two mimosas. People pace his store, pausing next to the mannequins displaying the T-shirts and hoodies with Bast’s designs.

I take a glass from Kenny's hand and raise it in a toast. “Bathroom.”

“He’s really out of his comfort zone, huh?” Kenny gives his head a little shake, taking a drink.

I rest my eyes on the nearest mannequin clad in a black tee with a lighthouse on the back. Some designs are bright and eye-catching. Most are discreet and monochromatic.

Clay has been busy selling both since Kenny opened the store this morning. There was a long line of customers who came to Fashion Victim, lured in by the online promo Kenny and I did.

“I want this one. What do you think?” Bast’s dad holds a navy blue tee with a wave on the small pocket to his chest.

“I love it,” I say. “You look cool.”

Mr. Hutches — or Ray, as he asked me to call him — smirks, popping a piece of chewing gum into his mouth. He hasn't smoked in weeks, much to Nora’s and Bast’s delight.

“Wish he'd chosen to use his real name.” Nora sighs dramatically, glancing at the promo banner on the wall behind the checkout desk.

Warm hands splay over my waist, and Bast pulls my back to his front, resting his chin on my shoulder. “What's wrong with The Nerd? Tara thinks my artistic name suits me.”

“It's perfect for the customers’ demographics,” Kenny says. “Lots are college kids and young adults.”

Bast’s dad points a thumb at his chest. “Like me.”

“Exactly.” Bast shakes with silent laughter, and I give his hand on my belly a warning squeeze.

“Go talk to the fans, Seb.” Kenny nods at the group of young guys who linger by the table covered in folded T-shirts, flinging nervous glances Sebastian’s way.

Nora smiles at her son adoringly, and he releases me, groaning.

But although the attention makes him uncomfortable, he loves talking about his passion, and my heart soars because he’d told me he started loving colors thanks to me.

***

Barely a few hours after the little celebration in Fashion Victim, Bast, Nora, and I crash another party.

We call it a double goodbye, and it's bittersweet. While I'll only be away for the summer and return to volunteering at the group home once our college classes start, Mason is leaving for real.

With one of the best people I know.

“My room is huge,” he tells me, bouncing on his heels. “And Leo bought me a giant chess board. He plays well, you know?”

I ruffle Mason’s hair. “I do. He told me.”

He swats my hand away and steps back, out of my reach. “Tara! I gelled it.”

“Not cool, Tara.”

Bast hands me a piece of chocolate cake on a platter and kisses my cheek. “Eat well, little caterpillar.”

Mason snort-coughs into his fist. “Gosh, you two are weird.”

“I can mess up your gelled hair too, just saying.” Bast shrugs.

Dr. Jennings leaves Mary's side and stands beside Mase. “What did I miss?”

“These two.” Mase points at us. “Being in love is gross.”

My therapist laughs, throwing his head back. Then he slings an arm around Mason’s shoulders. “I'm afraid you're wrong there. Did Tara tell you she's going to visit us often when she's back?”

Joy overtakes Mason’s features. “Is she?”

“Of course,” I say. “I'm going to steal Dr. Jennings for a bit, okay?”

“We can play a match fast,” Sebastian offers. Mason bolts out of the room, and Bast follows.

I rest my platter on the table. “I'm so happy you decided to foster Mason.”

Dr. Jennings smiles so big it splits his face. “Me too. He's a great kid. And Cara is a great woman. I'm happy she's going to help me. My house is huge, and I'll need help with Mason while I work so he doesn't spend too much time alone.”

“Cara’s excited,” I say. “Thank you for this, too.”

“No, don't.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It's beneficial for both Cara and me. Oh, and I talked to my friend who works at the facility. They're happy with Maverick’s progress. You're going there today, right?”

“Once we're done here. Bast and I wanted to continue online sessions with you while we're in Norway, if that's okay.”

“More than. It'll do you lots of good to learn about that part of your history.”

I assent with a smile. Apart from seeing the country where Mom was born and spent her youth, traveling will give Sebastian and me a much-needed break and a chance to be together, enjoying each other.

Everything started falling into place. I met with my father's attorney and accountant and put the mansion up for sale. There was no way for me to pay for its maintenance, and I don't need something that big and plagued with ghosts of past tragedies.

My father said I made the right choice. We both keep Mom in our hearts, after all, and I stored all her things so I can have parts of her with me. That Cara and the rest of our people have new jobs made me feel even calmer.

Calm feels foreign, but I love the weightless feeling it gives me.

***

I meet Mav in the garden of the facility where he's been for the last few weeks.

He's standing with his back to me, looking at the colorful flower bed.

“Hi, Mav,” I say, making sure my voice isn't too loud.

He looks over his shoulder, beaming. “Tara. Come here.”

I amble over to him and spot several butterflies perched on the flowers.

And a huge, colorful one on the front of Mav’s shirt. The one I gave him for his birthday. The one I thought he didn't want to wear.

I want to laugh and cry both. Mav notices me staring at his tee and cocks his head. “I'm glad I hid it so she couldn't take it away. It's beautiful. Are you guys leaving tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I say. “They let you text, don't they?”

“I do what I want. Text me when you get there. Those places are so cool. I want to travel one day, too.”

I rub his back. “You will.”

Maverick gives me a pensive look. “I think I want to study something. It won't be easy, but they say I don't have any cognitive issues.”

“We'll look into it once you're ready, Mav,” I say. “I hope you don't feel trapped here after what you've been through.”

His dark brows arch. “Trapped? Do you know what was the first thing I thought when I left the hospital and came here?”

I slowly move my head from side to side.

Mav’s chest rises in search of air as if he's just discovered what it's like to be able to breathe, and calm inundates his handsome features.

“That this." He pauses. "This is the beginning of my freedom.”

The last line was the first line I wrote for this book.

Thank you for sticking around despite how unconventional it is. I hope all questions have been answered, and if you still have some, drop them here so I can make sure I fix that while editing.

I love it when each character has their mini arc. And this dang chapter made me ugly cry. No judgment. Writers are also people.

Like swans:)

See you in the epilogue.

❤️❤️❤️