So this is the last chapter, you guys. It has been quite a ride for my longest fic to date, and I want to thank everybody who reviewed. You honestly kept me going with this.

DISCLAIMER: Still not mine.

How the hell did I get here?

My bedroom has become one of my only constants in the past few months. A place I go for seclusion, because it's nessecary, not even because I want it. It's comforting, yes—holding the bed I've had since I was eleven, and the posters of Rock Stars on the walls. The closet holds my newly replenished wardrobe of clothes that I wear when Darius yells at me to be more high fashion, but the dresser houses the clothes I actually wear. Jamie and I painted this dresser together when I was a few years younger, and even though now it does not match anything, I don't have the heart to get rid of it. Yes, my room is pretty damn awesome if I do say so myself. There is only one bad thing to be said about it.

My bedroom is the only one in the house without a lock.

And that becomes painfully obvious when a certain talented, dark-haired, blue eyed producer pokes his head in through my door. Tommyis just as gorgeous as I remember, even more devilishly handsome, if that is even possible. That unsure smile that he's shooting me, asking my permission to come in, can still melt me, and that doesn't sit right. At all.

I shake my head sharply, saying nonverbally, No, Tommy. No, you can't.

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head to the side, as if to reply, Girl, do you really think I drove all this way just to hear a no and leave?

I hate to admit that he has a point. Short of forcibly throwing him out of my bedroom, I know Tommy well enough to know that he won't leave. I release a curt breath, and jerk my head into the direction he's facing.

He comes in slowly, with his hands raised as if in submission, in an "I come in peace" sort of gesture. He doesn't relax, and instead, stands in front of my red beanbag chairand points vaguely at it. I nod, and he sits down.

Oh great, we're still having nonverbal conversations. It's comforting to think that we are still that much in sync with one another, but maddening to wonder if it will never stop. It kills me to think that I may have met the one guy who really gets me, but to know that he will always end up hurting me.

I raise my eyebrows at him. So. Talk.

"I'm so sorry, girl," he begins, and then, everything begins pouring out. I'm sure that I am a great audience, gasping, smiling, and nodding at the most opportune times. I'm not really listening, and am nowhere close to forgiving him. But then he tells me. He has a daughter.

"You what?"

He begins to explain—to talk about how he fathered a child out on the road when he was still married to Portia, how he was never really sure if it was his, how the child's mother had moved away to some godforsaken town in Montana, How she had proved that the girl was his just before her death. He talks and talks, until I finally manage to let out the one question that has been plaguing me for months.

"Why couldn't you just tell me?"

"I—it was a different world then for me, Jude. I didn't want to put my mess on you, I didn't want you worrying about me."

"And?" I know he's not finished, and I figure that he just needs a little prompting.

"And I didn't want something I did when I was seventeen to change the way you felt about me."

"It wouldn't have—didn't. God, Tom, did you honestly think I would judge you? Since when have I ever done that?"

He sighs, looks around, trying to pull a rationale out of the air. "I don't even know. I just, I didn't know how to handle it. But I can't believe I did that to you. I feel so horrible about it."

I laugh, for the first time in the entire exchange. "Well, you should."

He turns around, sees me laughing, and joins in, eyes closed. After I stop he's still going, and it gives me time to completely appraise him—he dresses the same, but he's different on the cosmetic front. I'm not sure if it's because he's been out all night, but his hair is considerably less gelled than normal, and he's got a bit of five o'clock shadow around his lips and cheeks. I decide that I like it. And his secret, as much as it should, has not changed one bit how I feel about him.

"I can feel you looking at me, girl."

I shrug, and go for honesty. "I haven't been able to for a few months. It's expected."

He's suddenly serious again. "I really am sorry, girl. But when you—when you stopped calling, I almost went crazy. I didn't know what to think, I didn't know if you were even alright."

"Welcome to the club," I respond. It's unintended, but there is an angry edge to my voice, and his head sinks down a bit.

"I know," he whispers to his knees.

And though I know I shouldn't, though I know that I am letting him off way too easy, I find myself lifting his chin with my hand.

"I want you to forgive me," he says, into my eyes.

I take a second to gather a breath, and nod at him. "I'm working on it."

He smiles at me, in that intimate way that only Tommy can. I watch his lips leaning toward me, and find myself wanting, far more than I should. But the kiss never lands.

"I've got to go," he says. When my face falls, he elaborates. "For today. But I'm going to visit, you can bet your ass on that. How's every weekend sound?"

Like not nearly enough. But he's trying, and I've got to respect that. "It sounds nice. Really. I'll hold you to it."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. You have fun on your date, girl."

My insides feel like screaming. My date? Who gives a damn about my date? What the hell, has Tommy actually gotten over me? The thought is almost too much to bear, but then I see his face, looking as pained as I feel.

He reaches out, and kisses me hard on the top of my head, before leaving. And I feel hopeful. Yes, I'm about to go out on a date with a guy I don't really like. But I have Tommy back now, and for the first time in forever, we have acknowledged how much we really mean to each other.

And the rest, well—the rest will come later.

And that's all. Please don't hate me for the ending, that seemed to be where it was going. I'm thinking of writing a sequel if you guys would like. Any ideas for it, and I would be happy to hear them.