After We Collided Page 13

  She was missing that fire that Tess has—she didn’t scold me for my foul language, she didn’t even say anything when I put my hand on her thigh in the middle of dinner. I knew she only agreed to go out with me to fulfill some fucked-up bad-boy fantasy before church the next morning, but that’s okay, because I was using her, too. I was using her to fill the void of Tessa. To distract me from Tessa being in Seattle still with fucking Trevor. The guilt I felt when I moved in to kiss her was overwhelming. I pulled away, and the embarrassment was clear on her innocent face—I practically ran to my car, leaving her stranded at the restaurant.

  I sit up further and look at the sleeping girl that I am desperately in love with. Seeing her in our apartment with her clothes in the washer, the apartment clean, and even her toothbrush in the bathroom . . . it gave me a little bit of hope. But then again, you know what they say about hope.

  I’m still holding on to the sliver that exists, the small chance that she may forgive me. If she woke up now, she would surely scream at the sight of me standing over her as she sleeps.

  I know I need to take it down a few notches. I need to give her a little space. This behavior and these feelings are so exhausting, so overwhelming to me, and I have no fucking idea how to deal with them. But I will figure this out—I have to fix all of this. I push a loose strand of her soft hair from her face and force myself away from the bed, back to my pile of blankets, on the concrete floor, where I belong.

  Maybe I’ll be able to sleep tonight.

  chapter twenty-seven

  TESSA

  When I wake up, I’m momentarily confused by the brick ceiling above me. It’s strange to wake up here after staying in hotels for the past week. When I climb out of bed, the floor is clear, with the blanket and pillows piled next to the closet. Grabbing my toiletry bag, I head to the bathroom.

  I hear Hardin’s voice from the living room: “She can’t stay today, Mum. Her mother is expecting her.”

  “Couldn’t we have her mom come here? I would love to meet her,” Trish responds.

  Oh no.

  “No, her mother is . . . not very fond of me,” he says.

  “Why not?”

  “She doesn’t think I’m good enough for Tessa, I guess. And maybe because of how I look.”

  “How you look? Hardin, don’t you ever let anyone make you feel insecure. I thought you loved your . . . style?”

  “I do. I mean, I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. Except Tessa.”

  As my mouth falls open, Trish laughs. “Who are you, and where is my boy?” Then, with real happiness in her voice, she says, “I can’t even remember the last conversation we had where you didn’t curse me out, it’s been years. This is nice.”

  “Okay . . . okay . . .” Hardin groans and I giggle while imagining Trish trying to hug him.

  AFTER MY SHOWER I decide to get myself all the way ready before leaving the bathroom. I’m a coward, I know, but I need a little more time before I put on a fake smile for Hardin’s mother. It’s not exactly a fake smile . . . And that’s part of the problem, my subconscious reminds me. I had a really nice time yesterday, and I slept better than I have all week.

  Once my hair is curled to near perfection, I pack my toiletries back into my small bag. There’s a light tap on the door. “Tess?” Hardin asks.

  “I’m finished,” I respond and open the door to find him leaning against the door, wearing long gray cotton shorts and a white T-shirt.

  “Not to rush you or anything, but I really have to piss.”

  He gives me a small smile and I nod. I try not to notice the way his shorts hang on his hips, making the cursive writing that’s inked onto his side even more visible under the white T-shirt.

  “I’m going to get dressed, then be on my way,” I tell him.

  He looks away, focusing on the wall. “Okay.”

  I go to the bedroom, feeling terribly guilty about lying to his mother and leaving so soon. I know she was so excited to meet me, and here I am leaving on her second day.

  Deciding on my white dress, I put on my old black tights underneath since it’s too cold without them. I probably should just put on jeans and a sweatshirt, but I love that the dress gives me a strange sense of confidence, which is something that I need today. I pack my clothes back into my bags and place the hangers back in the closet.

  “Do you need some help?” Trish says from behind me. I jump, dropping the navy dress that I wore in Seattle.

  “I was just . . .” I fumble.

  Her eyes examine the half-empty closet. “How long are you planning on being at your mother’s?”

  “Um . . . I . . .” I’m a really terrible liar.

  “Looks like you’re going to be gone for a while.”

  “Yeah . . . I don’t have many clothes,” I squeak.

  “I was going to see if you wanted to do some shopping while I was here; maybe if you come back before I leave, we can go?”

  I can’t tell if she believes me or if she suspects that I don’t ever plan on returning here. “Yeah . . . sure,” I lie again.

  “Mum . . .” Hardin says in a low voice as he enters the room. I notice his frown as his eyes take in the empty closet, and hope that Trish isn’t observing her son the way that I am.

  “Just finishing packing,” I explain, and he nods. I zip the last bag and look at him, completely unsure what I should say.

  “I’ll take your bags down for you,” he says, grabbing my keys from the dresser and disappearing with my things.

  As he leaves, Trish’s arms wrap around my shoulders. “I’m so glad that I got to meet you, Tessa. You have no idea what it means to me as a mother to see my only child this way.”

  “What way?” I manage to ask.

  “Happy,” she replies and my eyes begin to sting.

  If this is happy Hardin to her, I don’t want to see her usual Hardin.

  I say my final goodbye to Trish and prepare to leave the apartment for the last time.

  “Tessa?” Hardin’s mother says plainly. I turn around to face her once more.

  “You’ll come back to him, won’t you?” she asks, and my heart sinks. I get the feeling she means more than coming back after Christmas break.

  I don’t trust my voice. So I just nod and quickly exit.

  When I reach the elevator, I turn around and head to the stairs to avoid seeing Hardin. I wipe the corners of my eyes and take a deep breath before walking out into the snow. When I reach my car, I notice that the windshield has been cleared of snow and the engine is running.

  I DECIDE NOT TO CALL my mother to tell her that I’m on my way. I don’t feel like talking to her right now. I want to use this two-hour drive to try to clear my head. I need to make a mental list of the pros and cons of being with Hardin again. I know how stupid I am for even entertaining the thought—he has done terrible things to me. He has lied to me, betrayed me, and humiliated me. So far, on the cons list we have the lies, the sheets, the condom, the bet, his temper, his friends, Molly, his ego, his attitude, and him destroying my trust.

  On the pros list I have . . . well . . . I have the fact that I love him. That he makes me happy, makes me feel stronger, more confident. That he usually wants the best for me, unless, of course, he’s the one doing the damage in his reckless way . . . The way he laughs and smiles, the way he holds me, the way he kisses me, the way he hugs me, the way I can tell he is changing for me.

  I know my pros list is full of small things, especially compared to the large negatives, but the small things are the most important, right? I can’t decide if I’m completely insane for even thinking about forgiving him, or if I’m doing what love dictates. Which will guide me best in love—my feelings or my mind?

  As much as I try to fight it, I can’t stay away from him. I never have been able to.

  This would be a good time to have a friend to talk to, a friend that has been in this type of situation before. I wish I could call Steph, but she lied to me the whole time, too. I would c
all Landon, but he’s already told me his opinion, and sometimes a woman’s point of view is better, more relatable.

  The snow is thick and the wind is strong, nudging at my car on the deserted roads. I should have just stayed in the hotel—I have no idea what possessed me to come here. Still, despite some scary moments, the drive goes much quicker than I thought it would, and before I know it, my mother’s house looms before me.

  I pull into her neatly shoveled driveway, and after three knocks she finally opens the door, wearing a robe, her hair wet. I can count the times in my life that I’ve seen her without her hair and makeup done on one hand.

  “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?” she fires off, as unfriendly as ever.

  I step inside. “I don’t know; I was driving through the snow and didn’t want to be distracted.”

  “You still should have called so I could have been ready.”

  “You don’t need to be ready, it’s only me.”

  She huffs. “There is never an excuse to look like a slob, Tessa,” she says with a tone as if she’s telling me about my current state. I almost laugh at her ridiculous comment, but I decide against it.

  “Where are your bags?” she asks.

  “In my car, I’ll get them later.”

  “What is that . . . that dress you are wearing?” Her eyes scan my body and I smile.

  “It’s for work. I really like it.”

  “It’s way too revealing . . . but the color is nice, I suppose.”

  “Thanks. So how are the Porters?” I ask. I know bringing up Noah’s family will distract her.

  “They’re great. They miss seeing you.” As she goes into the kitchen she says casually over her shoulder, “Maybe we should invite them over for dinner tonight.”

  I cringe and scurry after her. “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  She looks at me, then pours herself cup of coffee. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know . . . it would be awkward for me.”

  “Theresa, you have known the Porters for years. I would love for them to see you now that you have an internship as well as going to college.”

  “So you basically want me to show off?” The thought annoys me. She only wants to have them over so she can have another thing to brag about.

  “No, I want to show them the things that you’ve accomplished. It’s not showing off,” she snaps.

  “I really would rather not.”

  “Well, Theresa, this is my house, and if I want to invite them, I will. I’m going to finish getting myself presentable, and then I’ll be back.” And with a dramatic turn, she leaves me in the kitchen alone.

  I roll my eyes and walk back to my old bedroom. Tired, I lie down on the bed and wait for my mother to finish her extensive beautification rituals.

  “THERESA?” MY MOTHER’S VOICE wakes me up. I don’t even remember falling asleep.

  I lift my face up from where it was resting on Buddha, my ancient stuffed elephant, and say a disoriented “Coming!”

  I drowsily get to my feet and wobble down the hall. When I reach the living room, Noah is sitting on the couch. Not the entire Porter clan, as my mother had threatened, but this does wake me up.

  “Look who stopped by while you were napping!” my mother says, smiling her fakest smile.

  “Hey,” I reply, but am really thinking, I knew I shouldn’t have come here.

  Noah waves a slight hand at me. “Hey, Tessa, you look great.”

  Of course, I have no problem with Noah at all—I care for him deeply, like a family member. But I need a break from everything going on in my life, and him being here only adds to my guilt and pain. I know it isn’t his fault and it’s not fair for me to be short with him, especially when he’s been so kind throughout our whole breakup.

  My mother leaves the room, and I pull my shoes off and sit down on the couch, opposite Noah. “How’s your break going?” he asks.

  “Good, yours?”

  “Same. Your mom said you went to Seattle?”

  “Yeah, it was great. I went with my boss and some coworkers.”

  He nods excitedly. “That’s awesome, Tessa. I’m happy for you—you’re really doing the publishing thing!”

  “Thank you.” I smile. This isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.

  After a moment, he looks down the hall where my mother disappeared, then leans in close. “Hey, so, your mom has been so tense since Saturday. I mean more than usual. How are you doing with all of this?”

  I scrunch up my brows. “What do you mean?”

  “The whole thing with your dad?” he says slowly like I know what he’s talking about.

  What? “My dad?”

  “She didn’t tell you?” He looks down the empty hall. “Oh . . . Don’t tell her I told—”

  Before he can finish, I’m on my feet and storming down the hallway to her room. “Mother!”

  What the hell about my dad? I haven’t seen or heard from him in eight years. The way Noah was acting kind of solemn . . . Did he die? I don’t know how I’d feel about that.

  “What about Dad?” I raise my voice as I burst into her room. Her eyes go wide but she composes herself quickly. “Well?” I shout.

  She rolls her eyes. “Tessa, you need to lower your voice. It is nothing, nothing that you need to worry about.”

  “That’s not for you to decide—tell me what’s going on! Is he dead?”

  “Dead? Oh no. I would tell you if he was,” she says and drops a hand as if to pooh-pooh me.

  “Then what is it?”

  She sighs and looks at me for a second. “He’s moved back. Not too far from where you are now, but he won’t be contacting you, so don’t you worry about it. I took care of it.”

  “What does that even mean?” I don’t have enough space in my head for all of this crap with Hardin, and now my absentee father is moving back to Washington. Now that I think about it, I didn’t know he moved away in the first place. I only knew he wasn’t around me.

  “It doesn’t mean anything. I was going to tell you when I called you Friday night, but since you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone, I handled it myself.”

  I was too drunk to answer that night—thank goodness I didn’t. I could have never handled this wasted. I can barely handle it now.

  “He isn’t going to bother you, so wipe that sad look off of your face and get ready, we’re going to do some shopping,” she says, too indifferently.

  “I don’t really want to go shopping, Mother. This is sort of a big deal to me, you know.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she says, full of annoyance and venom. “He hasn’t been around for years. He still won’t be around now, nothing has changed.” She disappears into her closet, and I realize there’s no use arguing with her.

  I walk back to the living room, grab my phone, and put my shoes on.

  “Where are you guys going?” Noah asks.

  “Who knows,” I say and walk out into the chill air.

  I wasted all this time coming here, two hours of driving in the snow just to have her be a complete witch . . . no, bitch. She’s a complete bitch. I wipe the snow off my windshield with my arm; a terrible idea, since it only freezes me further. Climbing inside the car, I clench my rattling teeth as I start the engine and wait for it to heat up somewhat.

  As I drive, I scream, repeatedly calling my mother every foul name I can think of. When I’ve exhausted my voice, I try to figure out what to do next, but memories of my father flood my mind, and I can’t concentrate on anything. Tears soaking my cheeks, I grab my phone off the passenger seat.

  In a few seconds, Hardin’s voice booms through the small speaker. “Tess? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah . . .” I start, but my voice betrays me and I choke on a sob.

  “What happened? What did she do?”

  “She . . . can I come back?” I ask, and he lets out a deep breath.

  “Of course you can, baby . . . Tessa.” He corrects himself, but I
find myself wishing we hadn’t.

  “How far are you?” he asks.

  “Twenty minutes,” I cry.

  “Okay, do you want to stay on the phone?”

  “No . . . it’s snowing,” I explain and hang up.

  I shouldn’t have left in the first place. It’s ironic that I’m running to Hardin despite everything he has done.

  Far too long later, when I pull into the parking lot, I’m still crying. I wipe my face the best I can, but my makeup streaks and dirties my face. When I step out into the snow, I see Hardin standing by the door covered in snow. Without thinking, I run over and wrap my arms around him. He steps back, obviously thrown off by my affection, but then he wraps his arms around me and lets me cry into his snow-covered sweatshirt.

  chapter twenty-eight

  HARDIN

  Holding her for the first time in what seems like a lifetime is better than I could even begin to describe. Physical relief floods through me when she runs into my arms—I never expected this to happen. She has been so distant, so cold lately. I don’t blame her, but fuck if it hasn’t hurt.

  “Are you okay?” I ask into her hair.

  She nods her head up and down against my chest but continues to cry. I know she isn’t okay. Her mother probably said some shit to her that she shouldn’t have. I knew this would happen, and honestly, the greedy part of me is glad for whatever she did. Not because she hurt Tessa, but because it meant my girl ran to me for comfort.

  “Let’s go inside,” I say.

  She nods but doesn’t let go of me, so I force myself to release my arms from her and walk us both inside. Her beautiful face is marked with black streaks and her eyes and lips are swollen. I hope she didn’t cry the whole drive.

  As soon as we step into the lobby, I pull out the scarf I brought down and wrap it around her head and ears, making a soft purple bundle around her beautiful face. She must be cold only wearing that dress. That dress . . . I would normally go into an extended fantasy about peeling the thin fabric off her. But not today, not while she’s like this.