After Ever Happy (After #4) (25 page)

Without another word, Zed walks out the front door and into the rain. Headlights flash through the front windows as he peels off and disappears down the street.

“HARDIN?” TESSA’S VOICE IS SOFT
and laced with exhaustion. We’ve been in the backseat of this cab for almost an hour without a single word between the two of us.

“Yeah?” My voice breaks and I clear my throat.

“Who’s Samantha?”

I have been waiting for her to ask this question since we pulled away from her mum’s house. I could lie to her, I could make up a bullshit story to make Zed look like the piece of shit he is, or I could be honest for once.

“She’s a girl who had an internship at Vance. I fucked her while she was dating Zed.” I decide not to lie, but regret the harsh words when Tessa flinches. “Sorry, I just want to be honest,” I add in an attempt to soften the words.

“You knew she was his girlfriend when you slept with her?” She stares straight into me in that way only she can.

“Yeah, I knew. That’s why I did it.” I shrug, ignoring the pinch of remorse threatening to surface.

“Why?” Her eyes search mine for a decent answer, but I don’t have one. I only have the truth. The filthy, fucked-up truth.

“I have no excuse, it was just a game for me.” I sigh, wishing I weren’t such a piece of shit. Not for Zed’s sake, or Samantha’s, but for this beautiful, sweet girl who even now doesn’t have a hint of judgment in her eyes as she looks at me, waiting for further explanation.

“You forget that I wasn’t the same before I met you. I was nothing like the man you know. Well, I know you think I’m fucked-up now, but trust me, you would hate me even more if you knew me then.” I look away from her and out the window. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you really have helped me so much, you’ve given me a purpose, Tess.”

I hear her sharp exhale of breath and I cringe at the thought of how my words must sound. Pathetic and insincere, I’m sure.

“And what’s that purpose?” she asks timidly in the sudden stillness of the night.

“I’m still trying to figure that out. But I will figure it out, so please try and stick around long enough for me to find the answer?”

She looks at me but stays quiet.

I’m thankful for that, I don’t think I could handle her rejection right now. I turn my head and look out into the black-black darkness of the landscape around us and am glad that nothing final and devastating came from her mouth.

I
wake up to arms wrapping around my waist as I’m lifted out of the car. The white light on top of the cab reminds me of the night I’ve had. I take in my surroundings, panicking for a moment before realizing that we are in Ken’s driveway, not, not . . .

“I would never take you back there,” Hardin says into my ear, knowing exactly what I would worry about before the thought can even gel in my mind.

I don’t protest as Hardin carries me up the driveway and into the house. Karen is awake, sitting in a chair by the window, a recipe book in her lap. Hardin places me on my feet, and I feel a little wobbly.

Karen stands, walking across the room to hug me. “What can I get you, dear? I made some caramel cakes; you’ll love them.” She smiles and wraps a warm hand around mine, leading me toward the kitchen without a peep from Hardin.

“I’ll take your bag upstairs,” I hear him say.

“Is Landon asleep?” I ask his mother.

“I think so, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you wake him. It’s still early.” Karen smiles and places a small, caramel-topped cake on a plate before I can stop her.

“No, it’s okay. I can see him tomorrow.”

Landon’s mother’s eyes are on me, soft with her familiar tenderness. Her fingers are nervously twisting her wedding ring on her thin finger. “I know this is terrible timing, and I’m so sorry, but I wanted to talk to you about something.” Her warm brown eyes flash with concern and she waves for me to take a bite of the dessert as she pours two glasses of milk.

I nod for her to continue, my mouth full of the delicious cake. I couldn’t eat earlier—I was too overwhelmed, and the day has been too long. I reach for another slice.

“I know you have so much going on already, so if you want me to leave you be, just tell me. I promise I understand, but I would really like your opinion on something.”

I give her another nod, enjoying the dessert.

“It’s about Hardin and Ken.”

My eyes go wide, and immediately I start choking on the cake and reach for the milk.
Does she know? Has Hardin said something?

Karen pats my back while I drink the cold milk down, rubbing in circles as she continues, “Ken’s so happy that Hardin has finally started to tolerate him. It makes him so happy that he is finally building a relationship with his son; it’s something he’s always wanted. Hardin is his biggest regret, and it hurt me for years seeing him that way. I know he’s made his mistakes—many, many mistakes—and I am in no way making excuses for those mistakes.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she dabs at the corners with her fingers. “Sorry,” she says with a smile. “I’m a mess.”

After a couple of deep breaths she adds, “He isn’t the same man now that he was then. He’s had years of sobriety and therapy, years of reflection and remorse.”

She knows.
Karen knows about Trish and Christian. My chest tightens, and my eyes fill, too. “I know what you’re going to say.” I feel for this family. I love them as my own, and I feel for everyone in this family that’s full of secrets, addictions, and regrets.

“You do?” She blows out a ragged breath that speaks a little of her relief. “Landon told you about the baby? I should have known he would. So I’m assuming Hardin knows, too, then?”

I start coughing again. After an awkward fit, during which Karen keeps watching my expression, I finally speak. “
What?
A baby?”

“So you didn’t know.” She laughs softly. “I know I’m much older than you would expect a pregnant woman to be, but I’m only in my early forties, and my doctor has assured me that I’m healthy enough . . .”

“A baby?” I’m relieved that she doesn’t know about Christian being Hardin’s father, but this is
beyond
a surprise.

“Yes.” She smiles. “I was just as shocked as you are. Ken, too. He’s been so worried about me. Landon nearly had a breakdown; he knew about all of my appointments, but I didn’t tell him what they were for, so the poor thing thought I was sick. I felt terrible, and I had to come clean. This wasn’t planned”—her eyes search mine—“but we are happy now that we’ve gotten over the initial shock of having another child so late in life.”

My arms wrap around her, and for the first time in days I feel joy. Where there was nothing dominating my core, there is joy. I love Karen and am thrilled for her. This feels so good. I was beginning to worry that I would never feel this way again.

“This is amazing! I’m so happy for you two!” I gush, and her arms tighten around my back.

“Thank you, Tessa. I knew you would be, and it is quite exciting, the more and more I live with the reality of it.” She pulls back and kisses my cheek, then looks me in the eye. “I’m just worried about how this will make Hardin feel.”

And like that, my joy for her is cut short and instantly replaced by worry for Hardin. His entire life has been a lie, and he hasn’t exactly handled the news well. The man he believed to be his father is now having another child, and Hardin will be forgotten. Whether that’s true or not, I know him well enough to know that’s where his mind will go. And Karen knows it, which is why she was so worried about bringing it up.

“Do you mind if I’m the one who tells him?” I ask. “If not, I understand.”

I don’t allow myself to think too far into this. I know that I’m blurring the lines here, but if I’m leaving Hardin, I need to make sure I’m not leaving a mess behind.

That’s an excuse,
part of me warns.

“No, of course not—to be honest, I was hoping you’d want to. I know this puts you in a terrible position, and I don’t want you to feel
obligated
to get in the middle of this, but I
am
afraid of how Hardin will react if Ken is the one to tell him. You have a way with him that no one else does.”

“It’s fine, really. I will talk to him tomorrow.”

She hugs me again. “Today has been a tough day for you. I’m sorry for bringing this up. I should have waited—I just want to avoid the news being a surprise to him, especially since I feel like I’m starting to show a little bit. He’s had a hard enough life already, and I want to do whatever I can to make things easier on him. I want him to know that he’s a part of this family, and that we all love him so much, that this baby won’t change that.”

“He knows,” I promise. He may not be willing to accept it yet, but he knows.

Footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs, and Karen and I pull away from each other reflexively. We both wipe our cheeks, and I take another bite of the cake as Hardin enters the kitchen. He’s showered and changed his clothes. He’s now wearing a pair of sweatpants, the legs of which are too short; the WCU logo stitched along his thigh is a dead giveaway that he’s wearing Landon’s clothing. No way is he a booster like that.

If we were in a different place, I would tease him about the pants. But we aren’t. We are in the worst place, yet in the best place for me; it’s all confusing and skewed. Then again, a healthy balance and order has never been a factor in our relationship; why would our breakup be any different?

“I’m going to bed. Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

I look up at him but he’s staring at his bare feet. “No. Thank you, though.”

“I put your stuff in the guest room, your room.”

I nod. The insane, untrustworthy part of me wishes Karen weren’t in the kitchen with us, but the rational, bitter, and much larger part of me is glad that she is. He disappears up the staircase, and I say good-night to Karen before going up myself.

In short order I find myself outside the room where I’ve spent some of the best nights of my life. I raise my hand to the knob, but quickly pull away as if the cold metal might burn my skin.

This cycle has got to stop, and if I give in to every impulse, every fiber of my being, that desperately craves to be close to him, I’ll never make it out of this continuous loop of mistake after mistake, fight after fight.

I finally let out a breath as I close the guest-room door behind me and turn the lock. I fall asleep wishing that the younger me had known just how dangerous love could be. If I had known it would hurt this bad, if I had known the way it would rip me apart, then sew me back together, only to tear me into pieces again, I would have stayed as far away from Hardin Scott as I possibly could.

T
essie! In here, come in here!” my father calls down the hall, excitement clear in his loud voice.

I climb out of my small bed and rush out to him. The loose ties on my robe nearly trip me in my haste, and I fumble to bind them again as I burst into the living room . . . where my mother and father are standing next to a beautifully decorated and lit-up tree.

I’ve always loved Christmas.

“Look, Tessie, we got you a gift. I know you’re an adult now, but I saw this and had to get it for you.” My father smiles and my mother leans into him.

An adult?
I look down at my feet, trying to decipher his words. I’m not an adult, at least I don’t think I am.

A small box is placed into my hand, and without so much as a thought I eagerly rip the shiny bow off the gift. I love gifts. I don’t get them often, so when I do, it’s special for me.

As I tear at it, I look up at my parents, but my mother’s excitement throws me off. I’ve never seen her smile this way, and my father, well, I feel as if he shouldn’t be here, but I can’t remember why that is.

“Hurry and open it!” my father urges as I lift the lid off the box.

I nod excitedly and reach inside . . . only to pull my hand back when something sharp pricks my finger. I nearly curse from the pain and drop the box to the floor. A needle falls onto the carpet. When I look back up at my parents, my father’s skin has lost all color and his eyes have gone void.

My mother’s smile is bright again, brighter than I’ve ever seen it before—as bright as a blinding sun, it suddenly seems. My father bends down and grabs the needle from the floor. He takes a step toward me, needle in hand, and I try to back away, but my feet won’t move. They won’t move no matter how hard I try, and I’m left helpless, only to scream as he pushes the weapon into my arm.

“TESSA!” LANDON’S VOICE
is frantic, loud, and frightening as he shakes my shoulders.

I’m sitting up somehow, and my shirt is stained with sweat. I look at him, then back down to my arm, searching like a lunatic for puncture marks.

“Are you
okay
?” he exclaims.

I gasp for breath, my chest aching as I struggle to find air and my voice. I shake my head, and Landon tightens his grip on my shoulders.

“I heard you scream, so I—” Landon is rendered silent when Hardin barges into the room.

Hardin’s cheeks are flushed a deep red, and his eyes are wild. “What happened?” He brushes Landon off me and sits next to me on the bed. “I heard you scream—what happened?” His hands move to my cheeks, and his thumbs brush over the tearstains there.

“I don’t know. I had a dream,” I manage to say.

“What sort of dream?” Hardin’s voice is nearly a whisper, and his thumbs are still gliding, slowly as ever, across the skin just under my eyes.

“The kind that you have,” I reply, my voice equally hushed.

A sigh leaves his lips, and he frowns. “Since when? Since when do you have my sort of dreams?”

I take a moment to collect my thoughts. “Only since I found him, and it’s only been twice. I don’t know where they’re coming from.”

His distressed hand runs over his hair, and my heart twists at the sight of the familiar gesture. “Well, I’m sure finding the body of your dead father would cause anyone to—” He stops midsentence. “I’m sorry, fuck, I need a filter.” He sighs in frustration.