Even if I leave Burberry Prep, that doesn’t mean I’ll be safe. It just means I’ll be away from the guys.

“Does anyone want to have another sleepover?” I ask, because I’ll admit it: I’m scared shitless.

For the rest of the year, I end up sleeping in one room or another with all five boyfriends by my side.

When Spring Break rolls around, I take a brief trip with the guys up to see the Bornstead U campus. It’s literally everything I thought it would be and more. Standing there in the cool mountain air and watching the university come alive in the morning made it all seem more real somehow.

That’s going to be my life.

One day, I’m going to be a student there.

My joy only lasts so long as it takes us to get back to Cruz Bay where Dad is waiting.

Since I last saw him, everything has gone to shit.

I stop in the doorway and look at the skinny man in the wheelchair that used to be my father. It takes everything I have inside of me to put on a smile and walk in there, kneel down by his side and give him a cheek on the kiss.

Later, when he’s gone to bed and I have a moment to talk with his nurse, I learn the truth.

Charlie Reed is under hospice care now.

As in … he’s basically waiting around to die.

I spend the next few hours in the bathroom, trying to stay quiet as I alternate between throwing up and sobbing. By the time morning rolls around, I’m exhausted, but I make Dad his coffee and watch action movies with him until he decides it’s time for an afternoon nap.

Then I call Isabella.

Surprisingly, she shows up at the house in a fancy red sportscar that no fifteen year old needs.

“He’s really dying, huh?” she asks, glaring at me suspiciously as I sit on the grass on a plaid blanket and toy with the idea of calling the boys or maybe Miranda. They’re all around, and now I know why. Two reasons really. One, because they don’t want me to end up like Abigail and Valentina. And two, because of … well, exactly this.

“I guess so,” I say, because I still can’t make myself say it. I look up, at Isabella’s strangely familiar face and try not to freak her out by smiling too much when she grudgingly sits down beside me. “What made you change your mind and come over here?” I ask.

She looks away from me sharply, picking at the grass near the edge of the blanket with freshly manicured nails.

“I saw what happened to Abigail Fanning, and I … I don’t want that to be me.” Isabella turns to look at me with this sharp fear in her eyes that makes her look less like Harper and more like a terrified kid in need of guidance. “Everyone wants in the Infinity Club. It’s like … you’re nobody and nothing if you’re not a member.” She looks down at her shoe, a red-bottomed Louboutin she’s casually rubbing around in the grass even though it costs a fortune. “Dad wants me to join, but … I don’t know if I will, at least not yet.”

I nod, and we sit there in silence again together for a while.

“Why did you tell me that Tristan was screwing Lizzie, when he wasn’t?”

Isabella shrugs and keeps her gaze focused on anything and everything but me.

“You love him. I wanted to hurt you. I … don’t want to be a Reed. I’m a Carmichael, Marnye. I’m a fucking Carmichael, and I always will be. I don’t care who my biological father really is.”

“So you took your anger out on me?” I raise an eyebrow and Isabella shrugs, pushing up to her feet and brushing grass from her bare legs.

“I think you’re an easy target because you try so hard at everything that you make other people feel like shit. Queen of the school, top of the class, dating all the hottest, richest guys. You’re pretty …” Isabella trails off, and I fight the urge to smile. She called me pretty. My little sister just called me pretty. Now if that’s not a win, I don’t know what is. “Anyway, please don’t … say anything to my dad when you meet him.”

“I would never do that,” I promise, and she nods, looking up at the house. I want more than anything for her to come in and see Charlie, but I’m afraid to ask. I’m afraid to hear her say no because then I might hate her forever, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s a spoiled, rotten little brat, but I’m good at injecting a little humility into those types. If I did it with the boys, I can do it with her, too. “Do you think I could at least come in and give him a hug?” she asks finally, and I smile.

We head into the house together, and wait on the couch until Charlie gets up and his aide wheels him down the hallway to get some water. When he sees us together, his face lights up.

“Girls,” he says, his smile so wide it crinkles up his face. I swear there’s a silent my right before that word he won’t let himself say. I get us all situated on the back porch with lemonade, and Isabella and Charlie actually chat together. Apparently they’re both fans of James Bond and Indiana Jones.

“My D—” she starts and then clears her throat. “Adam has a lot of original movie memorabilia. You should come see it sometime. He likes to show it off to anyone that will listen to him brag.” Sounds about right, I think as I hold Charlie’s hand.

“I’d love to,” he tells her with the softest sort of smile, and then later, when she gets up to leave, she bends down to give him a hug, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

After Isabella drives off, I get that book Charlie started in Napa, and I open it so we can read together.

“I already saw you peek at the end, you know,” I tell him after we finish, and I close the cover. He looks up at the clouds moving across a blue, blue sky and then smiles wistfully to himself.

“True. But it’s not always the ending that’s the most important. Sometimes, the journey to get there is just as good.”

A few nights later, I call Zayd.

I don’t know why.

I just pick one of the boys at random and dial.

He comes over right away, inching his blue Jaguar convertible up to the curb, and I hop in. I don’t really like leaving Dad alone, but his health aide is here, and I … I just need a minute.

“Sometimes, when someone else is dying, it’s harder on everyone around them than it is for them.” He curls his inked hands around the steering wheel and drives slowly, so that the night wind teases our hair, but doesn’t steal away our conversation.

“Are you talking about your mom?” I ask softly, my hands shaking. I force them to sit still in my lap. I’m overtired, overworked, and I’m going to end up back at Burberry in a bad state. Spring break hasn’t exactly been a refreshing experience, but to be quite honest, I’m scared for it to end.

I’m scared I’ll never see Charlie again if I leave.

Maybe I shouldn’t go back?

“Yep. I mean, I was young, so I didn’t have to care for her, but my grandma did.” Zayd pauses and looks over at me as he rolls up to a stop sign. Our neighborhood is so quiet, it’s more of a formality than anything else. Nobody’s coming. “Not my rich grandma though, my other one. I think caring for her dying daughter is what killed her, too. Or maybe she died of a broken heart or something. I’d pretend to be a tough guy and say I don’t believe in that shit, but I do.”

I smile at him and then reach out to take his right hand. He squeezes mine and pulls it to his lips for a kiss.

“How did you get here so fast, by the way? I thought your house was, like way down the beach.”

“Yeah, uh …” He looks up at the stars and then shrugs again. “I’m on my way to deliver a present to Becky’s house. It’s just, you know, revenge stuff.”

“Is it now?” I ask, leaning back against the door. “I feel like I’ve really fucked it up this year. I was so on point during second.”

“You didn’t fuck it up, you just learned that you don’t have to do everything by yourself all the time. Come on.” Zayd rolls us quietly out of the little suburban corner of Grenadine Heights, and then guns the engine, giving me this wild, little thrill, like a rollercoaster.

We take off and head into the hills, toward the super-rich neighborhoods that line some of the most exquisite beaches in the state.

When we get to one with a giant ironwork gate, I realize that ironically, Becky Platter’s family has my dad’s artwork gracing their fence. Part of me is proud … but the other part of me wonders if I couldn’t come back here later with a blowtorch and burn it off, maybe take it with me as a souvenir?

Zayd gets out and collects a box from the trunk, coming around the side of the car and pausing next to me.

“During first year, Becky was dating the basketball coach. I have all their stupid ass love letters in here.”

“Where did you get those?” I ask as Zayd cracks the lid and shows the huge pile to me. He grins.