After Ever Happy (After #4) (23 page)

“Yeah.” I should tell him what was happening in my head, the bittersweet memory of Tessa wrapped around me as she clawed at my back and came. Then again, I don’t want that image in his head.

He raises a blond brow at me. “So?”

“I’m leaving. I need to give her some space.” I wonder just how the actual fuck I got myself into this situation to begin with. I’m a fucking idiot, that’s how. My stupidity is incomparable. Except for my fathers’, my mum’s, too, I suppose. I must get this stupidity from them. The three of them must be where I acquired the need to sabotage myself, to destroy the only good in my life.

I could blame them.

I could, but blaming everyone else hasn’t gotten me anywhere so far. Maybe it’s time I do something different.

“Space? I didn’t know you knew the word,” Noah tries to joke. He must notice my glare, because he quickly adds, “If you need anything—I don’t know what that could be, but just anything in general—you can call me.” He awkwardly glances around the vast living room of his family home, and I stare at the wall behind him to avoid looking at him.

After an uncomfortable back-and-forth with Noah and more than a few nervous glances from Mrs. Porter, I take my small bag and head out of the house. I don’t have shit with me, just this tiny bag of a few dirty clothes and my cell-phone charger. Even worse, much to my annoyance, it’s only now, now that I’m outside in the drizzling rain, that I remember where my car is.
Fuck.

I could walk down to Tessa’s mum’s and catch a ride with Ken if he’s still there, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. If I get anywhere near her, if I even so much as breathe the same air as my girl, no one will be able to tear me away from her. I let Carol easily dismiss me in the greenhouse, but that won’t be happening again. I was so close to breaking through to Tessa. I felt it, and I know she did, too. I saw her smile. I saw the empty, sad girl smile for the sad boy who loves her with all of his broken soul.

She still holds enough love for me to waste another smile on me, and that means the fucking world. She’s my fucking world. Maybe, just maybe, if I give her the space she needs for now, she will continue to toss me scraps. I’ll take those scraps with fucking pleasure. A small smile, a one-word text response—hell, if she doesn’t get a restraining order against me, then I’ll gladly settle for anything she can give until I can remind her of what we have together.

Remind
her? I suppose it’s not much of a reminder, since I’ve never actually shown her the way I could be. I’ve only been selfish and afraid, letting my fear and self-loathing run the show, always taking my attention from her. I could only focus on myself and my disgusting habit of taking every ounce of her love and trust and throwing it in her face.

The rain is picking up now, and really it’s okay. The rain would usually help me bask in my self-hatred, but not today; today the rain isn’t so bad. It’s almost cleansing.

You know, if I didn’t fucking hate metaphors.

T
he rain has returned, falling in a heavy, lonely sheet across the lawn. I’m leaning against the window now, staring out at it as if I’m mesmerized by it. I used to like the rain; it was a sort of comfort as a child, and that comfort carried out into my teenage and now adult years, but now it only reflects back the loneliness inside me.

The house has cleared now. Even Landon and his family have gone back home. I can’t seem to decide if I’m happy that they left, or if I’m sad to be alone.

“Hey,” a voice and a soft knock sound at the bedroom door, reminding me that I’m not alone after all.

Zed offered to stay at my mother’s tonight, and I couldn’t turn him down. I sit down near the headboard and wait for him to open the door.

When a few seconds pass and he hasn’t entered the room, I call, “You can come in.”

I guess I’m used to a certain someone barging in before I grant him permission. Not that I ever really minded . . .

Zed enters the small room, dressed in the same clothes he wore to the funeral, only now some of the buttons on his dress shirt are unfastened and his gelled hair has flattened, taking on a softer, more comfortable look.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and shifts toward me. “How you feeling?”

“Well, I’m okay. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” I answer honestly. I can’t tell him that I’m mourning the loss of two men tonight, not only one.

“Do you want to go somewhere? Or maybe watch a movie or something? To take your mind off of things?”

I take a moment to think about his question. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything, even though I probably should. I was fine standing by the window and obsessing over the desolate rain.

“Or we could just talk? I’ve never seen you like this, you aren’t yourself.” Zed rests his hand on my shoulder, and I can’t help but lean into him. It was unfair of me to be so harsh on him earlier today. He was only trying to comfort me; he just said the opposite of what I wanted to hear. It’s not Zed’s fault that I’ve recently taken a turn for Crazyville—it’s mine and mine alone. Population two: only me and my emptiness. It gets its own number, since it’s the only thing left standing with me after the battle.

“Tessa?” Zed’s fingers touch my cheek to gain my attention.

Embarrassed, I shake my head at him. “I’m sorry; I told you, I’m feeling a little mad.” I attempt a smile, and he does the same. He’s worried for me; I can see it in the golden brown of his eyes. I can see it in the weak smile he’s pushing across his full lips.

“It’s all right. You have a lot going on. Come over here.” He pats the empty space next to him, and I scoot closer. “I have something to ask you.” His tanned cheeks give an obvious flush.

I nod for him to go on. I have no idea what his question could be, but he’s been such a great friend to me, coming all the way here to comfort me.

“Okay, well . . .” He pauses, drawing out a long breath. “I was wondering what happened between you and Hardin.” He bites down on his bottom lip.

I quickly look away. “I don’t know if we should discuss Hardin, and I . . .”

“I don’t need specifics. I just want to know if it’s really, truly over this time?”

I swallow. It’s hard to say, but I reply, “It is.”

“You’re sure?”

What?
I turn back to look at him. “Yes, but I don’t see what—”

I’m cut off by Zed’s lips pressing against mine. His hands move to my hair and his tongue pushes through my closed mouth. I gasp in surprise and he takes that as an invitation to push further and press his body against me, forcing me back against the mattress.

Confused and caught off guard, my body reacts quickly and my hands shove against his chest. He hesitates for a moment, still trying to melt his mouth to mine.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, the moment that he finally lets up.

“What?” His eyes are wide and his lips are swollen from the pressure against mine.

“Why did you
do
that?” I jump to my feet, completely thrown by his affections, and I’m trying desperately not to overreact.

“What? Kiss you?”

“Yes!” I shout at him before quickly covering my mouth. The last thing I need is my mother coming in.

“You said that you and Hardin were finished! You just said that!” His voice comes out louder than mine, but he makes no move to silence himself the way I did.

Why would he think this is okay? Why would he kiss me?

Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest, and I realize I’m trying to cover myself up. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to make a move or something! I thought you were here to comfort me
as a friend
.”

He scoffs. “A friend? You know how I feel about you! You’ve always known how I felt about you!”

I’m baffled by the roughness of his tone with me. He’s always been so understanding. What’s changed?

“Zed, you agreed that we would be friends—you know how I feel about him.” I keep my voice as calm and neutral as I possibly can despite the panic inside my chest. I don’t want to hurt Zed’s feelings, but he is way out of line.

He rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t know how you feel about him, because you two go back and forth, back and forth. You change your mind on a weekly basis, and I’m always waiting, waiting, waiting.”

I shrink back. I barely recognize this Zed; I want the old one back. The Zed that I trust and care for isn’t here.

“I know that. I know that’s what we do, but I thought that I made myself clear about—”

“Hanging all over me doesn’t exactly send that message.” His voice is flat, cold, and a set of chills run down my spine at the difference in him that has appeared in the last two minutes.

I’m offended and confused by his accusation. “I wasn’t hanging all over you.”
He couldn’t possibly believe that!
“You put your arm around me to comfort me at my father’s funeral. I thought it was a lovely gesture; I didn’t mean for you to take it any other way. I certainly didn’t. Hardin was there—you couldn’t have possibly thought that I would be affectionate with you in front of him?”

The echo of a cabinet closing sounds through the small house, and I’m infinitely relieved when Zed makes an effort to lower his voice. “Why not? You have used me to make him jealous before,” he whispers harshly.

I want to defend myself, but I know he’s right. Not about everything, but his point is valid here. “I know I have in the past, and I’m sorry for that. I really am. I’ve told you how sorry I was before, and I’ll say it again: you have always been there for me, and I appreciate you so much, but I thought we talked about this. I thought you understood that you and I could only have a friendship, if that.”

He waves his hands through the air. “You’re so whipped by him that you don’t even see just how in deep you are.” The warm glow of his eyes has dropped in temperature, settling at a chilled amber.

“Zed,” I sigh in defeat. I didn’t want to fight with him, not after the week I’ve had. “I’m sorry, okay? I really am, but you are behaving completely inappropriately right now. I thought we were
friends
.”

“We aren’t,” he spits. “I thought you just needed more time, I thought this would be my shot at finally having you, and you threw me away. Again.”

“I can’t give you what you want—you know I can’t. It’s impossible for me. Right or wrong, Hardin has left his mark on me, and I wouldn’t be able to give myself to you, to anyone, I fear.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

The look in Zed’s eyes when I’m finished with my pathetic speech has me reeling, grasping, for any hint of the harmless but hopeful Mr. Collins I thought I knew. Instead, I’m standing in this bedroom staring at the pushy and fake Wickham, who pretended to be charming and loyal to gain affections, hurt by Darcy in the past, when he was really a liar.

I make my move for the door. How could I have been so foolish? Elizabeth would grab me by the shoulders and shake sense into me. I spent so much time defending Zed against Hardin, making his worries about Zed out to be a dramatic rambling out of jealousy, when Hardin was right the entire time.

“Tessa, wait! I’m sorry!” he calls behind me, but I’m already opening the front door and rushing out into the rain by the time his voice travels down the hallway, drawing my mother’s attention.

But I’m gone, gone, already gone into the night.

M
y bare feet splash along the concrete, and my clothes are soaked by the time I make it to the Porters’ house. I don’t know the time—I couldn’t even guess the hour—but I’m grateful that the lights in the foyer are on. Relief washes over me like the cool rain when Noah’s mother answers my knocking at the door.

“Tessa? My dear! Are you okay?” She rushes me inside, and I cringe at the sound of the water rolling off me and onto their clean hardwood flooring.

“I’m sorry, I just . . .” As I stare around the expansive and practically spotless living room, I instantly regret coming here.

Hardin wouldn’t want to see me anyway—what was I thinking? He isn’t mine to rush to anymore—he isn’t the man I thought he was.

My Hardin disappeared in England, that place of all my fairy tales, and a stranger took his place and ruined us. My Hardin would never get high and touch another woman, let another woman wear his clothes. My Hardin wouldn’t mock me in front of his friends and send me packing back to America, tossing me away like I was nothing. I
am
nothing—to him, anyway. The more offenses that I list, the more foolish I sound inside my own mind. The truth of the matter is, the only Hardin I knew has done all of the above, over and over again, and even now, when I’m the only one in on the conversation, I’m still defending him.

How pathetic am I.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Porter. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry,” I frantically apologize. “Please don’t tell anyone I was here.” And like the unstable person I’ve become, I rush back into the rain before she can stop me.

By the time I stop running, I’m near the post office. I always hated this corner as a child. The small, brick post office rests alone in the very back of the town. Not a single other house or business is near, and at times like this, when it’s dark and raining, my eyes play tricks on me, and the small building blends into the trees. I always ran past it as a child.

My adrenaline has worn off now, and my feet are aching from repeatedly smacking the concrete. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming this far into town. I wasn’t thinking, I suppose.

My already questionable sanity is at play again as a shadow emerges from underneath the awning of the post office. I begin to back away, slowly, just in case I’m not imagining things.

“Tessa? What the fuck are you doing?” the shadow says in what sounds like Hardin’s voice.

I turn on my heel to run, but he’s quicker than me. His arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me to his chest before I can take off. A large hand forces me to look up at him, and I try to keep my eyes open and focused, despite the heavy drops of rain clouding my vision.