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I can't believe this is it. Two and half months, almost 50,000 words. Feels crazy. I loved writing this, I loved reading your comments, I loved that some people reached out on Twitter. This was amazing.

Thank you so much. 

I hope you like the ending just as you liked the journey.

Love, Nat.

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Content warning: explicit sex scene

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“Let’s go upstairs,” Carson mouthed to her.

“The movie–" Greta whispered, "and the kitchen, we gotta help clean up."

“Go,” Meg hadn’t meant to overhear, but they were sitting very close together on the same couch so, “I’ll handle the kitchen later, go make out,” she whispered and giggled like a teenage girl.

Greta smiled at her, her cheeks flushed pink. Carson just stood up and pulled her by the hand. She climbed the stairs two steps at a time, Greta silently walking behind her, her long legs helping her follow eager Carson closely. They entered the bedroom, and Carson made sure to close and lock the door. Greta stopped for a second, taking in the soft cream wallpaper patterned with little green leaves, the candy green covers on the bed, the old CDs, and the books, so many books, piled up on the writing desk.

“Your books stayed here?” She asked.

“Charlie got the office… in the house, so… I kept my books here,” Carson explained.

Greta took a look around to have some time to process what Carson had just said. She touched one of the books, the cover rough under her fingers, she didn’t really pay attention to the title or the author. She could feel Carson’s eyes following her as she moved along the desk, moving from the books to the CDs, there was Avril Lavigne’s first album right on top of the pile. Greta loved that album.

She loved being in Carson’s childhood bedroom, loved seeing the bunch of books from romances to feminism literature that probably helped shape who she is, the books that took her places she couldn’t physically be at back then. She hated that Carson had to leave them behind though. She hated that Carson had been with this guy for years and he couldn’t even make room for her books, let alone for her to be who she really was. She hated that he had the nerve to go there earlier and that he almost ruined the moment Carson had been so anxiously waiting for, the moment she would come out to her family. She hated that he stained that for Carson.

“What did he do earlier?” Greta asked without turning to face her, “before I got to you, what did he do?” Her voice was so low Carson barely heard her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Carson answered lowly.

“Your father was pretty angry,” Greta said, turning to face her, “and you were crying when I got to you.”

“He grabbed me and tried to kiss me,” she said after a minute.

Greta looked at the ceiling and breathed in deeply, she didn’t want Carson to see her face like that, twisted in anger. She wanted to punch the guy in the stomach. Fuck, she wanted him hurt, for real. But Greta knew that wouldn’t help Carson at all. She just needed to hold her and make sure she’d be right by her side so that man could never get close to her again. She breathed out and got closer to Carson, taking her face in her hands.