“Tessa,” Hardin begins as soon as I close the door. “Don’t,” I say coldly. “Don’t be mad at me—we were just having a drink.” His tone is playful, but I’m not in the mood for it. “ ‘Just having a drink’? With my father—an alcoholic who I’m trying to build a relationship with, who I wanted to maybe think about getting sober. That’s who you were ‘just drinking’ with?”
You could still kill him
