Epilogue

A year later

Avery had begun to realize that the slow hiss of an opening bus door was the best sound in the world. It set her excitement index up to eleven out of ten.

It was a Pavlovian response. Her first semester of college psych had taught her that.

She watched the people leaving the bus at the stop nearest her dorms until she saw Lucas. His face lit up as soon as he saw her. Her heart thumped. It did every time she saw him. Pretty much every time he smiled at her and definitely every time he gave her the look that meant he wanted to get her alone.

A lot had happened in the year since she left Hillside for college. Her father had persuaded Mr. Duchamp to cut back his spending on the locker rooms and to offer a few scholarships every year instead. After a little reflection, Mr. Duchamp had realized that it was a nice feeling being the hero of the town instead of just the football team.

Lucas hadn’t played in a Hammers game again, and they still managed to scrape through to the playoffs. But he turned up to most of their practices and helped Munch with his physical therapy. When Mr. Duchamp had offered him one of the new scholarships, he’d turned it down, so someone else—someone who hadn’t cheated, he said—could go to college.

The concrete plant had still been hiring when they all graduated, and that’s where Lucas ended up. Working Monday through Friday at the plant, taking community college classes in the evening, and visiting Avery on the weekends.

Every Friday afternoon, she’d go down to the bus station to find him. Every Friday afternoon, he’d get off the bus with a smile that slayed her. Life was good.

Lucas got off the bus, dumped his bag on the ground, and picked her up, holding her tight against him. “You smell amazing,” he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He put her down and kissed her, oblivious to the people around them. “I missed you,” he said when he finally pulled away.

“I missed you, too,” Avery said. “What do you want to do this weekend? I have a bunch of things in my planner that we can do. The game is on Saturday, if you want to see it. There’s a reading tonight at the—” She stopped talking as she took in the expression on his face. “Or we could just go to my room and order in?”

“Have I told you how much I love you?” he said in way of an answer.

She put her hand in his and grinned. “Nope, but I have some ideas on how you can show me.”

“As long as you’ve listed them out properly in your planner. I’d like to be able to check them off as I do them,” he replied as she led him up the street toward her dorm.

“I haven’t, but if you give me half an hour when we get back to my room, I’d be happy to write them down for you.” She gave him an innocent look, knowing how her answer would be received.

“Hell, no. I’m not waiting half an hour,” he said, wrapping his arm around her.

“Okay, then, we better hurry.” She laughed, going faster until she was virtually speed walking.

He laughed at her and matched her pace, until they were both sprinting to her dorm.

He was running like his hair was on fire. Just to be alone with her. Every part of her was grateful he’d found her, grateful that he’d returned to her, and grateful he loved her the way he did. She was complete in the most amazing way possible. Secure and free at the same time. Free to try new things—things not even in her planner—because he was there, always at her back.

Except when he was racing her to her room. Then he was usually in front.

Everything that had been broken and fractured had fixed itself into a perfectly imperfect mosaic that blinded her with light and love. And Star Wars marathons.

She was the luckiest girl alive.

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