Keeping the Bad Boy

Chapter 41

Things remained normal for the next couple months. Going on dates here and there, my mom doing her best not to throw up at the sight of him. In early May, I sent in an application to a music college in New York for Sam and was going to make it a surprise if he got accepted. I knew that it was far away, but it was one of the best and I knew he wasn't doing anything for his future right now. The warm weather was nice after a harsh winter and our graduation was days away. Our prom had been beautiful but Sam and I left early, not being the most social people ever. We had been fitted for gowns and were anxious to be out of school. The day before graduation, his acceptance letter arrived, bringing tears with it. I was happy for him, but didn't want to see him go. He would have to leave the day after graduation. It broke my heart.

"I can't believe my baby is graduating!" my mom shrieked and took another photo of Sam and I in our gowns. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I took the dreaded, excited walk to get my diploma. When they called Sam's name, a pang of sorrow struck my heart. He had no real family here besides Ryder. His true mother didn't get to see him graduate. She didn't get to see him take that walk. She didn't get to take pictures of us outside on the football field. She wasn't there to fuss about him wrinkling his slacks on his motorcycle. She wasn't there.

That night, while we were sitting on the grass in my backyard, looking at the stars, I gave him the letter. He thanked me, as anyone would, but he also fought back tears. I knew he didn't want him to leave, neither did I. But he needed this. . . we needed this. He laid down in the damp grass and took a deep breath. "I wish Mom were here for this. She would be so proud of us," he whispered and closed his eyes. He left around two that morning and said that he would be back to say bye tomorrow at noon. He had a flight to catch at three in the city and he still had to pack and get some sleep. I watched him drive off that night and realized something, good-byes only hurt when you know you aren't going to say hello again.

I was sitting on the porch, waiting for him. I was holding his class ring which he had lost in the yard last night. I was twirling it around my middle finger when I heard his bike rumble into the driveway. The sun was out and the sky was a perfect blue. The crickets chirped and the birds sang as I watched him walk to the bottom of the stairs. I walked down into the sun in my shorts and t-shirt. He wore jeans and a thin tank top under his lightest leather jacket. He smiled a ghost of a smile and took my hand. I pushed the ring onto his finger. "Here, you lost this," I said but he just stared at it. He pulled it off and retrieved his mother's necklace from his pocket. He unclasped it, slid the ring onto it, and put it around my neck. "Mom wouldn't want to go to New York," he said and kissed my lips. A soft kiss that lingered on my lips as if it wasn't there at all. I wrap my arms around him and he sighs. "How many times can I break before I shatter?" he whispered into my hair. I held him tighter and took a deep breath, breathing in all the memories. The good ones. The bad ones. The happy, the sad, he terrifyingly tragic, and the down-right odd. "I love you," I mumble into his chest. He pulls away and says, "I love you too, Courtney." He smiles as he climbs back onto his bike. He starts it and I start at the roar of the engine. Through him, I realized that healing doesn't mean the damage never existed, it means that it no longer controls us. The light in his eyes flare with all the memories and how this one will be the last for a while. One day there will be more. One day perhaps more memories will be made, if only these don't fade. As he drives away, I watch his black hair flowing behind him and his leather jacket whipping around his body like ghosts whispering the memories, letting them go one-by-one. But this didn't feel like the end. It didn't feel like the last memory. It wasn't the last song I would hear on that violin. It wasn't the last time I would see those fiery eyes or feel that silky dark hair. This wasn't our ending, it was the exact opposite.