Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band own "Against the Wind."

I found myself further and further from my home

And I guess I lost my way

There were oh so many roads

I was living to run and running to live

May 31, 1972

Ponyboy couldn't believe that he would be graduating college in just two weeks. Everything felt as if it had happened so quickly. Since meeting Lorraine, though, he hadn't hung around Benny all that much, and their friendship seemed to fade—almost as if it was never there in the first place. Of course, Ponyboy worried about him, and he hoped that one day he would get some help for his addiction. On the other hand, Gavin had gotten away from Benny, too. Ponyboy recalled Lorraine mentioning that Tina had broken up with him and then dropped out of college to pursue an acting career. Lorraine had seemed pretty disappointed about that, not that Ponyboy could fault her in the least. Lorraine was the type of person who always wanted the best for her family, so when Tina just up and left without any prior warning, Lorraine felt . . . conflicted.

Then again, Ponyboy himself also felt conflicted. Even though he hadn't mentioned anything about the night he had kissed Ella, it still played on his mind. He wasn't in love with her, he didn't have any sort of romantic feelings for her whatsoever, but he did feel something for her. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, or what their shared kiss had meant, and truthfully, he didn't have any intentions of bringing it up to her. Of course, he knew that she probably thought about it as well, but even when they saw each other and hung out like old times, there was zero weirdness between them.

Still . . .

There was a part of him that harbored some guilt. Lorraine was a decent person, and he knew that she was a good girl. He liked her a lot . . . really, really liked her—possibly more than he had honestly ever liked any girl before, and that was saying a lot, especially considering his past relationship with Julia and the effect it had on him . . . not once, but twice.

He felt as though he had basically cheated on Lorraine with his best friend, and well . . . to be realistic, that's exactly what he had done. It wasn't just him who was at fault, though—Ella was just as much to blame because she had also allowed it to happen. Maybe there was nothing to it at all, and maybe he was just being weighed down in guilt due to his relationship with Lorraine. He knew that it was wrong, very wrong, to withhold that secret from her—something that shouldn't have been a secret in the first place, if he was being honest with himself. Glory, but all of this thinking was enough to make his head spin almost as bad as those final exams had.

It wasn't right, he knew, but he decided to keep that moment with Ella to himself, and not just for his own sanity, but for hers as well.

". . . so what do you think?"

Ponyboy blinked as he came back to reality, Lorraine's eyes fixated on his. "I'm sorry," he said rather quickly, feeling foolish. "What did you say?"

But Lorraine was ever graceful. "I was asking you about working at your old high school. What do you think about having your own classroom and everything?"

A shrug. "I'm looking forward to it. It's what I've been working toward for the past few years, so I guess it's a little surreal to me . . ."

That was true, he thought. Mr. Syme had kept his word, though, and with a little encouragement from his friends and family, Ponyboy had made the final decision and went through with the application. It had taken some time, but in early May, he had been officially hired as a high school English teacher at Will Rogers for the 1972-1973 school year. He wasn't exactly sure what grade he would be teaching, but he would know in the next couple of weeks. There was some part of him that was nervous, but he didn't want to tell anyone that—not really, at least. It was true that it did feel unreal to him, and as he recalled Ella's words about her own job feeling like a dream, he finally understood what she had meant.

Lorraine smiled, her eyes seeming to gleam. "I'm happy for you. From what you've told me, I know that you've worked real hard to get here, and if anyone deserves this, it's definitely you."

His heart clenched a little at her words, but he draped an arm around her shoulder. Boy howdy, did he sure feel lousy right then. He had been feeling guilty since that night at the park with Ella. It wasn't that the memory consumed every second of his life or anything like that, but when he was with Lorraine, it always seemed to come back to haunt him. There had been a few times when he considered on just telling her about it, but he didn't want to hurt her that way. He was the one who was wrong, though, and he remained conflicted, because telling Lorraine would also hurt Ella. He knew that he didn't want to hurt either of them—Lorraine was his girlfriend, and Ella was his best friend. There were no romantic feelings that he felt for Ella at all, but the guilt of kissing her while he was with Lorraine was mighty hard to ignore.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

He decided to change the topic a little. "I just can't believe I'm graduating in a couple of weeks."

"I still have three years to go, so . . ." Lorraine trailed on, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Hopefully, I'll be able to save enough money to get myself my own car . . . and then I can come visit you."

Ponyboy remained dismissive, though. "I told you not to worry about that," he said, his fingers curling around her shoulder. "It's only a half hour ride to your place. No big deal."

A chuckle fell from her lips. "I think you just like being a gentleman."

"Is there anything wrong with that?" he teased, and leaned down to press his lips against hers, smiling into the kiss when she responded with as much enthusiasm as him.

Ella poured herself a cup of coffee, the mixture of baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables in the air along with the coffee itself. These days, Ella had been drinking more of it than ever, but she had to admit that it kept her going—Evie was saying that she was beginning to become a coffee fiend, not that Ella was in any way shape or form in disagreement with her. There was much that went into the bakery, and it took a lot out of both Ella and Mary.

She had quit working at the ranch long ago now, and that had helped her out a lot. There were days that she would take a ride out there just to visit Shar and some of the other ponies, maybe take a ride up the trail just to get away and think. It was relaxing, and Ella enjoyed doing it a few times here and there after work. There were some days when she would even think about Dallas and the days that they had spent there together, or when he would poke jabs at her just to get under her skin. In fact, Dallas had been on her mind a lot in the past week or so, not that she had mentioned that tidbit to anyone. She was doing well despite all of it, being more upbeat and relaxed than ever.

She supposed that she was thinking about Dallas so much because she knew that he would be released from prison one day that particular week—she just didn't know when. She didn't have any set plans of going to see him, but she had been cautious about going to the ranch that week . . . just in case he happened to show up. Really, she didn't think there would be an issue between them, as they had somehow always bounced back together as if nothing negative had taken place prior. It was strange in some way, Ella reckoned, but she had never let it bother her before.

For the past few months, she had been staying with Jan, having cleaned all of her belongings out of Dallas's house and officially moving in with Jan, who was more than happy for the permanent company of her young friend. Jan's work hours were different than Ella's, and since she never wanted anything in return for letting her take up residence with her, Ella continued to help out around the house where she could. Tonight, she had dusted and prepared dinner, the latter being a usual task. She never minded, and instead found it calming in some way. Jan had always been good to her, and Ella was more than grateful to have the older woman in her life. She was wise and often gave her advice about things, as well as an outside perspective on every day matters. Also, Jan had become what Mary and Ella referred to as a "Regular" at the bakery, even offering up some of her own recipes for the young women to try out and sell, not wanting a dime in return.

Ella really appreciated her and all she had done for her in the past few years.

There was some sentimentality behind it, though, and Ella often saw Jan as a mother figure. She missed her mother desperately, and there were times when she would sit down and reminisce over days when her mother was still alive, when she still lived in her old house, and when they would sit down for dinner together and talk about this and that. Ella could remember preparing dinner for the two of them back then—and how her mother was an avid coffee drinker—and the thoughts would cause her to either crack a grin, or shed a tear, or both.

It was only a while later when Jan got in, and Ella perked up at finally having some company. She almost wanted to laugh at herself—she dealt with people all day, and she was surprised that she didn't desire more peace and quiet afterward.

"It smells good in here," Jan remarked as she stepped into the kitchen.

A smile. "It's baked chicken and mashed potatoes tonight."

"Sounds good to me," she replied, and reached for a mug. "I have to say," she went on, after taking a sip of fresh coffee, "your mother's blueberry muffins are a big hit. I hear talk nonstop about your bakery at the store, you know that?"

Ella grinned. "So I've heard."

"Well, it's true," Jan continued, and took a seat at the table. She started to pile some food onto her plate, before she looked at Ella. "You know, if you and Mary want to take your business a step further, you could always try out new things, like catering, or cakes for weddings, parties . . . that sort of thing . . ."

The young woman's eyes widened at the thought. She hadn't really considered going that far before, although the idea did sound tempting. She wondered what Mary would think of that, or if they should attempt testing the waters there. The bakery had been open for two months at this point, and while they were doing incredible business, it was still hard on the two of them. Both Mary and Ella had agreed that they needed help . . . and fast. It was easy for them to make the food and have it ready by a certain point in the morning, but with the influx of people coming in and ordering the way that they were, it was getting hard to keep up—and both women knew that they needed other employees.

What was supposed to be a small business had somehow branched out, and once word had gotten around about it, more and more people seemed to show up. A lot of customers really liked the blueberry muffins, and Ella thought at one point that she and Mary were going to wipe the supermarket clean of berries just to keep up with everything.

Good Lord.

"Well," Ella began, tapping her fingers on the table, "I like that idea, but right now, Mary and I need help as it is." A sigh. "It's getting hard keeping up with things with just the two of us."

Jan nodded along, chewing her food before speaking. "I would consider it, though. Give it some time and get the help that you need, but give it some thought." A smile. "I didn't mean jump the gun, Ella, but you can take baby steps . . . try things out . . ."

"Like a trial period," Ella finished, her expression becoming thoughtful. "I'll talk to Mary about it and see what she thinks, but I do like it. It's a brilliant idea."

Jan chuckled lightly. "And with the way y'all are going through those muffins . . ."

"Maybe somebody will like a . . . blueberry muffin cake for their wedding . . ."

The two women laughed at that, but Ella was actually imagining just how far she could take this entire business. Of course, she did mean to get Mary's opinion on it—they were co-owners and co-workers after all, and Ella knew that if it wasn't for Mary, she wouldn't even be close to where she was at this moment. Jan always had good input, though, especially where it counted, but Ella knew that she and Mary were going to need a lot of help. Saturday was beginning to sound more like a discussion rather than doing anything with actual work.

The thought continued to play on her mind even later that night as she got ready for bed. She sat in front of the small vanity in the room Jan had been letting her use, brushing her wet hair out as she looked herself over. Dallas's words echoed in her mind about her significant weight loss, and no matter how hard she tried to remove his voice, she simply couldn't. It was her own guilt, though, which she was very aware of . . . and she couldn't seem to let it go. Hell, the incident had been a year ago now, and still . . .

It played on her like it had happened the day before.

Before she was able to stop herself, tears began spilling down her cheeks, the memory of her going to the doctor, the words coming out of his mouth . . . and by God, but the visual image in her mind of Dallas's face if she told him what had happened . . . what she had kept from him all this time. There were so many things linked to him between her past and present, and Ella knew that she would never be able to fully let him go. If her guilt wasn't enough to keep her devoted to him, her unyielding love for him definitely was . . . and she was really tired—exhausted, even—of fighting it.

She wondered how much Dallas would honestly hate her if she ever told him the truth . . . about what had happened. Sometimes, she told herself that she didn't owe him a thing at this point, that anything pertaining to him should just be left in the past, that engaging in anything with him would only lead her more and more into heartbreak. Ella knew that she was hopelessly devoted to him—it had been like that for a long, long time now, and no matter how hard that she tried to force him out of her life, she always found herself going back to him, or taking him back when he felt the need to show up in her life after disappearing on her for lengths at a time.

Jan, having heard her younger friend's muffled sobs, lightly tapped on her cracked door, before pushing it open and taking a step inside. Now, Jan wasn't an ignorant woman by far, and she knew Ella Mitchell considerably well—enough to guess what her problem was. She wasn't blind, and even though that she wasn't very fond of Dallas Winston—a feeling she had in common with Frances Mitchell—there was a part of her that understood Ella's emotions. She had watched the young woman for the past few months, watched how dramatically her demeanor had shifted. Of course, she was happier operating her own business with Mary DeVaney, but there was still a distant look in her eyes, a yearning for something, or rather, someone, that was missing in her life.

Ella blinked, wiping under her eyes as she glanced up at Jan, her cheeks slightly blotched. Jan merely stared at her for a good few seconds, a sympathetic expression forming on her face.

"I'm not going to stand here and tell you what to do, or what you should do, but if you want any form of closure, or some peace of mind at the very least, I feel that it would be in your best interest to talk to him . . . when he's released." Jan breathed in, slowly shaking her head. "You're a smart woman, Ella. I think you know what you have to do."

And with that, she walked away, leaving Ella by her lonesome to digest her words.

Usually, Mary didn't stay out late on weekdays . . . mostly because she got up so early to prepare and open the bakery first thing with Ella. Still, though, there were times when she could be sporadic, liking to mix things up here and there. Besides, call it being young and in love, but Mary didn't feel that two days a week counted as enough time for her and Soda to share together. No, she wanted more, and so did he, so there were times when the two of them would toss in a date night here and there, and even though she ended up dragging the next day, Mary didn't mind all that much.

Honestly, she loved spending time with Soda . . . more than anything, and she looked forward to nights like these when they would go out and talk, and just spend time together. There were less than two months left before they would be married, and Mary found herself becoming more nervous and excited as the date drew closer.

Soda took a sip of his Pepsi in the driver's seat next to her, his other hand draped loosely over the steering wheel as his fingers lightly tapped along to the beat of the song that was playing quietly in the background. It was nice out, he thought, not too warm, and definitely not cool. Summer was creeping up on them, and even though everyone else was a major grouch about the hot and humid weather, Soda was always glad for it.

He glanced at Mary, then, a thought crossing his mind. "Do you ever miss traveling?" he asked, tilting his head a little as he looked her over. "I've been thinking about that, you know, because I know how much you love it . . . and I know you've waited forever to be able to do it, so I was just wondering how you really feel . . ."

His voice was so gentle that Mary had to lean a bit closer to him to actually hear him. "Where did that come from?" she questioned, though she wasn't upset at all. In fact, she was a little intrigued. At his raised brow, she continued. "I miss it sometimes, but honestly . . . I haven't been thinking about it all that much, because I'm so busy working with Ella." She chuckled lightly, taking his hand in her own a second later. "The only thing I'm thinking about during the day is spending more time with you. And that's the truth."

Soda grinned in spite of himself. "I'm only asking because I want you to be happy. I mean, I want you to be sure of—"

"I am," she intervened, her eyes on his intently. "I am sure." Her hand gave his a squeeze. "Whenever I think of leaving, when it actually crosses my mind, I think of you coming with me." She breathed in, turning to fully face him. "I didn't want to push you by asking if you thought you would ever be ready or willing to leave the country again, but when I dream about going places, I imagine you beside me—and I don't think I'll leave again until you're honestly ready . . ."

Surprise was evident on his face. "You want me to come with you?"

A nod. "Yes, I do . . . but not if you can't."

He was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, but then he answered honestly. "I've thought about it, too, but I think . . . I think I'm going to need a little more time. I don't want you to stop living your dream waiting on me, though."

"Soda, you are my dream," Mary replied, voice earnest. "I'd wait for you forever. This is my choice, it is what I want to do." And then she offered him a reassuring look. "Besides, I can't just up and leave any time too soon, especially with the bakery. Ella would have my head."

"Reckon she would," came the response, and Soda laughed, before turning serious once again. "I'd wait for you forever, too," he relayed suddenly. "I love you, Mary. You're my world, you know that, right?"

A grin. "I do, Soda," she replied. "I love you, too."

She leaned into him, then, relaxing her head against his shoulder as he shifted to wrap his arm loosely around her small frame, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. It was moments like these ones that Soda enjoyed the most. He wasn't sure how he had gotten so lucky in life, having someone like Mary by his side, but hell, he sure would do anything for her. He couldn't wait for the day that he could officially call her his wife, the thought only bringing a genuine smile to his face.

It was dark out by the time Dallas arrived back at his house. Everything looked barren, as if nobody had been there since the day he had been arrested. He wondered, in the back of his mind, if Ella had stopped in or not. Part of him knew that she had, but he could tell that she hadn't been staying there. He could recall the look on her face the last time he had seen her with innate clarity, the fire in her eyes as she told him that he needed to grow-up and stop living in the past.

So much had happened since then . . . and it had only been four months.

Almost half a year.

He didn't bother trying to find out what was happening on the outside; half of the guys in there weren't people he knew . . . only shady characters that were pathetic enough to think being in the cooler made them something. Hell, he could remember being that young once . . . not that anyone around him had been young at all; they had mostly been older men, old hoods with nothing in life to their name but their fucking rap sheets. Dallas decided that he didn't want to be that person—he had looked long and hard at those guys, saw the emptiness in their eyes and the lines in their faces from aging too quickly on the streets, and while he had once been like that, only younger, he didn't want to spend the rest of his life being that way. He needed to get out, to get away and face what was holding him back from ever being able to move forward in the first place.

And that was himself.

Dallas shook his head of those particular thoughts, making his way toward his old truck. The doors were still unlocked, the keys in the glove-box under a few things that were both his . . . and Ella's. A frown crossed his lips as he stared at her hair-tie and work gloves, an overwhelming feeling of guilt suddenly coming over him. No, he told himself, he didn't want to think about her right then, because he simply couldn't bear it. There was a split second or so where he imagined going to find her, assuming that she was at Jan's place, but he decided against it.

Would she even want to see him?

Did she even know that he was out?

He told himself that it didn't matter, and that he didn't care none. Truthfully, he did care, though, much more than he anticipated or even wanted to. But Dallas didn't want to admit it to himself, because he wasn't able to, because admitting the truth to himself about Ella would be . . .

Jesus H. Christ.

Hell, he knew that he loved her, he always had. She had kept him grounded, kept him coming back to her more times than he could count . . . and he cared about her, looked out for her. He didn't want to admit it, though. He was aware that she knew it, though—she always had. But he had hurt her more times than none, and he continued to keep hurting her again and again. Maybe there was some part of him that wanted to test her, to see how much she could take until she finally had enough and eventually just bailed . . . like everyone else in his life.

Or had he been the one that bailed?

The thoughts were too heavy on his mind right then, and Dallas grabbed the keys to the truck and made his way around to the driver's side door where he climbed up and in, practically jamming the keys into the ignition. The truck made a sound like a low hum, and it took a few times before the engine came roaring to life. Dallas leaned back in the seat for a few minutes, staring out ahead at the vacant house in front of him. He could almost imagine Ella inside, the lights on as she cooked something for dinner, her hair a mess on top of her head as she bustled about the kitchen . . . probably going off at him about something. He could see her sitting on the porch, too, a cigarette held loosely between her index and middle fingers, her voice soft and quiet as she told him about her day . . .

His fist hit the steering wheel, before he shoved the gearshift in drive, foot hitting the pedal as he drove off into the night, forcing himself to forget . . . if just for a moment . . .

I began to find myself searchin'

Searchin' for shelter again and again

Against the wind

Only two chapters left, y'all!

As always, thank you so much for all of the positive feedback! It's truly appreciated! :3