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“Go away if you’re going to be a fun-sucker.”
Two men at the end of the bar are gawking at Tessa, and by gawking I mean their fucking eyes are bulging worse than my fucking dick right now.
He’s a jerk, but he’s my jerk. Isn’t he?
“My feet hurt,” I whine. “Come here, I’ll carry you,” Hardin offers. What? I giggle. He smiles uncertainly. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “You just offered to carry me.” “And…” “It’s just unlike you, that’s all.” I shrug, and he steps closer, hooks his arm under my legs, and lifts me into his arms. “I would do anything for you, Tessa. You shouldn’t be surprised that I’d carry you up a damn driveway.”
“Nothing is supposed to be marking you, except me.”
“I’m done. I’m so done with this back-and-forth. I’m tired and exhausted, and I don’t want to do it anymore. You don’t love me—you want to possess me, and I won’t let you.”
“You’re broken, Hardin, and I can’t fix you.” His face falls at the realization of what he’s done to me, and to himself, and he stands in front of me with all emotion pulled out of him. His shoulders sink, and his eyes are no longer brilliant as he stares back at me, finally seeing a blank expression mirrored back at him. I have nothing left to say, he has nothing left to break inside of me or himself, and by the way the color has drained from his face, he’s finally realized it.
“There isn’t anything wrong with expecting things from him, especially when the things that you expect from him are reasonable,” he replies. “He has to see what he has. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him; he needs to remember that.”
You have to let him miss you.”
“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.
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.
“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.
“Sometimes I… well, sometimes I get… fuck.” He sighs and starts again. “Sometimes when I think about us, I start to get paranoid, you know? Like I don’t know why you’re with me sometimes, so I act out and my mind starts making me believe that it won’t work or that I’m losing you, and that’s when I say stupid shit. If you could just forget about Seattle, we could be happy finally—no more distractions.”
The problem with Hardin is that when he’s good, he’s so good, so sweet and honest that I love him so; but when he’s bad, he’s the most hateful person I have ever, and will ever, encounter.
“Well, that’s it, then. All the fighting, the crying, the lovemaking, the laughs—everything—it was all for nothing,” she says softly. No anger tints her words. Just a blank… blank neutrality. I nod, unable to speak. If I could speak, I would make this one hundred times harder on both of us. I know it.
And Karen was my light, the way Tessa is for you.”
When I think about faith, my mind doesn’t automatically go to religion. It probably should, but it just doesn’t. It goes to him; everything does. He is my every thought.
I have so much faith in that man that I will take every single tear, every single pointless argument… I’ll take it all just to be around to see him on the day when he’s able to have faith in himself.
That one day he will finally see that he isn’t a villain. He tries so hard to be one, but deep down he’s really a hero. He’s been my hero, my tormentor at times, but mostly my hero. He saved me from myself.
He’s so incredibly perfectly imperfect, and I love him so much for that.
I owe it to her and to myself to be better. I owe it to her to try to let go of my anger.
I wave my hand in front of my face… I have three hands.
I love Hardin more than myself, more than anything.
“Touch me again, please. Make it go away,”
“I didn’t expect you to want me anyway.” “I didn’t want him. I may not remember much, but I was afraid. I know myself enough to know that I would only call for you,” I admit without thinking.
“Tessa… you can’t be fucking—” He looks into my eyes and stops midsentence. “How much time?” “What?” “How much time apart?” “I…” I didn’t expect him to agree. “I don’t know.” “A week? A month?” He pushes for specifics. “I don’t know, Hardin. We both need to get ourselves to a better place.” “You’re my better place, Tess.”
That small, silly hope still nags at me, the foolish part of me that wishes so badly that headlights will appear in the darkness, Hardin will climb out of the car, bags in hand, and tell me that he’s ready to go to Seattle with me. But that foolish part of me is just that: foolish.
My mood lightens with the sky, and I find myself singing along to Taylor Swift and tapping my fingers on the steering wheel as she talks about “trouble walking in”—and I laugh at the irony of the lyrics.
Does Tessa miss me the way I miss her?
No one knows me the way she does, no one has ever even cared to get to know me the way Tessa does. She always asks the most intrusive and random questions: “What are you thinking?” “Why do you like that show?” “What do you think that man across the room is thinking right now?” “What is your first memory?” I always acted as if her need to know everything was obnoxious, but really it made me feel… special… or like someone cared about me enough to want to know the answers to these ridiculous questions.
Like who is wearing a red coat and harassing those obnoxious pretty little lying girls.
Aren’t we all…
Did she stare at her phone with a stupid-ass grin on her face after we hung up earlier, like I did?
“Tessa…” I warn. “Hardin Allen Scott!” she exclaims, and bursts into laughter. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, but I can’t help the smile that takes over my face. Fuck, I’m pathetic. “I… don’t know!” The sound of her laughter resonates through my ears and travels straight down to my heart, warming my chest.
“Theresa Lynn Young—are you trying to have phone sex with me?” I taunt her.
“You, only you.” “Good,” I say with a smooth grin. “You’re still mine, even though you’re making me give you space; you’re still only for me—you know that, don’t you?” I ask her in the most gentle way I possibly can. “I know,” she says. My chest swells, and I welcome the flood of relief that comes along with her words. “Are you mine?” she asks in a voice filled with much more confidence than it had moments ago. “Yes, always.” I don’t have a choice. I haven’t since the day I met you,
“Stop overthinking it. You’ll thank me after.” “Stop knowing everything that I’m thinking,” I tease, hoping that he’s right.
“I do miss you, so much,” she says.
“I miss you, too.” More than anything. “Don’t say ‘too.’ It sounds like you’re just agreeing with me,”
“Okay… so I guess we should get off…” “We did already.” She laughs, proud of her terrible attempt at a joke.
I pressed my thumb under her chin to bring her eyes to mine. “You always see the light in me… How is that possible when there isn’t any?” “There’s plenty. And you’ll see it, too. Someday.” She smiled and stood on her toes to press her lips against the corner of my mouth. Water rushed between our lips, and she smiled again before pulling away.
Hardin. It’s because of Hardin. Wherever he is will always feel like home to me.
“Do you like Spider-Man?” I ask, wanting to start a conversation that isn’t about me. His small fingers pick at his toast. “No.” “No? You’re wearing those,” I reply and point to his clothing. “She bought them.” He nods toward Kim. Then he whispers, “Don’t tell her I hate them; she’ll cry.”
he would be your father-in-law someday if you weren’t such an idiot.”
“I want to see her,” I plead. “Who… Tess?” “Yes, Tes-sa,” I correct him. “Who else?”
“She told me about you two on the phone.” She did? That’s really unlike her. “Why would she tell you about us getting off over the phone…?” I wonder. Landon’s eyes go wide. “Whoa! What! What! I wasn’t… Oh God,” he groans. He tries to cover his ears, but it’s too late. His cheeks turn a deep red, and my laughter fills the bedroom.
“I love you, Hardin,” she said when Grumpy Gloria, the cashier we’d laughed about many times, cleared her throat. “I love you, Tess. I will love you enough that you won’t even need children,” I promised her.
Once I’m steady enough to continue, I latch myself on to him, hugging him tighter than maybe I ever have before.
she looks absolutely fucking perfect. The number of hours that I’ve spent picturing her face in front of me did not adequately prepare me for the moment when I’m finally able to look at her again.
“I have to kiss you,” I whisper, our faces mere inches apart. Her eyes look into mine, and she swallows loudly before licking her lips again. “Okay,” she whispers back to me.
