After We Fell (33 page)

“NO!”

Hardin's voice startles me awake. It takes a moment to remember that I'm in Landon's room and Hardin is down the hall, alone.

“Get off of her!” His voice echoes down the hallway seconds later.

I'm out of bed and at the door before he even finishes the sentence.

He has to see what he has. He has to know that you're serious this time. You have to let him miss you
.

If I go rushing into that room, I know I'll forgive everything. I'll see him feeling vulnerable and afraid, and I'll say whatever he needs to hear to comfort him.

I pick my heart up off of the floor and walk back to the bed. I place the pillow over my head just as another
“No!”
rips through the cabin.

“Tessa . . . are you . . .” Landon whispers.

“No,” I reply, my voice cracking at the end. I bite down on the pillow and break my own promise. I begin to cry. Not for myself. The tears are for Hardin, for the boy who doesn't know how to treat the people that he cares about, the boy who has nightmares when I'm not in bed with him, but who tells me that he doesn't love me. The boy who really does need to be reminded how it feels to be alone.

T
hey won't stop, they won't stop touching her. His dirty, wrinkled hands run up her thighs, and she whimpers as the other man fists her ponytail in his hand, pulling her head back, hard.

“Get away from her!” I try to shout at them, but they can't hear me. I try to move but am frozen on the staircase from my childhood. Her gray eyes are wide, afraid, and absolutely fucking lifeless as she looks at me while a purple bruise already begins forming on her cheek.

“You don't love me,” she whispers. Her eyes burn into mine as his hand creeps up and wraps around her neck.

What?

“Yes; yes, I do! I do love you, Tess!” I shout, but she doesn't listen
.

She shakes her head as he tightens his grip on her and his friend reaches down between her legs.

“No!” I scream one last time before she begins to fade in front of my eyes.

“You don't love me . . .” Her eyes are bloodshot from his assault, and I can't do a damn thing to help her.

“Tess!”
I flail my arm out across the bed to reach for her. The moment I touch her, this panic will go away, taking with it the fucked-up images of those hands wrapped around her neck.

She's not here.

She didn't come back. I sit up and click on the lamp on the nightstand
and scan the room. My heart is hammering against my rib cage, and my body is drenched in sweat.

She's not here.

A light knock at the door sounds, and I hold my breath as it creaks open. Please be . . .

“Hardin?” Karen's soft voice fills the room.
Fuck.

“I'm fine,” I snap, and she opens the door further.

“If you need anything, please let me—”

“I fucking said I'm fine!” My hand swipes across the nightstand, knocking the lamp to the floor with a hideous crash.

Without a word, Karen leaves the room, closing the door behind her, and I'm left alone in the darkness.

TESSA'S HEAD
lies on the counter, cushioned by her crossed arms. She's still in her pajamas, and her hair is in a nest on top of her head. “I just need to take some Tylenol and drink some water,” she groans.

Landon sits next to her, spooning cereal into his mouth.

“I'll get you some. Once we get the car packed up, we can head out. Ken is still in bed, though; he had trouble sleeping last night,” Karen says.

Tessa looks up at her but stays silent. I know she's thinking,
Did they all hear me screaming like a pathetic little bitch?

Karen walks over to open a drawer and grabs a couple of foil packets. I watch all three of them, waiting for someone to acknowledge me. No one does.

“I'm going to go pack; thank you so much for the Tylenol.” Tessa's voice is soft as she stands up from her seat at the counter. She takes the medication quickly, and when she sets the glass of water back onto the counter, her eyes meet mine, but she quickly looks away.

It's only been one night without her, and already I miss her so much. I can't get the haunting images from my nightmare out of my mind, especially when she walks past me with no emotion at all. Nothing to let me know that I'll be okay.

The dream felt so real, and she's being so cold.

I stand still for a moment debating whether or not to follow her, but my feet decide for me as they scale the stairs. When I enter the room, she's kneeling down, unzipping the suitcase.

“I'm just going to pack everything, then we can go,” she says without turning around.

I nod, then realize that she can't see me. “Yeah, okay,” I mutter. I don't know what she's thinking, what she's feeling, or what I should say. I'm fucking clueless, as usual.

“I'm sorry,” I say too damn loud.

“I know,” she replies quickly. Her back is still turned to me as she begins to refold my clothes from the dresser and floor.

“I really am. I didn't mean what I said.” I need her to look at me so I can be reassured that my dream was just that.

“I know you didn't. Don't worry about it.” She sighs, and I notice the way her shoulders are slumped lower than before.

“Are you sure . . . I said some fucked-up shit.”
You're broken, Hardin, and I can't fix you—
that was the worst possible thing she could have said to me. She finally realizes how fucked up I am, and more importantly, she realizes that there's no cure for what's wrong with me. No one can fix me if it isn't her.

“So did I. It's fine. I have a really bad headache; can we talk about something else?”

“Of course.” I kick at a piece of the lamp I broke last night. I have to owe my father and Karen at least five fucking lamps by now.

I feel slightly guilty for snapping at Karen last night, but I don't want to bring it up to her first, and she's probably too
polite
and
understanding
to bring it up herself.

“Can you get your stuff from the bathroom, please?” Tessa asks.

The remainder of my time at that damn cabin is spent this way, watching Tessa as she packs our things and cleans up the broken lamp without another word to me, without really looking at me.

I
'm so thrilled that we got to see Max and Denise again—it's been years!” Karen gushes as Ken starts the SUV. The bags have been placed securely in the back, and I borrowed Landon's headphones to distract myself during the drive.

“It was nice. Lillian has grown so much.” Ken appeases Karen with a smile.

“She has. She's such a beautiful girl.”

I can't help but roll my eyes. Lillian was nice and all, but after spending hours under the impression that she was interested in Hardin, I'm not sure if I'll ever care for the girl. I'm grateful that the chances of me seeing her again are slim to nonexistent.

“Max hasn't changed over the years,” Ken remarks, his voice low and disapproving. At least I'm not the only one who doesn't care for his arrogance and haughty attitude.

“Do you feel any better?” Landon turns around to ask me.

“Not really.” I sigh.

He nods. “You can sleep it off during the drive. Do you want a bottle of water?”

“I can get it,” Hardin interjects.

Ignoring him, Landon grabs a thing of water from the small cooler on the floor in front of his seat. I thank him quietly and push the earbuds into my ears. My phone freezes repeatedly, so I turn it off and on again, hoping it will work. This drive will be miserable if I can't drown out the tension with music. I don't
know why I never did this before the “great depression,” when Landon had to show me how to download music.

I smile slightly at the ridiculous nickname I've given those long days without Hardin; I don't know why I'm smiling, given that those were the worst few days of my life. I feel a similar sensation now. I know that time is coming again.

“What's wrong?” Hardin leans down to speak into my ear, and on reflex I jerk away. He frowns and doesn't make a move to touch me again.

“Nothing, my phone is just . . . it's junk.” I hold the device in the air.

“What are you trying to do, exactly?”

“Listen to music and hopefully sleep,” I whisper.

He takes the phone from my hand and messes with the settings. “If you listened to me and got a new phone, this wouldn't happen,” he scolds.

I bite my tongue and stare out the window while he attempts to fix my phone. I don't want a new one, and I don't really have the money to get one right now, anyway. I have an apartment to find, new furniture to buy, bills to pay. The last thing on my mind is paying hundreds of dollars for something I already paid money for recently.

“It's working now, I think. If not, you can just use mine,” he says.

Use his?
Hardin is voluntarily offering to allow me to use his phone? This is new.

“Thanks,” I mutter and scroll through the song list on my phone before choosing. Soon music floods through my ears and enters my thoughts, drowning out my inner turmoil.

Hardin leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, the dark rings beneath them emphasizing his lack of sleep.

A wave of guilt hits me, but I push it back. Within minutes, the calming music coaxes me to sleep.

“TESSA.”
Hardin's voice wakes me. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” I groan, not wanting to open my eyes.

“You're hungover; you should eat,” he says.

Suddenly I realize that I'm feeling the need for something to absorb all that stomach acid. “Fine,” I say, giving in. I don't have the energy to put up a fight today, anyway.

Minutes later a sandwich and fries are placed on my lap, and I open my eyes. I pick at the food and lay my head back on the seat after finishing half of it. But my phone has frozen yet again.

Seeing me start to futz with it, Hardin pulls my earbuds out of my phone and plugs them into his. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

He's already opened the music app for me. A long list appears on the screen, and I scroll through to find anything familiar. I almost give up, but then my eyes move to a folder named
T
. I look over at Hardin, whose eyes, surprisingly, are closed and not watching me. When I tap the folder, all of my favorite music appears, even songs that I've never mentioned to him. He must have seen them on my phone.

Things like these make me question myself. The small, thoughtful gestures that he tries to conceal from me are my favorite things in the entire world. I wish he'd stop hiding them.

WITH A GENTLE NUDGE,
it's Karen who wakes me this time. “Wake up, dear.”

I look over and see Hardin is asleep; his hand is on the seat between us, his fingers barely touching my leg. Even in his sleep, he gravitates to me.

“Hardin, wake up,” I whisper, and his eyes fly open, wide and immediately alert. He rubs them, then scratches his head and stares at me, gauging my expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, and I nod. I'm trying to avoid any confrontation with him today, but I'm growing nervous at his calm demeanor. It's usually a precursor to a blowup.

We file out of the car, and Hardin walks to the back to retrieve our bags.

Karen wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “Tessa, dear, thank you again for coming. It was a lovely time. Please come visit soon, but in the meanwhile, take Seattle by storm.” When she pulls away, her eyes are full of tears.

“I'll visit soon, I promise.” I hug her again. She has always been so kind and supportive of me, almost like the mother I never had.

“Good luck, Tessa, and let me know if you need anything. I have a lot of connections in Seattle.” Ken smiles and awkwardly wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“I'll see you again before I leave for New York, so no hugs for you yet,” Landon says, and we both laugh.

“I'll be in the car,” Hardin mumbles and walks off, not even saying goodbye to his family.

Watching him go, Ken says to me, “He'll come around, if he knows what's good for him.”

I look at Hardin, who is now sitting in the car. “I sure hope so.”

“Going back to England isn't good for him. He has too many memories, too many enemies, too many mistakes there. You're what's good for him, you and Seattle,” Ken assures me, and I nod. If only Hardin saw it that way.

“Thank you again.” I smile at them before joining Hardin in the car.

He doesn't say a word when I get in; he only turns on the radio and raises the volume up high so I know he doesn't want to talk. I wish I knew what went on inside his mind at times like this, when he's so unreadable.

My fingers fiddle with the bracelet he gave me for Christmas, and I stare out the window as the drive continues. By the time we park at the apartment, the tension I feel between us has grown to an unbearable level. It's driving me insane, yet he doesn't seem to be affected at all.

I move to get out, and Hardin's large hand reaches over to stop me. He brings his other hand to my chin and tips my head up so I have to look at him. “I'm sorry. Please don't be upset with me,” he says quietly, his mouth inches from mine.

“Okay,” I breathe, inhaling his minty scent.

“You're not okay, though, I can tell. You're holding back, and I hate it.”

He's right; he always knows exactly what I'm thinking, but yet he's so clueless at the same time. It's a confusing contradiction. “I don't want to fight with you anymore.”