After We Fell (19 page)

No tears come, only memories. Memories and regrets.

I
know she's exhausted—I can see it on her face each time I fuck up. The fight with Zed, the lie about the expulsion . . . every infraction takes a toll on her; she thinks I don't notice, but I do.

Why did I have to put Sandra on speakerphone? If I hadn't done that, I could have cleaned this shit up and told her about my fuckup after I fixed it. That way she couldn't be as upset.

I wasn't thinking about what Tessa would do when she found out, and I sure as hell wasn't thinking about where she'd live if she didn't change her mind about moving. I suppose I thought that being the control freak that she is, she'd postpone her trip if she didn't have anywhere to stay.

Way to fucking go, Hardin.

I meant well—well, I didn't at the time, but now I do. I know it's fucked up for me to mess with her apartment in Seattle, but I'm grasping at straws here, trying to get her not to leave me. I know what will happen in Seattle, and it's not going to end well.

True to my nature, I take a swing at the wall next to the staircase.

“Fuck!”

True to my luck, I find out it's not drywall. It's real fucking wood, and hurts so much worse. I cradle my fist with my other hand and have to stop myself from repeating my idiotic reaction. I'm lucky it didn't break anything. Sure, it will bruise, but what else is new.

I'm sick of the endless cycle. I've told you before and you don't listen.
I stomp down the stairs and throw myself on the couch like a temperamental child. That's what I am really, a fucking child. She knows it, I know it—hell, everyone fucking knows it. I should just print the shit on a goddamn T-shirt.

I should just go up there and try to explain myself again, but honestly, I'm a little scared. I've never seen her so mad before.

I need to get the hell out of here. If Tessa hadn't forced me to ride with the entire fucking Partridge family, I could leave now and end this stupid-ass trip early. I didn't even want to come in the first place.

I guess the boat was sort of okay . . . but the trip in general is bullshit, and now that she's mad at me, there's literally no point in me being here. I stare up at the ceiling, unsure what I'm supposed to do now. I can't just sit here, and I know if I do, I'll end up back upstairs pushing Tessa further.

I'll take a walk. That's what normal people do when they're angry, not punch walls and break shit.

I need to get some damn clothes on before I do anything, but I can't go back up there or she'll murder me, literally.

I sigh as I get up. If I wasn't so confused by Tessa's behavior, I'd care more about what I'm about to do.

The door to Landon's room opens, and my eyes roll immediately. His clothes are stacked neatly on the bed; he must have been planning to dutifully put them away before his mum and my dad dragged him along with them.

I sift through the hideous crap and desperately search for something that doesn't have a fucking collar. Finally, I find a plain blue T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.

Fucking lovely.
I've now resorted to sharing clothes with Landon. I hope Tessa's rage doesn't last long, but for once I don't know what will happen next. I hadn't expected her to react half as bad as she did; it wasn't really the words she used toward me, it was the way she looked at me the whole time. That look said
more than she ever could and, in turn, scared me more than her words alone ever could.

I glance at the door to what was our room up until twenty minutes ago, then head back down the stairs and out the door.

I barely make it down the damn driveway before my favorite stepbrother appears. At least he's alone.

“Where's my dad?” I ask him.

“Are you wearing my clothes?” he responds, clearly confused.

“Um, yeah. I didn't have a choice, don't make a big deal of it.” I shrug, knowing by the smile on his face he was planning on doing just that.

“Okay . . . What did you do now?”

What the hell?
“What makes you think I did something?”

His brow arches.

“Okay . . . so I did something, something really fucking stupid,” I huff. “But I don't want to hear your shit, so don't worry about it.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and begins to walk away from me.

I was hoping for a few words from him, he's okay with advice sometimes. “Wait!” I call and he turns around. “You're not going to ask me what it was?”

“You just said you don't want to talk about it,” he replies.

“Yeah, but I . . . well.” I don't know what to say, and he's looking at me like I've grown two heads.

“Do you
want
me to ask you?” He looks pleased, but thankfully he's not being too much of an asshole about it.

“I'm the reason . . .” I begin, but just then I see Karen and my dad starting to walk up the driveway.

“The reason what?” Landon asks, looking back at them.

“Nothing, never mind.” I sigh, running my fingers through my damp hair in frustration.

“Hey, Hardin! Where's Tessa?” Karen asks.

Why does everyone always ask me that as if I can't be more than five feet away from her?

The building ache in my chest reminds me of just that: I can't.

“She's inside, sleeping,” I lie and turn to Landon. “I'm going for a walk, can you make sure she's okay?” He nods.

“Where are you going?” my father's voice calls as I walk past them.

“Out,” I snap and walk faster.

BY THE TIME
I reach a stop sign a few roads over, I realize I have no fucking idea where I'm going or even how to get back to where I came from. I just know I've been walking for a while, and that all of these roads are deceptively windy.

I officially hate this place.

It didn't seem so bad while I was watching Tessa's hair blow lightly in the wind, her eyes focused on the shining water, her lips turned up in a small, satisfied smile. She looked so relaxed, like the calm waves far from the shore, steady and undisturbed until our boat intruded on their peace. Now behind us, the water roars, whipping up onto the sides of our boat in an angry way. Soon they'll go back to their resting state, until another boat comes along to disturb their ease.

A girl's voice interrupts the image of Tessa's sun-kissed skin. “Are you lost or something?”

When I turn around, I'm surprised to find a girl, around my age, I think. Her brown hair is as long as Tessa's. She's alone out here at night. I look around us. There's nothing, only an empty gravel road and forest.

“Are you?” I reply, taking notice of her long skirt.

She smiles at me and walks closer. She must be lacking brain cells
to be out here in the middle of nowhere asking a complete stranger that looks like me if he's lost.

“No. I'm escaping,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You're running away? At, like, age twenty?” She better keep her ass moving down this street, then. The last thing I need is some angry father looking for his overdressed teenage daughter.

“No.” She laughs. “I'm home from college visiting my parents, and they were boring me to death.”

“Oh, good for you. I hope your freedom trail finds you at Shangri-la,” I reply and begin to walk away from her.

“You're going the wrong way,” she calls out.

“Don't care,” I say.

And then I groan when I hear her footsteps crunching against the gravel behind me.

I
'm so exhausted, just plain tired of dealing with fight after fight with Hardin. I'm not sure what to do now, where to go from here. I've been following him down the path we've been on for months now, and I'm not sure we're actually going anywhere. We're both just as lost as we were at the start.

“Tessa?” Landon's voice carries through the room and out to the balcony.

“Out here,” I reply, thankful that I put on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt. Hardin always teases me when I do that, but it's comfortable at times like this, not too hot but not too cold.

“Hey,” he says, coming out and sitting in the chair next to mine.

“Hey.” I glance over at him before staring back at the water.

“Are you okay?”

I take a moment to think over his question: Am I okay?
No.
Will I be?
Yes.

“Yeah, this time I think I am.” I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I don't want to ruin the trip with all my drama. I'm fine, really.”

“Okay, just know if you want to talk, I'll listen.”

“I know.” I look over at him, and he gives me a reassuring smile. I don't know what I'm going to do without him.

His eyes go wide, and he points over at something. “Are those . . . ?”

I look over to where he's staring.

“Oh God!” I jump from my seat and grab the red panties that are floating in the hot tub and shove them into the front pocket of my sweatshirt.

Landon bites down on his bottom lip to stifle his laugh, but I can't keep mine in. We both burst into laughter—his genuine, mine out of humiliation. But I'll take this laughter with Landon over my usual postfight crying with Hardin any day.

I
'm growing more and more sick of seeing nothing but gravel and trees while roaming around this small town. The strange girl is still following behind me, and my fight with Tess is still weighing down on me.

“Are you going to follow me around this entire town?” I ask the pestering girl.

“No, I'm going back to my parents' cabin.”

“Well, go to their cabin alone.”

“You aren't very polite,” she hums.

“Really?” I roll my eyes even though she can't see my face. “I've been told civility is one of my strongest attributes.”

“Someone lied to you,” she says and giggles behind me.

I kick at a rock, for once glad for Tessa's cleanliness, since if she hadn't made me take my shoes off at the door of the cabin, I'd be stuck wearing Landon's sneakers. Not a good look. Plus, I'm almost certain his feet are much smaller than mine.

“So where are you from?” she asks.

I ignore her and continue on my trek. I think I'm supposed to turn left at the next stop sign. I sure as hell hope so.

“England?”

“Yup,” I say. Then figure I might as well ask. “Which way?”

I turn and see her point to the right. Of course, I was wrong.

Her eyes are an icy blue, and her skirt drags across the gravel below her feet. She reminds me of Tessa . . . well, the Tessa I was first introduced to. My Tessa no longer wears hideous things like
that. She has also learned a new vocabulary; all credit for that goes to me for making her cuss my ass out on a wide range of occasions.

“Are you here with your parents, too?” Her voice is low, sweet even.

“No . . . Well, sort of.”

“They are sort of your parents?” She smiles; her use of “they are” instead of the contraction “they're” reminds me of Tess, too.

I look over to the girl again to make sure she's actually there and this isn't some freaky
Christmas Carol–
type shit where she's an apparition that has come to teach me some sort of lesson.

“They're my family, and my girlfriend. I have a girlfriend, by the way,” I warn her. I don't see this girl being interested in someone like me, but then again I once thought the same about Tessa.

“Okay . . .” she says,

“Okay.” I pick up my pace, wanting to create some space between us. I turn right, and she does, too. Both of us move onto the grass as a truck passes us by, and she catches up again.

“Where is she, then? Your girlfriend?” she asks.

“Sleeping.” It makes sense to use the same lie I told my father and Karen.

“Hmm . . .”

“Hmm, what?” I look at her.

“Nothing.” She stares forward.

“You've already followed me halfway back. If you have something to say, then say it,” I say irritably.

She twists something in her hands, looking down. “I was just thinking that you seem like you're trying to escape from something or hide . . . I don't know, never mind.”

“I'm not hiding; she told me to get the fuck out, so I did.” What the hell does this wannabe Tessa know anyway?

She looks up at me. “Why did she kick you out?”

“Are you always this nosy?”

She smiles. “Yeah, I am,” she says with a nod.

“I hate nosy people.”

Except Tessa, of course. No matter how much I love her, sometimes I want to tape her mouth shut following one of her interrogations. She's literally the most intrusive human being I've ever met.

I'm lying, really. I love her pestering behavior; I used to hate it, but I get it now. I want to know all about her, too . . . what she's thinking, what she's doing, what she wants. I realize, to my fucking horror, that I ask more questions now than she does.

“So, are you going to tell me?” the girl presses.

“What's your name?” I ask her, avoiding her question.

“Lillian,” she says and drops whatever was in her hand.

“I'm Hardin.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Tell me about your girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“It seems like you're upset, and who better to talk to than a stranger?”

I don't want to talk to her; she's eerily similar to Tessa, and it's making me uneasy. “I don't think it's a good idea.”