“I need to talk to Landon,” I tell Hardin as he opens the door to his room.
He switches the light on and lets go of my arm. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
The moment I say the word, Hardin has me against the wall. “This second?” He leans into me, his breath warm against my neck. “You’re sure?”
I’m not sure, of anything, really.
“What?” My voice is thick, my head cloudy.
“I think you were going to kiss me.” He presses his lips to mine, and I can’t help but smile into it, into the madness, into the relief of his affection. His lips aren’t soft; they are dry and cracked, but so perfect, and I love the way his tongue laps around mine, pushing into my mouth, not giving me the option to overthink or pull away.
His hands are at my waist, fingers pressing deliciously into the skin there as his knee pushes between my thighs to separate them.
“I can’t believe you are moving so far from me.” He drags his mouth across my jaw to the skin just below my ear. “So far away from me.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, unable to say more than that when his hands move from my hips to my stomach, pushing the fabric of my T-shirt along with the heavy drag of his hands.
“Between the two of us, we keep running.” His voice is calm, despite his hands moving quickly to cup my chest. My back is pressed against the wall, and my shirt is lying on the floor at our feet.
“We do.”
“One Hemingway quote, and then I’ll keep my mouth busy elsewhere.” He smiles against my mouth, his hands rubbing, teasing, just above the waist of my pants.
I nod, wanting him to follow through on that promise.
“ ‘You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.’ ” He pushes his hand into my pants.
I groan, equally overwhelmed by his words and his touch. His words play on an endless stream inside my mind as he touches me, and I reach for him. He’s clearly straining against his zipper, and he moans my name under his breath as I fumble with the button of his jeans.
“Don’t go to New York with Landon, stay with me in Seattle.”
Landon. I turn my head and remove my hand from Hardin’s zipper. “I need to talk to Landon, this is important. He seemed upset.”
“So? I’m upset, too.”
“I know.” I sigh. “But you clearly aren’t that upset.” I glance down at his cock, boxers barely covering it.
“Well, that’s because I’m distracted from being angry at you—and Landon,” he adds weakly, as an afterthought.
“I won’t be long.” I pull away from him and lift my shirt from the floor, tugging it down over my stomach.
“Okay, I need a few minutes anyway.” Hardin pulls his hair back and drops the messy fringe onto his neck. This is the longest his hair has been since I met him. I like it this way, but sort of miss being able to see the traces of ink that peek up from the neckline of his shirt.
“A few minutes away from me?” I ask before considering how desperate the question sounds.
“Yes. You did just tell me that you are moving across the country and I lost my temper with Landon. I need a few minutes to sort through the shit going on in my head.”
“Okay, I understand.” I do understand. He’s handling this much better than I expected, and the last thing I should do is jump into bed with Hardin and neglect settling things with Landon.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he tells me as I walk into the hallway.
My mind is still in the bedroom with Hardin, pressed against the wall, living in the distraction as I go downstairs. With each step, the ghost of his touch lessens, and when I walk into the dining room, Karen moves from Landon’s side and Ken gestures for her to leave the room with him. She offers me a small smile and a gentle squeeze of my hand as she passes.
“Hey.” I pull a chair out and sit down next to Landon, but he stands just as I take my seat.
“Not now, Tessa,” he snaps, and goes into the living room.
Confused by his harsh tone, I miss a beat. Apparently I’m missing more than that, though.
“Landon . . .” I stand up and follow him into the living room. “Wait!” I shout at his back.
He stops walking. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t working anymore.”
“What’s not working?” I tug at his long-sleeved shirt to stop him from walking away from me.
Without turning around, he says, “This thing between you and Hardin. It was okay when it was only affecting the two of you, but now you’re dragging everyone else into it, and that’s not fair.”
The anger in his voice cuts deep, and it takes me a moment to remember that he’s talking to me. Landon has always been supportive and kind, and I never expected to hear this from him.
“I’m sorry, Tessa, but you know I’m right. You guys can’t keep bringing all this here. My mom is pregnant now, and that scene could have done real damage to her nerves. You guys go back and forth between Seattle and here, fighting in both cities and everywhere in between.”
Ouch.
I struggle for words, not that any great ones come to mind. “I know, I’m so sorry for what just happened—I didn’t mean for any of that to happen, Landon. I had to tell him about New York, I couldn’t keep it from him. I thought he handled it really well.” I stop when my voice breaks. I’m confused and panicked because Landon is upset with me. I knew he wasn’t happy with Hardin’s putting his hands on him, but I didn’t expect this.
Landon spins to look at me. “He ‘handled it well’? He slammed me against the wall . . .” Landon sighs and pushes the sleeves of his shirt up his elbows, taking a couple of breaths. “He did, I guess. But that doesn’t mean this isn’t becoming more and more of a problem. You guys can’t travel the world breaking up and getting back together. If it doesn’t work in one city, why would you think it would work in another?”
“I know that; that’s why I’m coming to New York with you. I needed to figure myself out, alone. Well, without Hardin. That was the whole point behind it.”
Landon shakes his head. “Without Hardin? You think he’s going to let you go to New York without him? He will either come with you, or you’ll stay here, fighting like this.”
Those words, and the ones he rattles off next, make my heart sink in my chest.
Everyone always says the same things about my relationship with Hardin. Hell, I make the same points. I’ve heard it all before, many times, but as Landon throws them at me, one after another, it’s different. It’s different, and it means more and hurts more and makes me doubt everything, more.
“I really am sorry, Landon.” I feel like I could cry. “I know I drag everyone into our mess, and I’m so sorry for that. I don’t mean to—I don’t mean for it to be this way, especially with you. You’re my best friend. I never want you to feel like that.”
“Yeah, well, I do. And a lot of other people do, too, Tessa.” His words are sharp and puncture me in that one place I had left, the only untouched, clean place inside me, which was reserved for Landon and his loving friendship. That sacred little place was essentially all I had left when it came to the people around me. It was my safety spot, and now it’s dark, like its surroundings.
“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out as a broken whine, and I’m convinced that my mind hasn’t caught up with the fact that Landon is the person saying these things to me.
“I just . . . I thought you were on our side?” I ask, simply because I have to. I have to know if it’s truly as hopeless as it seems.
He takes a deep breath and releases it. “I’m sorry, too, but tonight was too much. My mom being pregnant and Ken trying to fix things with Hardin, me moving, it’s too much. This is our family, and it needs to come together. You aren’t helping that.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, because I don’t know what else to say. I can’t argue with him, I can’t even disagree with him, because he’s
right. This is their family, not mine. No matter how much I try to pretend that it’s my family, I’m disposable here. I’ve been disposable in every place that I’ve tried to settle since I left my mother’s house.
He stares down at his feet, and I can’t seem to look away from his face as he says, “I know you are. I’m sorry for being a jerk, but I had to say it.”
“Yeah, I understand.” He still doesn’t look at me. “It won’t be like this in New York, I promise. I just need some time. I’m so confused about everything in my life, and I can’t seem to make sense of anything.”
The feeling of not being wanted somewhere when you aren’t sure how to leave is one of the worst feelings. It’s so incredibly awkward, and you take a few seconds to try to assess the situation to make sure you aren’t just being paranoid. But when my best friend won’t look at me after telling me that I’m causing problems with his family, the only family I have, I know it’s true. Landon doesn’t want to talk to me right now, but he’s too nice to say it.
“New York.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You don’t want me to come anymore, do you?”
“It’s not that. I just thought New York was going to be a fresh start for both of us, Tessa. Not just another place for you and Hardin to fight.”
“I get it.” I shrug and dig my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from crying. I do get it. I understand completely.
Landon doesn’t want me to go to New York with him. I didn’t have a solid plan anyway. I don’t have much money, or an acceptance letter to NYU yet, if ever. Until now I didn’t realize how ready I was to move to New York. I needed this, I needed to at least try to do something spontaneous and different, and I needed to jump out into the world and land on my own two feet.
“I’m sorry,” he says, lightly kicking at the leg of the chair to shift the focus from his words.
“It’s okay, I understand.” I force a smile at my best friend and manage to make it up the stairs before the tears flow freely down my cheeks.
In the guest room, the bed feels solid underneath me, holding me in place while my mistakes are laid out in front of my eyes.
I have been so selfish, and I haven’t even realized it until now. I have ruined so many relationships in the past eight months. I started college in love with my Noah, my childhood boyfriend, only to cheat on him, more than once, with Hardin.
I made friends with Steph, who betrayed me and tried to hurt me. I judged Molly when she wasn’t even the one I should have been worried about. I forced myself to believe that I could fit in at college—that this group of people were actually my friends, when in reality I was a joke to them.
I fought and fought to keep Hardin; I fought for his acceptance from the start. When he didn’t want me, I only wanted him more. I fought with my mother to defend Hardin; I fought with myself to defend Hardin; I fought with Hardin to defend Hardin.
I gave my virginity to him as part of a bet. I loved him and cherished that moment, and he was hiding his motives from me all along. Even after what he did, I stayed, and he always came back with an apology even bigger than the last. It wasn’t always him, though; while his mistakes held more depth, more pain, mine were just as frequent.
Out of pure selfishness, I used Zed to fill the void nearly every time Hardin left me. I kissed him, I spent time with him, I led him on. I held my friendship with him over Hardin’s head, knowingly continuing the game that the two of them had started all those months ago.
I have forgiven Hardin so many times, only to throw his mistakes back in his face. I always expected too much from him, and I never let him forget it. Hardin is a good man, despite his flaws—he’s such a good man and he deserves to be happy. He deserves everything. He deserves quiet days with a loving wife who doesn’t have to struggle to give him children. He doesn’t deserve games and bad memories. He shouldn’t have to try to live up to some ridiculous expectation I’ve set for him that is nearly impossible to meet.
I have been through hell and back in the last eight months, and now here I sit, on this bed, alone. I’ve spent my entire life planning and scheduling, organizing and anticipating, yet here I am with nothing but mascara-stained cheeks and broken plans. Not even broken—none of them ever had enough backing in the first place to end up broken. I don’t have a clue where my life is headed. I don’t have a college to be in, a place to belong in, or even the romantic notion of love from the books I’ve always loved and used to believe in. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing with my life.
So many breakups, so many losses. I had my father come back into my life, only to be slain by his own demons. I’ve watched as Hardin’s entire life was revealed as a lie, and his mentor revealed as his biological father, whose long history with his mother drove the man who raised him to drink. His childhood was torment for nothing; he went through years of dealing with an alcoholic for a father, and he witnessed things as a child that no one should ever have to. I have watched from the beginning Hardin’s attempts to reconnect with Ken, from my first meeting the man outside a yogurt shop to becoming part of this family and watching as Hardin struggled to forgive him his mistakes. He’s learning to accept his past and forgive Ken, and it’s incredible to see. He has been so angry his entire life, and now that he’s finally getting some peace in his life, I can see this for what it is. Hardin needs this peace. He needs resolve. He doesn’t need constant backtracking and constant turmoil. He doesn’t need doubts and arguments; he needs family.
He needs his friendship with Landon and his relationship with his father. He needs to accept his place in his family and be able to enjoy the thrill of watching his family expand. He needs Christmas dinners full of love and laughter, not tears and tension. I’ve watched him change so much since the day I met the rude, tattooed boy with the piercings and the messiest hair I had ever seen. He’s not that boy anymore; he’s a man now, a man recovering. He doesn’t drink the way he used to. He doesn’t break things as often. And he stopped himself from hurting Landon.
He’s managed to build this life around him, full of people who love and cherish him, while I’ve managed to destroy every relationship I thought I had. We fought and we battled, we won and we lost, and now my friendship with Landon has become just another casualty of Hardin and Tessa.
As soon as I’ve thought his name, like he’s some kind of genie I can summon, Hardin opens the door, strolling in calmly while he rubs a towel over his wet hair.
“What’s going on?” he asks. But as soon as he sees my state, the towel is quickly discarded, and he darts across the room to kneel before me.
I don’t try to mask my tears; I don’t see the point. “We are Catherine and Heathcliff,” I proclaim, devastated by the truth.
Hardin frowns. “What? What the hell happened?”
“We have made everyone around us miserable, and I don’t know if I just didn’t notice or I was too selfish to care, but it happened. Even Landon—even Landon has been affected by us.”
“Where is this coming from?” Hardin stands. “Did he fucking say something to you?”
“No.” I pull Hardin by the arm, begging him not to go downstairs. “He only said the truth. I see it now, I was just trying to force myself to see it, but now I get it.” I wipe my fingers under my eyes and take a breath to continue. “You aren’t the one who was ruining me; I did it myself. I changed, and you changed. But you changed for the better. I did not.”
Saying it out loud makes it easier to accept. I’m not perfect. I never will be. And that’s okay, but I can’t drag Hardin down with me. I have to fix what is wrong inside me—it isn’t fair to want that from Hardin without doing it myself.
He shakes his head, staring at me with those beautiful emerald eyes. “You’re talking crazy. None of this makes any sense.”
“Yes.” I stand and tuck my hair behind my ears. “It’s completely clear to me.”
I am trying to stay as calm as I can, but it’s hard, because he doesn’t get it and it’s so clear—how
does he not get it?
“I need you to do something for me. I need you to promise me something right now,” I beg.
“What? Hell no, I’m not promising anything, Tessa—what the fuck are you going on about?” He reaches under my chin and gently lifts my head to him. His other hand wipes at the moisture covering my face.
“Please, promise me something. If we could ever have a chance of a future together, you have to do something for me.”
“Fine, fine,” he quickly agrees.
“I mean it, I am begging you, if you love me, you will listen to me and do this for me. If you can’t, we will never have a future, Hardin.”
I don’t mean the words as a threat. They are a plea. I need this from him. I need him to understand and to heal and to live his life while I try to fix mine.
He swallows; his eyes meet mine, and I know he doesn’t want to agree, but he says anyway, “Okay, I promise.”
“Don’t follow me this time, Hardin. Stay here and be with your family and—”
“Tessa”—he cups my face with his hands resting under my jaw—“no, stop this. We will figure this New York shit out, don’t overreact.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to New York, and I promise you that I’m not overreacting. I know this seems dramatic and impulsive, but I promise it’s not. We have both been through so much in the last year, and if we don’t take a little time to make sure this is what we want, we will end up taking everyone down with us, even more so than we already have.” I try to make him understand; he has to understand.
“How long?” His shoulders slump and his fingers brush his hair back.
“Until we know that we’re ready.” I feel more resolute than I have in the last eight months.
“Know what? I already know what I want with you.”
“I need this, Hardin. If I can’t get myself together, I would resent you and myself. I need this.”
“Fine, you can have it. I’m giving this to you, not because I want to, but because this will be the last doubt I will ever entertain from you. After I give you this time and you come back to me, that’s it. You aren’t leaving again, and you will marry me. This is what I want in return for this time you need.”