“Oh? What do you mean, Oh?”
“So put a condom on?” she suggests with a doe-eyed look.
“That’s not the point!” I stand up in the tub. She doesn’t say anything. “If I hadn’t thought about it, you could have gotten pregnant.”
She nods understandingly. “Okay, yeah, but you did remember.”
Why is she so calm about this? She has this grand plan to move to Seattle—a baby would definitely fuck that up. Wait . . .
“Is that your plan or something? If I get you pregnant, you think I’ll go with you?” I sound like a fucking conspiracy theorist, but it does make sense.
She turns around, laughing. “You aren’t serious!” And when she tries to wrap her arms around me, I move out of the way.
“I am.”
“Come on, that’s insane. Come here, babe.” She tries to grab me again, but I dodge her, moving to the opposite side of the Jacuzzi.
Hurt flashes as clear as a goddamn neon sign across her face, and she covers her boobs with her hands. “You’re the one who forgot about a condom, and now you’re saying that I’m trying to trap you by getting pregnant?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Just listen to yourself.”
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time some crazy chick did that. I slide over to get a little closer now, but she quickly rises onto her knees on the bench. I give her an impassive look, saying nothing.
Watching me, her eyes brim with tears as she stands up in the water and climbs out of the tub. “I’m going to take a shower.” She disappears into the bedroom, slamming first the door to the deck and then the bathroom as she goes.
“Fuck!” I yell, smacking a palm at the bubbling water, wishing it could hit me back. I do need to listen to what I’m saying—this isn’t some random crazy bitch. This is Tessa. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so fucking paranoid. My guilt over this Seattle shit is causing me to lose my fucking mind. What’s left of it, anyway.
I have to fix this, or at least try to. I owe it to her, especially after I just accused her of the dumbest shit possible.
Ironically, in a twisted way, I almost wish I hadn’t remembered the condom myself . . .
No. No, I don’t. I just don’t want her to leave me, and I don’t know what else to do to get her to stay. A baby isn’t the answer, that’s for damn sure. I’ve done everything I possibly can except lock her in the apartment. Sure, it’s an idea that’s actually crossed my mind a few times, but I don’t think she would like it too much. Plus she’d probably get a vitamin-D deficiency. And stop going to yoga . . . and so stop wearing those pants.
I need to go inside and apologize for embarrassing her and being a dick to her before the entire gang returns. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and they’ll get lost in the woods for a few hours.
But first, I have something else I need to do. I climb out of the hot tub and walk into the room; it’s cold as hell now that I’m only wearing soaked boxers. I glance back and forth between my phone and the bathroom door connected to our room. The shower’s still running, so I grab my phone and a blanket from the back of the chair before stepping back out onto the balcony.
I scroll through my contacts and find the name Samuel; real fucking clever decoy, there. I don’t know why I saved this woman’s number anyway; I guess I knew somehow I’d get tangled in a fucking web and have to call the bitch back. I changed the name in case Tessa went snooping through my shit, which I knew she would do. I thought she’d caught me when she asked about my deleted history and heard me yelling at Molly on the phone.
In some ways, I’m sure she’d rather see Molly on my call log than this person.
chapter twenty-six
TESSA
I can’t believe Hardin had the nerve to accuse me of trying to get myself pregnant, or even thinking that there’s even a small chance that I would do something like that to him . . . or to myself. The whole thing’s just absurd and stupid all around.
Everything was going so great—incredible, really—until he mentioned the condom. He should have just gotten out of the water and grabbed one; I know he has a pile of them in the top of his suitcase. I watched him shove them in there after I neatly packed our bags.
He’s probably just frustrated over this whole Seattle mess, so he overreacted, and maybe I did, too. As a result of my annoyance with Hardin’s rude comments and his ruining our . . . moment in the hot tub, I need a hot shower. Seconds later the water begins to work against my strained muscles, relaxing my nerves and clearing my head. We both overreacted, him more than me, and the argument was so unnecessary. I reach for the shampoo. And then realize I was so rattled while getting away from him that I forgot to grab my toiletry bag. Great.
“Hardin?” I call. I doubt he can hear me over the shower and hot tub, but I pull the floral shower curtain back and watch for him just in case. When he doesn’t appear in the doorway after a few seconds, I grab my towel and wrap it around my body. Trailing water into the bedroom, I reach the suitcases lying on the bed, when I hear Hardin’s voice.
I can’t quite hear what he’s saying, but I catch his tone of false niceness, which tells me he’s trying to be polite and not show his frustration. Which tells me that this conversation is something he deems important enough to not act like himself.
I pad quietly across the wooden floor, and since he’s on speaker, I hear someone say, “Because I’m a Realtor, and my job is to fill empty apartments.”
Hardin sighs. “Well, do you have any more empty apartments to fill?” he asks.
Wait, Hardin’s trying to get me an apartment? I’m as shocked as I am excited at the thought. He’s finally coming around to the idea of Seattle, and he’s actually trying to help me instead of push against me. For once.
The woman on the other end, who, I realize, has a very familiar voice, replies, “You gave me the impression that your friend Tessa was not someone I should be wasting my time giving an apartment to.”
What? Wait . . . is that . . . ?
He wouldn’t.
“Here’s the thing . . . she isn’t as bad as I made her out to be. She hasn’t actually trashed any apartments or left without paying,” he says, and my stomach turns.
He did.
I burst through the doors to the deck. “You sick, selfish bastard!” I scream, the first words that come to mind.
Hardin spins to me, face paling, mouth opening wide. His phone tumbles to the floor, and he just stares at me like I’m some terrible creature who’s come to destroy him.
“Hello?” Sandra’s voice says through the speaker, and he reaches down to grab his phone to silence her.
Anger courses through me. “How could you? How could you do that?”
“I—” he begins.
“No! Don’t even waste my time with an excuse! What the hell were you thinking?” I yell with one arm sweeping in his direction violently.
I storm back into the bedroom, and he follows me, pleading, “Tessa, listen to me.”
I turn around, feeling wounded, and strong, and hurt, and enraged. “No! You listen to me, Hardin,” I say through my teeth, trying to lower my voice. But I can’t. “I’m so sick of this, I’m sick of you trying to sabotage everything in my life that doesn’t revolve around you!” I scream, balling my fists tightly at my sides.
“That’s not what I—”
“Shut up! Shut the hell up! You are the most selfish, arrogant—you’re just . . . ugh!” I can’t think straight; angry words fly from my mouth, my hands moving through the air in front of me.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was trying to clear it up just now.”
I shouldn’t be so surprised, really. I should have known that Hardin was behind Sandra’s sudden disappearance. He doesn’t know when to stop meddling in my life, my career, and I’m sick of it.
“Exactly; this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re always doing something. You’re always hiding something. You’re always finding new ways to try to control every single thing I do, and I can’t take
it anymore! This is too much.” I can’t help but pace back and forth across the room, and Hardin watches me with cautious eyes. “I can handle you being a little overprotective, and I can handle you getting in a fight now and then. Hell, I can even handle you being a complete asshole half the time, because deep down I always knew you were doing what you thought was best for me. But not this. You’re trying to ruin my future—and I won’t fucking have it.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. And I know that he means it, but—
“You’re always fucking sorry! It’s always the same shit: you do something, hide something, say something, I cry, you say you’re sorry, and bam! All is forgiven.” I point a harsh finger at him. “But not this time.”
I have the urge to slap Hardin right across his face, but I look around for something to take my anger out on instead. I grab a frilly pillow from the bed and throw it onto the floor. Then I throw a second one. It doesn’t do much for the anger flaming inside me, but I’d feel even worse if I destroyed anything of Karen’s.
This is so exhausting. I don’t know how much more I can take before I break.
Fuck that, I won’t break. I’m sick of breaking—that’s all I ever do. I need to pick up my own pieces, put them back together neatly, and hide them away from Hardin to keep them from ending up in a pile at his feet again.
“I’m sick of the endless cycle. I’ve told you before, and you don’t listen. You find new ways to continue the cycle, and I’m done, I’m so fucking done!”
I don’t know if I’ve ever been this angry at him. Yes, he’s done worse things, but I’ve always moved on from that. We were never in a place like this before, a place where I thought he was done hiding things from me, and I thought he understood that he can’t mess with my career. This chance means everything to me. I’ve spent my life watching what happens to a woman who has nothing of her own. My mother never had anything that she herself earned, anything that was hers, and I need that. I need to do this. I need this chance to prove that even though I’m young, I can make a life for myself that my mother never could make for herself. I can’t let anyone take this from me, the way my mother let it slip from her.
“Done . . . with me?” His voice is shaky, and it cracks. “You said you’re done . . .”
I don’t know what I’m done with. It should be him, but I know myself better than to answer that right now. Normally I would be crying by this point and forgiving him with a kiss . . . but not tonight.
“I’m so fucking exhausted, and I can’t stand it. I can’t keep doing this like this! You were going to let me move to Seattle without anywhere to live just to try to force me not to go!”
Hardin stands before me in silence, and I take a deep breath, expecting my anger to diminish, but it doesn’t. It grows and grows until I am literally seeing red. I grab the rest of the pillows, imagining that they’re actually glass vases that shatter to the floor, leaving a mess for someone else to clean up. The problem is that I would be the one doing the cleaning—he wouldn’t take the chance of cutting himself in order to spare me.
“Get out!” I scream at him.
“No, I’m sorry, okay, I—”
“Get the fuck out. Now,” I spit, and he looks at me like he has no idea who I am.
Maybe he hasn’t.
He hunches over and leaves the room—and I slam the door behind him before going back out to the balcony. I sit down on the wicker chair and stare out at the sea, trying to calm myself down.
No tears come, only memories. Memories and regrets.
chapter twenty-seven
HARDIN
I know she’s exhausted—I can see it on her face each time I fuck up. The fight with Zed, the lie about the expulsion . . . every infraction takes a toll on her; she thinks I don’t notice, but I do.
Why did I have to put Sandra on speakerphone? If I hadn’t done that, I could have cleaned this shit up and told her about my fuckup after I fixed it. That way she couldn’t be as upset.
I wasn’t thinking about what Tessa would do when she found out, and I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about where she’d live if she didn’t change her mind about moving. I suppose I thought that being the control freak that she is, she’d postpone her trip if she didn’t have anywhere to stay.
Way to fucking go, Hardin.
I meant well—well, I didn’t at the time, but now I do. I know it’s fucked up for me to mess with her apartment in Seattle, but I’m grasping at straws here, trying to get her not to leave me. I know what will happen in Seattle, and it’s not going to end well.
True to my nature, I take a swing at the wall next to the staircase.
“Fuck!”
True to my luck, I find out it’s not drywall. It’s real fucking wood, and hurts so much worse. I cradle my fist with my other hand and have to stop myself from repeating my idiotic reaction. I’m lucky it didn’t break anything. Sure, it will bruise, but what else is new.
I’m sick of the endless cycle. I’ve told you before and you don’t listen. I stomp down the stairs and throw myself on the couch like a temperamental child. That’s what I am really, a fucking child. She knows it, I know it—hell, everyone fucking knows it. I should just print the shit on a goddamn T-shirt.
I should just go up there and try to explain myself again, but honestly, I’m a little scared. I’ve never seen her so mad before.
I need to get the hell out of here. If Tessa hadn’t forced me to ride with the entire fucking Partridge family, I could leave now and end this stupid-ass trip early. I didn’t even want to come in the first place.
I guess the boat was sort of okay . . . but the trip in general is bullshit, and now that she’s mad at me, there’s literally no point in me being here. I stare up at the ceiling, unsure what I’m supposed to do now. I can’t just sit here, and I know if I do, I’ll end up back upstairs pushing Tessa further.
I’ll take a walk. That’s what normal people do when they’re angry, not punch walls and break shit.
I need to get some damn clothes on before I do anything, but I can’t go back up there or she’ll murder me, literally.
I sigh as I get up. If I wasn’t so confused by Tessa’s behavior, I’d care more about what I’m about to do.
The door to Landon’s room opens, and my eyes roll immediately. His clothes are stacked neatly on the bed; he must have been planning to dutifully put them away before his mum and my dad dragged him along with them.
I sift through the hideous crap and desperately search for something that doesn’t have a fucking collar. Finally, I find a plain blue T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.
Fucking lovely. I’ve now resorted to sharing clothes with Landon. I hope Tessa’s rage doesn’t last long, but for once I don’t know what will happen next. I hadn’t expected her to react half as bad as she did; it wasn’t really the words she used toward me, it was the way she looked at me the whole time. That look said more than she ever could and, in turn, scared me more than her words alone ever could.
I glance at the door to what was our room up until twenty minutes ago, then head back down the stairs and out the door.
I barely make it down the damn driveway before my favorite stepbrother appears. At least he’s alone.
“Where’s my dad?” I ask him.
“Are you wearing my clothes?” he responds, clearly confused.
“Um, yeah. I didn’t have a choice, don’t make a big deal of it.” I shrug, knowing by the smile on his face he was planning on doing just that.
“Okay . . . What did you do now?”
What the hell? “What makes you think I did something?”
His brow arches.
“Okay . . . so I did something, something really fucking stupid,” I huff. “But I don’t want to hear your shit, so don’t worry about it.”
“Fine.” He shrugs and begins to walk away from me.
I was hoping for a few words from him, he’s okay with advice sometimes. “Wait!” I call and he turns around. “You’re
not going to ask me what it was?”
“You just said you don’t want to talk about it,” he replies.
“Yeah, but I . . . well.” I don’t know what to say, and he’s looking at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Do you want me to ask you?” He looks pleased, but thankfully he’s not being too much of an asshole about it.
“I’m the reason . . .” I begin, but just then I see Karen and my dad starting to walk up the driveway.
“The reason what?” Landon asks, looking back at them.
“Nothing, never mind.” I sigh, running my fingers through my damp hair in frustration.
“Hey, Hardin! Where’s Tessa?” Karen asks.
Why does everyone always ask me that as if I can’t be more than five feet away from her?
The building ache in my chest reminds me of just that: I can’t.
“She’s inside, sleeping,” I lie and turn to Landon. “I’m going for a walk, can you make sure she’s okay?” He nods.
“Where are you going?” my father’s voice calls as I walk past them.
“Out,” I snap and walk faster.
BY THE TIME I reach a stop sign a few roads over, I realize I have no fucking idea where I’m going or even how to get back to where I came from. I just know I’ve been walking for a while, and that all of these roads are deceptively windy.
I officially hate this place.
It didn’t seem so bad while I was watching Tessa’s hair blow lightly in the wind, her eyes focused on the shining water, her lips turned up in a small, satisfied smile. She looked so relaxed, like the calm waves far from the shore, steady and undisturbed until our boat intruded on their peace. Now behind us, the water roars, whipping up onto the sides of our boat in an angry way. Soon they’ll go back to their resting state, until another boat comes along to disturb their ease.
A girl’s voice interrupts the image of Tessa’s sun-kissed skin. “Are you lost or something?”
When I turn around, I’m surprised to find a girl, around my age, I think. Her brown hair is as long as Tessa’s. She’s alone out here at night. I look around us. There’s nothing, only an empty gravel road and forest.