After Ever Happy

  After a couple of deep breaths she adds, “He isn’t the same man now that he was then. He’s had years of sobriety and therapy, years of reflection and remorse.”

  She knows. Karen knows about Trish and Christian. My chest tightens, and my eyes fill, too. “I know what you’re going to say.” I feel for this family. I love them as my own, and I feel for everyone in this family that’s full of secrets, addictions, and regrets.

  “You do?” She blows out a ragged breath that speaks a little of her relief. “Landon told you about the baby? I should have known he would. So I’m assuming Hardin knows, too, then?”

  I start coughing again. After an awkward fit, during which Karen keeps watching my expression, I finally speak. “What? A baby?”

  “So you didn’t know.” She laughs softly. “I know I’m much older than you would expect a pregnant woman to be, but I’m only in my early forties, and my doctor has assured me that I’m healthy enough . . .”

  “A baby?” I’m relieved that she doesn’t know about Christian being Hardin’s father, but this is beyond a surprise.

  “Yes.” She smiles. “I was just as shocked as you are. Ken, too. He’s been so worried about me. Landon nearly had a breakdown; he knew about all of my appointments, but I didn’t tell him what they were for, so the poor thing thought I was sick. I felt terrible, and I had to come clean. This wasn’t planned”—her eyes search mine—“but we are happy now that we’ve gotten over the initial shock of having another child so late in life.”

  My arms wrap around her, and for the first time in days I feel joy. Where there was nothing dominating my core, there is joy. I love Karen and am thrilled for her. This feels so good. I was beginning to worry that I would never feel this way again.

  “This is amazing! I’m so happy for you two!” I gush, and her arms tighten around my back.

  “Thank you, Tessa. I knew you would be, and it is quite exciting, the more and more I live with the reality of it.” She pulls back and kisses my cheek, then looks me in the eye. “I’m just worried about how this will make Hardin feel.”

  And like that, my joy for her is cut short and instantly replaced by worry for Hardin. His entire life has been a lie, and he hasn’t exactly handled the news well. The man he believed to be his father is now having another child, and Hardin will be forgotten. Whether that’s true or not, I know him well enough to know that’s where his mind will go. And Karen knows it, which is why she was so worried about bringing it up.

  “Do you mind if I’m the one who tells him?” I ask. “If not, I understand.”

  I don’t allow myself to think too far into this. I know that I’m blurring the lines here, but if I’m leaving Hardin, I need to make sure I’m not leaving a mess behind.

  That’s an excuse, part of me warns.

  “No, of course not—to be honest, I was hoping you’d want to. I know this puts you in a terrible position, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to get in the middle of this, but I am afraid of how Hardin will react if Ken is the one to tell him. You have a way with him that no one else does.”

  “It’s fine, really. I will talk to him tomorrow.”

  She hugs me again. “Today has been a tough day for you. I’m sorry for bringing this up. I should have waited—I just want to avoid the news being a surprise to him, especially since I feel like I’m starting to show a little bit. He’s had a hard enough life already, and I want to do whatever I can to make things easier on him. I want him to know that he’s a part of this family, and that we all love him so much, that this baby won’t change that.”

  “He knows,” I promise. He may not be willing to accept it yet, but he knows.

  Footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs, and Karen and I pull away from each other reflexively. We both wipe our cheeks, and I take another bite of the cake as Hardin enters the kitchen. He’s showered and changed his clothes. He’s now wearing a pair of sweatpants, the legs of which are too short; the WCU logo stitched along his thigh is a dead giveaway that he’s wearing Landon’s clothing. No way is he a booster like that.

  If we were in a different place, I would tease him about the pants. But we aren’t. We are in the worst place, yet in the best place for me; it’s all confusing and skewed. Then again, a healthy balance and order has never been a factor in our relationship; why would our breakup be any different?

  “I’m going to bed. Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

  I look up at him but he’s staring at his bare feet. “No. Thank you, though.”

  “I put your stuff in the guest room, your room.”

  I nod. The insane, untrustworthy part of me wishes Karen weren’t in the kitchen with us, but the rational, bitter, and much larger part of me is glad that she is. He disappears up the staircase, and I say good-night to Karen before going up myself.

  In short order I find myself outside the room where I’ve spent some of the best nights of my life. I raise my hand to the knob, but quickly pull away as if the cold metal might burn my skin.

  This cycle has got to stop, and if I give in to every impulse, every fiber of my being, that desperately craves to be close to him, I’ll never make it out of this continuous loop of mistake after mistake, fight after fight.

  I finally let out a breath as I close the guest-room door behind me and turn the lock. I fall asleep wishing that the younger me had known just how dangerous love could be. If I had known it would hurt this bad, if I had known the way it would rip me apart, then sew me back together, only to tear me into pieces again, I would have stayed as far away from Hardin Scott as I possibly could.

  chapter forty

  TESSA

  Tessie! In here, come in here!” my father calls down the hall, excitement clear in his loud voice.

  I climb out of my small bed and rush out to him. The loose ties on my robe nearly trip me in my haste, and I fumble to bind them again as I burst into the living room . . . where my mother and father are standing next to a beautifully decorated and lit-up tree.

  I’ve always loved Christmas.

  “Look, Tessie, we got you a gift. I know you’re an adult now, but I saw this and had to get it for you.” My father smiles and my mother leans into him.

  An adult? I look down at my feet, trying to decipher his words. I’m not an adult, at least I don’t think I am.

  A small box is placed into my hand, and without so much as a thought I eagerly rip the shiny bow off the gift. I love gifts. I don’t get them often, so when I do, it’s special for me.

  As I tear at it, I look up at my parents, but my mother’s excitement throws me off. I’ve never seen her smile this way, and my father, well, I feel as if he shouldn’t be here, but I can’t remember why that is.

  “Hurry and open it!” my father urges as I lift the lid off the box.

  I nod excitedly and reach inside . . . only to pull my hand back when something sharp pricks my finger. I nearly curse from the pain and drop the box to the floor. A needle falls onto the carpet. When I look back up at my parents, my father’s skin has lost all color and his eyes have gone void.

  My mother’s smile is bright again, brighter than I’ve ever seen it before—as bright as a blinding sun, it suddenly seems. My father bends down and grabs the needle from the floor. He takes a step toward me, needle in hand, and I try to back away, but my feet won’t move. They won’t move no matter how hard I try, and I’m left helpless, only to scream as he pushes the weapon into my arm.

  “TESSA!” LANDON’S VOICE is frantic, loud, and frightening as he shakes my shoulders.

  I’m sitting up somehow, and my shirt is stained with sweat. I look at him, then back down to my arm, searching like a lunatic for puncture marks.

  “Are you okay?” he exclaims.

  I gasp for breath, my chest aching as I struggle to find air and my voice. I shake my head, and Landon tightens his grip on my shoulders.

  “I heard you scream, so I—” Landon is rendered silent when Hardin barges into the
room.

  Hardin’s cheeks are flushed a deep red, and his eyes are wild. “What happened?” He brushes Landon off me and sits next to me on the bed. “I heard you scream—what happened?” His hands move to my cheeks, and his thumbs brush over the tearstains there.

  “I don’t know. I had a dream,” I manage to say.

  “What sort of dream?” Hardin’s voice is nearly a whisper, and his thumbs are still gliding, slowly as ever, across the skin just under my eyes.

  “The kind that you have,” I reply, my voice equally hushed.

  A sigh leaves his lips, and he frowns. “Since when? Since when do you have my sort of dreams?”

  I take a moment to collect my thoughts. “Only since I found him, and it’s only been twice. I don’t know where they’re coming from.”

  His distressed hand runs over his hair, and my heart twists at the sight of the familiar gesture. “Well, I’m sure finding the body of your dead father would cause anyone to—” He stops midsentence. “I’m sorry, fuck, I need a filter.” He sighs in frustration.

  He shifts his eyes from mine and looks over to the bedside table. “Do you need anything? Water?” He tries to smile, but it’s forced, sad even. “I feel like I’ve offered you water a thousand times in the last few days.”

  “I just need to go back to sleep.”

  “I’ll stay?” he half demands, half asks.

  “I don’t think . . .” I look over at Landon. I almost forgot he was in the room with us.

  “It’s cool.” Hardin’s eyes stare past me at the wall behind my head. “I get it.”

  When he shrugs his shoulders in defeat, it takes everything inside me, every ounce of my self-respect, not to wrap my arms around his neck and beg him to sleep with me. I need his comfort; I need his arms around my waist and my head on his chest as I fall asleep. I need him to give me the peace in sleep that I have always provided for him, but he’s no longer the safety net I relied on. Then again, has he ever been? He’s been on and off, always just out of reach, constantly running from me and our love. I can’t chase him again. I simply don’t have the strength to chase after something so unattainable, so unrealistic.

  By the time I manage to break free from my thoughts, only Landon remains in the room with me.

  “Scoot over,” he quietly instructs.

  I do just that and fall back asleep, regretting my earlier thoughts of wishing I had stayed away from Hardin.

  Even in the midst of the inevitable tragedy that was our relationship, I would never take a second of it back. I wouldn’t do it again, but I don’t regret a moment I spent with him.

  chapter forty-one

  HARDIN

  The weather here is much better than in Seattle. The rain is nowhere to be found, and the sun has come out for a rare appearance. It’s April now: it’s about damn time that the sun is out.

  Tessa has been in the kitchen with Karen and that Sophia chick all day. I’m trying to show her that I can give her space, that I can wait until she’s ready to talk to me—but it’s harder than I could have imagined. Last night was hard for me—really damn hard, to see her so distraught, so afraid. I hate that my nightmares have rubbed off on her. My horrors are contagious, and I would take them from her if I could.

  When Tessa was mine, she always slept peacefully. She was my anchor, my comfort in the night, fighting off my demons for me when I was too weak, too distracted by self-pity, to help her battle them. She was there, shield in hand, fighting every image that threatened my fucked-up mind. She bore the burden on her own, and that’s what finally broke her.

  Then I remind myself that she’s still mine; she’s just not ready to admit it again.

  She has to be. There is no other way.

  I park my car in front of my father’s house. The leasing agent gave me shit when I called to tell him that I’m moving out. He fed me some bullshit about charging me two months’ rent for breaking the lease, but I hung up midconversation. I don’t care what I have to pay, I’m not living there anymore. I know it’s an impulsive decision, and I don’t exactly have another place to live, but I’m hoping I can stay at Ken’s for a few days with Tessa until I can convince her to move in with me, in Seattle.

  I’m ready for this. I’m ready to live in Seattle if that’s what she wants, and my offer of marriage isn’t going anywhere. Not this time. I’ll marry that girl and live in Seattle until I die if that’s what she wants, if that’s what makes her happy.

  “How long is that chick staying?” I ask Landon, pointing out the window at the Prius parked next to his car. It was kind of cool of him to offer to take me to get my car, especially after I chewed him out for sleeping in the room with Tessa. I wouldn’t have been able to unlock the door, he pointed out, but I would have broken the damn thing down if I had the energy. The idea of the two of them sharing a bed has been driving me fucking crazy since I heard their hushed voices from outside the door. I ignored the puzzled look on his face when he found me half-asleep, sitting on the floor outside the door.

  I tried to fall asleep in the empty bed in my designated room, but I just couldn’t. I had to be closer to her just in case something happened and she screamed again. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I struggled to stay awake in the hallway the entire night.

  “I don’t know. Sophia is leaving to go back to New York later this week.” His voice comes out high-pitched and awkward as hell.

  What the hell’s that all about? “What?” I press him as we walk inside the house.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  But Landon’s cheeks flush, and I follow him into the living room, where Tessa is standing near the window, staring off into space while Karen and mini-Karen share a laugh.

  Why isn’t Tessa laughing? Why isn’t she at least engaged in the conversation?

  The woman smiles at Landon. “There you are!”

  She’s pretty enough, nowhere near Tessa’s beauty, but she’s easy on the eyes for sure. As she approaches, I look over and notice that, again, Landon is blushing . . . a pastry is in his hand . . . she’s smiling wide . . . and it clicks.

  Why didn’t I see it before? He fucking likes her! A million jokes and embarrassing comments flood my mind, and I literally have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from torturing him with this information.

  I ignore the start of their conversation and walk straight to Tessa. She doesn’t seem to notice my presence until I’m directly in front of her.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  There’s a fine line between space and . . . well . . . my normal behavior, and I’m trying my best to find a good balance even if it’s hard to break the habit.

  I know that if I give her too much space, she will withdraw from me, but if I suffocate her, she will run. This is new for me, completely uncharted territory. I hate to admit this to myself, but I had gotten a little too used to her being my emotional punching bag. I hate myself for the way I’ve treated her, and I know she deserves better than me, but I need this last chance to become someone better for her.

  No, I need to be myself. Just a version of me who is worthy of her love.

  “Nothing, just baking. The usual. Well, taking a little break from baking, actually.” A faint smile crosses her lips, and I grin at her. These small affections, these minuscule hints of adoration toward me, fuel my hope. A hope that’s both new and very much out of my comfort zone, but I’ll gladly spend my time figuring it out.

  Karen and Landon’s number one spank-bank chick come over and signal to Tessa, and within seconds they’re all back in the kitchen while Landon and I are forgotten and left alone in the living room.

  As soon as I’m sure the women can’t hear me, a devilish grin stretches across my face and I accuse Landon, “You’re hot for her.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? Tessa and I are just friends.” He sighs an annoyed and overdramatic sigh while scowling at me. “I thought you understood that after cussing me out for an hour this morning.”
br />   I waggle my eyebrows. “Oh, I’m not talking about Tessa. I mean Sarah.”

  “Her name is Sophia.”

  I shrug and keep smiling. “Same thing.”

  “No.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s not. You act like you can’t remember any woman’s name except Tess.”

  “Tessa,” I correct him with a frown. “And I don’t need to remember any other women’s names.”

  “It’s disrespectful. You’ve called Sophia every name that begins with an S, except her actual name, and it drove me insane when you called Dakota Danielle.”

  “You’re annoying.” I sit down on the couch, smiling at my step . . . Actually, he’s not actually my stepbrother anymore. Never was. Realizing that fact, I’m not really sure how I feel about that.

  He fights a smile. “So are you.”

  Would he care if he knew? Probably not, he would probably be relieved that we aren’t related, even by marriage.

  “I know you like her, admit it.” I taunt.

  “No, I don’t. I don’t even know her.” He looks away. Busted.

  “But she’ll be in New York with you, and you can explore the streets there together and get caught under an awning during a dramatic downpour—how romantic!” I pull my lip between my teeth to stifle a laugh at his horrified expression.

  “Would you stop? She’s much older than me and way out of my league.”

  “She’s too hot for you, but you never know. Some girls don’t care about looks,” I tease. “And who knows? She may be looking for a younger man. How old is your old lady there?”