“Harper’s been burned. It’s, like, really, really fucking bad,” she sobs, and the others look at each other for a moment before several take off to follow Becky back into the trees.

“We could help, but maybe it’s best if we call the fire department?” Creed drawls, and Zayd nods.

“Yep, let’s get the fuck out of here while we still can.” He reaches down to take my hand, and we make our way out the gate and over to the Maserati. If we need an explanation for why Zayd’s car was here, I’m sure money could take care of that. I’m not sticking around to try to move it.

The Maserati rolls down the road as I glance over the back seat, the flames from the fire licking at the darkness of the sky. In the distance, I can hear sirens blaring, but it’ll take them a while to get here. For now, we head toward the hospital, and toward Charlie.

Please let my dad be okay, I think as I lean back into Creed and his arms go around me. Please let him be okay.

Charlie Reed doesn’t die that night.

Instead, he lives for many nights after that. Not a lot, but enough that we get a proper goodbye, enough that when the time comes, I’m there by his side, our fingers curled together. I’m there when he smiles for the last time, when he looks up at me and tells me he loves me.

“I’m scared, Marnye,” he says, but I press my cheek to his, tears streaming down my cheeks to hit the pillow beneath his head.

“Don’t be. I’m here. I’ll always be here,” I whisper, and when he finally slips away, it’s with me by his side, holding onto him, always holding on.

Afterward, I let the boys drive me to Jennifer’s house, and I use my key to let myself in.

She gives me the warmest hug I’ve ever had from her in my entire life, and then I climb the stairs to the bedroom that will never be mine and fall asleep. Pretty sure I sleep for an entire week after that.

The funeral is nice. Sad … but nice.

I stand in the cemetery in Tristan’s black dress, lifting my head to the sky to look at the gently waving limbs of the trees.

“I heard you stopped by to visit Harper at the hospital,” Zayd says, putting his hand over mine. I glance slightly to the right, and force a smile.

“I tried. She’s got burns all over her face. It’s likely she’ll be scarred for her life.” I look back at the fresh patch of dirt in front of me. The crowd is gone, Jennifer and Marley and Isabella are gone. It’s just me, Andrew, Miranda, and the boys.

“Hung with her own rope, huh?” Zayd whispers, and we all go quiet again. There’s not much to say that’ll make things better. In a few weeks, I’ll be attending orientation at Bornstead University, finding my dorm room, imagining my future.

And Charlie … he won’t be there to see any of it.

My eyes fill with tears again, but I bite down hard and hang my head. It doesn’t stop them from falling into my lap as I curl my hands into fists, probably squeezing Zayd’s so hard it hurts. He doesn’t complain. Not at all.

“I made my choice,” I whisper after a few moments. Zack sits down on my other side, and Miranda tugs on Andrew’s hand, pulling him away to give us some privacy.

“Your choice?” Creed asks, his voice soft and unsure.

“I’ve known since we started dating that I couldn’t keep all of you forever,” I say, still looking at the shiny surface of the tombstone. My eyes blur, and grief rackets through me in a painful wave. It’s like getting hit with lightning … over, and over, and over again. For a few minutes here and there, everything seems like it’ll be okay.

The sun still shines.

Birds still sing.

But … then I remember that Dad is gone, and my whole world rearranges itself. Colors don’t seem as bright, music doesn’t seem as pretty.

I look up and see Tristan Vanderbilt staring at me with a soft tenderness in his gray eyes that wasn’t there before. His arm is still in a sling, but he’ll heal. In time, he’ll heal. Maybe my heart … will feel normal again one day, too? Doesn’t seem like it, but I know life goes on, whether I want it to or not.

“You don’t have to do this now,” Windsor says, kneeling down in front of me.

I shake my head.

“But I do.” I stand up, and the boys move aside, so I can approach the grave, kneeling down to lay out a bouquet of white roses in front of it. I’m smiling now, but I’m crying at the same time. “I love you, Dad. Watch over me, okay?”

I stand up and turn around to see the five of them staring at me.

They’re all so beautiful, each in their own way. I know in my heart that the streaks of wicked darkness inside each of them are still there, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take. All human beings are capable of being cruel … they’re also capable of loving.

And I see love reflected back at me in five pairs of eyes.

“I was thinking … if this were a manga,” I start, sitting down on Dad’s headstone and pretending for just a moment that I’m five years old again, and sitting in his lap. My left hand clamps over the charm bracelet hanging off my right wrist. “If this were a manga—a reverse harem manga, to be exact—then I’d probably pick … Tristan.”

The boys shift uncomfortably, exchanging weird glances.

“You’re not?” Creed asks, voice still hopeful.

“If it were a manga though, I’d pick him but he’d leave me for Lizzie.” Tristan makes a small sound under his breath, but I don’t look at him. Instead, I’m staring at the shiny toes of my shoes. “Windsor would end up dead, probably killed trying to save me from the Harpies and the Company.”

“Ah, so that’s to be my fate,” he whispers, voice mildly amused but respectful.

“Creed would go overseas to live in Paris and be a writer who spends most of his time lounging at outdoor cafes.” My smile gets a little wider, but I can still taste the salt from my tears. “Zayd would become the biggest rock star the world has ever seen, and although he’d still love me, he’d disappear on a world tour, and I’d marry Zack. We’d go to Bornstead U, and he’d play football, and I’d cheer—badly—while I worked on my four year degree. One day, we’d move into a nice house and have kids, and we’d be very much in love.”

“So you’re picking Zack?” Zayd asks, sounding slightly confused.

I look up at them all then and shake my head, and Zack grits his teeth, his face darkening with a dreadful melancholy. I’m not done though, standing up and brushing the loose dirt from my dress.

“That’s what would happen in a manga, but … this isn’t a manga.” I glance back at Dad’s grave, and another surge of pain flows through me. “This is my life, and my choice is … no choice at all.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Zack whispers, his voice rough and broken. He misses Charlie, too, I know that. They were friends. Windsor and Dad, too.

“It means she doesn’t want to make a choice,” Tristan clarifies, but I shake my head, looking up to see his raven-dark hair billowing in the wind. He looks good in black, they all do. They’re all wearing their fourth year uniforms for the final time. It’s appropriate somehow, seeing the rich boys of Burberry Prep arrayed in front of me in a half-circle.

“It means I won’t make a choice,” I say, smiling through the tears and cocking my head to one side. “I don’t want to choose. I love you all. I do. And losing Charlie, it’s taught me that you don’t throw love away because of some arbitrary rules or because someone tells you to. Because the world wants you to. I love you guys, and I … I’m not ready to say goodbye to anyone else, at least not yet.”

“What you’re saying then …” Zayd starts, getting it before anybody else does. “Is that you want to keep doing what we’re doing?” I nod, and he steps forward, cupping my face in his inked hands. “Does that mean we get to go to college with you?”

“I’d hope so. It’s a little late for you to change your minds,” I start, my lip protruding as a sob wracks over me. I’m weeping now, missing Charlie like crazy as Zayd takes me in his strong arms. “The application deadline’s passed, so you’d have to take a gap year—”

“Marnye, shut up,” Zayd whispers, burying his face in my hair. He holds me tight and close until the crying passes, and then he steps back, looking me in the eyes without flinching. “Nobody tells me what to do. I make my own rules. If I want to date a girl with four other boyfriends, I will. Fuck the world. It’s none of their business anyway.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, my hands shaking.

Zack steps up next, panting heavily, tears resting on his lashes.

“Charlie …” he starts, and then he shakes his head, reaching up to scrub a hand down his face. “He raised an amazing daughter.” I keep smiling, even though everything hurts. Everything. My heart, my soul. “I’m in. I … don’t want to know what college is like without you.”

“You know I’m here for you,” Windsor says, voice soft and low. “Always.” The wind tousles his hair, and he smiles. “Maybe one day, you’ll really marry me. You can even keep these assholes around. I don’t care.”