Author's Note: Welcome to the epilogue! I couldn't very well leave you guys at the end of this story without giving you an idea of what exactly happens to Bee and Two-Bit. I've seen their future so clearly for so long that I think I owe it to you all to give you a peek. And it's a doozy of a peek – so strap in, folks.

Happy reading :)

XXXXX

1972

I could hardly believe it when I saw her.

I'd just gotten off work. For the time being, I was bartending at this sorta nice joint, and I gotta say, it was becoming a bit of a talent. I could make a mean Manhattan, I'll tell ya what, and I'll leave it at that. It was a Sunday night, one where I was gonna have dinner with Mom and Sadie, and I was stopped in at the grocery store before I headed over to Mom's place. Thought maybe she'd like a bottle of wine or something. Something special for Sadie, too, so she wouldn't feel left out – she was a real goody two-shoes, so no drinking for her. Maybe it was in part because she and Ma had moved to a better neighborhood. Better influences than I had, and all. But it was more than that. I knew it. Sadie and I…we're different. I like her the way she is, though, and I think, sometimes, she still looks up to me. Just a bit. Like she did when she was a little kid.

Anyways.

I'm in the grocery store, trying to find a nice-but-cheap wine, when she passes me by. And I couldn't mistake that hair for anybody else. Big, black, shiny curls clouded around her head. I whipped around, watched her from a distance as she stood in front of the butcher's case. She turned, and even from where I stood, I could see – yep. That unmistakable little gap between her front two teeth. My heart was pounding a mile a minute by then. It was her. Forget the wine – it was her. So I did what any normal idiot would do and walked right up to her.

"Bee Stevens, my, my," I breathed, loud enough she could hear. She looked over her shoulder and stared at me, and if I wasn't sure it was her before, I was sure now. Those green eyes had done me in six years ago. They were ingrained into the back of my skull. It was her, alright. She slowly smiled.

"Hey, Two-Bit. How are you?" She asked, sounding genuinely curious, maybe even happy to see me.

"I'm good! God, you look…you look beautiful, Bee."

And she did. She always did. Her hair, her eyes, her everything. The powder blue dress she had on fit her perfectly. And she was still the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. The girl who had loved me enough four years ago to allow herself to lose her virginity to me. And I know it was with love when, three years ago, she broke it off. (I'll explain – later.) I don't doubt that. Not for a second. I hadn't met a girl in three years that I loved more than her. So I foolishly waited, and maybe this was the universe finally delivering for me.

"Thank you," she whispered, blushing. "You don't look half bad yourself."

I shrugged, trying to seem bashful. "Yeah, guess so. Thanks. So, uh, what brings you to town?"

She shrugged. "Well, I just graduated and all, so I thought…ya know, maybe I'd come back. See Dad and Viviane. At the very least, spend the summer before I get out there and really look for work."

"You're lookin' to work?" I asked.

"Of course. What else?"

I shifted awkwardly on my feet. "Well. Just – not that you can't! – I just…well, I figured maybe you had a new beau or something, and, ya know…"

"I was just gonna be his little woman, wait on him hand and foot, something like that?" She finished for me.

I ducked my head in shame. "Sounds pretty bad when you put it like that."

She surprised me by laughing. "It's okay, Two-Bit. Really."

"I'm sorry for even suggesting – "

Bee held up a hand. "Seriously, Two-Bit. It's alright. Uh, there isn't anybody. I'm not with anybody." She giggled. "Well, Vivi keeps trying to set me up with guys, but I can't say she's exactly been successful."

That was a relief to hear. You don't know the half of it.

"Then, uh, tomorrow, mind if I stop by your place? 'Round six? We could get a drink or something. Catch up."

God, her smile could light up any room. "I'd love that."

XXXXX

"So what have you been up to lately?"

Bee shrugged. "Well, I finished up at Julliard at the beginning of May. Decided I needed a bit of a break before looking for work because the audition process is exhausting. Feels like that's all I've been doing for the past few years, ya know?" She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, and she couldn't look me in the eye. "And then right after I graduated, my father had a heart attack – out of the blue, ya know? He and Viviane came to my graduation, and he had it almost as soon as he got home. He's better, but he's still almost completely bedridden. It was pretty bad." She shrugged again, and opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but she didn't.

"Sorry to hear that," I said sincerely, to fill the space. "If I'd have known – "

"It's okay. You didn't. And he's alright. He is!" She said, like she was really trying to convince herself. "But that's part of why I came home, too. To be with him." Bee cleared her throat, and I noticed her eyes had gotten a bit red around the rims. "What about you, huh?"

"Oh, not much," I admitted. I rubbed the back of my head. "I've been boppin' around ever since I got back. But it's been good. Mom and Sadie are good, and the guys. Or – better, at least. A lot better."

Bee's face had gone a bit dark. "How are Steve and Sodapop, anyways?"

I sighed. "Like I said – a lot better. Steve had the worst go of it between the three of us. And I was already home by the time he got sent up. And you know how it was with Soda – two weeks after he turns eighteen…"

"I remember," Bee cut in. "Yeah, I remember that. But they're home now."

"Right," I drawled. "But it ain't exactly easy, gettin' back in the swing of things."

We let the statement settle between us. The bar was nicer than the ones me and my buddies usually haunted. Classy joint for a classy gal. Classy-ish. It was a bit dark, and most of the light came from the glow behind the bar. Maybe if I'd wanted to see her better, we shouldn't have stuck ourselves in a corner. But her lily-white skin almost glowed in the dim lighting.

"I'm sorry, Two-Bit," she sighed. "I really am sorry."

"For what?" I asked softly, knowing what she was getting at.

"For being too scared. When I heard you were going over there…I was too scared to think about what would happen if I lost you. It was easier for me to cut ties. And hell – I almost did lose you."

She was referring to the bullet wound in my stomach. Yep. That fuckin' Gook almost got me. I remember all the blood pouring out of me, I remember passing out there thinkin' I was gonna die and how that was just beyond fucked up, and I remember waking up in a field hospital with stitches where the bullet had hit me. And then they'd sent me home and gave me a Purple Heart. And now there was a scar. Bee was right all those years ago – 'Nam was a stupid war. I almost died, Soda almost died, Steve almost died, and for what? Soda was doing better, and Steve was doing better, too. Came home and did an assload of drugs, then one day showed up to Darry's house with his aviators on and a smile on his face and told us he'd found evidence of God in Miss Evelyn Martin and that was all there was to it. Seemed too simple. But that's what happened.

Ya know, I never saw any of this happening. Never even considered it.

"But you didn't," I said. "I'm still kickin'."

"Guess you are," she agreed softly. Bee shook her head. "Still doesn't excuse what I did. I should've just grown up. I'm not really good at any of this. Doing adult things. I'm so…so naïve, I guess. And I always have been. Probably always will be."

I smirked. "Well, that's what you've got me for, ain't it?"

It came out so easy.

"Do I really have you?" She asked, sounding hopeful. "Really?"

I held out my hands, with what I'm sure was a pretty wry look on my face. "If you'll have me."

Bridget's eyes filled with shiny tears, but she was smiling. I don't know – or, didn't know then – why she started to cry.

XXXXX

That was a good summer.

It was so easy. Long drives. Long talks. A lot of stupid jokes on my end. A lot of stories. Three years apart, with hardly a word in that time, builds up. Things you want to say, always wanted to say, things that occurred to you when it was too late – I think all of that came out. The last time I had seen her, she'd been Miss Prim-and-Proper. Now, she wanted to follow the Grateful Dead. Last time she'd seen me, my draft letter hadn't come in the mail yet. I could only hope I wasn't a totally different guy.

One night, we were sitting in the spot where she'd told me about her mother having left her. It was an outlook looking over the entire city. And it was like that night in a lot of ways – the two of us, sitting on the hood of my car, just watching the world go by. Just existing. Not saying much. I wasn't chewing tobacco this time around, but I had a smoke.

"Tell me about Vietnam," she said softly, out of the blue.

I blew out a stream of smoke. "What's to tell? It was wet and it rained a lot and there was a lot of walking."

"Oh, c'mon. There's gotta be more to it than that. What was it really like over there? What was it like being so far from home?"

I sighed. "Well, it ain't exactly the kind of world travelin' experience I'd want to have. I dunno. It was pretty, sometimes. The guys were okay. I dunno – think maybe I made the mistake of getting too close to some of 'em. Mostly, though, I missed it here. Missed the guys." I nudged her. "Missed you."

"Really?"

I nodded. "'Course. Hell, I think I've spent more time missin' you than I've spent time with you. And I don't like that."

Bee shrugged. "We're together now."

I snickered. "Yeah – that's what you said last time. Before you left for school, remember?"

"I got an audition with the school, Two-Bit. Mrs. White wrote me such a nice recommendation. This is something I have to do."

I frowned. "Why can't you stay? I feel like you just got here."

Her expression looked pained. "I can't pass this up. I…I want this. I do. And if I've got a chance at it, I'm going to take it."

"Well…then what happens to you an' me?" Because I knew that if she went to that audition, she'd get in. They'd be stupid to not let her into that school. "What happens when you move back to New York? I won't see you. You won't see me!"

"We'll write," she said. "And we can always pay for the long distance."

I rolled my eyes. "That's pretty expensive, ya know."

"I know! But it's an option. We love each other, right?" I nodded. "So we're going to do everything in our power to make this work." She edged closed to me. We were sitting together on the loveseat in her pink, pink room. Her parents weren't home. Bee laid her head on my shoulder. "We're together now, ya know. Maybe…maybe we should take advantage of that, huh?"

1969 had been her best year and my worst. She'd spent that summer watching the moon landing in her latest squeeze's apartment and traveling to Woodstock for three days of peace, love, and music. She ditched the sweaters and knee-length skirts and sensible dresses for peasant skirts and blouses and fringe; bell-bottoms and sandals instead of pedal-pushers and kitten heels. She'd grown her hair out even longer, let it grow wild and thick. She wore less makeup and more jewelry. She'd cried over losing Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin and the Beatles. She smoked pot and smiled easier. I'd spent that summer in basic, and then becoming the best shot in my unit. Was forced to trade in my rusty locks for a buzz cut and my blue jeans and cowboy boots for military fatigues. Got as muscular as Darry. Watched the moon landing with my unit and was jealous of all the thousands of people who got to see the Rolling Stones play live while also simultaneously running around naked. Probably should've died instead of the guy next to me, but I guess that's not my decision. And when I came home with a couple of medals, people thought I was some sort of hero. Then I grew my hair back out even longer and started wearing bell bottoms, too, and pretended like none of it ever happened. I floated around, finding odd jobs here and there and smiled at everybody I ever saw because it's what I had the strength to give them. I drank less and smoked more pot. And nearly every day, I read the last letter she'd ever sent me.

Two-Bit,

I watch the news every night, you know. And I know what you're about to be getting yourself into. Well – I know it's not what you wanted. I know this isn't something you got yourself into – it's something you were forced into. And because you're braver than I am, you're going. And Steve and Sodapop – they're braver than I am, too. I don't know if any of this is right, but I know that all three of you are strong men that will do and have done everything in your power to not just stay alive, but help others. Because that's who you are. Because that's what Soda did when he was gone.

And that's why I have to write to you. Because I'm a coward. Because I'm scared, and always have been. Because I love you and couldn't stand to lose you. Because if anything happens, I'll be able to pretend I can hide from it. You may hate me for this – in fact, it would be easier if you did. I can't do this, Keith. I can't. I can't live with the thought that you'll be over there, and I'll be here, and that I won't even be able to drive to get to you. Or take a bus, or a train. My heart cannot follow you to that war-torn country. Though I know it will try.

I love you. I love you. Still. I told you that night behind the school, I told you that day on the football field, and I told you that night in my car. I showed you that night in my room. All of it was real. It still is, and likely always will be. But I can't do this right now. I can't.

I love you.

Bee

"What about Vickie Harper?"

"Mm. She got married to George Washburn."

"Really?"

"Really. Don't you keep up with these things?"

Bee sighed. It was late, the stars trying to come out, and we were walking around hand-in-hand. She was dressed like the hippie she was in a long-flowing tie-dye dress and white fringe vest. Her hair blew behind her and her green eyes were wide and bright. "Well, I'm still tight with Missy. And Cherry. And Marcia - to a bit of a lesser extent. But not Penny, really, and certainly not Vickie. What else you got?"

I thought about it, swinging our arms a bit. "Well, ya know Kathy? My ex?" She nodded. "She ran off with some guy from New Orleans, last I heard. Her old man wasn't too happy 'bout that 'cause he wasn't Baptist. Then Curly…well, Curly's in jail."

"Why?" She asked.

"Why else?"

"Oh," she whispered. "Wow."

"I know," I sighed.

"What about Jerry?"

"Jerry Thompson?" She nodded again. "Well, last I heard, he was in law school at Notre Dame. He'd been playing football there and decided to stay."

"That's what I'd heard."

"And let's see…I guess if you're in touch with Marcia, then you know she married that fella from Alabama. Came across that one in the paper."

Bee smiled. "Yeah, I knew. I was invited to the wedding, but I, uh…got busy," she admitted, probably leaving out a few naughty details. "Seems everyone we know is getting married. Funny, isn't it?"

Yeah. It was a real laugh. "You ever want to get married?" I asked. "To somebody?"

I could feel her eyes on me as we walked and I stared up at the sky. "Yeah, I would. Someday, to somebody. I just hope he knows who he is."

XXXXX

Darry whistled low. "Wow, Two-Bit."

I nodded my head slowly. "I know."

"That musta set ya back a pretty penny," Steve said. He motioned for the box and I handed it over.

"You're not wrong," I admitted. "But hell, it's worth it. You know how she is."

"Bit of a snob," Steve supplied, and I couldn't help but agree. "Quite the rock, Two-Bit. Hope she says yes."

"It's not her I'm worried about sayin' yes – it's her father."

XXXXX

"Keith," her father began, and I shifted on my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets. I can't remember why I thought this was a good idea. Thom waved me further into his room. "Come here."

Well, I wasn't about to sit at his bedside, but I sure stood there good. "Yes, sir?"

"Bridget is my only daughter. Not only that, she's my only child."

"I know, sir."

"And for a long time, it was just the two of us."

"Yes, sir."

"And because of that, and because I'm her father, I like to think I know what's best for her."

"Of course, sir."

"I want what's best for her."

"So do I, sir."

Mr. Stevens sighed. "I know that, Keith. I do. I just don't know if you'll be able to give that to her right now."

"So…no?"

"Yes. For now, my answer is no."

XXXXX

"Fuck that. If we wanna get engaged, we should get engaged."

I blinked. Did she really just say that? "You serious?"

Bee nodded. Stole a sip of my beer. "Of course I'm serious. I mean, it's real sweet of you that you asked him. My dad means a lot to me, but at the end of the day, it's not up to him. It's up to you" – she pointed to me, then back to herself – "and me. So, do you want to marry me?"

"Someday, yeah."

Bee shrugged. "So – ask me."

"Really?"

Bridget sighed. "Do I need to do it for you?"

Sometimes, I remember why my eighteen-year-old-self got so fed up with her. "No," I said petulantly. "Jesus. I'm a big boy! So – Bridget Stevens – do you want to marry me?"

Bee grinned slowly, and then leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Of course I do. Now – let's see this ring!"

XXXXX

1975

"Two-Bit?"

"Yeah." Bridget blocked my path out the door. "What's all this for?"

"You have to marry me. As soon as possible."

I rolled my eyes. "And why's that?"

She shifted her weight and pursed her lips. I think she maybe even sized me up. "Because I'm pregnant, that's why. And if you don't do right by me, my father will throw a conniption fit." She thought for another moment. "And so will I."

I sat down hard. Dammit, Keith. You keep a girl waiting three years…it's bound to happen. "You're pregnant?" I repeated. "You're sure?"

She nodded shyly, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. "Yeah, I'm sure. I went to the doctor Saturday." She sighed. "And I'm already two months along. I'm so oblivious."

Well – yeah. "Hey," I soothed, "it's okay. We'll…work around it," I shrugged, and she scowled. "We can just elope, ya know. Wouldn't be the end of the world."

"We can't," she said, shaking her head. "We already went behind my father's back to get engaged. He'd be livid if we got married without him knowing. That's not going to work."

"Then what're we gonna do?"

Bee sighed. "We're gonna have to do it their way, I guess. Which means it's gonna take at least a few months to put together, which means I'll be huge by the time it actually happens, and I have to call them -"

I smeared my hands down my face. This was the tricky part about marrying into a well-off family. It was their way or the highway. I stood, took her hand, and tilted her chin up so she was looking at me. "It's gonna work out, okay? And don't worry about bein' huge – I'm not gonna care. So fuck anyone who does."

She squeezed my hand. "You mean that?"

"'Course I do. Let's do this, kid. I wanna take care of you, do right by ya."

She teared up. "You do."

I laughed softly and pulled her to me, her tears getting my shirt wet. I was scared shitless, but I think, looking back on it now, that that was a good sign.

XXXXX

"I can't believe I was engaged to you for three years."

"Yeah, well, believe it, Honey Bee, cuz it's over now. Now get over here so I can get that dress off ya."

XXXXX

Bee was…pretty big at our wedding. And it's a good thing I took the heat for it because in her emotional state, I don't think she'd handle it well – she'd been real angry lately. Darry and Steve wouldn't let me hear the end of it, but Soda and Pony were a bit more forgiving – but that didn't mean they didn't join in on the ribbing a bit.

"Christ, Two-Bit – couldn't keep it in your pants, huh?" Steve snickered, as if Bee hadn't waited on me to get married for three years and she was just some broad I'd knocked up.

Darry popped me in the arm. "Yeah, man. You gotta wrap it up."

"Aw, shuddup, Darry," Soda chided. "Remind me – how long after you and Jackie got hitched was Lee born?"

Darry blushed a deep, deep red, and the four of us laughed at him. "Aw, Darry," I cooed. "One more thing my best man and I have in common – both our gals were knocked up at the wedding!"

"Don't say 'knocked up'," Pony sighed. "It sounds so vulgar."

We all rolled our eyes. Ever since that kid had gone to college (University of Chicago – "We're all very proud," I'd told…well, just about every cashier and waitress from here to Manhattan), it was as if the pretentiousness had gone up to ten. Hell – past ten. More like eleven or twelve. But we took it in stride because what else were we s'posed to do?

"Fine. Indisposed," I allowed, and Pony just shook his head.

"Bless that girl for putting up with you," Steve grinned, and all anybody else could do was nod.

XXXXX

1977

The first baby came without a hitch. Mary came into the world kicking and screaming four months after we were married, and for two years it was the three of us. And I liked it that way.

Yeah, well, seems that just when you're getting comfortable, the universe says fuck you and decides to throw a wrench into things. I should know – I've had experience with this twisted sort of karma. But when I tell you that the wrench was another baby, you're probably gonna think I sound insensitive and that I should be glad for another kid running around the house – miracle of life, and all that shit.

Here's what I'll tell you: the night of my wedding, I got Ponyboy drunk. Absolutely loaded. And the kid turned out to be a sentimental drunk. So he made me promise him something.

"If tha' baby's a boy," he slurred, "ya gotta name it Dallas."

I almost spit out my own drink. "You want me to what?"

"Ya gotta name 'im Dallas. Honor the dead. An' I'll name mah kid Johnny," he said, and nodded as if it were a done deal. "We gotta do it, Two-Bit." He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close to him. "We gotta honor the dead. And if yer baby ain't a boy, when ya do have one, ya gotta name him Dallas. And I'll name mah son Johnny. Got it? Promise?"

I nodded, mostly to get him off my back and because this was a pretty dark topic. "Promise, kid."

Bee had a notion that the baby was gonna be a girl. A collection of old wives' tales and similar experiences from carrying Mary. So I went along with it, let her decide on a name and everything. She wanted to name her Catherine or some shit. She made me paint one of the rooms of the house pink, like Mary's room. This gal was absolutely positive that our second baby was a girl.

And then she turned out to be a boy.

"We didn't pick out a name for a boy!" Bee grumbled, sounding pissed, but looking at our baby like he was the most precious thing in the world.

"I did," I said, lying on the couch with my eyes closed. The nurses and doctors were getting anxious - it had been two days and we still hadn't named this baby.

"You what?"

"I have a name for him."

"What is it?"

I swallowed. Because I remembered. Because Pony made me promise – and he had a point. We had to honor the dead. Right?

"Dallas."

Bee's jaw dropped. And she looked beyond offended. I knew she hadn't liked Dallas. At all. Barely even knew 'im. But he had been my buddy. And I'd made a promise.

And I'm a man of my word.

XXXXX

1982

I was willed a bar.

I know that sounds stupid, but it's true. And it's a long story that I'm not going to go into right now. Some other time. But it's just like Cheers – everybody knows your name. Only problem with it is that I have to keep shitty hours. I don't know why Bee insists on waiting up for me, especially after the third kid, but she does.

Woman is still batshit crazy, just like she's always been.

"Do you ever sleep?" I asked her as I came into the kitchen, where she was sitting at the table, not even with a cup of coffee. Just…awake.

"I catch a few hours here and there," she said loftily. "Lisa does a pretty good job of keeping me up."

"Yeah, I bet she does. You need to quit waitin' up for me."

"But I hardly see you," Bee sighed, running her nails along the grain of the table. "I don't mind, ya know. I sleep when the baby sleeps, when Mary and Dallas are at school. It works."

I grunted, but didn't say anything else about it. Just grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down with her. She was right – we didn't see much of each other. Bee didn't exactly work anymore, but I did. And she was always finding a way to keep herself busy with something. So, no, we didn't see much of each other anymore. This was good, then. Because I guess this is just what happens. You grow up, you meet somebody, you marry them, you buy a house, you have kids, you raise those kids, you work, and then you die. Or some variation of that. I guess. It was all just really surreal and confusing, is all.

"How did we get here?" I asked, kinda out of the blue.

"Where?" Bee asked, not missing a beat.

"Here," I repeated, waving my arms for emphasis.

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Bridget, sometimes, I swear – I wanna know how we got here. In this house, with those kids. And married, for Christ's sakes. Darling, I'm just a little confused about it all."

Bridget stared at me for a while. I could hear the kitchen lights buzzing in the dark and the fridge humming, could practically hear her thinking. "I don't know how to answer that."

"Sure you do," I said. "You have to. Because I don't."

She sighed. "That's like saying you forgot how we met. It's impossible. I'm sure you know as well as I do. Two-Bit, it's a little late to be getting this philosophical. I'm tired. Why is it that you always come home like this?"

"I can't help it if those barflies talk to me – and I can't help what they talk about. They just get me thinkin', is all."

"Well, alright. You do remember how we met, don't you? God, it wasn't that long ago. Or – was it?"

I laughed. "Naw, it wasn't that long ago. And I do. First day of school, 1966. You sat right in front of me."

Bee shook her head. "No, you sat behind me. I clearly remember being there first."

"Are you serious? There was no way you got there before I did – you didn't even know your way around the place!"

"Sorry, Two-Bit," she shrugged, "but that's what happened."

I wagged a finger in her face. "Uh-uh. That's how you remember it. That don't mean that's how it happened."

"Then why is your version so much more believable? Huh?"

"Because I'm a damned good storyteller, that's why. And I remember everything. I'm surprised you even remember to get dressed some days."

"That has nothing to do with memory. I'm a busy woman. Not like anyone in this house would care if I walked around buck naked. Hell, Dallas would probably strip down with me, and it's not as if the baby cares."

"And neither do I," I sighed. "God. That was sixteen years ago."

"That we met?"

"Yeah."

It really had been sixteen years. Was that possible? Did we really meet, fall in love, get married, and have three kids in that time? Did the Curtis parents die, Johnny and Dallas die, me and Soda and Steve go to Vietnam, Pony graduate college, and a million other things in between happen in just sixteen years? That didn't sound right.

"I remember that first day," Bee went on. "It sucked."

That startled a tired laugh out of me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "Got lost right off the bat, didn't know a soul in the place, and then – of course – there was you."

"You," I repeated, mocking her disdainful tone. "There was you, too, ya know. Ain't like you didn't get on my nerves, too."

"At least I didn't go tugging on your hair."

"Not at that point, no."

"Jesus, Two-Bit."

I snickered, and she just rolled her eyes at me, like she always did, will continue to do until one of us dies. Hell, she'll still prolly be rolling her eyes at me after I've died. And if there is such a thing as an afterlife, you can bet she'll be doin' it there, too. My truest talent: Exasperating Bridget Stevens since 1966.

"Do you ever think about it, though?" I asked. "When we met? How all of this is just chance? It's all gone by so fast, I don't know how any of it happened."

"I think about it," Bee said. "I do. And yeah – it's strange sometimes, to look up and realize it's not the two of us anymore, that we're not in Tulsa anymore."

"But how did it happen?" I asked again, smiling at her, teasing her, trying to get her to bite. Bee bit on her lip, like she was trying to hold something back, but she failed horribly – that sweet, gap-toothed grin never could resist meeting mine, not for long.

"Well," Bridget sighed. Maybe, after all these years together, after all these years of looking over this little detail about her, I had figured out what we had in common. And no, it's not our love for our children or our morals or whatever, even though those are fair game for people to recognize. No. No – Bridget Stevens is a storyteller, and so am I. Why do you think we've held you here for so long? We don't leave out details, no sirree, bub. Bee smiled at me, and there was the sixteen-year-old socialite I'd fallen in love with. But she was more than that. She was Bridget Stevens – the new girl in town with the scared look in her eye and slight shake in her voice; the girl who was naïve enough to believe problems could be solved with the snap of the fingers. But she was also Bee Stevens – the young woman who had gone off into the world on her own and lost her slightly chilly reserve, went to Woodstock and let her hair hang down. And then she was Bridget Mathews – the woman who was crazy enough to decide to stick it out with me; a woman who had cut her hair a little shorter and had grounded herself a bit.

And I loved all of them.

"I think the best place to start this story would be at the beginning."

XXXXX

THE END

Author's Note: Well, well. Finally wrapped this up! Wanted to tell you guys a few things -

Bridget came to me as a character in 2012, right after I had read this book in school. If you've read the final author's note in Don't Think Twice, you already know that she was originally going to be paired with Sodapop (and I think you can find notes of that pairing in these two stories, so sorry if you were somehow pulling for that!), but I discovered that Soda seemed to get a lot of OC attention, and it was Two-Bit who eventually won me over.

The first version of the Bridget/Two-Bit story was published in 2012 and 2013, but I didn't have the time to give it the attention and detail it needed, so I removed the story and did a complete overhaul, and I'm much happier with the second product. Then, I attempted some sequels, but they didn't completely satisfy me. It was then that Two-Bit seemed to want to start telling his side of the story, and it took a long time to completely overhaul the story again, this time in a completely different perspective, creating new events to surround two pre-existing stories and then re-write pre-existing events from different perspectives. Also, Life. That was a thing that sometimes got in the way, not in a bad way, but in an annoying way that made it hard to get any writing done!

If you haven't figured it out by now, Don't Think Twice and this story are Bridget and Two-Bit's telling of the events of the year they met, and the last line of this story is the first line of Don't Think Twice. So we've come full circle!

A lot of other characters here have stories, I'm sure. Dallas Mathews seems to be wanting to step up to the plate and tell his next, but we'll see. In the meantime, look out for me with updates, and maybe some shorter stuff in the future to satisfy your Bridget/Two-Bit needs, or maybe I'll even dabble with some other characters (a Miss Vickie Harper, perhaps?). Maybe I'll put out a poll.

Thank you all so much for reading these stories, and sticking with me over the years. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all the support! Writing these for you has been an absolute delight.

'Til next time,

Abby