When Wesley woke up the next morning, he waited for a moment.

Waited for the heaviness to descend on him, the decisions, the regrets, the wishes and schemes, the insurmountable hope that he couldn't possibly reach. But it didn't.

He sat up, momentarily confused. He checked the time on his phone, surprised to find it plugged in next to his bed. He had done that. "Hmm." Maybe twenty-two wasn't going to be such a bad year after all.

He rubbed his eyes, still tired from staying up until the early hours of the morning last night. But not hungover, so that was good. Nothing that his raging caffeine addiction couldn't fix! There were things to be said today.

He got ready and ate breakfast in the kitchens, deciding it was a good enough day to order pancakes. Another good omen. The staff seemed bored, and the palace was quiet, especially compared to the hubbub of last night. He supposed everyone was sleeping in, and Andrew and Christine had gone to Trentworth for the weekend. He procrastinated by taking a quick walk in the gardens but decided he had put things off long enough.

The Selected's wing of the second floor was empty too, with only the four ladies left. There was no answer at Eleanor's door, but he found her in one of the parlors allotted for the Selection, the door half-open. She was using the back of a sofa as a barre, kicking her leg out as she slowly bent the other at the knee, holding one arm in a bubble around her. Her movements were slow and completely in control, each connected to the other with effortless grace. She was wearing stuff he had never seen her wear—relics from home. A pair of sweatpants with a faded logo and a crossover sweater, her hair tied back. It didn't look like the Eleanor he knew. This girl was at peace, she was happy exactly at this moment. He watched her for a moment before she noticed him, and she planted both feet on the ground, tension sprouting in the lines of her body.

"Sorry. Lurking." Wesley said as Eleanor crossed her arms and frowned. She wasn't makeup, something else he had never seen.

She shrugged. "It's your palace."

"That was cool, what you were doing. I've seen Christine and Nicole do some things like that a few times."

"It's just basics," Eleanor said. Wesley remembered how both of his brothers had married ballerinas. The irony was not lost on him. The ballerina before him shifted her weight from foot to foot, her attention focused on the stretch. "I didn't think I'd see you again before I got escorted out of here."

"I like to think people have a better opinion of me than that but okay."

"So you're not coming to tell me I'm getting kicked out," Eleanor was calm, focused on stretching her arm over her chest.

"Not exactly, no. I came…to apologize." The first of several he had to make today. Her invisible prickliness seemed to recede a bit, or perhaps it was his relief at getting the words out. "You were right," he continued. "I did make a mockery of this, of you and the others. And I'm sorry."

Eleanor stopped stretching. The edge of her eyes had softened too. "Wesley, you don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do," he countered. "What I did was wrong. I have kept you from your life for almost a year now, while I was not fully committed to the Selection. It was unfair of me."

"None of us would be here if we didn't want to be. We all had our reasons."

Wesley sat down. He had come here to apologize, but there was still a lingering pain, a betrayal. "I guess," he said. "I was hoping you would tell me yours."

Some of her hair fell forward as she looked down, hiding her face. "Do you hate me?"

"I would be lying if I didn't say I didn't like you very much right now."

"If it helps, I don't like me much either."

It surprised him, that she felt bad. If he was honest with himself, which he rarely was (though he was getting better), he didn't know what to feel. One on hand, there was the girl he thought he had known throughout the Selection. That girl was annoying, but he kind of liked it. He liked that they both had lost their dads around the same time, in similar circumstances. She was obsessed with him, perfect princess material, and she wore her emotions on her sleeve. And he had been under the impression those emotions for him were pretty strong. He had trusted her when he had been attempting to drown his problems with alcohol the night before his birthday. He had trusted her even when she had confessed her sins from the Selection, blaming her mother and her want to get his attention. It had wounded him deeply when she had threatened him against sending her home, kissed him in front of everyone to get publicity, and then outed Lissa for being a thief of the very necklace she had returned to her.

He didn't know who this girl was. He was starting to think she wasn't the one he trusted or the one who broke it but someone else entirely.

"I don't get it. Then why did you do it? Why did you lie to me and try to threaten me?"

"I didn't lie, exactly," she said, heaving a sigh. "Everything I told you the other night was true. My mom put me up to so much of this. I guess when I told you all of that, I was hoping you would understand why I had to do what I did." She stopped, considering her words. "Lissa…" Eleanor started, causing him to look up. "She stood in front of everyone, and she didn't humiliate me like I did to her. She said she was sorry. She said she forgave me for what I did. She also said she wasn't going to tell you because it wasn't her secret to tell. It was mine." She took a deep breath. "So, I want to say—I'm sorry too. I really am. For all of it, what I already told you about Dresden and the first time I leaked pictures to the press. I also leaked the pictures of you and her. I gave her the necklace back and accused her of stealing it. I even got her to believe it would be best if she left before the ball. And I'm sorry I spent the whole Selection trying to get your attention, being someone I'm not. I'm not this girl who cares so much about being a princess and pretends she loves you. Honestly, I don't even care about this. I think you're a great person, don't get me wrong, but none of this is me. I just…my mom…" she trailed off, her voice cracking as tears threatened. "I've spent the last year trying to make her happy. And I didn't even succeed in that."

Wesley thought of his own mom, and the immense weight he felt last night when she had confessed her side of the story and no longer was holding his choices on her chain. He thought of the unexpected shock rushing through him when she had kissed him, the rising panic when she had pushed him and Lissa apart, and Lissa's horrified face as Eleanor had ripped the necklace off. He thought of finding her crying during the New Year's Eve party when he hadn't paid enough attention to her despite her enormous involvement in the event. He thought of her irritation when he would spend time with Vera who actively refused to participate. He thought of her telling him how her dad died, and her mom's desperation for Eleanor to be successful in the Selection.

He exhaled slowly. Forgiveness wasn't always easy. "I'm sorry too. And for what it's worth, I forgive you."

Eleanor met his gaze, and her shoulders relaxed. She rubbed at her eyes, then reached behind her neck and unhooked her necklace. It was the necklace—Lissa's necklace. "I was hoping I'd see you again because I also wanted to return this." With a quick movement, she handed him the necklace. "Here. It doesn't belong to me. It never did."

"Thanks." Wesley took it, the pink diamond heart sparkling.

"And I don't think it belongs to you either."

"No," Wesley said, starting to smile. "It doesn't." He slipped it into his pocket. He had a plane to catch.

…

Wesley jogged down the steps of the plane and whipped off his sunglasses to take in the familiar sight before him. It had been a while since he had been here, he realized. Nearly a year had passed since he had come here after he had left the front at the conclusion of the war in the north. Back when all this had started.

Putting on his sunglasses again, he inhaled deeply to take in the salty sea air. Trentworth always had some sort of magic to it. He was grateful for the lack of press here. The tarmac at the palace had swarmed with them, shouting questions about last night's events. There had been a time when a sea of reporters or a plane ride had sent him spiraling into flashbacks and panic attacks, a cloying need to hide in alcohol and cigarettes. He smiled as he slid into the waiting car. This was progress. Not to say he was opposed to a margarita later, with chips and salsa, though.

It was always good to be back at Trentworth. Driving would have been a few hours, but the plane ride had been quick, followed by a short car ride from the airport to the estate. The SUV pulled up on the cobbled driveway, and Wesley caught sight of the rich stucco mansion, trimmed with large windows, and the expansive terrace and balcony wrapped around both levels, the beach visible in snatches behind it. With only Andrew and Christine and their kids here, the staff was smaller than he was used to. He grabbed his bag and was greeted by the butler, who took his bag and informed him the family was at the pool and the staff had been given the afternoon off. Wesley was tempted to join them and work on his favorite uncle status, but he had another mission in mind. And he would not be able to rest until it was done.

He didn't bother going to his room first, he headed outside and snuck past the pool before Aidan, Evie, and Sophie caught sight of him. After the masquerade ball celebrating his sixteenth birthday, one that had ended in a rebel attack that left him shot in the stomach, Ethan's Selection had moved here temporarily. He had spent the following weeks recovering, believing what his mom had told him—that Lissa had not bothered to come to see him even after they had survived the rebel attack and bombing together. He still cringed, remembering how immature and stupid and cruel he had been to her. He supposed currently he wasn't doing much better.

The sound of the kids at the pool faded as he walked through the gardens separating the house from the beach. It had always been one of his favorite parts of the place, the shade cool under the expansive old trees that grew here. He smiled when he saw the fountain he had pushed Lissa into so many years ago.

He saw her from a distance, wearing one of those long flowy dresses the female visitors of Trentworth were always fond of, this one cream-colored. Lissa's short hair was blowing in the sea breeze as she stood in the sand, her back to him as the waves rose and fell calmy a few feet away from her. Wesley paused to take off his shoes so they wouldn't fill up with sand, and while he was at it, he rolled up his pant legs a bit. Totally stalling. Hoping he wasn't making a horrible mistake.

He tripped when he was close to her, and his muttered curse drew her attention. Wesley righted himself, brushing sand off his hands and his face hot.

"Hey." Her eyes shone green in the bright sunshine and the light color of her dress. He stood there like a fool, taking it in. "The butler said he thought you were out here." The words tumbled out in a rush. "I didn't mean to interrupt your privacy. Sorry," he added hastily.

"That's okay," Lissa said, her voice polite. She brushed back a strand of hair from her eyes. She hesitated. "What are you doing here?"

It didn't sound like she was mad, but it also didn't sound like she was expecting him. Still, she hadn't pushed him or thrown him into the ocean. Yet.

"Uh…" Suddenly everything he had rehearsed to say stuck in his throat and he didn't remember what words were. Instead, he reached into his pocket and drew out the necklace Eleanor had returned. He held it out. "I came to give this back."

She didn't take it, just pressed her lips together. "To a governess?" She put space between them, moving past him, the ocean at their backs as Wesley turned after her.

"Actually, I came to beg your forgiveness. I—" he took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, following her. "I didn't stand up for you when you needed me to. Vera said she told you what happened, but it's not an excuse, not really. And I led you on, I didn't leave you alone when you asked me to, and I kissed you when I was in a Selection. A couple of times actually."

Her back turned toward him, Wesley watched her head lower and he wished he could see her face. His pounding heart seemed to be lodged in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

"Did you take the plane?"

"Oh…yeah, I did."

"You hate planes."

He shrugged, embarrassed. "I'm getting better with them."

She faced him again, the sand sliding unevenly under her feet, unsettling her balance. "There's nothing to forgive. I've told you that. Besides, I think I kissed you a few of those times." She squared her shoulders and looked out over the waves. "Maybe I've realized something."

He closed his hand around the necklace, gripping it tighter than necessary. "What did you realize?" he hung on her words, the hope swelling in his chest.

"Hope is an amazing thing. It keeps you going. Even when it hurts, even when it's dangerous, and even when it shouldn't. Maybe that's all it is-just hope. And that's okay with me."

He held out the necklace, weighing her words. "I have one more thing to apologize for."

Just hope. A dangerous, treacherous hope. A thousand miles away from where they had started, yet somehow, he was in exactly the same place.

"I'm sorry for not being honest. I'm sorry for not telling you the truth."

Her eyes darted over his face, and she reached for the necklace. "What truth is that?"

The truth he should have told her at the ball. The truth he should have told her a long time ago. The truth he should have not been dumb enough to not know all this time.

He squinted in the bright sunlight, the light reflecting off the water and kicked at the sand.

"I figured it out. This whole time, some of this never felt real. The Selection, the press, the war ending and not just constantly being in the aftermath. Everything going back to normal. None of it felt real. None of it felt true." He swallowed. "Except for the way I feel about you, Lissa." His voice broke a little when he said her name, and he edged closer, stalling for time again. "Because no matter how tough it is, no matter how much time it takes..."

He had to stop this time, trying not to be embarrassed by the tears swimming in his eyes, the emotion in his throat making it hard to speak. He ducked his head, running his hand through his hair. He blew out a breath, and looked at her, standing there, really looked at her. Her cheeks were rosy, her dress and hair tousled in the breeze, and she was looking back at him. Wesley grinned uncontrollably and shook his head and the words came as easy as anything he'd ever said. He should have taken this risk a long time ago.

"I am still in love with you, Lissa Dove."

Lissa didn't say anything, her eyes sparkling with tears he hoped weren't the bad kind.

"What…" Lissa began, her voice barely a whisper. She took a step closer to him and tried again. "What about the Selection?"

He shook his head. "There isn't going to be a Selection."

"There isn't?" The note in her voice, the quickness of her response, the way her eyes snapped to his—that was hope.

"I already told them, and they were…surprisingly fine with it." He thought of Veyra's cheeky grin and affectionate thump on his head. He thought of his and Eleanor's absolution and Vera's grace. He thought of Ophelia's enthusiastic hug as she confessed there was a new role she was dying to accept.

"And your mom?" she asked, her voice breathless. Another step. She quickly reached under her eye as if to wipe at a tear.

"Told me I would be an idiot to not go after you. Also made sure you didn't get fired."

Wesley's heart was doing all kinds of things, and he briefly wondered if he should get any of it checked out. He squeezed his hands into fists before they started shaking, but they already were. Lissa was close now, close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. She reached for his hands, holding them in hers along with the necklace and it didn't matter they were shaking.

She looked up and by then, he didn't even remember what his lungs were, let alone how they worked. Her lips twitched.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

If he knew how he would have cleared his throat. "…So I guess I just want to ask you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me."

Her smile grew at his stupid joke as he held his breath, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up and smoothed back one of the pieces of hair that had flopped into his eyes. "I can't. Because I do. I love you."

She laughed then, at least he thought she did. At his terrified expression, at the stupid grin he couldn't wipe off his face. He was also worried she might be crying but then he realized he already was, so it didn't matter. It was okay. He was okay.

It was even more okay when Lissa launched herself into his arms, throwing hers over his shoulders, feet off the ground. He spun her around in the sand, both of them laughing hysterically, like the little teenagers they had once been on this same beach.

When he sat her back down, he kept hold of her waist, and at her slight nod, pulled her flush against him. Lissa rested her hand on his chest. He touched her face, skimming his index over the tilt of her cheek.

"You saved me, you know that?"

She shook her head slightly. "No, Wes. You saved yourself."

He thought of how far she had come, how far they had come, and realized she was right. "You saved yourself too."

She smiled like she already knew, and stood on her toes, suddenly inches away. Her fingers on the side of his face, thumb splayed over his jaw, were electric, magnetic. He was a complete mess. But a complete one. He dipped his head, their noses brushing. She tilted her face up, hesitating in the sliver of space before she pressed her lips to his and he was gone.

They had kissed before, longer and more thoroughly than this, but the simple brush of her lips over his was different. He couldn't explain it, it just was. The hope had turned into something else. Something better. Lissa pulled back a fraction of an inch and felt her smile. It was like the time when he and Drake had been flying through the clouds and out of the storm into a brilliant dazzling sunset, rain streaking down from nowhere, making them feel like there was nothing above them but outer space. Time stopped, and everything made sense.

None of it mattered. Eleanor, his mother, none of the last year or so. It had happened, it had changed them, and it had brought them back together. But it wasn't going to hold power over them. Lissa held out the necklace and turned around so he could put it on for her. This time, where it belonged. This time, it was his to give.

She faced him again and he took her hand, lacing their fingers together then brought their clasped hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.

"I don't know about getting married or anything. So much has happened with the Selection, and I have so much to make up for—"

"Wes, it's okay." Lissa squeezed his hand, and he caressed her thumb with his. And it was. "We'll figure it out without causing too much scandal."

"Oh, believe me, there will be scandal." He pulled her closer.

"I can handle it." Her hand tightened around the fabric of his shirt, and he still somehow couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"Me too."

As long as he had her hand in his, everything would be alright.

…

END OF PART III OF HEART

…

Putting my author's note here to avoid any possible spoilers, as I have to announce this is the second to last chapter of Heart! There will be one more Epilogue chapter. I have been planning this ending for years and years and I have lots to say I'll save to the end. This is especially bittersweet, as these characters and story world have been part of my life since I was 16 and I don't know what I will do without it! Thank you to everyone who has made it this far, it truly means the world to me. Review shoutouts of course to Virtue01 and dreamerdash and to egsqwerty for binge reading Selected Twins years later, hopefully you'll get to this one too!

-shades