After We Fell
By Anna Todd
4.5/5
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About this ebook
Book 3 of the After series—newly revised and expanded, Anna Todd's After fanfiction racked up 1 billion reads online and captivated readers across the globe. Experience the internet's most talked-about book for yourself from the writer Cosmopolitan called “the biggest literary phenomenon of her generation.”
Tessa and Hardin’s love was complicated before. Now it’s more confusing than ever. AFTER WE FELL...Life will never be the same. #HESSA
Just as Tessa makes the biggest decision of her life, everything changes. Revelations about first her family, and then Hardin’s, throw everything they knew before in doubt and makes their hard-won future together more difficult to claim.
Tessa’s life begins to come unglued. Nothing is what she thought it was. Not her friends. Not her family. The one person she should be able to rely on, Hardin, is furious when he discovers the massive secret she’s been keeping. And rather than being understanding, he turns to sabotage.
Tessa knows Hardin loves her and will do anything to protect her, but there’s a difference between loving someone and being able to have them in your life. This cycle of jealousy, unpredictable anger, and forgiveness is exhausting. She’s never felt so intensely for anyone, so exhilarated by someone’s kiss—but is the irrepressible heat between her and Hardin worth all the drama? Love used to be enough to hold them together. But if Tessa follows her heart now, will it be...the end?
Anna Todd
Anna Todd is the New York Times bestselling author of the After series. Always an avid reader, she began writing stories on her phone on Wattpad, the global multiplatform entertainment company for original stories, with After becoming the most read series on the platform. The print edition was published in 2014. It has been published in over thirty languages, with more than eight million copies sold worldwide, and is a #1 bestseller in Italy, Germany, France, and Spain. Find her at AnnaTodd.com, on X at @annatodd, on Instagram at @imaginator1d, and on Wattpad as Imaginator1D.
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Reviews for After We Fell
404 ratings9 reviews
What our readers think
Readers find this title to be a rollercoaster of emotions, with unexpected twists and intense moments. While some readers find the characters frustrating and the story exhausting, others appreciate the growth and development of the main characters. The ending leaves readers wanting more, and many describe the book as addictive and highly recommend it. Overall, readers are hooked by the intense emotions and the author's ability to evoke strong feelings.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I was happy to see that this book was a little different than the second. It was nice to see how much Hardin and Tessa have grown separately and together than the first book. There were so many twists and turns in this book that I was not expecting and the ending left me wanting more. I can’t wait to read the next book. Every book I read gets better and better.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Wow!! it's twusted and intense!! i coumd hardly put it down
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I loved the fist and part of the second but it definitely takes a turn when harden gets controlling...
I hope this book gets better? - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I have never felt or expected to feel how I feel reading this book. It was so good. I felt the hurt I felt the love I felt every emotion they were going through.. I couldn’t put the book down. I was hooked. The more I read the more I became obsessed with what was happening . Amazing job! 10/10 highly recommend
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This series is like a soap opera. Although I have managed to continue my reading, it is constant battles and back and forth. It's a bit exhausting. Some of the things Tess and Hardin do make me want to slap them. He has the most over the top controlling and anger issues and she is portrayed as the densest woman ever. How did this make into a movie again? I would think the way things have become, people would throw a fit about the way this story is.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This book was actually pretty good . The end has definitely left me shocked !!!!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5it was everything. miss anna todd you really ate that.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Just couldn't peel my eyes off it once I started reading..its just so realistic..and connects completely to your heart. A must read. Makes you fall in love with the characters.Hats off to Anna Todd!
3 people found this helpful
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The After series is everything? Best book ever written !!!Tessa and Hardin are goals?
1 person found this helpful
Book preview
After We Fell - Anna Todd
prologue
TESSA
As I stare into the familiar face of this stranger, memories flood me.
I used to sit there, brushing the hair on my blond Barbie doll. Often, I’d wish that I was the doll: she had it made. She was beautiful, she was always groomed, always exactly who she was supposed to be. Her parents must be proud, I used to think. Her father, wherever he was, was probably a big CEO, traveling the world to make a life for his family while her mother stayed back and took care of the house.
Barbie’s father would never come home stumbling and yelling. He wouldn’t scream at her mother so loudly that Barbie would hide in the greenhouse to get away from all the noise and the breaking dishes. And if, by chance, some small, easily explainable misunderstanding had caused an argument between her parents, Barbie always had Ken, her perfect blond boyfriend, to keep her company… even in the greenhouse.
Barbie was perfect, so she would have the perfect life, with perfect parents.
My father, who left me nine years ago, is standing in front of me, dirty and haggard. Nothing like he should be, nothing like I remember. A smile covers his face as he stares at me, and another memory surfaces.
My father, the night he left… my mother’s face set in stone. She didn’t cry. She just stood there, waiting for him to walk out the door. That night she changed; she wasn’t the same loving mother anymore after that. She became something unkind, and distant, and unhappy.
But she was there after he decided not to be.
chapter one
TESSA
Dad?" This man in front of me couldn’t possibly be my father, despite the familiar brown eyes staring back at me.
Tessie?
His voice is thicker sounding than I recall from my distant memories.
Hardin turns to me, eyes blazing, and then back to my father.
My father. Here, in this bad neighborhood, with filthy clothes on his back.
Tessie? Is that really you?
he asks.
I’m frozen. I have no words to say to this drunken man wearing my father’s face.
Hardin puts a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to elicit a reaction from me. Tessa…
I take a step toward the strange man, and he smiles. His brown beard is peppered with gray; his smile isn’t white and clean like I remember… how did he end up this way? All the hope I once held that my father would’ve changed his life around the way Ken did has vanished, and the realization that this man is actually my father hurts worse than it should.
It’s me,
someone says, and after a moment I realize the words came from me.
He closes the space between us and wraps his arms around me. I can’t believe it! Here you are! I’ve been trying to—
He’s cut short by Hardin pulling him away from me. I step back, unsure how to behave.
The stranger—my father—looks between Hardin and me, alert and in disbelief. But shortly he eases back into a nonchalant posture and keeps his distance, for which I’m glad.
I’ve been trying to find you for months,
he says, wiping his hand across his forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt on his skin.
Hardin stands in front of me, ready to pounce. I’ve been here,
I say quietly, peering around his shoulder. I’m thankful for his protection, and it dawns on me that he must be completely confused.
My father turns to him, looks him up and down for a while. Wow. Noah sure has changed a lot.
No, that’s Hardin,
I tell him.
My father shuffles around him a little and inches closer to me, and I can see that Hardin tenses when he moves. This close, I can smell him.
It’s either the liquor on his breath, or the by-product of abusing liquor, that has him confusing the two; Hardin and Noah are polar opposites, and could never be compared to each other. My father swings an arm around me, and Hardin gives me a look, but I shake my head slightly to keep him at bay.
Who’s he?
My father keeps his arm around me for an uncomfortably long time while Hardin just stands there, looking like he’s going to explode—not necessarily out of anger, I realize; he just seems to have no clue what to say or do.
That makes two of us. He’s my… Hardin’s my…
Boyfriend. I’m her boyfriend,
he finishes for me.
The man’s brown irises go wide as he finally takes in Hardin’s appearance.
Nice to meet you, Hardin. I’m Richard.
He reaches his dirty hand out to shake Hardin’s.
Ehm… yeah, nice to meet you.
Hardin is clearly very… unsettled.
What are the two of you doing out around here?
I take this opportunity to move away from my father and stand next to Hardin, who snaps back to himself and pulls me to his side.
Hardin was getting a tattoo,
I answer robotically. My mind is unable to comprehend all that’s happening right now.
Ah… Nice. I’ve used this place before myself.
Images of my father having coffee before leaving the house every morning to go to work fill my mind. He looked nothing like this, he spoke nothing like this, and he sure as hell didn’t tattoo himself back when I knew him. When I was his little girl.
Yeah, my friend Tom does them.
He pushes up the sleeve of his sweatshirt to reveal what resembles a skull on his forearm.
It doesn’t look like it belongs on him, but as I continue to examine him I begin to see that maybe it does. Oh…
is all I can manage.
This is so awkward. This man is my father, the man who left my mother and me alone. And he’s here in front of me… drunk. And I don’t know what to think.
Part of me is excited—a small part that I don’t want to acknowledge at the moment. I had secretly been hoping to see him again since the day my mother mentioned he was back in the area. I know it’s silly—stupid, really—but in a way he seems better than before. He’s drunk and possibly homeless, but I have missed him more than I realized, and maybe he’s just had a rough time lately. Who am I to judge this man when I don’t know anything about him?
When I look at him, and at the street surrounding us, it’s bizarre to see that everything is moving along as it normally should. I could have sworn time stopped when my father stumbled in front of us.
Where are you living?
I ask.
Hardin’s defensive gaze is set on my father, watching him like he’s a dangerous predator.
I’m in between places right now.
He wipes his forehead with his sleeve.
Oh.
I was working down at Raymark, but I got laid off,
he tells me.
I vaguely recall hearing the name Raymark before. I think it’s some manufacturer. He’s been doing factory work?
What have you been up to? It’s been, what… five years?
I can feel Hardin stiffen next to me as I say, No, it’s been nine.
Nine years? I’m sorry, Tessie.
His words are slightly slurred.
His nickname for me makes my heart sink; that name was used in the best of times. In the time when he would lift me up onto his shoulders and run through our small yard, the time before he left. I don’t know what to make of this. I want to cry because I haven’t seen him in so long, I want to laugh at the irony of seeing him here, and I want to yell at him for leaving me. It’s confusing to see him this way. I remember him as a drunk, but he was an angry drunk then, not a smiling, showing-off-tattoos-and-shaking-hands-with-my-boyfriend drunk. Maybe he’s changed into a nicer man…
I think it’s time to go,
Hardin states, looking at my father.
I really am sorry; it wasn’t all my fault. Your mother… you know how she is.
He defends himself, his hands waving in front of him. Please, Theresa, give me a chance,
the man begs.
Tessa…
Hardin warns beside me.
Give us a second,
I say to my father. I grab Hardin by the arm and lead him a few feet away.
What the hell are you doing? You aren’t actually going to—
he begins.
"He’s my dad, Hardin."
He’s a fucking homeless drunk,
he spits with annoyance.
Tears prick my eyes from Hardin’s truthful but harsh words. I haven’t seen him in nine years.
Exactly—because he left you. It’s a waste of time, Tessa.
He glances behind me at my father.
I don’t care. I want to hear him out.
I mean, I guess so. It’s not like you’re inviting him to the apartment or anything.
He shakes his head.
If I want to, I will. And if he wants to come, he’s coming over. It’s my place, too,
I snap. I look over at my father. He’s standing there, wearing dirty clothes, staring down at the concrete in front of him. When was the last time he slept in a bed? Had a meal? The thought makes my heart ache.
You aren’t seriously considering having him come home with us?
Hardin’s fingers slide through his hair in a familiar gesture of frustration.
Not to live or anything—just for tonight. We could make dinner,
I offer. My father looks up and makes eye contact with me. I look away as he starts to smile.
"Dinner? Tessa, he’s a goddamn drunk who hasn’t seen you in almost ten years… and you’re talking about making dinner for him?"
Embarrassed at his outburst, I pull him by the collar closer to me and speak low. "He’s my father, Hardin, and I don’t have a relationship with my mother anymore."
"That doesn’t mean you need to have one with this guy. This isn’t going to end well, Tess. You’re too damn nice to everyone when they don’t deserve it."
This is important to me,
I tell him, and his eyes soften before I can point out the irony of his objections.
He sighs and tugs at his messy hair in frustration. Dammit, Tessa, this isn’t going to end well.
You don’t know how it will end, Hardin,
I whisper and look over at my father, who’s running his fingers over his beard. I know Hardin may be right, but I owe it to myself to attempt to get to know this man, or at least to hear what he has to say.
I go back over to my father, instinctive apprehension making my voice waver a little. Do you want to come to our place for dinner?
Really?
he exclaims, hope threading through his face.
Yeah.
Okay! Yeah, okay!
He smiles, and for a brief moment the man I remember flashes through—the man before the liquor, that is.
Hardin doesn’t say a word as we all walk to the car. I know he’s angry, and I understand why. But I also know that his father has changed for the better—he runs our college, for goodness’ sakes. Am I so foolish for hoping to witness a similar change in my father?
When we approach the car, my father asks, Whoa—this is yours? It’s a Capri, right? Late-seventies model?
Yep.
Hardin climbs into the driver’s seat.
My father doesn’t question Hardin’s terse response, and I’m glad for it. The radio is set low, and as soon as Hardin revs the engine, we both reach for the knob at the same time, in hopes that music will drown out the uncomfortable silence.
The whole drive to the apartment, I wonder how my mother would take this. The thought gives me chills, and I try thinking about my upcoming move to Seattle.
Nope, that’s almost worse; I don’t know how to talk about it with Hardin. I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. Hardin’s warm hand covers mine, and my nerves begin to calm.
Whoa, this is where you live?
My father gapes from the backseat when we pull up to our apartment complex.
Hardin gives me a subtle here-it-comes look, and I respond, Yeah, we moved in a few months ago.
In the elevator, Hardin’s protective gaze heats my cheeks, and I give him a small smile, hoping to soften him. It seems to work, but being in our home area with this virtual stranger is just so awkward that I begin to regret inviting him over. It’s too late now, though.
Hardin unlocks our door and walks inside without turning around, immediately heading to the bedroom without a word.
I’ll be right back,
I tell my father and turn to leave him standing alone in the foyer area.
Do you mind if I use your bathroom?
he calls after me.
Of course not. It’s just down the hall,
I say, pointing to the bathroom door without looking.
In the other room, Hardin’s on the bed, removing his boots. Looking over to the door, he gestures for me to close it.
I know you’re upset with me,
I quietly remark as I walk over to him.
I am.
I take his face between my hands, my thumbs running over both his cheeks. Don’t be.
His eyes close in appreciation of my gentle touch, and I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He’s going to hurt you. I’m only trying to prevent that from happening.
He can’t hurt me—what could he possibly do? I haven’t seen him in how long?
He’s probably out there shoving our shit in his bloody pockets now,
Hardin huffs, and I can’t help but giggle. It’s not funny, Tessa.
I sigh and tilt his chin up to make him look at me. Can you please try to lighten up and be positive about this? It’s confusing enough without you sulking around and adding to the pressure.
I’m not sulking. I’m trying to protect you.
I don’t need you to—he’s my dad.
He’s not your dad…
Please?
I run my thumb along his lip, and his expression softens.
Sighing again, he finally answers, Fine, let’s go have dinner with this guy, then. God knows he hasn’t eaten anything that didn’t come from a fucking Dumpster in a while.
My smile fades and my lip quivers against my will. He notices.
I’m sorry; don’t cry.
He sighs. He hasn’t stopped sighing since we ran into my father outside the tattoo shop. Seeing Hardin’s worry—even if, like everything else he does, it’s tinged with anger—only adds to the surrealness of the situation.
I meant everything I said, but I’ll try not to be a dick about it.
He rises to his feet and presses his lips to the corner of my mouth. As we exit our bedroom, he mumbles, Let’s go feed the beggar,
which doesn’t help my mood much.
The man in the living room looks so out of place, gazing around the space, noticing the books on our shelves.
I’m going to make dinner. You can watch television?
I suggest.
I can help?
he offers.
Um, okay.
I half smile, and he follows me into the kitchen. Hardin stays in the living room, keeping his distance, as I suspected he would.
I can’t believe you’re all grown up and living on your own,
my father says.
I reach into the refrigerator to grab a tomato while I try to collect my scattered thoughts. I’m in college, at WCU. So is Hardin,
I reply, leaving out his looming expulsion for obvious reasons.
Really? WCU? Wow.
He sits down at the table, and I notice that the dirt has been scrubbed from his hands. The spot on his forehead is gone, too, and a wet spot on the shoulder of his shirt makes me think he was trying to clean a stain from it. He’s nervous, too. Knowing that makes me feel a little better.
I almost tell him about Seattle and the exciting new direction my life is going in, but I have yet to tell Hardin. My father’s resurfacing has added another detour to my road map. I don’t know how many problems I can deal with before everything ends up collapsing at my feet.
I wish I’d been around to see all this happen. I always knew you’d make something of yourself.
"You weren’t around, though," I say tersely. Guilt plagues me as soon as I say the words, but I don’t wish to take them back.
I know, but I’m here now, and I’m hoping I can make up for that.
Those simple words are actually a bit cruel, giving me hope that he might not be so bad after all, that maybe he just needs help to stop drinking.
Are you… Are you still drinking?
I am.
He looks at his feet. Not as much. I know it looks otherwise right now, but it’s been a hard few months… that’s all.
Hardin appears in the doorway of the kitchen, and I know he’s battling with himself to stay quiet. I hope he can.
I’ve seen your mom a few times.
You have?
Yeah. She wouldn’t tell me where you were. She looks really good,
he says.
This is so awkward, him commenting on my mother. Her voice plays in my head, reminding me that this man abandoned us. That this man was the reason she is the way she is today.
What happened… with the two of you?
I place chicken breasts in a pan, the oil crackling and popping as I wait for an answer. I don’t want to turn and face him after asking such a direct and abrupt question, but I just couldn’t stop myself from inquiring.
We just weren’t compatible; she always wanted more than I could give her, and you know how she can be.
That I do know, but the way he’s casually talking about her in such a dismissive tone doesn’t sit well with me.
Shifting the blame from my mother back to him, I turn quickly and ask, Why didn’t you call?
"I did—I always called. I sent you gifts every birthday. She didn’t tell you that, did she?"
No.
Well, it’s true—I did. I missed you so much all this time. I can’t believe you’re here, in front of me now.
His eyes are luminous and his voice shaky as he stands and walks toward me. I don’t know how to react; I don’t even know the man anymore, if I ever did.
Hardin steps into the kitchen to create a barrier between us, and once again I’m glad for his intrusion. I don’t know what to think of all of this; I need to keep physical space between this man and me.
I know you can’t forgive me.
He nearly sobs, and my stomach drops.
It’s not that. I just need time before I jump into having you in my life again. I don’t even know you,
I tell him, and he nods.
I know, I know.
He sits back down at the table, leaving me to finish preparing dinner.
chapter two
HARDIN
Tessa’s piece-of-shit sperm donor scarfs down two plates of food before even stopping to take a breath. I’m sure he was starving, living on the streets and all. It’s not that I don’t feel bad for people who are down on their luck and have hit hard times—it’s that this specific man is a drunk and he abandoned his kid, so I don’t feel bad for him for a goddamn second.
After gulping down some water, he beams at my girl. You’re quite the cook, Tessie.
I think I’ll scream if he calls her that one more time.
Thank you.
She smiles, like the nice person she is. I can tell his bullshit is seeping in, filling the emotional cracks he created by leaving her when she was a child.
I mean it; maybe you could teach me this recipe sometime.
For you to use where? In your nonexistent kitchen?
Sure,
she says and stands to clear her plate, grabbing mine on the way.
I can go now. I appreciate dinner,
Richard—Dick—says and stands.
"No, you can… you can stay tonight, if you want, and we can take you back… home in the morning," she says slowly, unsure what words to use to describe his situation.
What I’m sure of is that I don’t like this shit at all.
That would be great,
Dick says, rubbing his arms.
He’s probably itching for a drink right now, the fucking prick.
Tessa smiles. Great. I’ll go get a pillow and some sheets from the bedroom.
Looking at her dad and me for a moment, she must notice how I’m feeling, because she asks, You two’ll be okay for a minute, right?
Her dad laughs. Yeah, I want to get to know him anyway.
Oh no, you don’t.
She frowns at my expression and saunters out of the room, leaving us alone in the kitchen.
So, Hardin, where did you meet my Tessa?
he asks. I hear her close the door and wait a couple of beats to make sure she’s not in earshot. Hardin?
he repeats.
Let’s get something straight,
I snarl and lean across the table, startling him. "She isn’t your Tessa—she’s mine. And I know what the fuck you’re up to, so don’t think for a goddamn second you’re fooling me."
He raises his hands meekly. I’m not up to anything, I—
What do you want, money?
What? No, of course I don’t want money. I want a relationship with my daughter.
You’ve had nine years to build one, and yet you’re only here because you ran into her in a damn parking lot. It’s not like you came looking for her,
I bark, having visions of my hands around his neck.
I know.
He shakes his head, looking down. I know that I made a lot of mistakes, and I’m going to make up for them.
You’re drunk—right now, sitting in my kitchen, you’re fucking drunk. I know a drunk when I see one. I have no sympathy for a man who leaves his family and doesn’t even have his shit together nine years later.
I know your intentions are good, and it makes me happy to see you try to defend my daughter, but I’m not going to mess this up. I only want to get to know her… and you.
I stay silent, trying to calm my irate thoughts.
You’re much nicer when she’s around,
he observes quietly.
You’re worse of an actor when she’s not around,
I retaliate.
You have every right not to trust me, but for her sake, give me a chance.
If you hurt her in any way, you are dead.
Maybe I should feel a little remorse about threatening Tessa’s father like this, but I only feel anger and distrust toward the pathetic drunk. My instincts tell me to protect her, not to sympathize with a drunk stranger.
I won’t hurt her,
he promises.
I roll my eyes and take a drink from my glass of water.
Thinking his statement somehow settles it, he tries to joke, This talk—our roles should be reversed, you know?
But I ignore him and walk into the bedroom. I have to, before Tessa comes out to find me strangling her father.
chapter three
TESSA
I have a pillow, a blanket, and a towel in my hands when Hardin storms into the bedroom
Okay, what happened?
I ask, waiting for him to explode, waiting for him to complain that I invited my father to stay without really consulting him first.
Hardin goes to the bed and lies down on it, then looks over at me. Nothing. We bonded. Then I felt like I’d had enough quality time with our guest, and decided to come in here.
Please tell me you weren’t horrible to him.
I barely know my father. The last thing I want is more tension.
I kept my hands to myself,
he says and closes his eyes.
Guess I’ll take him a blanket and apologize for your behavior, as always,
I say with annoyance.
In the living room, I find my father sitting on the floor, picking at the holes in his jeans. He looks up when he hears me. You can sit on the couch,
I tell him and place my bundle on the arm of the couch.
I… well, I didn’t want to get anything on your couch.
Embarrassment colors his expression, and my heart aches.
Don’t worry about that… you can take a shower here, and I’m sure Hardin has some clothes you can wear for the night.
He doesn’t look at me, but lightly protests, I don’t want to take advantage.
It’s okay, really. I’ll bring out some clothes; go ahead and take a shower. Here’s a towel for you to use.
He gives me a wan smile. Thank you. I’m so glad to see you again. I’ve missed you so much… and here you are.
I’m sorry if Hardin was rude to you. He’s…
Protective?
he finishes for me.
Yeah, I guess he is. He comes off very rude sometimes.
It’s okay. I’m a man; I can take it. He’s just looking out for you, and I don’t blame him. He doesn’t know me. Hell, neither do you. He reminds me of someone I used to know…
My father stops and smiles.
Who?
Me… I was just like him. I didn’t have respect for anyone who didn’t earn it, and I ran over anyone who got in my way. I had the same chip on my shoulder that he has; the only difference is he has a lot more tattoos than me.
He chuckles, and the sound breathes life into memories I had long forgotten.
I enjoy the feeling and smile along with him until he stands up and grabs the towel. I’m going to take you up on that shower now.
I tell him that I’ll bring him a change of clothes and place them outside the bathroom door.
Back in our room, Hardin is still on the bed, eyes closed and knees bent in front of him.
He’s taking a shower. I told him he could wear some of your clothes.
He sits up. Why would you do that?
Because he doesn’t have any clothes.
I walk toward the bed, arms extended to calm him.
Sure, Tessa, go ahead and give him my clothes,
he says harshly. Should I offer him my side of the bed, too?
"You need to stop, now. He’s my father, and I’d like to see where this is going to go. Just because you can’t forgive your father doesn’t mean you have to sabotage my attempts to have some kind of relationship with mine," I reply, equally harshly.
Hardin stares at me. His green eyes narrow, no doubt from the effort not to say out loud the hateful words he’s spewing at me in his head.
That’s not what this is; you’re too naive. How many times do I have to tell you this? Not everyone deserves your kindness, Tessa.
I snap, Only you, right? You’re the only one I should forgive and give the benefit of the doubt to? That’s bullshit, and really pretty selfish of you.
I dig through his bottom drawer to grab a pair of sweats. And you know what? I’d rather be naive and capable of seeing the good in people than be a jerk to everyone and assume that everyone is out to get me.
I gather up a shirt and some socks and storm out. As I’m placing the pile of clothes by the bathroom door, I hear my father’s voice singing softly over the sound of the water. I press my ear to the door and can’t help but smile at the wonderful noise. I remember my mother talking about my father’s singing and how obnoxious it always was, but I find it lovely.
I turn the television back on in the living room and set the remote on the table to encourage him to watch what he wants. Does he watch television?
I straighten up the kitchen, leaving some leftovers out on the counter in case he’s still hungry. When was the last time he had a real meal? I wonder again.
The water is still running in the bathroom; he must be enjoying his hot shower, which tells me that he probably hasn’t had a bath in a while.
Hardin has his new leather binder that I got him on his lap when I finally go back to the bedroom. I walk by him without making eye contact, but then feel his fingers wrap around my arm to stop me.
Can we talk?
he asks, pulling me to stand between his legs. His hands quickly move his binder out of the way.
Go ahead, talk.
I’m sorry for being a dick, okay? I just don’t know what to think of all this.
All of what? Nothing has changed.
Yes, it has. This man who neither of us really knows is in my house, and he wants to become close with you after all these years. It doesn’t add up, and my first instinct is to be defensive. You know that.
I hear what you’re saying, but you can’t be hateful and say those things to me—like calling him a beggar. That really hurt my feelings.
He spreads my hands open with his, lacing his fingers through mine while pulling me even closer to him. I’m sorry, baby, I really am.
He brings our hands to his mouth, slowly kissing each of my knuckles, and my anger dissolves at the touch of his soft lips.
I quirk one eyebrow. Are you going to stop with the cruel comments?
Yes.
He turns my hand over in his, tracing the lines etched into my palm.
Thank you.
I watch as his long finger travels up my wrist and back down to my fingertips.
Just be careful, okay? Because I won’t hesitate to—
He seems okay, though, doesn’t he? I mean he’s nice,
I say quietly, interrupting his sure-to-be-violent promise.
Hardin’s fingers stop their movements. I don’t know; he’s nice enough, I guess.
He wasn’t nice when I was younger.
Hardin looks at me with serious fire in his eyes, though his words have a gentle tone to them. Don’t talk about that while he’s this close to me, please. I’m trying my best here, so let’s not push it.
I climb onto his lap, and he lies down with my body against his.
Tomorrow’s the big day.
He sighs.
Yeah,
I whisper against his arm, nuzzling in his warmth. Hardin’s expulsion hearing for beating up Zed is scheduled for tomorrow; not our finest hour.
Suddenly a small feeling of panic shoots through me at the memory of the text Zed sent me. I’d almost forgotten about it altogether after seeing my father outside the shop. My phone had vibrated in my pocket as we waited for Steph and Tristan’s return, and Hardin had stared at me silently while I read it. Fortunately he didn’t ask me what was up.
I need to talk to you tomorrow morning, alone please? Zed had written.
I don’t know what to make of the message; I don’t know if I should talk to him about anything, considering he told Tristan he was going to press charges against Hardin. I hope he just said that to impress him, to keep his reputation. I don’t know what I’ll do if Hardin gets in trouble—real trouble. I should respond to the message, but I don’t think it’s the best idea to meet Zed or to talk to him alone. Hardin’s already in enough of a mess without me adding to it.
Are you listening to me?
Hardin nudges me, and I look up from the comfort of his embrace.
No, sorry.
What’s on your mind?
Everything: tomorrow, the charges, expulsion, England, Seattle, my father…
I sigh. Everything.
You’ll come with me, though? To find out about the expulsion?
His voice is smooth, yet nervous.
If you want me to,
I say.
I need you to.
Then I’ll be there.
I have to change the subject, so I say, I still can’t believe you got that tattoo. Let me see it again.
He gently rolls me off of him so he can turn over. Lift my shirt.
I lift the bottom of his black T-shirt until his entire back is laid bare, and then I pull back the white bandage covering the newly engraved words.
There’s a little blood on the bandage,
I tell him.
That’s normal,
he says, humor at my ignorance coming through his words.
I outline the reddened area with my finger, taking in the perfect words. The tattoo he got for me is my new favorite. The perfect words—words that have so much meaning for me, and for him as well, apparently. But they’re tainted by the news I’ve chosen to withhold about moving to Seattle. I’ll tell him tomorrow, as soon as we find out about the expulsion. I promise myself one hundred times that I will; the longer I wait, the more angry he’ll be.
Is that enough of a commitment for you, Tessie?
I scowl at him. Don’t call me that.
I hate that nickname,
he says, turning his head up to look at me while still lying on his stomach.
Me, too, but I don’t want to tell him that. Anyway, the tattoo is enough for me.
You’re sure? Because I can go back and get your portrait underneath.
He laughs.
No, please don’t!
I shake my head, and his laughter rises.
You’re sure this’ll be enough?
He sits up and tugs his shirt back down to cover his body. No marriage,
he adds.
That’s what this was? You got a tattoo as an alternative to marriage?
I don’t know how I feel about this.
No, not exactly. I got the tattoo because I wanted to, and because I haven’t gotten one in a while.
Thoughtful.
It’s for you, too, to show you that I want this.
He gestures between us, taking my hand in his. Whatever this is that we have, I don’t ever want to lose it. I’ve lost it before, and even now I don’t completely have it back, but I can tell it’s getting there.
His hand feels warm, and so right holding on to mine.
So once again, I used the words of a far more romantic man than myself to get the point across.
He smiles a bright smile, but I see the terror beneath it.
I think Darcy would be appalled by your use of his famous words,
I tease.
I think he would high-five me,
he boasts.
My laughter comes out like a bark. High-five? Fitzwilliam Darcy would never do such a thing.
You think he’s above high fives? He’s not; he would sit here and have a beer with me. We would bond over how annoyingly stubborn the women in our lives are.
The two of you are lucky to have us, because the Lord knows no one else would put up with either of you.
Is that so?
he challenges with a dimpled smile.
Obviously,
You’re right, I suppose. But I’d trade you for Elizabeth in a heartbeat.
My mouth presses into a straight line, and I raise a brow, expecting an explanation.
Only because she shares my views on marriage.
But she still got married,
I remind him.
In a very un-Hardin-like move, he takes my hips in his hands and pushes me back on the bed, so my head lands on the mountain of decorative pillows that he despises—a fact he never fails to remind me of. That’s it! Darcy can have both of you!
His laughter fills the room, and mine is equally powerful.
These little dramas during which we bicker over fictional characters and he laughs like a child are the moments that make all the hell we’ve put each other through worth every second. Moments like these shield me from the harsh realities we’ve experienced throughout our relationship, and all the obstacles that still lie in front of us.
I can hear he’s out of the bathroom,
Hardin says, his tone guarded.
I’m going to say good night.
I wrestle out of Hardin’s grip, placing a swift kiss on his forehead.
In the living room, I find that Hardin’s clothes look odd on my father, but at least they fit better than I’d expected.
Thanks again for the clothes. I’ll leave them here when I go in the morning,
he tells me.
It’s okay, you can take them… if you need them.
He sits on the couch and rests his hands on his lap. You’ve already done enough for me, more than I deserve.
It’s okay, really.
You’re much more understanding than your mom.
He smiles.
I’m not sure I understand anything right now, but I want to try to get to that point.
"That’s all I’m asking for, just a little time to get to know my little… well, my adult daughter."
I give him a tight smile. I’d like that.
I know he has a long way to go, and I’m not forgiving him overnight. But he’s my father, and I don’t have the energy to hate him. I want to believe that he can change; I’ve seen it happen before. Hardin’s father, for example, has completely turned his life around, even if Hardin can’t let go of their painful past. I’ve seen Hardin change, too. And since there aren’t many people more stubborn than him, I figure there’s hope for my father, no matter how bad he may have gotten.
Hardin hates me. I’ve got my work cut out for me here.
His sense of humor is contagious, and I chuckle. Yes; yes, you do.
I look down the hall at my scowling boyfriend in his solid black clothes, watching us with suspicious eyes.
chapter four
TESSA
Turn it off," Hardin groans as the alarm rings throughout the dark bedroom.
My fingers fumble for my phone, and finally, with a swipe of my thumb across the screen, the unwelcome sound stops. My shoulders feel heavy as I sit up in bed, the weight of today’s tensions threatening to pull me back down: the university’s decision whether to expel Hardin, the possibility of Zed pressing charges against him, and lastly, Hardin’s potential reactions to my telling him I’m planning to follow Vance Publishing to Seattle, and that I want him to come even though he’s professed to hate the city.
I can’t decide which of these terrifies me the most. By the time I turn the bathroom light on and splash cool water against my face, I realize that the assault charges are the worst. If Hardin is sent to jail, I honestly have no idea what I would do, or what he would do. The thought alone makes me nauseous. Zed’s request to meet with me this morning resurfaces, and my mind reels with all the possibilities of what he could want to talk about, especially since he said something about having fallen in love
with me the last time I saw him.
I inhale and exhale into the soft towel hanging on the wall. Should I reply to Zed and at least see what he has to say? Maybe he can offer an explanation for why he told Tristan one thing and me another about pressing charges. I feel guilty for asking him not to, especially considering how badly Hardin hurt him, but I love Hardin, and Zed had the same intentions as Hardin did, to win a bet, in the beginning. Neither of them is purely innocent here.
Before I can overthink the possible repercussions, I text Zed. I’m only trying to help Hardin. I remind myself of that over and over after I hit send and obsess over my hair and makeup.
WHEN I SEE that the blanket is folded neatly on the arm of the couch, my heart sinks. He left? How will I get hold of him—
The soft sound of a cabinet opening in the kitchen picks my heart up from the floor. Going into the dark room, I switch the light on and see my father startle and drop a spoon onto the concrete floor with a clatter.
Sorry, I was trying to be as quiet as possible,
my father says as he quickly bends to retrieve the utensil.
It’s okay. I was up. You could have turned the light on.
I laugh quietly.
I didn’t want to wake anyone. I was just trying to make some cereal; I hope that’s okay.
Of course it is.
I start the coffee pot and check the clock. I need to wake Hardin in fifteen minutes.
What are your plans for today?
he asks with a mouth full of Frosted Flakes, Hardin’s favorite.
Well, I have class, and Hardin has a meeting with the university board.
The university board? That sounds serious…
I look at my father and wonder, Should I tell him? But then, figuring I have to start somewhere, I say, He got in a fight on campus.
And they’re making him talk in front of the board? In my day, you got a slap on the wrist, and that was that.
He destroyed a lot of property, expensive property, and he broke the guy’s nose.
I sigh and stir a spoonful of sugar into my coffee. I need the extra energy today.
Nice. So what was the fight about?
Me, sort of. It was something that was building over time, and it finally just… exploded.
Well, I like Hardin even more now than I did last night.
He beams. Though I’m glad that he’s warming to my boyfriend, it’s not for a good reason. I don’t want the two of them bonding over violence.
I shake my head and gulp down half my coffee, letting the hot liquid soothe my frantic nerves.
Where’s he from?
He sounds genuinely interested in learning more about Hardin.
England.
Thought that was the accent. Though sometimes I can’t tell it from Australian. So his family’s still there?
His mother is. His father’s here. He’s the chancellor at WCU.
Curiosity fills his brown eyes. Ironic, then, about the expulsion.
Very.
I sigh.
Your mother’s met him?
he asks, then takes a big spoonful of cereal.
Yes, she hates him.
I frown.
‘Hate’ is a strong word.
Trust me, in this case it’s not strong enough.
The ache from the loss of my relationship with my mother is much less potent than it used to be. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.
My father puts down his spoon and nods several times. She can be a little hardheaded; she just worries about you.
She doesn’t need to. I’m fine.
Well, let her be the one to come around, then; you shouldn’t have to choose one or the other.
He smiles. Your grandma didn’t approve of me either—she’s probably scowling at me from her grave as we speak.
This is all so strange, sitting in my kitchen with my father, bonding over cereal and coffee after all these years. It’s just hard because we’ve always been close… as close as she’s capable of, at least.
She always wanted you to be just like her; she made sure of that from a young age. She’s not a bad person, Tessie. She’s just afraid.
I look at him quizzically. Of what?
Everything. She’s afraid of losing control. I’m sure seeing you with Hardin terrified her and made her realize she doesn’t have control over you anymore.
I stare at the empty cup in front of me. Is that why you left? Because she wanted to control everything?
My father sighs softly, an ambiguous sound. No, I left because I have my own issues and we weren’t good for one another. Don’t worry about us.
He chuckles. Worry about yourself and your troublemaker of a boyfriend.
I can’t picture the man in front of me and my mother being able to hold a conversation; they are just so different. When I glance at the clock, I realize it’s past eight.
I get up and put my cup in the dishwasher. I need to wake up Hardin. I threw your clothes in the wash last night. I’ll get dressed and bring them out.
I go into the bedroom and see that Hardin is awake. As I watch him pulling a black T-shirt over his head, I suggest, Maybe you should wear something a little more formal to the meeting?
Why?
Because they’re deciding your educational future, and a black T-shirt doesn’t show much effort on your end. You can change right after, but I really think you should dress up.
Fuuuuuck.
He exaggerates the word and throws his head back.
I walk past him and into the closet to retrieve his black button-up shirt and pants.
No dress slacks—for the love of God, no.
I hand the pants to him. It’s only for a little while.
He holds the garment like it’s nuclear waste or an alien artifact. If I wear this shit and they still kick me out, I’ll burn that whole campus to the ground.
You’re so dramatic.
I roll my eyes at him, but he doesn’t look amused as he steps into the dress pants.
Is our apartment still operating as a homeless shelter?
I drop the shirt, still on the hanger, onto the bed and march to the door.
Frantic fingers lace through his hair. Dammit, Tess, I’m sorry. I’m getting anxious, and I can’t even fuck you to settle me down because your dad is on our couch.
His vulgar words stir my hormones, but he’s right: my father in the other room is a big impediment. I walk over to Hardin, whose long fingers are struggling with the top button on his shirt, and gently move his hands out of the way. Let me,
I offer.
His eyes soften, but I can tell he’s beginning to panic. I hate seeing him this way; it’s so foreign. He’s so controlled all the time, never caring much for anything—except me, and even then he’s still pretty good at hiding his feelings.
Everything will be fine, babe. It’ll work out.
Babe?
His smile is instant, and so is the flush in my cheeks.
Yes… babe.
I adjust the collar of his shirt, and he leans over to kiss the tip of my nose.
You’re right; worst-case scenario, we go to England.
I ignore his comment and return to the closet to pick out my own clothes for the day. Do you think they’ll let me accompany you inside?
I ask him, unsure what to wear.
You want to?
If they allow it.
I grab the new purple dress that I planned to wear to Vance tomorrow. I undress and put it on as quickly as possible. I slip on some black heels and exit the closet with my hands holding up the front of the dress. Can you help me?
I ask Hardin, turning my back to him.
You’re purposely torturing me.
His fingertips travel across my exposed shoulders and down my back, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
Sorry.
My mouth is dry.
He slowly raises the zipper, and I shiver as his lips press against the sensitive skin on the back of my neck. We need to get going,
I tell him, and he groans, fingers digging into my hips.
I’m going to call my dad on the way. Are we dropping the… your dad off somewhere?
I’ll ask him now; can you grab my bag?
I say, and he nods.
Tess?
he calls as my hand hits the doorknob. I like that dress. And you. Well, I love you, of course… and your new dress,
he rambles. I love you, and your fancy clothes.
I curtsy and do a little three-sixty so he can see me. As much as I hate Hardin being nervous, it’s also very appealing to me, because it reminds me that he’s not so tough after all.
In the living room, my father is sitting on the couch, having fallen back asleep. I don’t know if I should wake him up or just leave him here to rest until we get back from campus.
Let him sleep,
Hardin answers, sensing my thoughts as he walks up behind me.
I quickly scribble a note for him explaining when we’ll return, along with our phone numbers. I doubt he has a cell phone, but I leave them just in case.
The drive to campus is short, too short, and Hardin looks like he’s going to either scream or punch something at any moment. When we arrive, he scans the parking lot for Ken’s car.
He said to meet him here,
Hardin says, checking the screen on his phone for the fifth time in five minutes.
There he is.
I point to the silver car pulling into the lot.
Finally. What the fuck took him so long?
Be nice to him; he’s doing this for you. Please, just be nice to him,
I beg, and he sighs in frustration but agrees.
Ken has brought his wife, Karen, and Hardin’s stepbrother, Landon, which surprises Hardin and makes me smile. I love them so much for supporting him, even when he acts like he doesn’t want their help.
Don’t you have anything better to do?
Hardin says to Landon as they approach us.
Don’t you?
Landon retaliates, which makes Hardin laugh.
Listening to their exchange, Karen smiles with a brightness completely at odds with how she first appeared when she emerged from Ken’s car.
As we walk toward the administrative building, Ken says, I’m hoping this won’t last long. I’ve been calling everyone I can to pull as many strings as possible, so I’m praying for the best.
He stops for a minute and turns to Hardin. Let me do the talking in there—I mean it.
Watching for his son’s response, he waits for him to agree.
Okay, yeah,
Hardin says without argument.
Ken nods and swings the big wooden doors open, leading us all inside. Over his shoulder, Ken says authoritatively, Tessa, I’m sorry, but you can’t come inside the room with us. I didn’t want to push it, but you can wait right outside.
He turns and gives me a sympathetic smile.
But Hardin immediately goes into full panic mode. What do you mean she can’t come inside? I need her in there!
I know you do. I’m sorry, but it’s family only,
his father explains as he leads us down the hall. Unless she was a witness, but even then, that’s a huge conflict of interest.
Ken stops us in front of a conference room and muses, "It’s not like I’m not engaged in a conflict of interest, being the chancellor. But you’re my son, and let’s at least have only one conflict, okay?"
I turn to Hardin. He’s right, and it’ll be better this way. It’s okay,
I assure him.
He lets go of my hand and nods, looking past me to shoot daggers at his father, who sighs and says, Hardin, please try your best to—
Hardin holds up one hand. I will, I will,
he says and kisses my forehead.
As the four of them walk into the room, I want to ask Landon to wait with me, but I know Hardin needs him in there, whether he’ll admit it or not. I feel so useless just sitting here outside this room while a group of stuffy men in suits decides Hardin’s educational future. Well, maybe there’s one way I can help…
I pull my phone out and text Zed. I’m at the administrative building, can you come here?
I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply, and my phone lights up less than a minute later: Yes, I’m on my way.
I’ll be outside, I send.
With one last glance at the door, I head outside. It’s cold, too cold to be waiting out here in a knee-length dress, but I don’t have much of a choice.
AFTER WAITING AWHILE, I’ve just decided to go back inside when Zed’s old truck pulls into the parking lot. He steps out, wearing a black sweatshirt and dark-wash jeans. The deep bruising on his face shocks me, despite the fact that I just saw him yesterday.
He tucks his hands into the pocket on the front of his sweatshirt. Hey.
Hey. Thanks for meeting me.
It was my idea, remember?
He smiles, and I feel slightly less unsettled.
I smile in return. I guess you’re right.
I want to talk to you about what you said at the hospital,
he says, which was exactly what I was planning to talk about.
So do I.
You go first.
Steph said you told Tristan you’re pressing charges against Hardin.
I try not to look at his bruised and bloodshot eyes.
I did.
"But you told me you wouldn’t press charges. Why lie to me?" I’m sure the hurt is clear in my shaky voice.
I didn’t lie to you; I meant it when I said it.
I step closer to him. So what changed your mind?
He shrugs. A lot of things. I thought about all the shit he’s done to me, and to you. He doesn’t deserve to just walk away from this.
He gestures to his face. Look at me, for God’s sake.
I’m not sure what to say to Zed in this moment. He has every right to be upset with Hardin, but I wish he wouldn’t take legal action against him.
He’s already in trouble with the university board,
I say, hoping to change his mind.
He’s not going to get in trouble; Steph told me his dad’s the chancellor,
he scoffs.
Dammit, Steph—why would you tell him that? I nod to acknowledge what he said. That doesn’t mean he won’t get in trouble.
But my saying this only makes him exasperated. Tessa, why are you always so quick to defend him? No matter what he does, you’re right there to fight his battles for him!
That’s not true,
I lie.
Yes, it is!
He throws his hands up in disbelief. "You know it is! You told me you’d think about what I said about leaving him, but then I see you with him at a tattoo shop days later. It doesn’t make sense."
I know you don’t understand, but I love him.
If you love him so much, then why are you running away to Seattle?
His words rattle me. I pause for a second, but say, I’m not running to Seattle. I’m going there for a better opportunity.
He’s not coming with you. Our group of friends talk, you know?
What? He was planning to,
I lie. But I can tell Zed sees right through it.
With challenge in his eyes, he looks off to the side, then levels his stare at me. If you can tell me that you have no feelings toward me, none at all, I’ll drop the charges.
Right then, the air seems to grow colder, the wind stronger. What?
You heard me. Tell me to leave you alone and never speak to you again, and I’ll do it.
His request reminds me of something Hardin said to me long ago.
But I don’t want that; I don’t want to never talk again,
I admit.
So what do you want, then?
he asks, his voice tinged with sadness and anger. Because you seem to be just as confused as I am! You keep texting me and meeting up with me; you kiss me, sleep in the same bed as me; you always come to me when he hurts you! What do you want from me?
I thought I’d made my intentions clear at the hospital. "I don’t know what I want from you, but I love him and that’s never going to change. I’m sorry that I gave you mixed signals, but I—"
Tell me why you’re going to Seattle in a week and haven’t told him!
he shouts back at me, his arms waving in front of his body.
I don’t know… I’m going to tell him when I get the chance.
You won’t tell him because you know he’ll leave you,
Zed snaps, his eyes looking past me.
He… well…
I don’t know what to say—because I really fear Zed’s right.
Well, guess what, Tessa? You can thank me later.
For what?
I watch as his lips turn up into a wicked smile.
Zed lifts his arm up, gesturing behind me, and a shiver rakes through me. For telling him for you.
I know that when I turn around, Hardin will be standing there. I swear I can hear his ragged breathing over the harsh winter wind.
chapter five
HARDIN
When I’d stepped outside, the wind whipped around me, carrying the one voice I didn’t expect to hear right now. I’d just had to endure hearing a lot of people say a lot of bad things about me, and I just had to remain quiet. And afterward, all I wanted to hear was the voice of my girl, my angel.
And there was her voice. But there was also his. I turn the corner, and indeed, there he is. There they are. Tessa and Zed.
My first thoughts were: Why the fuck is he here? Why the fuck is Tessa outside talking to him? What part of stay the fuck away from him
does she not fucking get?
When that motherfucker raised his voice at her, I started walking toward them: nobody yells at her like that. But when he mentioned Seattle… I was stopped in my tracks. Tessa is planning to go to Seattle?
And Zed knew, but I didn’t?
This isn’t happening, this can’t actually be happening. She would never plan to leave without telling me…
Zed’s wild eyes and shit-eating grin mock me as I try to collect my fucked-up thoughts. When Tessa turns to me, her movements are painstakingly slow. Her blue-gray eyes are wide, pupils blown out in surprise when they meet mine.
Hardin…
I can see she’s saying the words, but her voice is small, lost in the wind.
Unsure what to say, I stand still while my mouth drops open, closes, opens—back and forth in an endless pattern until the words finally fall from my lips. So this was your plan, then?
I manage.
She pushes her hair back from her face, her mouth turns to a frown immediately, and she rubs her hands up and down her arms, which are crossed in front of her chest.
No! It’s not like that, Hardin, I—
You two are quite the fucking schemers, aren’t you? You…
I point to the bastard. You fucking scheme and plot behind my back and try to make a move on my girl, over and fucking over. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I pound your goddamned face in, you still keep crawling back like a fucking cockroach.
Amazingly, he dares to speak. She’s—
"And you… I point to the blond girl who has my world under the sharp heel of her black shoe.
You—you keep playing mind games with me, acting like you give a fuck, when really you’ve been planning to leave me this entire time! You know I won’t go to Seattle, yet you’re planning to run off—without telling me!"
Her eyes glassy, she pleads with me. That’s why I hadn’t told you yet, Hardin, because—
Stop fucking talking,
I say, and her hand moves to