Alyssa ♔
_________________

Months later

The morning LA sun warms my skin as I carefully load Max's car. It seems absurd to condense my entire life into a few tiny boxes, but that's precisely what I've been doing since seven this morning – packing, fretting, and panicking.

I attempt to squeeze my fourth suitcase of clothes into the trunk without succumbing to tears and ruining my makeup again. This isn't just moving four hours away to college, which is terrifying enough; this is giving up my home. Mom already sold the house and used the proceeds to secure a cute townhouse, so once she wraps up packing, she'll join me in Stanford next week; my life in the Palisades is officially over.

For the most part, I'm glad. But a tiny part of me still worries about what this means for my dad. So far, it's been radio silence from whatever country he fled to. If he ever decides to return home, he'll be met with a car that isn't his in the driveway and a family he's never seen before, with his own having finally moved on without him.

The slight ache in my stomach intensifies as I imagine him approaching the house, only to realize his key no longer fits. I wonder where he'll think we've gone. If he'll be upset when he finds out we've moved out, or if he'll even care. Sometimes, it keeps me awake at night, wondering whether he's okay and if I'll see him again. But I understand now it's beyond my control, and according to Max's dad, who he often likes to quote, if I can't control it, I shouldn't worry about it.

He was right. After graduation, the high school drama that had dominated my life suddenly didn't matter anymore. With Max determined to help me leave the bad stuff behind, my life became about my family and friends and exploring the parts of LA I'd never seen before; it became about living.

Of course, boxing was – and still is – a major part of our lives. If we're not talking about it or sparring together, I'm training on a heavy bag, blasting Tupac through my headphones while watching him in coach mode. And as cheesy as it sounds, it's become my favorite part of training. Max just seems so happy when he's coaching Auden, and seeing how good he is with kids – even if his methods are a little unorthodox – makes me excited for the future. In another six months, he'll have completed two out of three boxing certificates and be looking for a permanent position, hopefully closer to Stanford.

Until then, we've been savoring every moment–horse rides, milkshake trips, mountain hikes. And for a city boy who once claimed to detest the beach, Max happily spent the better half of the summer frolicking in the ocean with the rest of us at Laguna Beach. I'd even brought along my Polaroid camera on one of the trips, and Maddie, post makeout session with Hayden, spontaneously captured a picture of us: I was wrapped in Max's arms, my head thrown back and mouth open mid-laugh as he grinned down at me just before dunking me under. I wanted to cry when she showed me. It was candid and natural, exactly how a snapshot should be; I'm sticking it to my dorm room wall the second I get to Stanford.

I glance at my watch, realizing that time is rapidly approaching. Sighing, I take one final look at the house. Its imposing white bricks stand tall across the driveway, the same bricks that shaped my entire adolescence and will now do the same for someone else. I've already met the new family—a sweet couple with their shy thirteen-year-old daughter and her cheeky four-year-old brother. Their dog is a retriever. I know looks can be deceiving, but for all intents and purposes, they have the snapshot perfect life; I just hope they have a better experience in this house than we did.

"Hey," Max murmurs, coming up behind me. His arms wrap around my waist, and I lean against his sturdy chest, inhaling his scent. "If you need more time, we can wait."

It's a tempting offer. Part of me isn't quite ready to let this place go, even with all the bad memories associated with it. But sometimes, letting go is what needs to happen, even if it hurts.

"I'll be fine. I think I just need to rip the band-aid off." I glance over my shoulder, meeting those familiar dark eyes framed by the longest lashes. Even now, there are moments when he sneaks up behind me, and the surge of love that hits me catches me off guard. Smiling, I say, "We can leave now – I'm ready."

"I'm not." His gaze deepens, and he turns me around until I face him. Cupping my face, he kisses me gently, sending shivers down my skin as I wrap my arms around his neck.

I missed him. It's been less than an hour, and I've missed him. He's been busy taking care of all the heavy lifting, shuttling between the house and me with dozens of boxes before disappearing inside to help my mom dismantle the crystal chandelier she couldn't reach. I stood and watched them for a little while when they thought I wasn't looking, surprised by how patient and kind Max was with her despite the way she's treated him in the past. As hard as I'd try if the roles were reversed, I don't think I'd be as forgiving.

That's why I love him.

Still holding his neck, I pull back a little to flash him a playful look. "It's going to drive you crazy how often I'll want to Facetime you," I tease, but I'm not joking. I can't imagine now having to go a day without seeing his face, which is probably why I haven't stopped staring at him.

He doesn't look concerned. If anything, he seems downright hopeful. After tucking my hair back, he leans into my ear and whispers, "Promise?"

Succumbing to the warmth flooding my stomach, I murmur, "I promise," and reach out for him. He leans closer, too, preparing for another when my mom hurries toward us, wearing the biggest smile on her face.

I'll admit, seeing her like this still shocks me. Her life has become much less structured since my dad left, and she's better off for it. Armed with the money from the house sale, she's finally taking time to do the things that make her happy, and it shows.

"Have a safe trip," she says, embracing me tightly. I return the hug, running my hand through her hair. It's odd to think that not too long ago, I was convinced I'd never speak to her again. Now, I can't wait for her to live less than twenty minutes from my college. "Text me once you're there, and don't forget to take pictures! I'll be there as soon as possible, I promise."

I step back as she shifts her attention to Max, appearing tiny as she stretches to hug him. He responds with an awkward hug, then answers her list of questions regarding my future well-being with the patience of a damn saint. Satisfied with his response, my mother steps back as we load the last of my bags in, and I turn one last time back to her and the house.

"I love you," I say, sensing the lump in my throat returning.

Mom's eyes soften, and despite her efforts to remain strong, I can tell that a week of living alone will be hard for her. Thankfully, Max has assured me that once he returns on Tuesday, he'll check in to ensure she's okay.

"I love you," she utters, and with one last glance, I move toward the car. Max opens the door, allowing me to slide in. He slips into the driver's seat, squeezing my hand before starting the engine.

Here we go. I take a deep breath, watching my mom and the house gradually fade, completely disappearing in the rearview mirror. I'd managed to keep up a brave front until today, but now the nerves hit me all at once. I exhale slowly, then repeat the process for good measure.

It's like the start of high school all over again. New friends, new identity. But the good thing about college is that I know how to avoid making the same mistakes I made in high school. Whoever I leave college as will be the best version of me, and that's all a person can hope for.

We've barely left the Palisades when Max hands me a bag of Raindrops – my all-time favorite snack – and turns on Tupac. I lean back in my seat as he rolls down the window, and we spend the next four hours laughing and screaming along to Tupac as if we're the only two people in the world.

By the time we arrive at Stanford, I've demolished the snacks and listened to every Tupac song ever created. I don't even like Tupac, but I'm starting to think that's the best part of loving someone: I can't listen to Tupac without thinking of Max, so in a way, I'll always have him with me.

Max switches off the engine, cutting off the end of "California Love." I pull down the sun visor, using the mirror to tidy up my hair and makeup. When I turn to him, I find he's already watching me.

With a smirk, he leans over, brushes what must be a lingering crumb from my cheek, and tucks my hair back. "Ready, Goldilocks?"

"Mm." I turn to the crowd of new faces on campus, watching them dragging their suitcases down the path. And that's when it hits me: none of these people, not a single one, knows about the girl I was in high school; college is my fresh slate. "Actually, yes," I say, smiling at Max. "I think I am."

His signature Max O'Connor grin stretches across his face. "That's my girl," he says and, ever the gentleman, strides around the car to open my door. I grab his hand as he helps me out, and he looks down at me with a glint in his eye that matches mine. "Always."

I smile for the millionth time today. Max's girl. I've definitely gotten used to that. "Always," I repeat and turn to face my new campus.

Surprisingly, despite the chaos outside my window, the usual rush of anxiety doesn't come; instead, a sense of hope washes over me. I squeeze Max's hand as he leads me down the path, realizing there's no longer a distinction between his world and mine—there's only ours. And I can't wait to live in it.

A/N

Hey guys!

'Right Hook' is FINALLY finished! It's taken a looong time to get here, but I'm so grateful you decided to stick with this book! Comment a heart if you enjoyed it ❤️

P.S. If you haven't already, don't forget to check out Maddie and Hayden's story, GASLIGHT! You can order your physical copy from the link on my profile! 📚