After We Fell

“And if I do, we’ll only fall back into repeating the cycle that we both decided to end.”

“Tessa . . .”

“Hardin, please.” I back away. This living room is much too small for me to avoid him, and my self-control is faltering.

“Fine.” He finally sighs and his hands tug at his hair, his usual sign of frustration.

“We need this, you know that we do. We have to spend some time apart.”

“Some time apart?” He looks wounded, pissed off, and I’m a little afraid of what will come out of his mouth next. I don’t want a fight with him, and today isn’t the day for him to try to start one.

“Yes, some time alone. We can’t get along and everything seems to always be working against us. You said yourself the other day that you were sick of it. You kicked me out of the apartment.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.

“Tessa . . . you can’t be fucking—” He looks into my eyes and stops midsentence. “How much time?”

“What?”

“How much time apart?”

“I . . .” I didn’t expect him to agree. “I don’t know.”

“A week? A month?” He pushes for specifics.

“I don’t know, Hardin. We both need to get ourselves to a better place.”

“You’re my better place, Tess.”

His words swarm through my chest, and I force my eyes to move from his face before I lose whatever resistance I have left. “You’re mine, too, you know you are, but you’re so angry and I’m always on edge with you. You have to do something about your anger, and I need time to myself.”

“So this is my fault, again?” he asks.

“No, it’s me, too. I’m too dependent on you. I need to be more independent.”

“Since when does any of this matter?” The tone of his voice tells me that he hasn’t ever considered my dependency on him a problem.

“Since we had that massive blowup at the apartment a few nights ago. Actually, it started a while ago; Seattle and the argument the other night were just the icing on the cake.”

When I finally gather the courage to look up at Hardin, I see that his expression has changed.

“Okay. I get it,” he says. “I’m sorry, I know I fuck up a lot. We’ve already beaten the Seattle thing into the ground, and maybe it’s time that I start listening to you more.” He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it, momentarily baffled by his newfound agreeability. “I’ll give you some space, okay? You’ve dealt with enough shit in the past twenty-four hours alone. I don’t want to be another problem . . . for once.”

“Thank you,” I respond simply.

“Can you let me know when you get to Seattle? And get some food in your stomach, and rest, please.” His green eyes are soft, warm, and comforting.

And I want to ask him to stay, but I know it’s not a good idea.

“I will. Thank you . . . Really.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” His hands push into the tight pockets of his black jeans, and his eyes measure my face. “I’ll tell Landon you said hello,” he says and walks out the door.

I can’t help but smile at the way he lingers by Landon’s car, staring at my mother’s house for a long beat before getting into the passenger seat.

Chapter sixty-eight

TESSA

The moment that Landon’s car is out of sight, the emptiness weighs heavy on my chest, and I step back from the entryway, letting the door close.

Noah is leaning against the threshold between the living room and kitchen. “Is he gone?” he asks gently.

“Yeah, he’s gone.” My voice is distant, unfamiliar even to myself.

“I didn’t know you guys weren’t together.”

“We . . . well . . . we’re just trying to figure everything out.”

“Can you tell me one thing before you change the subject?” His eyes scan my face. “I know that look—you’re about to find a reason to.”

Even after the months we’ve been apart, Noah still reads me so well. “What do you want to know?” I ask.

His blue eyes stare into mine. He holds my gaze for a long time, a bravely long time. “If you could go back, would you, Tessa? I heard you say you want to erase the last six months . . . but if you could, would you, really?”

Would I?

I sit down on the couch to ponder his question. Would I take it all back? Erase everything that’s happened to me in the last six months? The bet, the endless fights with Hardin, the downward spiral of my relationship with my mother, Steph’s betrayal, all the humiliation, everything.

“Yes. In a heartbeat.”

Hardin’s hand on mine, the way his inked arms wrapped around me, pulling me to his chest. The way he sometimes laughed so hard that his eyes would pinch closed and the sound would fill my ears, my heart, and the entire apartment with such a rare happiness that I felt more alive than I’d ever felt before.

“No. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t,” I say, changing my answer.

Noah shakes his head. “Which is it?” He chuckles and sits on the recliner across from the couch. “I’ve never known you to be so indecisive.”

I shake my head firmly. “I wouldn’t erase it.”

“You’re sure? It’s been a bad year for you . . . and I don’t even know the half of it.”

“I’m sure.” I nod a couple of times, then take a seat on the edge of the couch. “I would do some things differently, though, with you.”