After We Collided (The After Series) (6 page)

I call her again, but her phone goes straight to voicemail for the twentieth time. Goddammit, I’m such a fucking idiot. After driving around for an hour to every library, every bookstore, I decide to go back to the apartment. Maybe she’ll show up, maybe she’ll show up . . . I know she won’t.

But what if she does? I need to clean up the huge mess I made, and buy some new dishes to replace the ones that I smashed against the walls, just in case she comes home.

A MAN’S VOICE BOOMS
through the air, and vibrates my bones: “Where are you, Scott?”

“I saw him leave the bar. I know he’s here,” another man says.

The floor is cold when I climb out of bed. At first I thought it was Daddy and his friends, but now I don’t think it is.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” the deepest voice yells, and there’s a massive crash.

“He isn’t here,” my mummy says as I reach the bottom of the stairs and can see everyone. My mum and four men.

“Ohhh, look what we have here,” the taller man says. “Who knew Scott had such a bangin’ wife.” He grabs my mum by the arm and pulls her off the couch.

She grabs at her shirt desperately. “Please . . . he isn’t here. If
he owes you money, I’ll give you all I have. You can take anything in the house, the television maybe . . .”

But the man only sneers at her. “A television? I don’t want a damn television.”

I watch her struggle to shake free of him, almost like a fish I caught once. “I have some jewelry—not much, but please—”

“Shut the fuck up!” another man says and smacks her.

“Mum!” I yell and run into the living room.

“Hardin . . . go upstairs!” she shouts, but I’m not leaving my mummy with these bad men.

“Get out of here, you little shit,” one of them tells me, pushing me so I land hard on my butt. “See, bitch, the problem is that your husband did this,” he snarls, pointing to his head, where I see a massive gash across his bald scalp. “And since he isn’t here, the only thing we
want
is
you
.” He smiles, and she kicks her legs at him.

“Hardin, baby, go upstairs . . . Now!” she yells.

Wait, why is she mad at me?

“I think he wants to watch,” the injured man says and pushes her onto the couch.

I jolt awake and sit up.

Fuck
.

They keep coming, every night worse than the last. I got so used to them not coming that I could sleep. Because of her, it was all because of her.

But here I am at four in the damn morning with bloody sheets from my busted knuckles and a killer headache from my nightmares.

I close my eyes and try to pretend she’s really here, and hope that sleep will come.

T
ess, baby, wake up,” Hardin whispers as he touches his lips to the soft skin just under my ear. “You look so beautiful when you’re waking up.”

I smile, pulling him by his hair to meet my eyes. I brush my nose against his, and he chuckles.

“I love you,” he says and presses his lips to mine.

Only I can’t feel them. “Hardin?” I question. “Hardin?”

But he fades from my side—

I snap my eyes open and am thrown back into reality. The strange room is pitch black, and for a second I forget where I am. And then it comes to me: a motel room. Alone. I grab my phone off the bedside table and see it’s only 4 a.m. I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes and close my eyes to try to get back to Hardin, even if it’s only in a dream.

WHEN I FINALLY
wake up again, it’s seven. I step into the shower and try to enjoy the hot water as it relaxes me. I blow-dry my hair and do my makeup; today is the first day I feel like looking decent. I need to get rid of this . . .
mess
that’s inside of me. Not knowing what else to do, I take a page from my mother’s book and paint a perfect face on in order to bury what’s inside.

When I’m finished, I look well rested somehow and actually really nice. I curl my hair and dig my white dress out of my bag, and cringe. Good thing this room has an iron. It’s cold, too cold
for this dress, which doesn’t quite reach my knees, but I won’t be outside long. I choose some plain black flats and set them on the bed with the dress.

Before I get dressed, I repack my bags so they’re more orderly. I hope my mother calls with some good news about the dorms. If not, I’ll have to stay here until she does, which will drain what little money I have, and fast. Maybe I should just look into getting my own place. I might be able to afford something small close to Vance.

I open the door to find the snow mostly melted under the morning sun. Thank goodness. Just as I unlock my car door, Trevor walks out of his room two doors down from mine. He’s wearing a black suit and a green tie; he looks so put together.

“Good morning! I would’ve helped you get those, you know,” he says when he sees I’m carrying my bags.

Last night, after we ate pizza, we watched a little television and shared stories of college. He had a lot more stories than me since he’s already graduated, and while I really enjoyed hearing about what my college experience could have—and should have—been like, it made me a little sad, too. I shouldn’t have been going to parties with people like Hardin. I should have found myself a small but true group of friends. It would’ve been so different, so much better.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks and pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. With a click, the BMW engine starts. Of course, the BMW is his.

“Your car starts itself?” I laugh.

He holds up his key. “Well, this thing starts it.”

“Nice.” I smile a little sarcastically.

“Convenient,” he counters.

“Extravagant?”

“A little.” He laughs. “But still very convenient. You look lovely today, as usual.”

I put my bags in the back of my car. “Thank you, it’s freezing out,” I say and get into the driver’s seat.

“See you at work, Tessa.” he says and climbs into his BMW.

Despite the sun, it’s still cold, so I quickly thrust my key into the ignition and turn it to start up the heater.

Click . . . click . . . click . . .
is my car’s only response.

Frowning, I try again, and get the same thing.

“Can I get a freaking break!” I say aloud and hit my palms against the steering wheel.

For a third time I try to start my car, but of course nothing happens, not even the clicking this time. I look over, thankful that Trevor’s still here. His window rolls down, and I can’t help but laugh at my own misfortune.

“Do you think you could give me a ride?” I ask and he nods.

“Of course. I think I know where you’re going . . .” He laughs, and I climb out of my car.

I can’t help but turn my phone on during the short drive to Vance. Surprisingly, I have no new texts from Hardin. I have a few voicemails, but I don’t know if they’re from him or my mother. Choosing not to listen to them just in case, I instead text my mother and ask her about the dorms. Trevor drops me off at the door so I don’t have to walk in the cold, which is really thoughtful of him.

“You look refreshed,” Kimberly says with a smile as I walk in and grab a donut.

“I feel a little better. Sort of,” I say and pour myself a cup of coffee.

“Are you ready for tomorrow? I can’t wait to get out of here for the weekend—Seattle has amazing shopping, and while Mr. Vance and Trevor have their meetings we’ll find some fun stuff to do. Is . . . um . . . have you talked to Hardin?”

It takes me a second, but I decide to tell her. She’ll probably find out anyway. “No. Actually, I moved my stuff out yesterday,” I say and she frowns.

“I’m sorry, girl. It’ll get easier as time goes by.”

God, I hope she’s right.

MY DAY GOES
faster than expected, and I finish this week’s manuscript early. I’m excited to go to Seattle, and I hope that I can get my mind off Hardin, even if it’s only for a little bit. Monday is my birthday, which I’m not looking forward to it at all. If things hadn’t gone downhill so quickly, I’d be on my way to England with Hardin on Tuesday. I don’t really want to spend Christmas with my mother either. Hopefully I’ll be back in the dorms by then—even if they’ll basically be empty—and then maybe I can think of a good enough reason to not show at my mother’s. I know it’s Christmas, and that’s terrible of me, but I’m not exactly in a holiday mood.

My mother texts me as my day is winding down, saying that she hasn’t heard back about the dorm.
Great.
At least I only have one more night until the Seattle trip. Shuffling around from place to place is not fun at all.

As I’m getting ready to leave for the day, I remember I didn’t drive to work myself. I hope Trevor hasn’t already left.

“See you tomorrow, we’ll meet here, and Christian’s driver will take us to Seattle,” Kimberly tells me.

Mr. Vance has a driver?

Of course he does.

When I step off the elevator, Trevor is sitting on one of the black couches in the lobby; the contrast of the black couch, black suit, and his blue eyes is very appealing.

“I wasn’t sure if you needed a ride or not, and I didn’t want to bother you in your office,” he tells me.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’m going to call someone about my car when I get back to the motel.” It’s slightly warmer than it was this morning but still freezing outside.

“I can wait with you if you want. My plumbing is fixed now,
so I won’t be staying at the motel again, but I’ll wait with you if you—” He stops talking suddenly and his eyes go wide.

“What?” I ask and follow his eyes to see Hardin standing by his car in the lot and staring angrily at Trevor and me.

The breath has been knocked out of me once again. How does it keep getting worse?

“Hardin, what are you doing here?” I ask, storming toward him.

“Well, you don’t answer my calls, so I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” he says.

“I didn’t answer for a reason, you can’t just show up to my job!” I yell back.

Trevor looks uncomfortable and intimidated by Hardin’s presence, but he stays next to me. “Are you okay? Let me know if you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” Hardin’s eyes are wild.

“He’s taking me back to the motel since my car wouldn’t start.”

“Motel!” Hardin raises his voice.

Before I can stop him, Hardin has his hands on Trevor, gripping the collar of his suit as he slams him against a red truck.

“Hardin! Stop! Let him go! We didn’t stay together!” I explain. Why I’m explaining myself to him is beyond me, but I don’t want him to hurt Trevor.

Hardin lets go of Trevor’s clothing but stays in his face.

“Back off of him, now.” I grab Hardin’s shoulder and he relaxes slightly.

“Stay away from her,” he spits, his face only inches from Trevor’s.

Trevor looks pale, and once again I’ve brought someone else into this mess that doesn’t deserve to be.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell Trevor.

“It’s okay, do you still need a ride?” he asks.

“No, she doesn’t,” Hardin answers for me.

“Yes, please,” I say to Trevor. “I just need a minute.”

Like the gentleman that he is, he nods and goes over to his car to give us space.

I
can’t believe you’re staying at a motel.” He runs his hand over his hair.

“Yeah . . . neither can I.”

“You can stay at the apartment, I’ll stay back at the frat house or something.”

“No.” Not happening.

“Please don’t be difficult.” He rubs his hand across his forehead.

“Difficult? You aren’t serious! I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now!”

“Would you just calm down? Now, what’s wrong with your car? And why was that guy staying at the motel?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with my car.” I groan. I’m not answering him about Trevor, it’s none of his business.

“I’ll take a look at it.”

“No, I’ll call someone. Just go.”

“I’ll follow you to the motel.” He nods toward the road.

“Would you just stop?” I growl and Hardin rolls his eyes. “Is this some sort of game to you, to see just how far you can push me?”

He takes a step back as if I pushed him. Trevor’s car is still here, waiting for me.

“No, that’s not what I’m doing. How could you even think that after everything I’ve done?”

“Exactly, I do think that because of
everything you’ve done,
” I say, almost laughing at his choice of words.

“I just want you to talk to me. I know we can work this out,” he tells me. He’s played so many games with me since the beginning that I can’t tell what’s real.

“I know you miss me, too,” Hardin says, leaning against his car. His words stop me in my tracks. So arrogant.

“Is that what you want to hear? That I miss you? Of course I miss you, but you know what? It’s not actually you that I miss, it’s who I thought you were, and now that I know who you really are, I want nothing to do with you!” I yell.

“You’ve always known who I really am! I’ve been me all along, you know that!” he shouts back. Why can’t we ever just talk without yelling at each other? He makes me crazy, that’s why.

“No, I don’t know that; if I knew that I . . .” I stop myself before I admit that I want to forgive him. What I want to do and what I know I should do are two totally different things.

“You what?” he asks. Of course he would try and coerce me to continue.

“Nothing, you need to go.”

“Tess, you don’t know what it’s been like the last few days for me. I can’t sleep, I can’t even function without you. I need to know there’s a chance we could—”

I interrupt him before he can finish.

“What it’s been like for
you
?” How can he be so selfish?

“What do you think it’s been like for me, Hardin? Imagine how it feels to have your life completely ripped apart within hours! Imagine how it feels to be so in love with someone that you give them everything, only to find out it was all a game, a bet! How do you think that feels!” I take a step toward him, my hands moving frantically between us. “How do you think it feels to lose my relationship with my mother over someone who could give less of a shit about me! How do you think it feels to be staying
in a goddamn motel room? How do you think if it feels to try to move on from this when you keep showing up everywhere! You just don’t know when to stop!”