After Ever Happy (After #4) (40 page)

I nod, unsure where he is going with this.

“What’s the worst thing I’ve done to you? What’s the most disgusting, terrible thing that I’ve put you through since we met?”

I begin to think through the last eight months, but he clears his throat, reminding me that he wanted me to say the first thing that came to mind.

I fidget in the chair, not wanting to open that vault right now, or anytime in the future, really. But finally I spit it out. “The bet. The fact that you had me completely fooled when I was falling in love with you.”

Hardin appears thoughtful, lost for a moment. “Would you take it back? Would you change that mistake of mine if you could?”

I take my time to think this through, really think this through before answering. I’ve answered this question before, many times, and I’ve changed my mind even more than that, but now the answer feels so . . . final. It feels so final and certain, and it just feels like it matters more now than ever before.

The sun is moving lower in the sky, hiding behind the thick trees lining the Scotts’ property, activating the automatic patio lights.

“No. I wouldn’t take it back,” I say, mostly to myself.

Hardin nods as if he knew exactly what my response would be. “Okay, so next to that, what is the worst thing I’ve done?”

“When you ruined that apartment for me in Seattle,” I answer easily.

“Really?” He sounds surprised by my response.

“Yes.”

“Why that? What was it about me doing that that pissed you off so bad?”

“The fact that you completely took control of a decision that was mine and you hid it from me.”

He nods, then shrugs. “I won’t try to justify that shit, because I know it was fucked-up.”

“Okay?” I hope he has more to say on that.

“I do understand where you are coming from with that. I shouldn’t have done that; I should have talked to you instead of trying to keep you from going to Seattle. I was fucked in the head at the time, still am, but I’m trying, and that’s something different than before.”

I’m unsure how to respond to that. I agree that he shouldn’t have done it, and I agree that he is trying now. I look into his very earnest, very brilliant green eyes, and it’s hard to remember what my point behind this entire conversation is supposed to be.

“You have this idea in your head, baby, an idea that someone planted there, or maybe you saw it on some shitty television show, or maybe in one of your books, I don’t know. But real life is fucking hard. No relationship is perfect, and no man is ever going to treat a woman exactly how he should.” He lifts a hand in the air to stop me from interrupting. “I’m not saying it’s right, okay? So hear me out: I’m only saying that I think if you and maybe some other people in this fucked-up, criticizing world would just pay closer attention to the shit behind the scenes, you would see things differently. We aren’t perfect, Tessa. I’m not fucking perfect, and I love you, but you are far from perfect, too.” He winces at that, letting me know that he means that in the least terrible way possible. “I have done a lot of shit to you, and, fuck, I’ve made this speech one thousand damn times, but something inside of me has changed—you
know
it’s true.”

When Hardin stops speaking, I stare into the sky behind him for a few seconds. The sun is setting just below the trees, and I wait for it to disappear before responding. “I’m afraid we are too far gone. We have both made so many mistakes.”

“It would be a waste to give up instead of fixing those mistakes, and you fucking know it.”

“A waste of what?
Time?
We don’t have much time to waste now,” I say, inching into the inevitable train wreck.

“We have all the time in the world. We’re still young! I’m about to graduate, and we’ll live in Seattle. I know you are sick of my bullshit, but I’m selfishly counting on your love for me to convince you that I should have one last chance.”

“What about all the things I’ve done to you? I’ve called you names, all the stuff with Zed?” I bite my lip and look away at the mention of Zed.

Hardin’s fingers tap against the glass countertop of the table. “First off, Zed doesn’t have a place here, in this conversation. You’ve done stupid shit; so have I. Neither of us had any damn clue how to be in a relationship. You may have thought you did because you were with Noah for so long, but let’s be real here: the two of you were basically kissing cousins. That shit wasn’t real.”

I glare at Hardin, waiting for him to continue digging this hole he’s working on.

“And as far as you calling me names, which is hardly ever”—he smiles, and I begin to wonder who this man sitting across from me actually is—“everyone calls each other names. I’m sorry, but even your mum’s pastor’s wife is calling her husband an asshole sometimes. She probably doesn’t say it to his face, but it’s the same shit.” He shrugs his shoulders. “And I would much rather you call me an asshole to my face.”

“You have an explanation for everything, don’t you.”

“No, not everything. Not much, really, but I know you’re sitting across from me looking for a way out of this, and I’m going to do my damn best to make sure you know what you’re saying.”

“Since when do we communicate this way?” I can’t help but be astonished at the lack of yelling and screaming coming from both of us.

Hardin crosses his arms in front of his chest, picks at the frayed edges of his cast, and shrugs. “Since now. Since, I don’t know, since the other shit didn’t seem to work for us. So why not try this way?”

I feel my mouth fall open in surprise at the nonchalance of his statement. “Why do you make it sound so easy? If it was this easy, we could have done it before.”

“No; I wasn’t the same before, and neither were you.” He stares at me, waiting for me to speak again.

“It’s not that simple; the time it took for us to get here
matters,
Hardin. It matters that we went through that, and I need time to myself now. I need time to find out who I am and what I want to do with my life, and how I’m going to get there, and I need to do that on my own.” I say the words with full bravado, but they taste like acid as they leave my mouth.

“You’ve made your mind up, then? You don’t want to live with me in Seattle? Is that why you’re so closed off and unwilling to actually listen to what I’m saying?”

“I am listening, but I’ve already made up my mind . . . I can’t keep doing this back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Not just with you, but with myself.”

“I don’t believe you, especially since it doesn’t sound like you believe yourself.” He leans back against the cushion on the chair and lifts his legs onto the table. “Where’s your place at, then? Which neighborhood in Seattle?”

“It’s not in Seattle,” I say curtly. My tongue is suddenly made of lead, and I can’t get a word out.

“Oh, where, then? Which suburb?” he asks snidely.

“It’s New York, Hardin. I want to go—”

That gets him believing.
“New York?”
He removes his feet from the table and stands up. “You’re talking about
actual
New York? Or is that some little hipster neighborhood in Seattle that I haven’t come across yet?”

“Actual New York,” I clarify as he paces across the deck. “In a week.”

Hardin is silent except for his feet hitting the wood as he walks up and down the length of the deck. “When did you decide this?” he finally asks.

“After London and after my father passed away.” I stand.

“So me being an asshole to you made you want to pack your shit and go to New York City? You’ve never even left the state of Washington—what makes you think you could live in a place like that?”

His response stirs my defensive side. “I could live anywhere that I want! Don’t try to belittle me.”

“Belittle you? Tessa, you’re one thousand times better at everything than I am—I am not trying to belittle you. I’m only asking, what makes you think that you can live in New York? Where would you even live?”

“With Landon.”

Hardin’s eyes widen.
“Landon?”

This is the look I’ve been waiting for, wishing wouldn’t come, but now that it’s here, sadly, I feel slightly at ease. Hardin was taking everything so well; he was being more understanding, calm, and cautious with his words than ever before. It was throwing me off.

This look I know. This is Hardin trying to control his temper.

“Landon.
You and Landon are moving to New York.”

“Yes, he was already going, and I—”

“Whose idea was this—yours or his?” Hardin’s voice is low, and I realize that it’s much less angry than I expected. There is something worse than anger, though, and it’s hurt. Hardin is hurt, and I can feel my stomach and chest tightening at the surprised, betrayed, guarded energy taking over him.

I don’t want to tell Hardin that Landon asked me to move to New York. I don’t want to tell Hardin that Landon and Ken have been helping me with recommendation letters and transcripts, admission packets and applications.

“I’m going to take a semester off when I get there,” I tell him, in hopes of distracting him from his question.

He turns to me, cheeks red under the patio light, eyes wild, and hands clenched at his sides. “It was his idea, wasn’t it? He knew this all along, and while he had me convinced that we were—I don’t know—friends . . .
brothers
even, he was going behind my back.”

“Hardin, it isn’t like that,” I say to defend Landon.

“Like hell it isn’t. You two are
something fucking else,”
he shouts, waving his hands frantically in front of his body. “You sat there and let me make a fool out of myself offering you marriage and adoption and all kinds of shit, and you knew—
you fucking knew
—you were leaving anyway?” He tugs at his hair and changes the direction of his moving feet. He’s walking toward the door now, and I try to stop him.

“Don’t go in there like this, please. Stay out here with me and we can finish talking about this. We have so much more to talk about.”

“Stop! Just fucking stop!”
He shrugs my hand off his shoulder when I try to touch him.

Hardin yanks on the handle of the screen door, and I am sure that the noise I hear is its hinges loosening. I follow closely behind him, hoping that he isn’t going to do exactly what I think he will, exactly what he always does when anything bad happens in his life, in our life.

“Landon!”
Hardin yells the moment he steps into the kitchen. I’m thankful that Ken and Karen seem to have gone upstairs for the night.

“What?” Landon shouts back.

I follow Hardin into the dining room, where Landon and Sophia are still seated at the table, a nearly empty plate of desserts between them.

As Hardin barrels into the room, jaw clenched, fists tight, Landon’s expression changes. “What’s going on?” he asks, eyeing his stepbrother carefully before looking to me.

“Don’t look at her, look at
me,”
Hardin snaps.

Sophia jumps in her seat, but quickly recovers and turns her focus to me as I stand behind Hardin.

“Hardin, he didn’t do anything wrong. He is my best friend, and he was only trying to help,” I say. I know what Hardin’s capable of, and the thought of Landon being on the receiving end of that makes me sick to my stomach.

Hardin doesn’t turn around, but just says, “Stay out of this, Tessa.”

“What are you talking about?” Landon asks, though I know that he is fully aware of what it is that made Hardin so angry. “Wait, this is about New York, isn’t it?”

“Fuck yes, it’s about New York!”
Hardin yells at him.

Landon stands up, and Sophia sends Hardin a murderous warning glare. Right then I decide that I’m okay with her and Landon becoming more than friendly neighbors.

“I was only looking out for Tessa when I invited her to come with me! You broke up with her and she was broken, absolutely broken. New York is what is best for her,” Landon calmly explains.

“You know how fucked-up you are? You pretended to by my fucking friend, and then you go and pull
this
shit?” Hardin begins pacing again, this time in a smaller circle across the empty space in the dining room.

“I wasn’t pretending! You messed up again, and I was trying to help her!” Landon yells back at Hardin. “I’m
both
of your friends!”

My heart is racing as Hardin crosses the room and wraps his fists around Landon’s shirt.

“Help her by taking her away from me!” Hardin pushes Landon against the wall.

“You were too high to care!” Landon screams into Hardin’s face.

Sophia and I are both watching, frozen. I know Hardin and Landon much better than she does, and even I don’t know what to say or do. It’s pure chaos: the two men yelling in each other’s face, the noise from Ken and Karen rushing down the stairs, the rattling and shattering glasses and plates from how Hardin grabbed and dragged Landon to the wall.

“You knew what you were fucking doing! I trusted you, you piece of shit!”

“Go on, then! Hit me!” Landon exclaims.

Hardin’s fist rises, but Landon doesn’t blink. I yell Hardin’s name, and I think I hear Ken doing the same. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Karen tug at Ken’s shirt, holding him back from stepping between the two men.

“Hit me, Hardin! You’re so tough and violent—go on and fucking hit me!” Landon goads again.

“I will! I’ll—” Hardin’s hand lowers, only to rise again.

Landon’s cheeks are red with anger and his chest is heaving, but he doesn’t look the least bit afraid of Hardin. He looks pissed off and very collected at once. I feel the opposite; I feel like if the two people I care about the most get into a fight right now, I don’t know what I would do.

I look at Karen and Ken again. They don’t seem concerned for Landon’s health. They are too calm right now while Hardin and Landon are screaming back and forth.

“You won’t do it,” Landon says.

“Yes, I fucking will! I will smash this stupid fucking cast . . .” But Hardin trails off. He stares at Landon and turns back to look at me before focusing on Landon once more. “Fuck you!” he shouts.