After We Collided (The After Series) (56 page)

M
y chest aches as I watch Christian wrap his arms around Kimberly and lift her off the floor in a loving embrace. I’m so happy for her, I really am. It’s just that it’s hard to sit and watch someone get something that you wanted, no matter how happy you are for them. I would never want to take even an ounce of her happiness away, but it’s hard to watch as he kisses both her cheeks and slides a gorgeous diamond ring onto her finger.

I stand up from my seat, hoping that no one will notice my absence. I make it to the living room before the tears fall in earnest. I knew this would happen, I knew I would break. If he wasn’t here, I could handle it, but it’s too surreal, too painful, to have him here.

He came here to taunt me, he had to have. Why else come, but not speak to me at all? It doesn’t make sense: he’s avoided me for the past ten days, then he shows up here, where he knew I would be. I shouldn’t have come. I should have at least driven myself so I could leave right now. Zed won’t be here until . . .

Zed.

Zed is coming to pick me up at eight. Looking at a sleek grandfather clock, I see it’s seven thirty already. Hardin will kill him, literally, if he sees him here.

Or maybe he won’t, maybe he doesn’t care at all.

I find the restroom and close the door behind me. It takes me a moment to realize the light switch is a touch-screen panel on the wall. This house is too damn high tech for me.

I was absolutely humiliated when I dropped the wineglass. Hardin seems so indifferent, like he could care less about me being here or how awkward for me his presence really is. Has it even been hard for him? Did he spend days crying and lying in bed the way I did? I have no way to know, and he isn’t giving off the heartbroken impression.

Breathe, Tessa. You have to breathe. Ignore the knife lodged in your chest
.

I wipe my eyes and look at my reflection. My makeup hasn’t smudged, thank goodness, and my hair is still perfectly curled. My cheeks are slightly flushed, but in a way it makes me look better, more lively.

When I open the door, Trevor is leaning against the wall with concern clear in his features. “Are you okay? You ran out of there pretty fast.” He takes a step toward me.

“Yeah . . . I just needed some air,” I lie. A stupid lie, at that; it doesn’t even make sense to rush to the bathroom for air.

Lucky for me, Trevor is a gentleman and would never call me out on my lie the way Hardin would. “Okay, they’re serving dessert now, if you’re still hungry,” he says and escorts me back down the hallway.

“Not really, but I’ll have some,” I respond. I practice regulating my breathing, and find that it helps settle me some. I’m thinking about what to do about the impending Zed-Hardin meet-up when I hear Smith’s small voice coming from a room we pass by.

“How do you know?” he asks in his little, clinical manner.

“Because I know everything,” Hardin replies.

Hardin? Hanging out with Smith?

I stop and wave Trevor on. “Trevor, why don’t you go on. I . . . um . . . I’m going to talk to Smith.”

He looks at me questioningly. “Are you sure . . . I can wait,” he offers.

“No, I’m fine.” I politely dismiss him. He gives a little nod and wanders off. Leaving me free to impolitely eavesdrop.

Smith says something I don’t get, and Hardin replies, “I do, though, I know everything.” His voice is as calm as ever.

I lean against the wall next to the door as Smith asks, “Will she die?”

“No, man. What is with you always thinking everyone’s going to die?”

“I don’t know,” the little boy tells him.

“Well, it’s not true, not everyone dies.”

“Who dies?”

“Not everyone.”

“But who, Hardin?” Smith presses.

“People, bad people, I guess. And old people. And sick people—oh, and sad people sometimes.”

“Like your pretty girl?”

My heart races.

“No! She won’t. She’s not sad,” Hardin says, and I put my hand over my mouth.

“Yeah, huh.”

“No, she’s not. She’s happy, and she won’t die. Neither will Kimberly.”

“How do you know?”

“I already told you how I know, it’s because I know everything.” His tone has changed since the mention of my name.

I hear a dismissive little laugh from Smith. “No, you don’t.”

“Are you okay now? Or are you going to cry more?” Hardin asks.

“Don’t tease.”

“Sorry, are you done crying, though?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Don’t mock me. It’s rude,” Hardin says.

“You’re rude.”

“So are you—are you sure you’re only five?” Hardin asks.

Which is exactly what I’ve always wanted to ask the kid. Smith is so mature for his age, but I guess he has to be, considering what he’s been through.

“Pretty sure. Do you want to play?” Smith asks him.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why?”

“Why do you ask so many questions? You remind—”

“Tessa?” Kimberly’s voice startles me and I nearly scream. She puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Sorry! Have you seen Smith? He took off, and Hardin, of all people, went after him.” She looks confused yet touched by that.

“Um, no.” I hurry down the hallway to avoid the humiliation of being caught by Hardin. I know he heard Kimberly call my name.

When I get back to the dining room, I approach the small group that Christian is speaking with and tell him how much I appreciate him inviting me, and I congratulate him on his engagement. Kimberly appears moments later, and I hug her goodbye before doing the same with Karen and Ken.

I check my phone: ten minutes till eight. Hardin is occupied with Smith and obviously has no intention of speaking to me, and that’s fine. That’s what I need, I don’t need him to apologize and tell me that he’s been miserable without me. I don’t need him to hold me and tell me we’ll find a way to work this out, to fix everything he has broken. I don’t need that. He won’t do it anyway, so it’s pointless to need it.

It hurts less when I don’t need it.

By the time I reach the end of the driveway, I’m freezing. I should’ve worn a jacket—it’s the end of January and it’s just begun to snow. I don’t know what I was thinking. I hope Zed gets here soon.

The icy wind is unforgiving as it whips my hair around and makes me shiver. I wrap my arms around me in an attempt to keep warm.

“Tess?” I look up, and for a moment I think I’m imagining the boy in all black walking toward me in the snow.

“What are you doing?” Hardin asks me, drawing even closer.

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh . . .” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck like he always does. I stay quiet. “How are you?” he asks and I’m baffled.

“How
am
I?” I turn to look at him.

I try to keep my cool as he stares at me with a completely neutral expression. “Yeah . . . I mean, are you . . . you know, okay?”

Should I tell him the truth or lie . . . ?
“How are you?” I ask, my teeth chattering.

“I asked first,” he responds.

This is not how I had envisioned our first encounter. I’m not entirely sure what I thought would happen, but this isn’t it. I thought he would be cursing me out and we would be in a screaming match. Standing in a snow-dusted driveway, asking each other how we’re doing, is the last thing I imagined. The lanterns hanging in the trees lining the driveway make Hardin appear to be glowing, like an angel. Obviously an illusion.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

He looks me up and down slowly, making my stomach leap and my heart pound. “I see that.” His voice carries over the wind.

“And now, how are you?”

I want him to say he’s doing terribly. But he doesn’t.

“Same. Fine.”

Quickly I ask, “Why haven’t you called me?” Maybe this will evoke some emotion from him.

“I . . .” He looks at me and then down at his hands before running them through his snow-covered hair. “I . . . was busy.” His answer is the wrecking ball that takes down the rest of my wall.

Anger overpowers the bone-crushing hurt that is threatening to take over at any moment. “You were ‘busy’?”

“Yeah . . . I was busy.”

“Wow.”

“Wow what?” he asks.

“You were busy? Do you know what I’ve been going through the last eleven days? It’s been hell, and I felt pain that I didn’t know I could endure, and at times I didn’t think I could. I kept waiting . . . waiting like a fucking idiot!” I scream.

“You don’t know what I’ve been doing either! You always think you know everything—but you don’t know shit!” he yells back, and I walk to the very end of the driveway.

He’s going to lose it when he sees who’s picking me up. Where the hell is Zed, anyway? It’s five minutes after eight.

“Tell me, then! Tell me what was more important than fighting for me, Hardin.” I wipe the tears from under my eyes and beg myself to stop crying.

I’m so sick of crying all the time.

W
hen she starts to cry, it becomes much harder to keep a neutral face. I don’t know what would happen if I told her that I’ve been through hell, too, that I felt pain that I wasn’t sure I could endure either. I think she’d run into my arms and tell me it’s okay. She was listening to me talk to Smith, I know she was. She’s sad, just the way the obnoxious little boy claimed, but I know how this ends. If she forgives me, I’ll just come up with some other fucked-up thing to do to her next. It’s always been that way, and I don’t know how to stop it.

The only option here is giving her a chance to be with someone much better for her. I believe that deep fucking down she wants someone who is more like her. Someone with no tattoos, no piercings. Someone without a fucked-up childhood and anger issues. She thinks that she loves me now, but one day, when I do something even more fucked up than I already have, she’ll regret ever speaking to me. The more I look at her crying in this driveway with the snow falling down around her, the more I know that I’m not good for her.

I’m Tom and she’s Daisy. Lovely Daisy, who is corrupted by Tom, and she’s never the same after. If I beg for her forgiveness right now, on my knees, in this snowy driveway, she’ll be the awful Daisy for eternity, all of her innocence will be gone and she’ll end up hating me, and herself. If Tom had left Daisy at the first moment of her uncertainty, she could have had a life with the man
she was destined to be with, a man that would have treated her the way she deserved to be treated.

“It’s none of your concern really, is it?” I say and watch as my words rattle her to her core.

She should be inside with Trevor, or back home with Noah. Not with me. I’m no Darcy, and she deserves one. I can’t change for her. I will find a way to live without her, just the way she must live without me.

“How could you even say that? After everything we’ve been through, you just toss me aside and don’t even have the decency to give me an explanation?” she cries.

Headlights appear at the end of the dark street, casting her into silhouette and creating new shadows across the land.

I’m doing this for you!
I want to shout. But I don’t. I just shrug my shoulders.

Her mouth opens, then closes as a truck stops in front of us.

That truck . . .

“What is he doing here?” I croak.

“Picking me up,” she says with such offhand finality that the news nearly brings me to my knees.

“Why would . . . why is he . . . what the
fuck
?” I pace back and forth. I had been trying to push her away from me and trying to let her move on so she could be with someone like herself—not fucking Zed, out of all people.

“Have you . . . have you been seeing that piece of shit?” I say, glaring at her. I’m aware of how frantic I sound, but I don’t give a shit as I step past Tessa and walk over to where his truck is stopped. “Get out of the goddamn car!” I shout.

Zed surprises me by climbing out and leaving the engine running. He’s such a fucking idiot.

“Are you all right?” he has the nerve to ask her.

I get up in Zed’s face. “I knew it! I knew you were waiting for
your moment to swoop in and make a move on her! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

He looks at her and she looks at him.
Holy fucking shit, this is really happening.

“Leave him alone, Hardin!” she insists . . .

And I snap.

One of my hands wraps around the collar of Zed’s jacket. The other connects with his jaw. Tessa screams, but it’s barely a whisper, lost in the wind and my rage.

Zed stumbles back, holding his jaw. But then he quickly steps back up toward me. He and his death wish.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to find out! I fucking told you to stay away from her!” I move to hit him again, but this time he blocks me and manages to nail me right in the jaw.

Anger mixes with the adrenaline of being in a fight for the first time in weeks. I’ve missed this feeling, the energy flowing through my bloodstream, getting me high.

I hit him in the ribs. This time he falls to the ground, and I’m on top of him in seconds, pummeling him again and again. I’ll give him credit: he’s managed to get in a few punches. But he has no way to overpower me.

“I was there . . . and you weren’t.” He eggs me on.

“Stop it! Stop, Hardin!” Tessa pulls on my arm, and reflexively I knock her backward onto the driveway.

Immediately, I snap out of my rage and turn to her as she backs away on her hands and knees and then stands and puts her arms straight out, as if to ward me off.
What the fuck did I just do?

“Don’t you fucking go near her!” Zed yells behind me. He’s by her side in no time, and she’s staring at him, not bothering to even look at me.

“Tess . . . I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t know it was
you, I swear! You know how I see red when I’m angry . . . I’m so sorry. I . . .”

She stares straight through me. “Can we just go, please?” she asks calmly, and my heart leaps . . . until I realize that she’s talking to him, to Zed.

How the fuck did this happen?