After We Fell (13 page)

“Friday! Our new house is already unpacked and ready for us to arrive.”

I'm quite certain that Kimberly and Christian's new home is lovely, large and modern, much like the house they're moving from. Kimberly's engagement ring sparkles under the light, and I can't help but stare at the beautiful band every time I see it.

“I'm still waiting for the woman to call me back about my apartment,” I tell her, and she turns to look at me.

“What? You don't have an apartment yet?”

“I do—I sent her the paperwork already. We just have to go over the details of the lease.”

“You only have six days,” Kimberly says, looking panicked for me.

“I know, I have it under control,” I assure her, hoping it's true.

If this had been happening a few months ago, I'd have had every detail of this move planned, but lately I've been too stressed to focus on anything, even the move to Seattle.

“Okay; if you need help, just let me know,” she offers as she turns her attention to the phone ringing on her desk.

When I get back to my office, there are a few empty boxes on the floor. I don't have many personal items, so it shouldn't take long to pack.

Twenty minutes later, as I tape the last box closed, there's a gentle knock at the door. “Come in,” I say loudly.

For a moment I wonder if it's Hardin, but when I turn around Trevor is standing in the doorway wearing light jeans and a plain white T-shirt. I'm always caught off guard when he's dressed casually; I'm so used to seeing him in a suit.

“Are you ready for the big move?” he asks as I attempt to lift a box that I packed too full.

“Yeah, almost. Are you?” He walks over and picks up the box for me, placing it on the desk.

“Thanks.” I smile and wipe my hands on the sides of my green dress.

“I am. I'm heading out today as soon as I finish up here.”

“That's amazing. I know you've been ready to move to Seattle since last time we were there.”

I can feel embarrassment spread over my cheeks as I watch it spread across his. “Last time we were there,” Trevor took me to a nice dinner, only to have me reject his kiss and then later be threatened and shoved by Hardin. I have no idea why I just brought that up.

He looks at me blankly. “That was an interesting weekend.
Anyway, I know you have to be pumped, too. You've always wanted to live in Seattle.”

“Yeah, I can't wait.”

Trevor looks around my office. “I know it's none of my business, but is Hardin moving to Seattle with you?”

“No.” My mouth answers before my mind can catch up. “Well, I'm not sure yet. He says he doesn't want to, but I'm hoping that he'll change his mind . . .” I continue to ramble, the words coming out quickly, too quickly, and Trevor looks somewhat uncomfortable as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets before finally interrupting me.

“Why wouldn't he want to go with you?”

“I'm not sure, really, but I hope he does.” I sigh and sit down in my leather desk chair.

Trevor's blue eyes meet mine. “He's crazy if he doesn't.”

“He's crazy either way.” I laugh, trying to diminish the growing tension in the room.

He laughs, too, and shakes his head. “Well, I better finish up so I can get on the road. But I'll see
you
in Seattle.”

With a smile he leaves my office, and for some reason I feel slightly guilty. I reach for my phone and text Hardin, casually letting him know that Trevor stopped by my office. For once, Hardin's jealousy appeals to me—maybe he'll find himself too jealous of Trevor and decide to move to Seattle after all? It doesn't seem likely, but I can't help but hold on to the last thread of hope that he'll change his mind. The clock is running out; six days is not very long for him to plan. He'd have to put in a transfer request, which shouldn't be a problem, considering Ken's position.

Six days doesn't seem long enough for me either, though I'm ready for Seattle. I have to be. This is my future, and I can't center it around Hardin when he isn't willing to compromise. I offered a fair plan: we move to Seattle first, and if it doesn't work out, we can go to England. But he didn't give it a second thought
before declining. I'm hoping this whale-watching trip we have planned with his family will make him see that he can join me, Landon, Ken, and Karen in trying new things, that doing something fun and positive isn't too difficult.

Then again, this is Hardin I'm talking about, and nothing is easy when it comes to him.

The phone on my desk rings, distracting me from my stressful thoughts about Seattle. “You have a visitor,” Kimberly says into my ear, and my heart leaps at the thought of seeing Hardin.

It's only been a few hours, but I always miss him when we're apart. “Tell Hardin to come on back. I'm surprised he even waited for you to call me,” I say.

Kimberly clicks her tongue. “Um, it's not Hardin.”

Maybe Hardin brought my father here? “Is it an older man with a beard?”

“No . . . young guy . . . like Hardin,” she practically whispers.

“Does he have bruises on his face?” I ask, despite the fact that I already know the answer.

“Yeah; should I make him leave?”

I don't want to make her force Zed to leave, and he hasn't done anything wrong, except to not listen to Hardin's instructions to stay away from me. “No, it's fine. He's my friend. You can let him back.”

Why would he come here?
I'm sure it has something to do with me ignoring him, but I don't understand what could be so urgent that he'd drive forty minutes to tell me.

I hang up the phone and debate whether or not to text Hardin and tell him about Zed's arrival. I toss my phone into my desk drawer and close it. Nearly the last thing I need is for Hardin to come here, since he won't be able to control his anger and will surely cause a scene on my last day at work.

The
last
thing I need is for him to get arrested, again.

W
hen I pull open the door to my office, Zed is standing in the hall like the angel of death. He's dressed in a black-and-red-plaid sweatshirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. The swelling on his face hasn't gone down much, but the bruising around the edges of his eyes and nose have lightened from dark purple to a greenish blue.

“Hey . . . I'm sorry for coming here like this,” he says.

“Is something wrong?” I ask and walk back over to my desk.

He stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before stepping into the room. “No. Well, yes, I've been trying to talk to you since yesterday, but you haven't been answering my texts.”

“I know; it's just that Hardin and I already have enough issues without me creating even more, and he doesn't want me to talk to you anymore.”

“You're letting him tell you who you can talk to now?” Zed sits down in the chair directly in front of my desk, and I take a seat behind it. The way we're seated gives an official, more serious tone to our conversation. It's not uncomfortable, just too formal.

I look out the window before answering.

“No, it's not like that. I know he's a little overbearing and may go about things the wrong way, but I can't say I blame him for not wanting me to be friends with you anymore. I wouldn't want him to spend time with someone he has feelings for either,” I say, and Zed's eyes widen.

“What did you say?”

Dammit.
“Nothing,
I just meant . . .” The air grows thick, and I could swear that the walls are closing in on me. Why did I just say that? Not that it isn't true, but it won't help the situation here.

“You have feelings for me?” he asks, his eyes lighting up with each syllable.

“No . . . well, I did. I don't know,” I ramble, wishing I could slap myself for being so quick to speak without thinking.

“It's okay if you don't, but you shouldn't have to lie about it.”

“I'm not lying; I did have feelings for you. I may still have some, honestly, but I don't know. It's all confusing to me. You always say the right things, and you've always been there for me. It would make sense if I did develop those feelings. I've told you before that I care about you, but we both know it's a lost cause.”

“Why's that?” he asks. I'm not sure how many more times I can reject him before he understands where I'm coming from.

“Because it's pointless. I'll never be able to be with you. Or anyone, for that matter. No one but him.”

“You're only saying that because he has you trapped.”

I try to push down the anger that is slowly building as I listen to Zed's words about Hardin. He's certainly entitled to have ill feelings toward him, but I don't like the way he's insinuating that I have no power or control when it comes to my relationship.

“No; I'm saying that because I love him. And as much as I don't want to say it that boldly to you right now, I know that I have to. I don't want to lead you on more than I already have. I know you don't understand why I stay with him through all of this mess, but I love him so much, more than anything, and he doesn't have me trapped. I want to be with him.”

It's true. Everything I just said to Zed is true. Whether Hardin comes to Seattle with me or not, we can try to make it work. We can use Skype, see each other on the weekends until he goes to England. Hopefully by then he won't want to be away from me after all.

Maybe the distance will make Hardin's heart grow fonder, his tone softer. It may be the key to getting him to agree to move with me. Our history has proven that we aren't very good at staying away from one another; whether deliberately or not, we always end up together in some way. It's hard to remember a time when my days and nights didn't revolve around this man. I've tried again and again to picture a life without him, but it's nearly impossible.

“I don't think he gives you the chance to really think about what you want or what's good for you,” Zed says with conviction, though his voice does crack. “He only cares about himself.”

“And that's where you're wrong. I know you guys have some issues between the two of you, but—”

“No, you don't know about our issues at all,” he says quickly. “If you did—”

“He loves me, and I him,” I interrupt. “I'm sorry that you were brought into the middle of this. I'm so sorry; I never wanted to hurt you.”

He frowns. “You keep saying that to me, and yet it keeps happening.”

I hate confrontation more than anything, especially when it involves hurting someone that I care for, but these things have to be said so that Zed and I can close the book on this . . . I'm not even sure how to categorize it.
Situation? Misunderstanding? Bad timing?

I look at Zed, hoping he can read the sincerity in my eyes. “It wasn't my intention. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to keep apologizing. I already knew this when I made the decision to come here. You made it pretty clear how you felt outside of the administration building.”

“Then why did you come?” I ask softly.

“To talk to you.” He looks around the room, then back at me. “Never mind. I don't know why I came here, really.” He sighs.

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty determined a few minutes ago.”

“No. It's pointless, like you said. I'm sorry for coming.”

“It's okay, you don't have to apologize,” I tell him.

We both keep saying that
, I think.

He points down at the boxes on the floor. “You're still going, then?”

“Yeah, I'm almost ready to leave.”

The air between us has become incredibly thick, and neither of us seems to know what to say to the other. Zed stares out the window at the gray sky, and I stare at the carpet beyond him.

At last he stands up and speaks, though I can barely hear his words through the sadness in his voice. “I better go, then. Sorry again for coming here. Good luck in Seattle, Tessa.”

I stand up as well. “I'm sorry for everything. I wish things could've been different.”

“So do I. More than you know,” he says and stands up from the chair.

My heart aches for him. He's always been so sweet to me, and I've done nothing but lead him on and reject him.

“Have you made up your mind whether you're going to press charges or not?” This isn't the right time to be asking this, but I don't think I'll ever see or hear from him again.

“Yeah, I'm not going to. I'm over this whole thing. There's no point in dragging it out. And I did tell you that if you told me you didn't want to see me again I would drop them, didn't I?”

Suddenly I feel like if Zed just looks at me in a certain way, I'll probably start crying. “Yeah,” I quietly respond. I feel like Estella in
Great Expectations
, toying with Pip's emotions. My own Pip stands in front of me, caramel eyes fixed on mine. And this is a role I don't really want to play.

“I truly am sorry for everything. I wish we could be friends,” I say.

“Me, too, but you're not allowed to have friends.” He sighs, running his fingers over his bottom lip, pinching it in the middle.

I decide not to comment on his statement: this isn't about what I'm “allowed” to do. I do, however, make a mental note to discuss this perception that other people have with Hardin and make sure he understands that it bothers me that his attitude makes them think this about me.

As if on cue, my office phone rings, breaking the silence between Zed and me. I hold my finger so he doesn't leave and pick it up.

“Tessa.” Hardin's rough voice carries through.
Shit.

“Hey,” I say, my voice shaky.