Chapter 296 Aslan

Chapter 296 Aslan
Aslan

And then, somehow, life went on. It always does, right? One ordinary day slipped into another until, without really noticing it, we’d had a pretty damn good few months.

The holidays came and went, alternating between Maine and Massachusetts, family and friends. Another semester ended with all of us more or less nailing our classes, and wrestling season concluded with Crownwell on top, mostly because Coach kept us on our toes like the drill sergeant he usually was.

My museum program closed for the year with an offer for a paid, part-time position once the new academic year began. I might’ve reread that email fourteen times before Garrett printed it, framed it, and announced that it deserved better than living inside my inbox.

Therapy continued for both of us. I’d gone months without a cardiac episode and was learning to control my heart rate better than ever. Garrett had made serious progress too, even reducing his medication to only what he truly needed. Against every one of his predictions, he’d finally started opening up to Charlotte, his therapist. By the end of the year, he called her about everything from PTSD attacks to the latest school drama and, apparently, emotional betrayal by Hollywood.

“You said The Notebook was a beautiful romance,” he complained one Sunday, wearing the most wounded expression I had ever seen.

“It was romantic and beautiful.”

“They both died, Aslan. Together. In the same bed.” He reached for his phone. “I need to call Charlotte.”

“Don’t you dare tell your therapist I traumatized you with Ryan Gosling.”

“I’m telling her everything.”

All in all, it was safe to say we were both healing from the inside out.

“There’s nothing healthier for the heart and mind than love,” Garrett told me one night as he held me inside our secret shed by the horse field.

“Oh my God. To think you used to call me cheesy.” I kissed the tip of his nose.

“Well, you’re never having another heart attack with me in there defending it, so you’d better keep me in your heart.” He squeezed me and winked.

“True… And I guess you’re not having any more mental breakdowns if I’m inside that head keeping it together, so you’d better think about me twenty-four seven.”

“Exactly!” He laughed, pulling me closer. “You know, Oli is right. We are pretty disgusting.”

“Oh yeah.” I kissed him again. “Absolutely revolting.”

Responsible adult stuff aside, we made sure we didn’t miss anything. This year, we made the chaotic Christmas trip to Canada with our friends, spring break, club nights, Crownwell parties, and several mornings when none of us could remember why we had thought tequila on a school night was a responsible decision.

Then came preparations for Crownwell’s legendary annual graduation celebration.

We were only completing our junior year—yes, technically still a full year away from escaping—but Crownwell made a production out of everyone advancing. There were gowns, awards, and enough speeches to make half the students consider dropping out just to avoid listening to another one.

Mom and Kate came anyway. Neither of them cared that it wasn’t our final graduation. Mom claimed she intended to attend every ceremony anyone would allow her into, and possibly several we hadn’t invited her to.

The orchestra played while we entered, with Aitor right there among them, looking annoyingly elegant with his violin. The gang cheered loudly enough to embarrass us, Coach pretended not to be proud, and Garrett nearly knocked me off the stage when we collected our wrestling trophy together.

Afterward, Mom caught me before I could escape.
“My beautiful boy!” She wrapped her arms around me and kissed both my cheeks before turning immediately toward Garrett. “And my other beautiful boy.”

Garrett smiled as she hugged and kissed him too. He no longer stiffened when she called him hers. He simply bent down so she could reach him better and held her for a little longer than necessary. I was sure he loved every second of her attention.

Then she found Aitor. “There’s my third boy!”

“You do realize you only gave birth to one of us, right?” I asked.

Mom kept hugging Aitor. “Minor technicality.”

Kate joined us, looking between the three of us with theatrical disbelief. “Look at you. The Three Musketeers actually made it through another year without being kicked out. Impressive.”

“Barely,” Garrett said. “And there’s still tonight.”

“You came!” Linnea called as she hurried toward Kate, fresh from her own college celebration. “Yes! Another girl!”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, girl.” Kate hugged her before looking around urgently. “Now, where’s the food? I’m starving.”

By then, everyone was together again. Aitor and Linnea were still strong, even if their schedules required military-level planning. James and Fran had finally made their relationship official, although James continued introducing him as his “mysterious quarterback” just to watch Fran blush.

Somehow, Trisha was still dating Joe and, even more shockingly, appeared to be faithful. Joe insisted the secret was good food because the fastest way to a girl’s heart was through her stomach. Trisha claimed that was sexist and then stole three cannoli from his plate.

Coach and Olivia had been seeing each other since shortly after Halloween. They kept insisting they were “taking things slowly,” which apparently meant spending every weekend together, every holiday and possible event, and disappearing together whenever they thought no one was paying attention.
Nobody had the heart to tell them they were terrible at being discreet.

While Garrett was surrounded by our friends, a familiar voice spoke behind me.
“Aslan.”

I turned and found Gerald Williams standing there.
He had attended the ceremony but kept his distance, watching his son from somewhere near the back. Garrett had noticed him—I knew because his hand had tightened around mine—but he hadn’t acknowledged him.

“I know I’m the last person you want approaching you,” Gerald said quietly. “But I need you to give him this.”
He held out a bag containing a box.

I didn’t take it. “If Garrett wanted something from you, he would’ve spoken to you.”

“I know.” His expression tightened. “This isn’t for me. Please, do it for him. That’s all I ask.”
Before I could refuse again, he placed the bag on the chair beside me and walked away.

I considered leaving it there, but in the end, I slipped it inside my backpack. Garrett could decide what to do with it. Nobody else would ever make those decisions for him again.

From there, we went to the Valsecchis’, where we ate like pigs, drank enough limoncello to make everyone unusually affectionate, and listened to Joe’s parents argue about which one of us had lost weight during the school year.
The answer was apparently all of us.

Later, when music was playing, people were dancing, and Garrett had just finished telling James that no human being should ever move his hips that way in public, Olivia appeared beside us carrying a card.
“One last graduation present.”

Garrett eyed it suspiciously. “Every time you hand me paper, my life changes.”

“Then you should probably open it.”

He slid one finger beneath the envelope and removed a congratulations card. Inside was another document.
His smile disappeared as he read it.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The settlement agreement,” Olivia said. “Spring Creek and its insurance company finally accepted our terms. They’re paying you 4-point-1 million dollars. Once the fees, expenses, and money for your future treatment are taken care of, just over 3 million will be yours.”

Garrett stared at her. “Three million dollars? Mine?”

“It won’t undo shit, but invested properly, it gives you complete independence. College, a home, your future gallery—whatever you choose.”

He looked down at the number again as if it belonged to someone else.
A year earlier, money had been one more chain around him. His parents had controlled it, threatened him with it, and used it to decide what his life was allowed to become.
Now, it was his.

Olivia lifted her glass. “To your new life, bro.”

Garrett looked from the paper to me, still completely stunned. “So... I guess dinner’s on me.”

“Joe’s parents already paid for it.”

“I meant for the next fifty years, smart-ass.”

I lifted my glass. “To dating a millionaire.”

“To us,” he corrected, tapping his glass against mine.

Everyone joined in, yelling, cheering, and immediately suggesting increasingly irresponsible ways for Garrett to spend his money while Olivia threatened to confiscate the settlement before he even received it.

That was how junior year ended: surrounded by our favorite people, too much Italian food, and Garrett drunkenly insisting he was buying everyone a car.

Perfect ending if you asked me…