After We Fell (66 page)

“And what? You're implying that you and I would be better?” My voice comes out sounding much less demanding than I planned. She's prying at my biggest insecurities, and I'm trying my best not to falter.

She rolls her raccoon eyes. “No, of course not.”

“I know you don't want me—you never did. My point is, I care about you,” she says. I look away from her to scan the empty aisles. “I know you don't
want
to believe me, and I know you want to wring my neck for messing with your Virgin Mary, but in that dark heart of yours, you know what I'm saying is true.”

I bite the inside of my cheek at the nickname that my so-called friends branded Tessa with early on.

“Deep down, you know it won't work. She's too silver spoon for you. You're covered in ink, and it's only a matter of time before she's sick of being embarrassed to be seen with you.”

“She's not embarrassed to be seen with me.” I take a step toward the redheaded harpy.

“You know she is. She even told me she was when you two first started dating. I'm sure that hasn't changed.” She smiles; her
nose ring glistens under the lighting, and I cringe at the memory of her hands touching me, making me come.

I swallow back bile and speak. “You're trying to manipulate me—because that's all you have to work with—and I'm not buying it.” I push past her.

She croaks out a gross little laugh. “If you were enough for her, then why did she run to Zed so many times? You know what people were saying.”

I stop dead in my tracks. I remember Tessa coming back from that lunch with Steph. She was so upset after she left Applebee's the day that Steph brought Molly along, and the two of them hinted to Tessa that there were rumors going around that she fucked Zed. I was enraged enough to call Molly and warn her not to fucking try to come between Tessa and me. Steph obviously didn't get the message, even though it was her I needed to worry about the entire time.

“You made up those rumors,” I accuse.

“No . . . Zed's roommate did. He's the one who heard her moaning his name and heard Zed's bed smacking against the wall while he was trying to sleep. Annoying, right?” Steph's malevolent grin snaps every bit of self-control I've managed to hang on to since Tessa left for Seattle.

I need to walk away now. I need to walk away now.

“Zed said she was nice and tight, though, and apparently she does this . . . like, thing with her hips or something. Oh, and that freckle . . . you know the one.” Her black nails tap against her chin.

I can't handle it.

“Shut up!” I cover my ears with my hands. “Shut the fuck up!” I scream through the aisle, and Steph backs away, still grinning.

“Believe me or not.” She shrugs. “I don't care, but you know it's a waste of time. She's a waste of time.”

She sneers, disappearing just as my fist connects with metal shelving.

B
oxes fall from the shelves and tumble onto the floor in a blur. I connect with the metal again, leaving a thick red stain behind. The familiar sting of splitting flesh across my knuckles only heightens the rush of my adrenaline, pushing me further into my rage. It's almost soothing, the relief of allowing myself to express my anger in the way I've always been used to. I don't have to stop myself. I don't have to overthink my actions. I can surrender to the anger, let it spill out, allow it to pull me under.

“What are you doing! Someone come help!” a woman yells.

When I snap my head her way, she takes a step backward into the wide opening at the aisle's end, and I notice a little blond-haired girl clinging to her skirt. The woman's eyes are wide with fear and caution.

When the little girl's bright blue eyes meet mine, I can't look away. The innocence in their depths is being stolen with every angry breath that leaves my body. I break the hold of the girl's gaze and look toward the mess I've made in the aisle. Disappointment replaces rage in an instant, and the realization that I'm destroying shit in the middle of a Target hits me hard. If the cops arrive before I can get out of here, I'm fucked.

With one last look toward the little girl in her floor-length dress and sparkling shoes, I rush down the aisle and toward the
front of the store. Avoiding the chaos that is brewing around me, I cross from aisle to aisle, staying as much out of sight as possible.

I can't think clearly. Not a single thought makes sense to me.

Tessa didn't fuck Zed.

She didn't.

She couldn't have.

I would know if she did. Someone would have told me.

She
would have told me. She's the only person I know who doesn't lie to me.

I burst outside, and the winter air is unforgiving as it bites at my skin. I keep my eyes focused on my car, which is parked toward the back of the lot, thankful to be shielded by the darkness of the night.

“Fuck!” I scream once I reach my car. My boot collides with my bumper and the grinding noise of metal bending out of place ratchets up my feeling of frustration.

“She's only been with me!” I say out loud, then hop inside the car.

I'm pushing the key into the ignition just as two police cars pull into the parking lot with lights blazing and sirens howling. I pull out of the space slowly to avoid any unwanted attention and watch as they park on the curb and rush inside like a murder has been committed.

The moment I make it out of the parking lot, relief floods through me. If I'd been arrested at Target, Tessa would have flipped shit on me.

Tessa . . . and Zed.

I know better than to believe Steph's bullshit lies about Tessa fucking him. I know she didn't. I know that I'm the only man who has ever been inside of her, the only one who has ever made her come. Not him.

Not fucking anyone. Only me.

I shake my head to rid myself of the vision of the two of them, her fingers wrapped around his arms as he pushes into her. Fuck, not this again.

I literally can't think straight. I can't see straight. I should have wrapped my hands around Steph's neck and . . .

No, I can't allow myself to finish the thought. She got exactly what she wanted out of me, and that makes me even angrier. She knew exactly what she was doing when she mentioned Zed; she was purposely taunting me, trying to make me snap, and it worked. She knew she was pulling the pin from a grenade and walking away. But I'm not a grenade—I should be able to control myself.

I immediately call Tessa, but she doesn't pick up. Her phone rings . . . and rings . . . and rings. She did tell me that she was going to sleep, but I know damn well that her phone is always on vibrate and that woman can't sleep through shit.

“Come on, Tess, pick up the phone,” I groan and toss my cell onto the passenger seat. I need to get as far away from Target as possible before the cops check the parking-lot cameras and get my plate number or some shit.

The freeway is a fucking nightmare, and I keep trying to call Tessa. If she doesn't get back to me within the hour, I'm calling Christian.

I should have stayed in Seattle another night. Hell, I should have
moved
there in the fucking first place. All of my reasons for not wanting to go seem so fucking pointless now. All of the fears I had, and still have, are only being kept alive by the distance between where she lives and where I live.

“Deep down you know it won't work.”

“You're covered in ink, and it's only a matter of time before she's sick of being embarrassed to be seen with you.”

“Bad-boy fetish.”

“Marry a banker or some shit.”

Steph's voice pierces my ears over and over again. I'm going insane—I'm literally losing my fucking mind on this wide-open road. All the efforts that I made all week mean nothing now. The two days that I spent with Tessa have been ruined by that viper.

Is all of this worth it? Is all of this constant trying worth it? Will I always have to stop myself from saying or doing the wrong shit? And if I do continue this potential transformation, will she really love me after, or just feel like she finished some kind of project for a psych class?

After all this, will there be enough of me left for her to love? Will I even be the same man that she fell in love with, or is this her way of transforming me into someone she wishes I could be—
someone
she will tire of?

Is she trying to make me more like him . . . more like Noah?

“You can't compete with that . . .”
Steph is right. I can't compete with Noah and the simple relationship Tessa shared with him. She never had to worry about anything when she was with him. They were good together. Good and simple.

He isn't broken the way that I am.

I remember the days when I used to sit in my room and wait hours for Steph to tell me when Tessa returned after she'd spent some time with him. I interfered as much as I could and, surprisingly enough, it worked out for me. She chose me over him, over the boy she grew up loving.

The idea of Tessa telling Noah she loves him makes me sick to my stomach.

“Bad-boy fetish . . .”
I'm more than a fetish to Tessa. I have to be. I've fucked more than my share of girls who were only looking to frighten their daddies, but Tessa isn't one of them. She's put up with enough shit from me to prove that.

My thoughts are jumbled and frantic, and I can't keep up with them.

Why am I letting Steph get inside my head? I shouldn't have
listened to a word that bitch said. Now that I have, though, I can't get her words out of me. I wipe my bloody and busted knuckles across the legs of my blue jeans and park the car.

When I look up, I find myself parked in the lot at Blind Bob's. I've driven all the way here without so much as a thought about it. I shouldn't go inside . . . but I can't stop myself.

And behind the bar, I see an old . . . friend. Carly. Carly, wearing minimal clothing and deep red lipstick.

“Well . . . well . . . well . . .” She grins at me.

“Save it.” I groan and slide onto a bar stool directly in front of her.

“Not a chance.” She shakes her head, her blond ponytail whipping back and forth. “The last time I served you, it spiraled into one big drama-fest, and I have neither the time nor the patience for a repeat performance tonight.”

The last time I was here, I got so shit-faced that Carly forced me to spend the night on her couch, which only led to a huge misunderstanding with Tessa, who got into a car accident that day because of me. Because of the shit I bring into her otherwise clean life.

“Your job is to get me a drink when I order one.” I point at the bottle of dark whiskey on the shelf behind her.

“There's a sign right there that states otherwise.” She leans her elbows onto the bar top, and I sit back on my bar stool, creating as much space between us as possible.

The small
WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE
is taped to the wall, and I can't help but laugh.

“Easy on the ice, I don't want it watered down.” I ignore another of her eye rolls as she pushes herself up and grabs an empty glass.

A thick stream of dark liquor pours into my glass, and Steph's voice replays again and again in my brain. This is the only way to rid myself of her accusations and lies.

Carly's voice breaks me from my daze. “She's calling.”

Glancing down, I see the picture that I snapped while Tessa was asleep this morning; it's flashing on my phone's screen.

“Fuck.” I instinctively push the glass away, spilling its freshly poured contents onto the bar top. I ignore Carly's high-pitched cursing and leave the bar just as quickly as I arrived.

Outside, I swipe my thumb across the screen. “Tess.”

“Hardin!” she says, panicked. “Are you okay?”

“I called you so many times.” I let out a breath of relief at the sound of her voice through the small speaker.

“I know, I'm sorry. I was asleep. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Blind Bob's,” I admit. There's no use in lying—she always finds out the truth one way or another.

“Oh . . .” she barely whispers.

“I ordered a drink.” I may as well tell her everything.

“Only one?”

“Yes, and I didn't get the chance to even taste it before you called.” I can't decide how I feel about that. Her voice is my lifeline, but I can feel a thread of something calling me back to the bar as well.

“That's good, then,” she says. “Are you leaving there?”

“Yes, right now.” I pull the handle on my car door and climb into the driver's seat.

After a few beats, Tessa asks, “Why'd you go there? It's okay that you did . . . I'm just wondering why.”

“I saw Steph.”

She gasps. “What happened? Did you . . . did anything happen?”

“I didn't hurt her, if that's what you mean.” I turn on my car but keep it in park. I want to talk to Tessa without the distraction of driving. “She said some shit to me that really . . . it really set me off. I lost my temper in Target.”

“Are you okay? Wait, I thought you hated Target.”

“Out of all the things . . .” I begin.

“Sorry. I'm half asleep.” I can hear the smile in her voice, but it's quickly replaced by worry. “Are you okay? What did she say?”

“She said that you fucked Zed,” I tell her. I don't want to repeat the other shit she said about Tessa and me not being good for each other.

“What?
You know that's not true. Hardin, I swear nothing happened between us that you don't already—”

I tap a finger on the windshield, watching my fingerprints accumulate. “She said his roommate heard you.”