After We Collided

  I feel it the moment it happens. I feel the change in the room, the energy shifting. Trish is now on my mother’s side of this. I try desperately to cling to the edge of the crumbling cliff that is Hardin, but I can see it all perfectly in the disgusted glare she gives her son. A look I can tell is nothing new. It’s something she’s had to use on him before, like a memory brought back as a facial expression. A look that all but says she believes, once again, every bad thing anyone’s ever said about her son.

  “How could you, Hardin?” she cries. “I had hoped you were different now . . . I hoped you had stopped doing things like this to girls . . . women. Have you forgotten what happened last time?”

  chapter thirty-eight

  TESSA

  It doesn’t help. It doesn’t help at all that my mother follows Trish into the living room and practically howls, “Last time? See, Theresa! This is exactly why you need to get away from him. He has done this before, I knew it! Prince Charming strikes again!”

  I look over at Hardin, my fingers slipping from the edge. Not again. I don’t think I can take any more. Not from him.

  “It’s not like that, Mum,” Hardin finally says.

  Trish gives him a look of utter disbelief and wipes under her eyes, even as her tears keep coming. “It sure sounds like it, Hardin. I honestly can’t believe you. I love you, son, but I can’t help you here. This is wrong, so wrong.”

  I never am able to find my voice in these situations. I want to speak, I need to, but an endless list of potential terrible things that Trish could be referring to as “last time” are running rapidly through my head, stealing my voice.

  “I said it’s not like that!” Hardin shouts, his arms out wide.

  Trish turns and stares at me, hard. “Tessa, you should go with your mother,” she says, and a lump rises in my throat.

  “What?” Hardin says to her.

  “You’re no good for her, Hardin. I love you more than life itself, but I can’t allow you to do this again. Coming to America was supposed to have helped you—”

  “Theresa,” my mother says. “I think we’ve have heard enough.” She grabs hold of my arm. “It’s time to go.”

  Hardin moves toward her and she steps back, gripping me tighter.

  “Let go of her, now,” he says through gritted teeth.

  Her plum nails dig into my skin as I try to process the events of the last two minutes. I had not expected my mother to barge into the apartment—and I certainly didn’t expect Trish to drop hints about yet another one of Hardin’s secrets.

  Has he done this before? To who? Did he love her? Did she love him? He said he had never been with a virgin before, he said he had never loved anyone before. Was he lying? The angry mask he wears makes it hard for me to decipher.

  “You don’t get to have a say in anything that concerns her any longer,” my mother strikes back.

  But, surprising everyone in the room, even myself, I slowly pull my arm from my mother’s grip . . . and step behind Hardin. Hardin’s mouth falls open, like he’s unsure what I’m doing. Trish and my mother wear identical horrified expressions

  “Theresa! Don’t be stupid. Get over here!” my mother instructs.

  In response, I wrap my fingers around Hardin’s forearm and stay hidden behind him. I don’t really understand why, but I do. I should be leaving with my mother, or forcing Hardin to tell me what the hell Trish is talking about. But, really, I just want my mother to go away. I need a few minutes, hours—some time—to comprehend what’s going on. I just forgave Hardin. I just decided to forget everything and move on with him. Why must there always be some secret locked away that comes to a head at the worst possible time?

  “Theresa.” My mother takes another step toward me, and Hardin brings his arm back to wrap around me. To protect me from her.

  “Stay away from her,” he warns.

  Trish steps forward. “Hardin. That is her daughter. You have no right coming between them.”

  “I have no right? She has no right coming into our apartment, into our fucking bedroom, uninvited!” he shouts. My grip on his arm tightens.

  “That’s not her bedroom, nor is this her apartment,” my mother says.

  “Yes. It is! See who she’s standing behind? She’s using me as a shield to block her from you.” Hardin points a thick finger at her.

  “She’s just being foolish and doesn’t understand what’s best for her—”

  But I interrupt her, finally finding part of my voice. “Stop speaking as if I’m not here! I’m right here, and I’m an adult, Mother. If I want to stay, I will,” I announce.

  With pitying eyes, Trish tries to appeal to me. “Tessa, honey. I think you should listen to your mother.”

  The sting of her dismissal burns my chest like a betrayal, but I don’t know what she knows about her son.

  “Thank you!” My mother sighs. “At least someone in this family is reasonable.”

  Trish shoots her a warning glare. “Missy, I don’t agree with how you treat your daughter, so don’t think that we’re on the same team here, because we’re not.”

  My mother shrugs a little. “Regardless, we both agree that you need to go, Tessa. You need to leave this apartment and not come back. We can transfer you to another school if need be.”

  “She can make up her own—” Hardin starts.

  “He has poisoned your mind, Theresa—look at the things he’s done to you. Do you know him at all?” my mother asks.

  “I know him, Mother,” I say through my teeth.

  My mother turns her attention to Hardin. I don’t know why she’s not afraid of him, the way his chest is heaving up and down, the way his cheeks are flaring with anger, the way his fists are clenched into balls so tightly that his knuckles are white. He should intimidate her, but she’s unfazed as she says, “Boy, if you care for her, even a little bit, you will tell her to go. You have done nothing but break her down. She isn’t the same girl that I dropped off at college three months ago, and that’s your fault. You didn’t have to see her cry for days over what you did to her. You were probably partying with another girl while she was crying herself to sleep. You have destroyed her—how can you even live with yourself? You know you’ll hurt her again sooner or later. So if you have one decent bone in your body, you’ll tell her . . . tell her to come with me.”

  The silence in the room is chilling.

  Trish stands silently staring at the wall, deep in thought, likely mulling over Hardin’s past actions. My mother is glaring at Hardin, waiting for his response. Hardin is breathing so hard he may combust. And me, I’m trying to decide which will win the battle inside of me: my heart or my head?

  “I’m not going with you,” I finally say.

  In response to my decision—my adult decision, one that I know will have consequences I will have to deal with, that will make me endure some very difficult things as I try to figure out whether I can be with the man I love or not—my mother rolls her eyes.

  And I lose it.

  “You aren’t welcome here—don’t ever come back!” I scream with a bloody rawness in my throat. “Who do you think you are, busting in here, and with the nerve to talk to him that way!” I push past Hardin and come face-to-face with her. “I want nothing to do with you! No one does! That’s why you’re alone after all these years—you are cruel and conceited! You will never be happy!” I take a breath and swallow, feeling just how dry my throat is.

  My mother stares me down with full self-assurance, and more than a little scorn. “I am alone because I choose to be. I don’t have the need to be with someone; I’m not like you.”

  “Like me! I don’t need to be with anyone! You basically forced me to be with Noah—I never felt like I had a choice in anything! You have always controlled me—and I am done. I am fucking done!” The tears erupt from me then.

  My mother quirks her lips, like she’s considering something in earnest, but her voice is full of sarcasm. “It’s obvious that you have some codependen
cy issues. Is this because of your father?”

  My eyes sore, surely bloodshot, and filled with every evil I want to inflict on her, I stare at her. Speaking slowly at first, I feel myself frantically escalating as I say, “I hate you. I really hate you. You’re the reason he left. Because he couldn’t stand you! And I don’t blame him—in fact, I wish he would have taken—”

  And right then I feel Hardin’s hand clamp over my mouth and his strong arms pull me back against his chest.

  chapter thirty-nine

  HARDIN

  The whole time, I had just been thinking that her mum better not slap her again. I hadn’t really considered Tessa going on the offensive like this.

  Her face is red, and her tears are pouring down my hand.

  Why does her mum always have to ruin shit? I can’t blame her for being angry, regardless of how much I hate her. I did hurt Tessa. But I don’t think I ruined her.

  Have I?

  I don’t know what to do. I glance at my mum for help—the look she gives me lets me know that she hates me. I didn’t want her to know what I did to Tess. I knew it would kill her, especially after what happened before.

  But I’m not the same person I was then. This is totally different.

  I love Tessa.

  Through all the chaos I caused, I found love.

  Tessa screams into my hand and tries to push me off of her, but she isn’t strong enough. I know one of two things will happen if I don’t keep her away: either her mum will slap her and I’ll have to intervene, or Tessa will say something she’ll regret forever. “I think you need to go now,” I say to her mother.

  Tessa is throwing a fit beneath my grip and keeps kicking her feet into my shins.

  It’s always so unsettling to see her angry—especially this angry—although part of me is selfishly pleased that her anger isn’t directed at me this time.

  It will be soon . . .

  I know her mother is right about me: I am terrible for her. I’m not the man Tessa thinks I am, but I love her too much to let her leave me again. I just got her back, and I will not lose her again. I just hope that she’ll listen to me, listen to the entire story. Even then, I don’t think it will matter. I know it’s coming; there’s no way she’ll stay with me once she hears it. Fuck, why did my mum have to say anything?

  I lead Tessa toward the bedroom. As we go, she twists so hard she spins us both around, so we’re facing her mom again. With one last hateful glare, she makes her point and lunges, but I hold tight.

  Pulling her into our room, I let go and quickly slam the door and lock it.

  And she turns her poisonous glare at me. “Why did you do that! You—”

  “Because you’re saying things you know you’ll regret.”

  “Why did you do that!” she yells. “Why did you stop me! I have so much shit to say to that bitch, it’s not even . . . I can’t even . . . !” She pushes her hands against my chest.

  “Hey . . . hey . . . calm down,” I say, trying to remember that she’s displacing her anger at her mother toward me; I know she is.

  I bring her face between my hands and gently move my thumbs across her cheekbones, making sure she keeps eye contact with me as her breathing slows. “Just calm down, baby,” I repeat.

  The redness disappears from her cheeks, and she nods slowly.

  “I’m going to make sure she leaves, okay?” I say so low that it’s almost a whisper.

  She nods again and moves to sit on the bed. “Hurry up,” she demands as I leave the room.

  When I walk into the living room, Tessa’s mother is there alone, pacing. She looks up at me sharply, like a jungle cat sensing prey. “Where is she?” she asks.

  “She’s not coming out. You are leaving, and you’re not going to come back here. I mean it,” I say through my teeth.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me?”

  “You can take it however you want, but you need to stay away from her.”

  This manicured woman, so put together and prim-looking, gives me a sly, hard look that I’ve only ever seen from people like those in Jace’s crew. “This is all your fault,” she says calmly. “You have brainwashed her; she doesn’t think for herself anymore. I know what you are doing. I’ve been with men like you. I knew you were trouble since the day I laid eyes on you. I should have had Tessa change rooms and prevented all of this. No man is going to want her after this . . . after you. Look at you.” She waves her hand in the air and turns toward the door.

  I follow her out into the hallway. “That’s the point, isn’t it? That no man will want her, no man but me. She’ll never be with anyone but me,” I boast. “She will always choose me over you, over anyone.”

  She spins and takes a step toward me. “You are the devil, and I’m not going to just go away. She is my daughter, and she’s too good for you.”

  I nod my head several times quickly, then look at her flatly. “I’ll make sure to remember that when I’m burying myself into your daughter tonight.”

  As the words leave my lips, she gasps and reaches her hand up to smack me. I grab her wrist and push it back down gently. I would never hurt her or any woman, but neither am I going to let her hurt me.

  I give her my best smile before I go back into the apartment and slam the door in her face.

  chapter forty

  HARDIN

  I rest with my head against the door for a moment, and when I turn around, my mum is standing in the living room, staring at me with a mug of coffee in her hands, her eyes completely bloodshot.

  “Where were you?” I ask.

  “The bathroom,” she says, her voice cracking.

  “How could you tell Tessa to go? To leave me?” I say. I knew she would be disappointed, but that was too much.

  “Because, Hardin”—she sighs, lifting her hands as if it’s obvious—“you aren’t good for her. You know you aren’t. I don’t want to see her end up like Natalie, or the others.” My mum shakes her head.

  “Do you know what will happen to me if she leaves me, Mum? I don’t think you understand . . . I cannot be without her. I know I’m not good for her, and I regret what I did every single time I look at her, but I can be good for her. I know I can be.” I walk to the middle of the living room and start pacing back and forth.

  “Hardin . . . are you sure you aren’t just feeding into your own game right now?”

  “No, Mum . . .” I lower my head to try and keep calm. “This isn’t a game to me—not this time. I love her, I really love her.” I look up at my good, kind mother, who I know has had to endure so much. “I love her more than I can even begin to tell you, because I don’t even understand it myself. I never thought I could or would feel this way. All I know is that she’s my only shot at happiness . If she leaves me, I’ll never recover. I won’t, Mum. She’s the only chance I have to not be alone for the rest of my life. I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve her—nothing I know—but she loves me. Do you know how that feels to have someone love you despite all the fucked-up shit you do? She’s way too good for me, and she loves me. I have no fucking clue why.”

  My mum wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, making me pause for a moment. It’s hard to go on, but I say, “She’s always there for me, Mum. She always forgives me, even when she shouldn’t. She always says the right thing. She calms me, but challenges me—she makes me want to be a better man. I know I’m a shitty person, I know that. I have done so much shit, but Tessa can’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone anymore, and I’ll never love anyone again—she is it for me. I know it. She’s my ultimate sin, Mum, and I’ll gladly be damned for her.”

  I’m out of breath by the time I finish, and my mum’s cheeks are wet. But she’s also staring behind me.

  I turn to find Tessa with her hands at her sides, her eyes wide and her cheeks just as wet as my mum’s.

  My mum blows her nose, then softly says, “I’m going to go out for a little while . . . give you two some privacy.” She goes ove
r to the door, grabs her shoes and coat, and heads out.

  I feel kind of bad that there aren’t many places for her to go on Christmas Eve, especially in the snow, but I need to be alone with Tessa right now. As soon as my mum is out the door, I pad across the room to her.

  “What you said . . . just now . . . you meant it?” she asks through her tears.

  “You know I did,” I tell her.

  The corners of her lips turn up, and she reaches across the small space between us to put her hand on my chest. “I need to know what you did.”

  “I know . . . just promise me that you’ll try to understand . . .”

  “Tell me, Hardin.”

  “And that you understand that I’m not proud of any of this.”

  She nods, and I take a deep breath as she leads us to the couch.

  I really don’t know where the fuck to start.

  chapter forty-one

  TESSA

  Hardin’s face pales. He rubs his hands over his knees. He runs his fingers through his hair. He looks up at the ceiling and then back down. He, somewhere deep inside, probably wishes these things would stall this conversation forever.

  But finally, he begins. “I had a group of shitty friends back home. They were like Jace, I guess . . . We would do this thing . . . this game, I guess. We would pick a girl—pick a girl for one another, and see who could fuck their girl first.”

  My stomach drops.

  “Whoever won would get the hottest chick the next week, and there was money involved . . .”

  “How many weeks?” I ask, regretfully. I don’t want to know, yet I have to know.

  “Only five weeks went by before this girl—”

  “Natalie.” I say, connecting the dots.

  Hardin looks over at the windows. “Yeah . . . Natalie was the last one.”

  “And what did you do to her?” I am terrified of his answer.

  “The third week . . . James thought Martin was lying, so he came up with the idea of proof . . .”