“We love you, too,” Caro sighed.
“Right back atcha,” Drew murmured.
After they left (and after Drew promised my dad that Kevin would definitely hook him up with some free Frappuccinos), my mom and I loaded my suitcase into the backseat, next to another box filled with more clothes. “I never knew you had so much stuff,” she said, huffing and puffing a little.
“I know,” I said. “I guess this is what happens when you finally clean out your closet.”
“Imagine if you had done it every year like I had asked you . . .” She widened her eyes innocently when I looked at her. “I’m just saying.”
“You can help me organize the one at school, how’s that?” I said. “Matching hangers and everything.”
She just nodded toward where Oliver and my dad were standing and talking, Oliver’s hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You might want to go say goodbye,” she said softly. “We have to get going.”
“Okay,” I said, and she graciously went to gather my dad and give us some privacy.
“So,” Oliver said as soon as we were alone. He had gotten tanner since spending most of the summer surfing with me at the beach, and the freckles that had bloomed across his nose and cheeks made me want to kiss each one.
“Soooo,” I replied. “I guess we have to get going.”
“Yeah, I figured,” he said, motioning to where my parents were buckling themselves into the car. “You nervous?”
“No, not really. Just, you know, a little sad.”
“Hey, no sad allowed,” he said, chucking my chin with his thumb. “No sad. Just happy.”
“Weren’t you telling me last week how important it is to acknowledge your emotions?” I teased him.
“Well, that’s for me.” He grinned, his smile warmer and wider than ever. “You’re different. Get your own therapist.”
He had been seeing someone three times a week, a man named Dr. Hilbert, who listened and seemed to say things that Oliver needed to hear. Oliver didn’t tell me very much about those sessions, but he didn’t have to. I knew they were working. He was happier, calmer, and his relationship with Maureen was a lot better. They even had a standing coffee date every week where they talked about Oliver and his time spent with his dad.
As for his dad, there wasn’t a trial. He pled guilty to all the charges and was sentenced to fifteen years in California state prison. Oliver hadn’t seen him yet, but they wrote letters back and forth. “It’s so weird,” Oliver had laughed one night as he was looking for a stamp. “All this technology and I have to use a pen and paper to talk to my dad.”
And now that things were better, it was my turn to go.
“I’ll Skype you tonight,” I told him. “After I get unpacked and everything.”
“Great,” he said. “The twins will probably want to say hi.”
“I miss them already.”
“Do you want to take them?” Oliver took a step back toward his house. “Because there’s probably room on the roof next to the surfboard if—”
“Stop!” I laughed. “No, the twins like you better now, anyway.” And it was true. They were crazy about their older brother. (I still hadn’t heard the Angelina Ballerina voice, though. Oliver absolutely refused to do it for me.)
“Yeah, they’re not so terrible,” he said. “Not if you bribe them.”
“I’m really going to miss you,” I said to him. “Who’s going to turn their light on and off?”
“I will,” he murmured, brushing my hair off my face. “You just won’t see it.”
“But what if—?” I started to say, but he leaned down and silenced me with a kiss.
“Emmy,” he whispered. “It’s your turn to leave and it’s my turn to stay. So leave already.”
“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed me again, deeper and longer than the one before, and I didn’t care that my parents were probably watching in the rearview mirror. “And it’s just two hours away, like you keep saying.”
“We found each other once,” I said. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do again.”
He smiled against my mouth, then kissed me again. “Not goodbye. Just see you later.”
I nodded, trying not to cry. “Okay?” he said again.
“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat, then looking up at him. “See you later.”
We shared one last kiss before I climbed into the car. He stood at the end of our driveway and waved goodbye, and I waved back, trying not to cry.
“You okay?” my mom asked gently from the front seat.
“Yes,” I said, because I was. I was okay and so was Oliver. We were going to be fine.
I looked out the back window as we drove away. Oliver stood in the driveway, waving goodbye, and I waved back.
I watched as we drove farther away, as Oliver got smaller and smaller on the horizon.
I watched until he was gone.