It's morning and my suitcase and backpack sit next to the MacKenna's front door.

For my last breakfast in New Orleans, Jolie makes flour-less pumpkin muffins, which don't look or taste like muffins at all. They're more like stiff, cupcake-shaped granola clusters, the pecan crumbles dropping off before I can even stuff them into my mouth. But she made them with love, so I choke one down before announcing I'm stuffed.

"I'm going to miss having you around," Jolie says when I slide my plate into the sink. "You're an absolute joy—you know that?" She pulls me into a tight hug,

"I'm going to miss being around." And it's true. I'm going to miss everything about this crazy city. The smells. The jazz music. The French Quarters and rickety streetcars. The diverse mix of natives with their intoxicating accents. I think I might even miss planning all of our daytime activities around the heat. "It feels weird going back to Ohio. I like it here, but I guess I do sort of miss home."

"I'm sure home misses you, too." She plants a kiss on the top of my head.

Penny's next. "Come here, you." She wraps her arms around me and I feel her quiver against my chest. "Don't be a stranger, ya hear? I want regular updates on what you're up to. School, boys, writing. Everything. Got it?" Her hands grasp my shoulders as she looks me in the eye. "There's a piece of my daughter inside of you, and that makes me feel closer to Hartley."

I promise to keep in touch and give her another hug. "Thank you for having me over this summer, and for letting me stay this past week. You didn't have to say yes, but I'm grateful you did."

"So am I." She cups my cheeks with her hands, her eyes brimming with tears. "You're welcome to come back and visit us any time, okay?"

I give her a nod just as there's a knock on the door. Sully lets himself in with his golden waves and crooked half-smile. "Good morning, ladies. Who's ready to fly back to Ohio?"

After another round of hugs and goodbyes, we load my bags into the back seat of Sully's SUV and wave to Penny and Jolie as we pull out of the driveway. I promise to call as soon I make it home safe.

I turn to Sully, twisting my fleur de lis bracelet around my wrist. "Thanks again for offering to take me to the airport."

"Thank you for letting me." He smiles. "Ready for our first stop?"

"Yep."

I lean back in the seat, tilting my face toward the warm sun shining in through the passenger window. The air conditioner moves the long hair around my full cheeks, which don't seem nearly as important as they did at the beginning of summer. That feels like forever ago. I've spent so much time preoccupied with their round shape and not nearly enough time taking advantage of every single moment the universe has to offer.

For a long time, I believed that if I could only fix the things about myself I wasn't happy with, my life would suddenly make sense and all of my insecurities would disappear. But I'm not perfect and never will be—no matter what my cheeks look like.

The world is full of imperfection, and that's okay. We don't need to be flawless, we just need to be ourselves, and to try our imperfect best to make the most of the cards we've been dealt.

Hartley's not buried in the touristy part of New Orleans. Instead, she's buried underground in a cemetery uptown. When Sully pulls into the long drive, we follow under a canopy of oak trees until her gravesite comes into view. It's easy to find because it's the only one without a proper headstone. Penny said it should be ready in a few months, but for now, anyone walking by will know Hartley recently passed. They just won't know her name.

Sully parks the car and I reach into the backseat to pull something from my bag. Silently, we walk to the oblong mound of dirt covered in bouquets of wilted flowers.

This is the first time I've been back since the funeral and it still doesn't feel any more real than it did the day we said goodbye. I don't want to think about what she looks like underneath all that dirt and rock, but images flash through my head anyway, no matter how hard I try to push them away.

I still don't understand why Hartley punished herself the way she did. That she didn't realize her father would have forgiven her. That he probably never blamed her for the accident in the first place. It all seems like such a waste. She shouldn't be dead. It's against all the rules of nature. She had fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year-old dreams and never had the chance to make them come true. As the days turn into months and the months turn into years, will I ever understand?

Probably not.

What I do know is that the moments we shared as best friends meant something, and they always will. And I owe it to her to live my life to the fullest—for the both of us.

"Are you okay?" Sully asks.

I wipe a tear from my cheek. "Not really."

I kneel down and wiggle a half-smoked pack of cigarettes with the purple lighter tucked inside into the soil. It's not exactly a headstone but it'll have to do for now.

"Do you have anything you want to say?" he asks.

I shake my head and stand, brushing dirt from my knees. "I've already said everything I need to say."

He nudges his arm against mine. "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on things once you're gone."

"I know you will."

We walk back to the car and head to our next destination.

"Do you mind waiting in here? I won't be long," I say once we arrive. "I'd like to do this on my own."

Sully cranks up the AC and adjusts his seat way back, his hands lacing behind his tousled mop of hair. "Take your time. We have a little while before we need to be at the airport."

When I walk into Lady Bijou's, Bastian's sitting at the bar. It's almost like he's waiting.

"There she is," he says with a warm smile.

He hops off the stool and crosses the room, folding me into an embrace. He smells like citrus and aftershave and hard work and I let it swallow me whole.

"Will I ever see you again?" I ask him.

Bastian hugs me tighter. "I think our paths will cross again one day."

A squeak catches in my throat. "I hate to say goodbye."

"Then don't." He pulls back, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and wipes a runaway tear from my cheek. "You can always come back here to visit, or I can even swing by and see you in Ohio. This is not the end, Gwen Lincoln. It's only the beginning."

Despite my grief, the idea of Bastian in Ohio makes me want to laugh. "I think you'd probably hate the Midwest. Too many cornfields, not enough culture."

"Are you kidding me? I love the Midwest. Fresh air, open fields and starry nights, snowy white Christmases. The world's largest ball of twine." His grin widens. "I grew up in the Midwest, you know."

This catches me off guard. "You did?"

Bastian squares his shoulders and gives a mock military salute. "Fort Leonard Wood: Waynesville, Missouri," he says. "My father was born and raised in New Orleans. Growing up around all his stories, I always thought of The French Quarters as this sort of magical place full of endless possibilities. I knew one day I'd end up here, and well ..." He shrugs. "Here I am. But I visit my parents whenever I can. There's something about those wide open spaces that keeps me coming back."

I can't hide my surprise. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

He wiggles his brows. "I guess I'm full of surprises."

I bite my bottom lip. "Yes, you are."

Bastian pulls me in for another hug and clears his throat. "You are one very special young lady, and don't you ever forget that. There's a light inside of you that can't be ignored. It's there, even when you think no one can see it."

His words sink into my bones. "I'm going to miss you so much," I say against his chest.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

When I get back to the car, Sully is kind enough to leave me to my thoughts, and we ride to the airport in a comfortable silence, his fingers laced in mine.

After we retrieve my ticket and get my luggage checked in, all that's left to do is say goodbye. Sully stares at me, and for a moment, it's like we're the only two people in the world.

"Well, Miss Ohio. I guess this is it."

I smile at the nickname. "I guess so."

"Thank you for a wonderful summer."

"Thank you." I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. "And I don't think I ever said so, but thanks for being my first kiss."

He smiles against the top of my head. "Thank you for being my best kiss." Sully steps away first, and when he does, his eyes are shining. "You're going to keep in touch, right?"

My mouth pulls up at the corners. "Always."

Very slowly, he leans back in, but instead of another hug, his lips flutter against mine, light as a feather. It's not a romantic kind of kiss, but it's one I'll never forget.

I'm sure we'll grow apart. That's how first crushes work. Life will interfere and we'll find new ways to occupy our thoughts and time.

But I guess you never know. Possibilities are endless...

I'm not sure what's coming next for me, but I can't wait to find out.

From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU for giving my story a chance. I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I have!