E P I L O G U E
Goodbye For Now
"Damn it, Lyndon. Did you forget my weed?"
I roll my eyes so hard I see spots. Leave it to Noah to interrupt me singing happy birthday to Malia, just so he can loudly ask a question that'll get both our asses kicked if Dadâwho's literally right next to meâhears.
"I got it, dipshit," I quickly say, sparing a glance at Dad to make sure he didn't hear. His eyes are set on the road, seeming oblivious to what his kids are saying.
"Good. You better have it," Noah replies, and then I hear him yelling out in pain. "Ouch, Malia. That hurt."
"Give me my phone back," I hear her command, and then her voice is closer when she speaks again. "He literally lunged over the couch to snatch my phone once he heard your voice."
"Of course he did, he's obsessed with me," I tell my cousin while laughing at the image of Noah hopping over a couch.
Part of me wishes I was already there with them, and that I had listened to Malia and just came for the Fourth of July party she was throwing. But once I heard the guest list and realized most of it consisted of our graduating class, I declined. I promised Malia I'd be there the next day for her actual birthday, and I'm keeping that promise.
"Well, I know you didn't call just to horribly sing happy birthday again," Malia says, and I can hear Noah start laughing in the background. "What's up? Are you almost here?"
I giggle at the memory of calling Malia at two in the morning to sing to her. I had gotten up to use the bathroom, and when I saw the time, I figured I'd take a chance and try being the first one to wish her a happy birthday.
"Yeah, almost. My dad just needs to confirm the address," I say once my giggles stop, and then I pass the phone to my dad's waiting hand.
"Okay, got it," Dad replies to her in a soft tone. "We'll be there soon. Happy birthday, Malia."
The phone's back in my hand seconds later, and I see she's still on the line. "Are you excited to celebrate your birthday today, and not America's?"
A small chuckle comes from her, and then she replies with a very unenthusiastic, "Sure."
"Come on," I say playfully. "It's so nice of Titi Talia to let you use the Carrington beach house to throw two big ass parties back to back."
"Yeah, it's nice for them," she replies with a snort.
"The party's for you, Malia," I argue in the most gentle tone I can muster.
She sighs, and it sounds like she's walking further away from wherever she had been before. Any background noise is completely gone. "Everything that's been done for me, hasn't ever really been for me. Get what I mean?"
I'm starting too. I knew things were off between Malia and her stepfather when I first moved back here, but I've come to learn that that's not even the proper way to describe it. It's worse than that. And it's taken me too long to realize it, to see just how broken my cousin is.
I've been shitty to her, when really, Malia and I should have been allies this whole time.
"Well, I'm happy to celebrate your birthday," I tell her, knowing there's no point in speaking further about her mom or stepdad. "This is about you. At least to me it is. I'll see you soon."
Malia's quiet for a moment, and when she does speak, her voice wavers. "Thanks, Lyndon. I... I can't wait till you get here."
I smile to myself as we end the call, but it's quickly wiped away when the reality of Malia's situation settles in. Her parents are so shitty. And honestly, I've already known that Jalen's are too. It makes me realize how lucky I actually am.
My parents aren't hateful or hurtful like theirs. They're just messy.
My eyes glance over at Dad, who's still focused on the road. As if sensing my gaze, or noticing I've stopped talking, he peeks over at me. "Off the phone?"
"Mhm," I say, leaning my head back and staring out the windshield. "I can't wait to get there and try bringing Malia some birthday cheer."
"I bet you can't wait to bring that weed to your brother, too."
I almost get whiplash from how fast I turn toward Dad. There's a small smirk present on his face, and he briefly turns to me, looking pretty pleased with himself for catching me off guard.
"I... uh... um..." I stutter, unable to muster an appropriate response. "I can explain."
"You have two options," Dad begins, holding up two fingers. "You either play dumb or blame it all on Noah."
I pause, think it over, then smile. "Noah is the one who purchased it, so... I guess I'm gonna go with option number two."
Dad's boisterous laughter fills the car, and I hesitantly join in, though I'm worried he'll actually start yelling any second now that he knows we smoke weed.
"Which bag is it in?" he asks, motioning with his head to the back of the car. When I don't reply, his eyes find mine again, and he sends me a small smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to take it. I just want to know how you snuck it in here."
I let out a breath of relief, knowing that if Mom was the one here, she would've pulled over and smacked the shit out of me right on the side of the road.
"It's tucked away in the pouch inside my suitcase," I say lowly.
"Nice," Dad comments with a nod. "That means you do plan on bringing the suitcase in with you?"
I look at the back seat of the car, where my medium sized suitcase is laid out. Both Dad and Mom told me it was silly to bring the whole thing, since my flight doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon, but I wasn't too sure how long I'd actually stay at the Carrington beach house.
Despite really wanting to be there for Malia and celebrate her birthday with all of our friends, I'm still weary to get close and attached. It's been a week since we graduated, and I've been careful on who I've hung out with and for how long.
I feel like I need a detox from everyone associated with Arlin Prep. So even when Daniel has come over to hang out with Noah, I distance myself. But it's been difficult to do that in the last seven days, especially now that Malia's birthday is here and I'm on my way to her party.
That's why when Dad announced two days ago that he got a job in Miami for six weeks, I barely took a second to think it over before saying I want to go with you.
Everyone had been shocked, especially me, but as I remembered how I so badly didn't want to leave Florida almost a year agoâand that odd dream I had last week where my dad and I were both back thereâit almost seemed like fate.
Our flight leaves tomorrow, and no one besides Noah and Malia know that. Malia said I was welcome to bring my suitcase and just leave straight from here with one of the Carrington's cars to the airport. I did, just in case I decide to stay longer. But truthfully, I can already feel that I'll be fleeing from here soon enough.
"I wasn't sure how long I wanted to stay," I tell Dad, not wanting to really explain exactly why I'm so hesitant to be here for longâor more like, who has me so hesitant too.
Dad nods, not asking for any other information. "If you want to leave earlier, just let me know. I don't mind making the drive here in the morning."
My eyes find him again, taking in how sincere he sounds. How much he's trying to rebuild the crumbled father-daughter relationship we've had for a while.
When I think about it, maybe he had actually been trying from before. Maybe agreeing with Mom for us all to move back up here was his way of reaching out, of telling us that he does want us aroundâdespite how demanding and time consuming his damn job is.
Maybe he didn't choose work over us, but rather, he chose to provide for us over seeing us everyday. I don't completely agree with it, because it left me feeling slightly abandoned by my own father for far too long.
But what's done is done, and he's here now. He's around now. We're going to be in Miami together for almost the whole summer. Doesn't that count for something? Doesn't that matter most?
I think it does.
Even if Mom seems to think him taking the job is ridiculousâgoing as far as to throw in his face that we'd just left Miami to come be here with him, and he was leaving us again. But as she said it, I couldn't help thinking No, he's leaving you. I'll be with him, and he extended an invitation to both Noah and Knox.
Mom was still upsetâprobably because Dad never turned to her and said You can come too, and I doubt he did it in privateâbut that's not my problem. I'm beginning to realize none of their problems should have ever been mine.
Even Dad's cheating. Was it wrong? Abso-fucking-lutely. But is it my problem to get upset over, to hold over his head and harbor anger over? No, it isn't. Especially since my own motherâthe one he actually betrayedârefuses to acknowledge what was done. If she wants him back, wants to go on as if it never happened and their marriage is fine, why the fuck should I let it ruin my own relationship with him?
"Dad," I call out, realizing something right at that moment. Mom wants to be with him, but what does he want? "Do you want to be with Mom?"
Dad's hand that was loosely holding the steering wheel slips off, before retaking it's position. "That's a really random question."
He chuckles, glancing at me, but once he realizes I'm looking for an actual answer, he sighs.
"It's complicated, Sunshine. Really, really complicated."
I've always hated using that word to describe something. "It's really not," I say. "I didn't ask if you will be together. I asked if you wanted to."
It's quiet again, and Dad seems to ponder it before finally answering. "I love your mother, very much. And I do want to be with her." His voice goes lower, eyes intently watching the road. "But I also wanted someone else at one point. So how could I go back to your mother so soon after that? It's not fair to her."
Right then and there, I realize something. Whenever my mother said I was the most like my fatherânot just in looks, but personality wiseâI doubted her. I rejected the idea because of how much I disliked the man. But now, it's so fucking clear that I am him.
That's probably why I finally decided on Brown University as my college choice. My father's alma mater.
I didn't want to follow or choose a school based on any of the men in my life. Not Princeton to be with Daniel, Columbia to be with Jack, or even NYU which is more local, bringing me closer to Jalen and giving us a better chance to figure out us.
Suddenly, it makes sense why any other choice felt wrong. I may not have chosen those other schools for those guys, but I guess I did purposely pick this one for my father.
The first man in my life. The first one to ever love me, and the first one to ever break my heart.
I see now that he's trying to mend it, fix it. He's put in the effort, and I ignored it every time because I'm still hurt by him.
But there's no possible way for me to ever put back the broken pieces every other guy has left, if I don't ever address the ones my own father crushed.
"Thanks for the honest answer," I tell him softly, and the last couple minutes of our drive are spent in silence, until the car is turning into the large driveway leading to the Carrington beach house.
Dad parks, then helps me take my suitcase out of the car. "Let me know if you want me to pick you up earlier."
I nod, smiling up at him as he wheels my suitcase closer to me. "I probably will. Thanks, Dad."
"No problem, Sunshine," he says before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "I love you."
I take in a deep breath, returning the wave he sends as he walks back toward the car. "Love you, too," I call out, hopefully loud enough so he hears.
He smiles in return, and just as he's climbing into the car, he pauses. "Oh, and tell Noah I've known he hides marajuana in his top drawer for months now."
A loud laugh escapes me at the fact that Noah's not as slick as he thinks he is. I continue laughing as I enter the house, and then stop once a butler seems to materialize out of thin air and snatch my suitcase from me.
"Miss Carrington requested we bring your belongings to your designated room," he informs me.
"Uh, cool," I reply, watching as he walks off, and hoping he's legit and that I haven't just been mugged.
I hear voices coming from the next room, so I creep closer, realizing this must be the main living room. Taking in another deep breath, I try preparing myself. The main reason I skipped out on last night's partyâunlike Noah who took our car and raced up here for itâwas because of who I was trying to avoid.
Things between Jalen and I are still unresolved. Nothing has been fixed after graduationânot that I expected it to be. There's too much to say, too much that's happened, and one conversation can't mend it. I'm not sure what truly can.
Even more so after I've decided to go back to Miami for the summer.
The second I enter the room, I spot Jalen and Noah standing over a table, looking like they're disagreeing over something.
"Why the hell would you tell them to put the ice there?" Jalen asks, scowl coming to his face as he stares at my brother.
Noah waves a hand dismissively at Jalen. "Because I was drunk and didn't give a fuck."
"Would you two stop," Malia scolds as she crosses the room to where they are. "Jalen, it's not the end of the world that the ice melted. And Noah, why are you already drunk? The party's barely started."
"I am the party," he tells her, smiling after. His eyes find me, and he gasps, pointing my way. "Weed delivery!"
I raise both my hands to show they're empty. "It's stuffed in my suitcase."
Noah pouts. "But I want it now."
I shake my head, always either amused or annoyed when Noah's this tipsy. Thankfully, right now I'm amused. "I'll go get it." I pause, eyes catching Jalen's blue ones from across the room. "Just give me, like, fifteen minutes."
Noah looks like he wants to object, which means he's moving from Amusing Tipsy Noah to Annoying Tipsy Noah territory, but Malia grabs his arm, nudging him away. "Come on. Let's grab more liquor from the cellar, since you clearly drank what we had out."
I shake my head once more at my twin's drunken antics, and try ignoring the fact that it's a little too early for even him to be this wasted. I refrain from wondering if that Cortney bomb I dropped on him a week ago has anything to do with it. Maybe I should've told him that it wasn't even true?
Once Noah and Malia are out of the room, I push all other thoughts away and fully face Jalen, wishing my heart didn't feel like it was skipping a literal beat as he sends me a small smile.
He comes closer, stopping a few inches away. "Fifteen minutes, huh? Is that how much time I get?"
"I was just trying to get Noah to leave me alone for a bit," I try explaining, though part of me knows spending longer than just five minutes with Jalen causes my train of thought to take a detour. He messes with my mind. He always has. "But can we talk?"
"Oh no," Jalen says while playfully bringing a hand to his chest. "The dreaded can we talk line has appeared."
"Jalen, come on," I say with a laugh, reaching for his hand and then pulling him along behind me. "I'm serious."
"I know you are, which is why I'd really rather not talk," he replies, a cheeky smile coating his face as I lead him outside.
I pause for a second to stare at the backyard in awe. I feel like I'm staying at a resort, equipped with the most beautiful pool I've ever seen. The water looks so inviting and calming.
Jalen tugs on my hand, directing my attention from drooling over the pool to staring at his beautiful face. I haven't seen him since graduation, and somehow, he's gotten even better lookingâas if that's possible. His hair looks shorter, his eyes look bluer, and his smile is bigger.
I feel my chest tighten.
Especially when he cups my jaw gently, leaning forward, ready to kiss me.
His lips touch my cheek as I turn at the last second, and I'm almost scared to open my eyes and face him again.
But when I do, I see his smile is gone and those blue eyes go dull.
"So you really want to talk," he says with a nod, dropping his hand. "And not the good kind."
"Is it ever the good kind with us?" I ask, trying to flash a smile but failing due to the truth behind my words.
Jalen's eyes leave mine, looking around the backyard, and then he's sighing, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to fight with you, Lyndon. I really don't. I just want us to go back to... being us."
Us. But what were we? What was us? Because right now, all I can picture is all the fights, the misunderstandings, the harsh words.
But then I look into his eyesâthis sad, beautiful boy's eyesâand I remember the good times. The laughs, the smiles, the kisses and the hugs.
I remember that I love him. Desperately, more than anything.
And I remember my father's words. I remember that, at one point, I wanted someone else, and that it's not fair to Jalen to go back to him so soon after that.
It's not fair to us to quickly come back to something we haven't fixed.
It's not fair to me to stay in a relationship that has hurt me too many times to count.
"I'm leaving."
Jalen watches me, completely silent. Then he tilts his head back and looks up for a moment, before bringing those sad blue eyes back to me.
"You mean for school... or something else?" he asks in a low voice.
"Miami," I tell him, trying to keep my eyes on him despite how much it hurts. "My dad got a job there for the summer, so I'm going with him. By the time I get back, I'll be off to Brown for the semester."
I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows hard. "So are you just leaving New York, or are you leaving me too?"
I'm not sure what to say. I'm not sure what the answer is. I know in my head what it should be, but my heart can't understand it, therefore, it refuses to let me accept it.
"It's only a three hour drive."
Some of the life I saw in Jalen's eyes minutes ago returns after he says those words, and he grabs my hand, tugging me a little closer.
"From here to Rhode Island," Jalen continues with urgency in his tone. "It's a three hour drive, and a little over an hour flight. That's not bad at all."
"Jalen..." I say softly, unable to hide the quiver in my tone at the fact that he's actually searched how far away we'll be once I start at Brown.
I almost regret having let Daniel know I chose Brown over Princeton. I didn't care if he told Jalen or not, but now that I know he took the time to figure out how long the drive and flight are, it makes my decision that much harder to stand by.
I try slipping my hand from his, but his grip tightens. "Lyndon, don't. Don't do this."
My hand stays in his, but I still rapidly shake my head.
"I'm trying," he tells me pleadingly. "I'm trying for us. For you."
His voice cracks at the end, and so does my heartâfor what feels like the thousandth time since I've met this boy.
I can see the hurt in his eyes, feel it in the air around us. But no matter how hard it is to see him like thisâand God, is it fucking hardâI know it'll only be worse for me in the long run.
If we jump back into this, especially trying to do long distance, I'll end up hurt again. I know it.
I need to put myself firstâno matter how much it's hurting me too right now. And I need to be alone. That's something I haven't allowed myself to be for a while.
Funnily enough, I bashed my mother because she refused to be alone. Over and over again, she's stood by my father's side, even when he made it clear he didn't want her there.
How can I be upset with her and her choices when I repeat them?
Despite how much I love Jalen, and despite how shattered my heart feels at the thought, I need to leave him.
At least for now.
He said he's trying for me, but so am I. I'm trying for myself.
So, I take his hands in mine and draw in a big breath. Then, I speak.
"I'm leaving for Miami tomorrow, then when I get back, I'm leaving for Brown. And I'm going to be single."
My voice is firm and leaves no room for argument. It sounds final, because this decision has to be.
Jalen looks as broken as I've felt too many times throughout our relationship.
I love you too much, I add in my head, Probably more than I love myself.
And there's the problem.
I know I should say it out loud, at least the first part, just to make sure he knows that I do love him. But I feel like not acknowledging it will make this easierâfor both of us.
If we're meant to be, I'll have plenty of opportunities to tell him later.
I expect an argument from him, but instead, he just squeezes my hands and stays quiet.
For a second, I see the urge to speak come to him. His lips move, but the sliding door behind us opens, and some of Malia's guests start flooding out into the backyard, turning what was a quiet and serene place into a noisy area.
I turn back to Jalen, realizing his eyes never left me.
His hand cups my jaw again, and I worry he's trying to go for another kiss, but all I feel is his lips lightly press against my forehead. They stay there for a second, or maybe it's minutes, I don't know. Time doesn't exist while I'm in his embraceâit never does.
But when he pulls away, I see the hurt still in his eyes, and I force myself to step back.
My eyes find the pool.
Is it rude of me to just walk away from Jalen right now, after telling him that and not getting a response?
"Hey, Jalen. Can you come help the guys carry the table for beer pong out?"
We both turn toward Malia, who's flashing us an innocent smile. But when we make eye contact, I understand what she's doing, and I mouth a thank you to her.
She subtly winks at me as Jalen slowly makes his way to her.
We had briefly talked about Jalen after graduation. Malia skipped out on the ceremonyâsomething I assumed was done because of her mom and step dadâso she missed when everyone asked what happened to Jalen's face.
Daniel was the first to ask, concerned over the slight bruising that had begun to appear around Jalen's nose once we found them before the ceremony started, and once David heard the story, he insisted we retell it to everyone that passedâbecause it was too fucking funny.
All Malia had done once I told her the story when we spoke on the phone that night was ask if Jalen and I were getting back together, and when I told her I don't think so, stating how broken our trust was, she murmured That makes sense in responseâI took that as her understanding where I was coming from.
Despite always seeing her as Jalen's friend since moving back here, during that phone call, I felt like I had part of my cousin back.
And, weirdly enough, I felt like I had part of myself back too.
I glance toward the pool again, and make up my mind, quickly shedding the sundress I have thrown over my bathing suit.
I dive into the pool shortly after, savoring the silence I'm granted once I'm fully under water. My mind still feels all jumbled after everything that's happenedânot just today, or the past week, but this entire year.
The water calms me, makes me feel as if everything's okayâeven if only for this moment, because my life is still a mess.
But, at least for now, I feel at peace.
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A / N:
This is the end of Lyndon's point of view, but we still have four bonus chapters to go.
Each chapter will show a different character's perspective and has a lot of information in them: filling in some blanks from this story, giving you a better understanding of that character, and helping me set up future stories I'd like to write if I ever turn this into a series.
I will post those chapters daily starting tomorrow. Once again, thank you so much for choosing to read my story!