There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story.
~Frank Herbert
A/N
Okay so I lied when I said there were only two chapters left...this is the last chapter.
Thank you to the person that reminded me that Sonny has a boyfriend because ngl I totally forgot.
Chapter 31
Ryder's POV
"What if we try a more unexpected approach? Maybe that'll get us more points," Mateo suggested.
We'd been trying all day to figure out what to do for our project in Criminal Justice class. The two of us needed to score well on this if we wanted any shot of passing the class. We happened to completely have bombed our last project, leaving our grades in the gutter. "But what if we get it wrong and then it makes our grade worse?"
The two of us knew the basic facts of the justice system and were perfect on paper but when it came to actually applying our knowledge to real life cases, we could use some work. "True, true. If we want to save our grade—" Mateo paused in the midst of his sentence to tell our order to the barista.
I inhaled sharply, memories of Beatrice waving over me. She used to always get straight black coffee and I'd get some sugary drink loaded with everything humanly possible to mask the taste of coffee—I needed the energy boost but hated the actual coffee flavor. The baristas would always switch our cups, giving me the black coffee, and Beatrice wouldn't want to embarrass me so she would wait until we were in the car to switch our drinks.
It's been a month since we broke up and I still think about her.
"Back to what I was saying," Mateo continued after placing the order, "if we want to save our grade, we have to get a perfect score on the project."
"I know." It was the reason we were starting this project so early, it was only assigned just yesterday.
The barista handed us our drinks. She smiled at Mateo, pointing down at his drink. "That's a good choice, it's my favorite."
Mateo refuses to drink coffee because he doesn't want to get addicted. His favorite drink happened to be hot pink which tends to get him a lot of attention. I'd seen a number of boys laugh at him for his choice in refreshment, but it did usually earn him a couple phone numbers from some of the ladies, and a couple men, because apparently they like a guy who's masculinity isn't threatened by a magenta drink with sparkles and strawberries in it. "Mine too." Mateo was oblivious to the girl's attempts at flirting and continued on his way without a second thought.
Idiot.
"We have to win this case and make a solid, unbreakable argument." We took our seats, grabbing the material and dividing it between the two of us.
"I'll sort through the evidence and you listen to the testimony," Mateo sorted the work by what the two of us knew best.
I stuck in my headphones, playing the video of the witness's testimony. Our major project of the semester was to solve an actual court case, the murder of a Leah Wilson. So far, Mateo and I have come up with nothing.
I took notes on the witness's statement, outlining even the simplest facts. A sharp pain shot up my leg as Mateo kicked me under the table. "What?" I spat, shooting him a glare. What was that for? I rubbed my throbbing leg.
Mateo widened his eyes, silently directing me to my left. I crinkled my brow, hesitantly turning my head. My breath hitched in my throat. "Beatrice," I croaked.
Mateo stuck his headphones in, trying to give us as much privacy as possible and silently telling me that if I didn't talk to her, he would for me.
I stared at her as if she were a ghost, part of me questioning if she was. She stopped trying to talk to me a few weeks ago, no phone calls, no messages, she didn't even try to speak to me in person. I'd get an occasional wave when passing in the halls and that was it. I'd asked her to stop messaging me but I never thought she actually would, I was hoping she wouldn't.
She looked better now, she'd gotten extensions and now her hair fell about mid-back. Her skin looked healthier too and I noticed she'd been carrying one of those water bottles around with the timestamps on them that tell you how much you need to have finished by what time. Even her eyes seemed brighter; she was absolutely gorgeous.
She smiled, the gesture tugging at my heart. I hadn't seen that smile in a month. "Hi," I greeted, nearly stuttering over the single word.
"Hi." She paused, waiting, seeing what my response would be.
I couldn't help but see the disappointment on her face at my answer. "What are you doing here?"
She rocked back and forth on her toes, her hands clasped in front of her. "I came to see you." She gave me a sheepish look. "Alexia told me where you were."
Of course my sister did. I nodded, waiting for her to continue, fairly certain I was hallucinating her.
"Can I talk to you?" She asked calmly, struggling to look me in the eyes but trying her best to.
I stared at her. Another sharp pain shot through my leg as Mateo jabbed me, letting me know that his headphones were, in fact, playing nothing and he'd been eavesdropping on this entire conversation. I expected nothing less. I glanced back at Beatrice, who had begun to fiddle with the book in her hand, a strand of hair falling in front of her face. Her sun dress flowed like beach waves as she swayed from side to side, waiting for my response. My goodness, she's beautiful.
"Sure." I slowly stood from my seat, watching her eyes light up as she registered my response. I followed her out the door, not missing the not so subtle wink I got from Mateo.
Beatrice paced a small oval in the cafe parking lot as she tried to figure out a way to start the conversation.
"I'm an idiot," was her starting line. "I'm an idiot, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Ryder. What I did to you wasn't okay and you have every right in the world to hate me."
I could never hate her, no matter how much I wanted to.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her building emotions. "I'm impulsive and reckless and I wasn't thinking. I was angry and upset and I know that isn't an excuse but it was my reasoning. I wish I hadn't done it but I did and I will forever regret it. I never wanted to hurt you."
But you did.
She sensed my hesitation, a small frown over taking her features but she managed to stay calm, despite the fact that she was struggling against her tears. She tried to fight the desperation in her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm messed up, and horrible and broken and I don't deserve you, but I love you, Ryder. I'm in love with you. And if you give me one more chance, I won't mess it up. I swear. I'm gonna be a better person. I'll be the kinda girl you deserve, Ryder. Please. I just need one more chance."
I stilled at her words, barely even able to listen to the rest of her statement, hung up on her first few words. She's in love with me? She loves me? Me, Ryder Adams, the guy who is scared of ducks and hates hot pockets and has to spell out Wednesday as wed-nes-day, she's in love with me? "I—" I started but she cut me off.
"You don't have to answer me now, just think about it, okay? Please?"
I couldn't move, too stunned and too afraid she'd be gone if I did, but I managed to stretch out a nod.
She let out a long break, smiling softly. "Okay. Okay, good." She took a few steps closer, hesitating, watching my reaction before quickly jumping onto her toes, kissing the side of my chin. I closed my eyes, leaning into her despite knowing better. It took everything in my not to pull her back and just hold her to me, but I let her walk away, tie up her dress, hop onto the motorcycle, and drive away.
I watched her figure slowly disappear into the distance.
Hi.
-:-/-:-/-:-/-:-/-:-
I did think it over. I thought it over for hours to the point where Mateo made us call it a quits on our project because I clearly wasn't able to pay attention. So we went home, where I spent hours in my room, staring at the ceiling, letting her words mull over me, refusing to leave my head for even a second. I didn't get any sleep. She loves me. And she's trying to be better. That had to mean something right. That had to mean this could work out, we could work out. But at the same time, what if we don't. What if I let her in once more just for her to rip my heart out again.
I groaned, smothering my face with a pillow. Mateo slapped me, still half asleep. "Just go talk to her!"
"I can't."
"Why not?" Mateo tried to push me off the bed, too tired to actually do so.
"Because."
"Because? What are we, six?"
"Yes."
Mateo shot his leg out, shoving me as hard as possible. I rolled off the bed with a thud. "You're not allowed back until you talk to her," Mateo decided.
So I laid on the floor for another half hour until Mateo got fed up with me and decided to lay on top of me and practically suffocate me until I agreed to get up.
I followed his directions and ended up outside Beatrice's house at five in the morning, pacing around her driveway like a complete lunatic. This is a terrible idea. What am I doing? I spent weeks trying to get over her and now it was like any progress I'd made had completely disappeared. I was right back to where I started a month ago.
I stared at her door, debating, pondering. This could either be a terrible idea or it could amount to something. Is it worth the risk? Is it worth getting torn apart again? I didn't want to end up like my father; I didn't want that kind of marriage. But Beatrice is nothing like my mother, and she said she wanted to work on it. That has to mean something, right? I rang her doorbell before I had time to change my mind. There was no answer, which makes total sense considering it was before the crack of dawn, but I rang it again nevertheless. And when it didn't open the second time, I took a spot on the floor, leaning my head against the doorframe. I'm an idiot.
What was I thinking was going to happen? I'd show up to her house and we'd magically be all better, like nothing even happened. This isn't one of those sappy romance books she always reads, this is real life and the truth of the matter is that sometimes, no matter how badly you want it to, sometimes things just don't work out. Right person, wrong time.
I sighed, standing from my spot just as a bike pulled into her driveway. I froze dead in my spot. Beatrice had yet to see me as she parked the bike, stripping off her helmet. Her hair cascaded down her shoulder as she shook it out, trying it up into a high ponytail. She unzipped the leather jacket most riders used for protection. It was the first time I'd ever seen her wear one. Maybe she really is trying.
I took a few steps forward, closer to her. Beatrice jumped, letting out a small scream as she registered a person walking towards her, not yet realizing it was me. I desperately reached my arms out, trying to catch her before she could hit the ground, but instead, her foot managed to catch mine and suddenly the two of us were spiraling down, collapsing to the ground in an entanglement of limbs. Beatrice's body pressed against mine, the two of us laying on the cold cement, or should I say, I was laying on the cement, Beatrice was laying on me.
And then we were laughing. The sound was euphonious, a melody to my ears and for a second I could have sworn the two of us were glowing, though perhaps that was just the streetlight but I hadn't laughed like that in over a month; I hadn't laughed to the point that my ribs began to ache and my smile began to grow painful, the good kind of pain, not the pain I'd begun to know over the last month.
Our laughter died down as she stared at me, not bothering to move. I wasn't sure if I wanted her to. "Hi," I whispered.
"Hi."
I took a breath. "Hi."
Her smile grew about ten times its size as the word left my lips. The sight was stunning. She scrambled off of me, her cheeks tinting scarlet and for a second it felt like the beginning again, the beginning of all of this. The blushing, the awkwardness, the bubbling emotions threatening to spill over, the innocence, it was just like start.
She held her hand out, helping me to my feet. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was light, the usual distress taken away leaving her raw, undamaged tone.
"Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?"
"That you were trying, that you were trying to be a better person." I needed to know if she meant it. Because she is the one for me, and I'd wait twenty years for her to heal if that's what it took but I didn't want to. I didn't want to wait twenty years for us to become the people we were always meant to be only to find our ways back to each other.
She nodded.
"How?"
Beatrice licked her lips, reaching for her book which was nowhere to be found. "I'm going to therapy."
Therapy. That's a good sign, right? That means she's trying? But I didn't know if it was enough. "I want to go with you to see your father."
Her body tensed, her eyes widening. "Ryder..."
I knew it would be hard for her and it killed me to think about putting her through all of it but it was my only way of knowing if we'd spend the next twenty years together or apart.
I love her, but I deserve better than someone who would intentionally try to hurt me, even if it was only for a second. I deserve better but I know she's been through a lot and she's had a rough life and it's a miracle she's turned out as amazing as she is, and I'll wait twenty years if that's what it takes for her to become the best version of herself, and I the best version of myself, but if she's trying, if she's really trying, then I'll stay by her side through it. I'll hold her hand and walk through the fire with her. I just need to know that she's trying. "Please."
She seemed to understand why I wanted to go, why we needed this if we wanted to make us work, and so she nodded. "Let me go change."
She made her way up the driveway, stopping in the doorway. "Do you want to come in, while you wait?"
My lips curved gently as I followed her inside, taking a seat at the island stool. A thousand memories flashed through my mind as I glanced around at the place that had once been so familiar. The smell of citrus made me hazy and it took all my strength to remain sober minded.
I sat in my own bubble trying not to remember all the little moments we had in every section of the room from where I tried to teach her to make jello, which she nearly killed me for, to the time she tried to teach me to dance and kept stepping on my feet.
"Ready." Beatrice made her way down the stairs, now changed from her sleeping clothes to another sundress. She's been wearing a lot of them lately. They looked great on her, but then again so did everything else.
The drive to the prison, which was nearly two hours away, was eerily silent, only the sound of the radio to fill the car. Neither of us spoke. I think Beatrice was too anxious to speak, so she read, her legs bouncing up and down in anticipation. I wanted to reach over and hold her hand, tell her it would all be okay but she needed to learn how to do this without me before she could do it with me.
She reached over for her phone, skipping the latest song, giving me a glimpse at the name of her playlist: '12:08'. I'd seen it a million times but I'd never put it together before.
I don't think she breathed the entirety of the process, not as we were being let into the building, not as we filled out the paperwork for first time visitors, and especially not as we were informed that her father had put my name on the list of approved visitors. That fact alone nearly made her lose her mind and she'd begun to squeeze her book to death.
We entered the visiting room. Sitting on one of the chairs, a thin, feeble man rested, his skin wrinkled and aged far beyond the point at which it should be for his age. He looked nothing like I'd expected after hearing the stories, and especially after seeing Klaus. The two looked nothing alike, he and Klaus. Perhaps in facial features but nothing in deminor.
We took a seat in front of him. My eyes fell to the pair of chains that restrained him. There had been a set list of rules, the main one, absolutely no touching, not that either of us had a problem with it. Beatrice was practically trembling beside me.
Her therapist had suggested seeing her father as well, but she hadn't gotten the nerve to go yet. I could see why. She looked about ready to puke.
"Bumblebee, you finally came." He smiled, his teeth yellowed and crooked.
She couldn't look him in the eyes. "Yeah."
He turned his attention to me, his beady eyes attempting to narrow in on me like I couldn't jump over this table and rip him to shreds if he tried to hurt Beatrice in any way. "You must be Ryder."
I nodded.
"And what are your intentions with my daughter?"
I wouldn't answer that. I wouldn't answer any of his questions revolving around me and Beatrice's relationship. When Sonny asked, I'd answer them, I'd even worry about making sure I answered them properly, but when he asked, I would not answer. He didn't get to know, after everything he did to her, he doesn't get to know until she asks me to tell him.
"Stop it," Beatrice demanded, finally gaining the courage to look him in the eyes. "This isn't about Ryder."
He leaned in closer, the two of us moving back on instinct. "Then what is this about?"
Beatrice faltered, no words coming to mind. What was this about? She took a breath, taking a glance at me before speaking. "This is about closure." She paused, looking between me and him. "Why did you put his name on the visitors list?" She asked.
He smirked. "Well, I figured I must for when he wants to ask me for your hand."
I would never ask him for her hand. That would be a battle in which I'd have to face Sonny...and Klaus, who might just kill me for it. But I had a couple years before I had to worry about that.
"Now what do you need closure for, Violeta?" Her father nearly rolled his eyes but kept his attitude in check.
Beatrice paused, taking a small break. "For everything you put me through. Everything you put all of us through, me, Sonny, Klaus, mom."
He leaned back, his eyes growing cold. "I was your father, bumblebee. I did what I had to."
I could see the anger burning in Beatrice's eyes. A month ago she probably would have snapped, started yelling and gotten us kicked out but she sat in her seat, playing with the little band around her wrist. "You were a drunk."
"I had a drink every once and a while."
"You were a drunk," she stated more firmly. "You picked a bottle over your family and I know I'm supposed to come in here and tell you that I forgive you but I don't. What you did to us was not okay."
"I raised you!" He spat. "I held your hand when you were scared. I cleaned your wounds when you were injured. I wiped your tears away when you were sad. I raised you!"
Beatrice slid ever so slightly closer to me. "You were also the reason I was scared, why I was injured, the reason for my tears. You didn't raise me, you cleaned up the messes that you caused."
He slammed his palm on the table, bolting from his seat and nearly jumping over the table, his face turning red as he screamed at us, his own saliva flying everywhere from the force of his voice. I grabbed Beatrice as fast as I could, wrapping my arms around her trembling body and holding her away from him. "I am your father! How dare you speak to me that way?"
The guards were quick to settle the situation, tackling her father and insisting that he calm down, informing us that visiting hours were over and that Mr. Henderson needed to return back to his room. They escorted him away, his screams and insults echoing down the hallway.
Beatrice wiped a tear from her face. "Can we go home now?"
I nodded, restraining myself from wiping her tears away. "Yeah, let's go home." I released her, following behind her.
Beatrice took shakey steps, clinging onto her book for dear life, finally taking a breath as we entered the fresh air. Her body seemed to cave in on itself as tears dripped down her face. She took several coordinated breaths, a breathing technique I'd seen Mateo use to calm down. It didn't work entirely and I could tell it was taking everything in her not to snap and yell at me for making her do this. She held onto her book, flipping through the pages in a soothing motion before spinning around to face me. "So?" She whispered.
She really was trying.
I looked her over, the Beatrice standing in front of me exactly as the one I'd known over the past few months and yet so different at the same time. She was trying, and that's all I wanted. "My goodness, I missed you," I breathed.
Taking a few steps forward, I took her face in mine and kissed her. Her legs fell weak, her body pressing against mine as she wrapped her arms around my neck, holding me as tightly as she could. She took shaky breaths between kisses as her tears dampened my own face except this time her tears were not out of pain or fear or sadness.
I rested my forehead against hers, neither of us letting the other go. She panted softly against me, her sweet breath fanning across my face. "I love you too," I murmured.
Her eyes shot open as she stared at me, her face set in complete awe and then she kissed me once more, slowly and gently. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She stroked my cheek with her thumb. "I missed you so much."
She was my forever. And this time, we would talk everything through and work on ourselves together.
I took her hand in mine, the two of us walking side by side and in that moment it became very apparent that there was no such thing as the right time; it would always be the wrong time. Some times may be better than others but at this moment we were willing to work on it, and that was enough for me. She was the one for me, forever, whether that be now or in twenty years, she will always be the one for me. And to think, it all started with a game.
A/N
Hi lovies!
Soooo...what did we think of the chapter?
Of the book?
What was our favorite part?
What was our least favorite?
I can't believe that was the last chapter. It's crazy to think about. I'm gonna miss it. It hurts my heart a little bit.
But don't worry, there are still two epilogue chapters coming up just so you all know.
Also did someone ask me to make a thing with actors as my characters? I feel like someone did but I can't remember?
Random question of the chapter: when was the last time you laughed the hardest?
Lots of love,
Rachelle <3