After We Fell

  “Bye, Zed.” I half smile, and he takes a step toward me.

  For a moment I panic, thinking he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He wraps his arms around me in a strong but brief hug before placing a light kiss on my forehead. He steps away immediately after and grabs hold of the door handle, almost like it’s a cane.

  “Be careful, okay?” he says, opening the door.

  “I will. Seattle isn’t too bad.” I smile. I feel very resolved now, like I have finally given him the closure he needed.

  He frowns and turns to leave the room. As he closes the door behind him, I hear him say gently, “I’m not talking about Seattle.”

  chapter nineteen

  TESSA

  As soon as the door shuts and Zed is gone—gone for good—I close my eyes and lay my head back against the chair. I don’t know what I’m feeling. All of my emotions are jumbled, swirling around me in a cloud of confusion. Part of me feels relieved to end this back-and-forth between Zed and me. But another, smaller part feels a significant loss. Zed is the only one of Hardin’s so-called friends who’s been there for me constantly, and it’s strange to realize that I’ll never see him again. The tears burn, unwelcomed, down my cheeks as I try to collect myself. I shouldn’t be crying over this. I should be happy that I can finally close the book on Zed, tuck it away, leaving it only to collect dust, never to be opened again.

  It’s not that I want to be with him, it’s not that I love him, it’s not that I would ever choose him over Hardin; it’s just that I do care for him, and I wish things had played out differently. I wish I would have kept our relationship strictly platonic—maybe then I wouldn’t have to completely cut him out of my life.

  I don’t know why he came back in here, but I’m glad he left before he could say anything to confuse me or hurt Hardin further.

  My office phone rings, and I clear my throat before answering. When I say “Hello,” I sound pathetic.

  Hardin’s voice carries through strong and clear. “Did he leave?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you crying?”

  “I’m just . . .” I start.

  “What?” he implores.

  “I don’t know, I’m just glad it’s over.” I wipe at my eyes again.

  He sighs through the line and surprises me by simply saying, “Me, too.”

  The tears are no longer falling, but my voice is hideous. “Thank you”—I pause—“for being understanding about this.”

  That went much better than I’d expected, and I don’t know if I should be relieved or slightly worried. I decide to go with relieved and finish the last of my time at Vance as peacefully as possible.

  Around three, Kimberly stops by my office; behind her is a girl who I’m sure I’ve never seen at the office before.

  “Tessa, this is Amy, my replacement,” Kimberly says, introducing the quiet yet stunning girl.

  I get up from where I’m reading, trying to reassure Amy with a friendly smile. “Hi, Amy. I’m Tessa. You’ll love it here.”

  “Thank you! I already love it,” she says excitedly.

  Kim laughs. “Well, I just wanted to stop by your office while we were pretending to be taking a tour of the building.”

  “Oh yes. You’re teaching her to replace you, all right,” I tease.

  “Hey! Being engaged to the boss has its perks,” Kim jokes back.

  Beside her, Amy laughs, and then Kimberly leads her down another hallway. My last day here finally ends, and I find myself wishing it could have gone slower. I’m going to miss this place, and I’m slightly nervous to go home to Hardin.

  I take one last look around my first office. My eyes focus on the desk first. My stomach tightens as memories of Hardin and me on the desk flood my senses. It seems so extreme: having sex in an office when anyone could walk in at any moment. I was too distracted by Hardin to think of anything else . . . which seems to be a pattern in my everyday life.

  ON THE WAY HOME I stop by Conner’s to get a few groceries—just enough to make dinner tonight, since we’re leaving in the morning. I’m excited but nervous about the trip. I hope Hardin can keep his temper in check for the two-day vacation with his family.

  Since that doesn’t seem likely, my next hope is that the boat is big enough for the five of us to have a little breathing room.

  Back at the apartment, I unlock the front door and push it open with my foot, picking up the grocery bags from the floor as I step inside. The living room is a mess; empty water bottles and food wrappers litter the coffee table. My father and Hardin sit on opposite ends of the couch.

  “How was your day, Tessie?” my father asks, craning his neck to look over at me.

  “Good. It was my last day there,” I tell him even though he already knows. I begin to clear their trash from the table and floor.

  “I’m happy you had a good day,” my father says.

  I look at Hardin, who doesn’t look at me. His gaze is fixed on the television screen.

  “I’m going to make dinner, then get in the shower,” I tell them, and my father follows me into the kitchen.

  As I unload the grocery bags and put the ground beef and box of taco shells on the counter, my father watches me with interest. At last, he says, “One of my friends said he can pick me up here later, if that’s okay. I know you’re leaving tomorrow for a few days.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. We can drop you off in the morning if that would be better for you,” I offer.

  “No, you’ve already been so generous. Just promise me you’ll let me know when you get back from your trip.”

  “Okay . . . how will I get in touch with you?”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe just drive down Lamar? I’m usually out there.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  “I’ll go call him back now and let him know I’m ready.” He disappears from the kitchen.

  I hear Hardin teasing my father about the fact that he has to memorize phone numbers because he doesn’t own a phone, and I roll my eyes when my father begins the when-I-was-a-kid-no-one-had-cell-phones speech.

  Tacos with ground beef are easy to make and don’t require too much thought. I wish Hardin would come into the kitchen and talk to me, but I suppose it’s better if he waits until my father leaves. I set up the table for dinner and call for the two of them. Hardin enters first, barely making eye contact with me, followed by my father.

  As he sits, my father says, “Chad will be here soon to get me. I appreciate you guys letting me stay. It was mighty generous of you two.” He looks back and forth between Hardin and me. “Thank you so much, Tessie, H-bomb,” he adds. The way Hardin rolls his eyes at my father, I can tell this is some inside joke between them.

  “It’s no problem, really,” I tell him.

  “I’m just so glad we found each other again,” he says and starts eating his meal with an animated ferocity.

  “Me, too . . .” I smile, still not able to process that this man is my father. The man that I haven’t seen in nine years, the man who I had so many ill feelings toward, is just sitting in my kitchen eating with my boyfriend and me.

  I look over to Hardin, expecting a rude comment from him, but he says nothing and quietly eats his meal. His silence is driving me mad. I wish he’d just say something . . . anything, really.

  Sometimes his silence is far worse than his yelling.

  chapter twenty

  HARDIN

  After we finish eating, Tessa gives her father her final, somewhat stiff goodbye and heads into the bathroom for a shower. I was planning on getting in the shower with her, but Richard’s friend is taking all damn night to pick his ass up.

  “Is he coming today or . . .” I begin.

  Richard nods about twenty times, but then looks at the window with a slightly worried expression. “Yeah, yeah, he said he’d be here soon. He probably just got lost or something.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  He smiles. “Won’t you miss having me around?”
r />   “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll find myself a job and see you both in Seattle.”

  “Neither of us will be in Seattle.”

  He looks at me sagely. “Sure,” he repeats, using my word from moments ago.

  A knock at the door ends our obnoxious conversation, and as he goes to answer it, I stand up. Just in case he needs an extra little push out the door.

  “Thanks for picking me up, man,” Tessa’s dad says to his friend, who remains in the doorway but peeks his head in farther. He’s tall, with long black hair swept back in a disgusting, greasy ponytail. His cheeks are sunken in, his clothes are ratty, and his fingernails are black lines on filthy, bony hands.

  What the fuck.

  The man’s gravelly voice matches his appearance when he asks with some awe, “This is your daughter’s place?”

  This man is no drunk.

  “Yeah. Nice, huh? I’m proud of her.” Richard smiles, and the guy pats his shoulder, nodding in agreement.

  “Who’s this?” the man asks.

  They both look over at me. Richard smiles. “Oh, him? That’s Hardin, Tessie’s boyfriend.”

  “Cool, I’m Chad,” he states, saying it almost like he’s a local personality I should somehow know.

  Not a drunk. So much worse.

  “Okay,” I say, watching his eyes as they move around our living room. I’m relieved that Tessa’s in the shower and doesn’t have to meet this creep.

  When I hear the bathroom door open, I curse at myself. I spoke too fucking soon. Chad lifts his long-sleeved shirt to scratch at his arms, making me feel like Tessa for a moment as I get a sudden urge to mop the fucking floor.

  “Hardin?” Her voice travels down the hall.

  “You should go now,” I tell the scraggly pair before me in the most threatening tone possible.

  “I want to meet her,” Chad says with a dark twinkle in his eye, and I have to concentrate to keep myself in my place and not throw both these bags of bones into the hallway and out the window.

  “No. You don’t,” I say.

  Richard looks at me. “Okay . . . okay . . . we’re going,” he says and starts ushering his friend out. “I’ll see you later, Hardin. Thanks again. Stay out of jail.” And with a smirk and that parting shot, he leaves the apartment.

  “Hardin?” Tessa calls again as she enters the living room.

  “They just left.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “What’s wrong? Hmm . . . let’s see. Zed came to your office, and your drunk of a dad just brought some creepy fucking dude into our apartment.” A brief pause, and I add, “Are you sure your dad only drinks?”

  “What?” The shoulder of her T-shirt—well, my T-shirt—slips down to bare her shoulder. She pushes it back up and sits down on the couch. “What do you mean, ‘only drinks’?”

  Looking at her, I don’t want to plant the seed that her dad’s not only a homeless drunk but a drug addict, too. He doesn’t look as bad as the asshole who just came to pick him up, but I still have a weird feeling about this shit. Even so, I just say, “I don’t know. Never mind, I was just thinking out loud.”

  “Okay . . .” she quietly answers.

  I know her well enough to be certain that the thought of her father being on drugs hasn’t crossed her mind and that she’d never guess I’m thinking it from what I said.

  “Are you mad at me?” Her voice is soft, too timid.

  I know she’s waiting for me to explode any moment. I have been purposely avoiding conversation with her for a reason. “No.”

  “Are you sure?” She looks at me with those big, beautiful eyes, begging for me to say something.

  They do the trick.

  “No, I’m not sure. I don’t know. I’m really mad, yeah, but I don’t want to fight with you over it. I’m trying to change, you know? Keep my shit together and not flip out on you over every little thing.” I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Even though this isn’t a little thing. I’ve told you time and time again not to see Zed, but you still do.” I look at her coldly—not to be mean, but because I have to see how her eyes react when I add, “How would you feel if I did that to you?”

  She practically crumples before my eyes. “I would feel terrible. I know I’ve been wrong for seeing him,” she says without defense.

  Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting her to yell at me and stick up for that shithead Zed, like always. “Yes, you have,” I say, then sigh. “But if you say you told him it’s done, then it’s done. I’ve done everything I can do to keep him away from you, but he doesn’t stop. So you have to be the one to keep him away.”

  “It’s done, I swear. I won’t see him again.”

  She looks up at me, and I shudder at the thought of her on the phone earlier, her crying over their goodbye.

  “We aren’t going to that party on Saturday,” I say, and her face falls.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Actually, I know it isn’t.

  “I want to go.” She presses her full lips into a line.

  “We aren’t going,” I tell her again.

  Her spine shoots up a little, and she pushes back. “If I want to go, I’ll go.”

  Fuck, she’s so fucking stubborn. “Can we please just discuss it later? We have shit to do if you want me to go on this fucking stupid-ass boat shit.”

  She smiles playfully. “Could you fit any more curse words in that sentence?”

  And I smile as I have a vision of her bent over my knee for being so smarmy. She’d probably like that, actually: lying across my lap, my hand hitting her skin, not too hard, just hard enough to turn the skin pink . . .

  “Hardin?”

  My perverted thoughts interrupted, I push them away . . . for now. She would hide behind her hands if I told her what I was daydreaming about.

  chapter twenty-one

  TESSA

  I shake his arm again, roughly this time. “Hardin! You have to get up—now. We’re going to be late.”

  I’m already dressed and ready, our bags have already been placed in the car, and I’ve given him as much time to sleep as possible. Heck, last night I even did all the packing, not that he would’ve done a very good job of it anyway.

  “Not . . . going,” he groans.

  “Please get up!” I whine and tug at his arm. God, I wish he was a morning person like me.

  He covers his face with the pillow, and I grab it and toss it onto the floor. “No, go away.”

  I decide to take a different approach and bring my hand to the front of his boxers. He fell asleep in his jeans last night, and I had a hell of a time tugging them down his legs without waking him. But now he’s been left vulnerable, and manipulable.

  My fingernails gently graze the inked skin just above the waistband . . . He doesn’t budge.

  I dip my hand fully into his boxers, and he opens his eyes. “Good morning,” he says with a lusty smile.

  I remove my hand and stand up. “Get up.”

  He yawns dramatically and looks down at his boxers and says, “Looks like I . . . already . . . am.” When he doesn’t look back up, I see he’s pretending to be asleep again, and soon he starts making loud cartoon snoring noises. It’s inconvenient, but adorable and playful; I hope he remains this way for the rest of the week—really, I’ll settle for the rest of the day.

  I reach into his boxers again, and when his eyes pop open to look at me like an eager puppy, I say, “Uh-uh,” and pull my hand back out.

  “Not fair,” he whines.

  But he does get up, pulling yesterday’s jeans back on. He walks over to the dresser and grabs a black shirt, looks at me, then puts it back and pulls out a white one. He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand straight up before pushing it back down.

  “Do I have time to brush my teeth?” His tone is sarcastic, and his voice is raspy from sleep.

  “Yes, hurry up. Brush your tee
th so we can go,” I instruct and do a quick walk-through of the apartment to make sure everything is in order.

  Minutes later, Hardin joins me in the living room, and we finally leave.

  KEN, KAREN, AND LANDON are waiting for us in the driveway when we arrive.

  I roll down the window. “Sorry we’re a few minutes late,” I apologize as we pull up next to where they stand.

  “It’s okay! We figured we’d all ride together since it’s quite a drive,” Karen says with a smile.

  “Fuck, no,” Hardin whispers next to me.

  “Come on.” She gestures to the black SUV filling the other half of the driveway. “Ken bought me this for my birthday, and we never use it.”

  “No; hell, no,” Hardin says a little louder.

  “It’ll be fine,” I say quietly, to him.

  “Tessa . . .” he begins.

  “Hardin, please don’t make this difficult, please,” I beg. Maybe, just maybe, I blink my eyes seductively, hoping that will work.

  After looking at me for a moment, his eyes finally soften. “Fine. Fuck, you’re lucky I love you.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” Then I turn back to Karen. “Okay,” I say with a smile and turn off my car.

  Hardin puts our bags into the back of Karen’s SUV, scowling the whole time.

  “This is going to be fun!” Landon laughs as I climb into the car.

  Hardin sits next to me in the back row after making a comment about not having to sit next to Landon. As Ken pulls onto the street, Karen turns on the radio and begins to sing along softly.

  “This is some shit straight from a corny comedy,” Hardin says and puts his hand over mine before pulling them both to his lap.

  chapter twenty-two

  TESSA

  Wisconsin!” Karen says loudly, clapping her hands together, then pointing at a passing truck.

  I can’t help but laugh at Hardin’s horrified expression. “Oh my fucking God,” he huffs, laying his head back on the seat.

  “Would you stop? She’s having fun,” I scold him.