After We Collided (The After Series) (29 page)

I stare at the letter a little longer until there is a knock at the bedroom door. Folding the sheet up, I put it in the bottom drawer of the dresser. I don’t want Hardin to try to make me throw it away or tear it up now that I’ve read it.

“Come in,” I say and walk over to the door to meet him.

He opens the door, already staring at the ground. “Did you . . .”

“I did . . .” I reach up and lift his chin to look at me, the way he usually does to me.

His bloodshot eyes are so wide and sad. “It was stupid . . . I knew I shouldn’t have . . .” he begins.

“No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t stupid at all.” I move my hand from under his chin, but he keeps his red eyes on mine. “Hardin, it was everything that I’ve been wanting you to say to me for so long.”

“I’m sorry that I took so long, and that I wrote it down . . . It was just easier. I’m not good at saying things.” The red of his weary eyes is beautiful against the vibrant green of his irises.

“I know you aren’t.”

“Did you . . . should we talk about it? Do you need more time, now that you know how fucked up I truly am?” He frowns and looks at the floor again.

“You aren’t. You were . . . You’ve done a lot of things . . . bad things, Hardin.” He nods in agreement; I can’t stand to see him feel so bad about himself, even with his history. “But that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. You’ve done bad things, but you aren’t a bad person anymore.”

He looks up. “What?”

I take his face between my hands. “I said you aren’t a bad person, Hardin.”

“You really think that? Did you read what I wrote?”

“Yes, and the fact that you wrote it proves that you aren’t.”

Confusion is clear on his perfect face. “How can you say that? I don’t understand—you wanted me to give you space, and you read all that shit, and you still say that? I don’t understand . . .”

I run my thumbs over his cheeks. “I read it, and now that I know everything that you’ve done, my mind hasn’t changed.”

“Oh . . .” His eyes become glossy.

The idea of him crying again, especially in front of me, pains me. He’s obviously not getting what I’m trying to say.

“I already made my mind up while you were gone to stay. And after reading what you wrote, I want to stay more than ever. I love you, Hardin.”

H
ardin takes my hands and holds them for a second before wrapping his arms around me as if I’ll disappear should he let go.

As I said the words
I want to stay
, I realized how freeing this all is. I no longer have to worry that secrets from Hardin’s past will come back to haunt us. I no longer have to wait for someone to drop a huge bombshell on me. I know everything. I finally know everything he’s been hiding. I can’t help but think of the phrase
Sometimes it is better to be kept in the dark than to be blinded by the light
. But I don’t think that applies me to right now. I’m disturbed by the things he has done, but I love him and have chosen to not let his past affect us any longer.

Hardin pulls back and sits on the edge of the bed. “What are you thinking? Do you have any questions about anything? I want to be honest with you.” I move to stand between his legs. He flips my hands over in his and traces small patterns on my palms as he searches my face for clues to how I am feeling.

“No . . . I do wish I knew what happened to Natalie . . . but I don’t have any questions.”

“I am done being that person—you know that, don’t you?”

I’ve already told him I do, but I know he needs to hear it again. “I know that. I really do, babe.”

His eyes dart to mine at the use of the word. “Babe?” He arches his eyebrow.

“I don’t know why I said that . . .” I flush. I’ve never called him anything other than Hardin, so it does feel a little odd to call him “babe” like he does me.

“No . . . I like it.” He smiles.

“I’ve missed your smile,” I tell him, and his fingers stop their movements.

“I’ve missed yours, too.” He frowns. “I don’t make you smile enough.”

I want to say something to remove that doubt from his face, but I don’t want to lie to him. He needs to know how I feel. “Yeah . . . we need to work on that,” I say.

His fingers move again, drawing little hearts on my palm. “I don’t know why you love me.”

“It doesn’t matter why I love you, only that I do.”

“The letter was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“No! Would you stop with the self-loathing? It was wonderful. I read it three times straight. It really made me happy to read the things that you were thinking about me . . . about us.”

He looks up, half smirking, half concerned. “You knew I loved you.”

“Yes . . . but it was nice to know the small things, the way you remembered what I was wearing. Those types of things. You never say those types of things.”

“Oh.” He looks embarrassed. It is still slightly unnerving to have Hardin be the vulnerable one in our relationship. That role has always been mine.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I say.

His arms wrap around my waist and pull me onto his lap. “I’m not,” he lies.

I run one of my hands through his hair and wrap my other arm around his shoulder. “I think you are,” I challenge softly, and he laughs, burying his head in my neck.

“What a Christmas Eve. It’s been a long-ass day,” he complains, and I can’t help but agree.

“Way too long. I can’t believe my mother came here. She is so unbelievable.”

“Not really,” he says, and I pull back to look at him.

“What?”

“She’s not being unreasonable, really. Yeah, she goes about it the wrong way, but I can’t blame her for not wanting you to be with someone like me.”

Tired of this talk, and his notion that my mother is somehow right about him, I scowl at him and move off of his lap to sit next to him on the bed.

“Tess, don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying that now that I’ve really thought about all the shit I’ve done, I don’t blame her for worrying.”

“Well, she’s wrong, and we can stop talking about her,” I whine. The emotional turmoil of the day—of the year, really—is making me tired and cranky. The year is almost over. I can’t believe it.

“Okay, so what would you like to talk about?” he asks.

“I don’t know . . . something lighter.” I smile, convincing myself to be less cranky. “Like how romantic you can be.”

“I am
not
romantic,” he scoffs.

“Yes, you most certainly are. That letter was one for the classics,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t a letter, it was a note. A note that was only supposed to be a paragraph at most.”

“Sure. A romantic note, then.”

“Oh, would you shut up . . .” he groans comically.

I wrap a lock of his hair around my finger and laugh. “Is this where you annoy me to get me to say your name?”

He moves too quickly for me to respond, grabbing my waist
and pushing me back onto the bed, hovering over me with his hands on my hips. “No. I have since come up with other ways to get you to say my name,” he breathes, his lips against my ear.

My entire body ignites with only a few words from Hardin. “Is that so?” I say in a thick voice.

But suddenly Natalie’s faceless figure appears in my mind, causing my stomach to turn. “I think we should wait until your mother isn’t in the other room,” I suggest, partly because I clearly need more time to ease back into our relationship, but also because it was already awkward enough doing it once before while she was here.

“I can kick her out now,” he jokes, but rolls off to lie next to me.

“Or I could kick you out.”

“I’m not leaving again. Neither are you.” The certainty in his tone makes me smile.

We are lying next to each other, both of us staring at the ceiling. “So this is it, then, we’re done with the back-and-forth?” I ask.

“Yes, this is it. No more secrets, no more running away. Do you think you can manage not leaving me for a week at least?”

I push his shoulder with my arm and laugh. “Do you think you can manage to not piss me off for a week at least?”

“Yeah, probably not,” he answers. I know that he’s smiling.

As I turn my head to the side, sure enough: a huge grin covers his face. “You’ll have to stay with me at my dorm sometimes, too. The drive is far.”

“Your dorm? You aren’t living in a dorm. You live here.”

“We just got back together—do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“You’re staying here. We aren’t discussing this any further.”

“You are obviously confused, to be speaking to me that way,”
I say, then raise myself up on an elbow to look at him. I shake my head lightly and give a slight smile. “I don’t really want to live in the dorm, I just wanted to see what you would say.”

“Well,” he says, lifting himself up and mirroring my actions, “I’m glad to see you’re back to being annoying.”

“I’m glad to see you’re back to being rude. I was getting worried that after that romantic letter you had maybe lost your edge.”

“Call me romantic one more time and I’ll take you right here, right now, Mum or no Mum.”

My eyes widen, and he laughs louder than I think I’ve ever heard him laugh. “I’m joking! You should see your face!” he bellows.

I can’t help but laugh with him.

After we stop, he admits, “I feel like we shouldn’t be laughing after all the stuff that happened today.”

“Maybe that’s why we
should
be laughing.” This is what we do: we fight, then make up.

“Our relationship is sort of fucked up.” He smiles.

“Yeah . . . just a little.” It has definitely been a roller coaster.

“Not anymore, though, okay? I promise.”

“Okay.” I lean over and give him a quick kiss on the lips.

It isn’t enough, though. It never is. I bring my lips back to his, and this time I let them linger. Both of our lips part at the same time, and he slips his tongue inside my mouth. My hands fist his hair, and he pulls me on top of him as his tongue massages mine. No matter how messed up our relationship has been, there is no denying our all-consuming passion. I start to move my hips, grinding down onto him, and I feel him smile against my lips.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says.

Nodding, I shift and lay my head on his chest, reveling in the feeling of his arms wrapping around my back. “I hope tomorrow goes well,” I say after a few minutes of silence.

He doesn’t respond. And when I lift up my head, his eyes are
closed and his lips are slightly parted in sleep. He must’ve been exhausted. Then again, so am I.

I climb off of him and check the time. It’s past eleven. I pull his jeans off him, gently so not to wake him, then snuggle up next to him. Tomorrow is Christmas, and I can only pray that it goes much better than today.

H
ardin.” Tessa’s voice is soft. I groan and pull my arm from under her weight.

I grab the pillow and cover my face with it. “Not getting up yet.”

“We slept late and we have to get ready.” She snatches the pillow from me and tosses it onto the floor.

“Stay in bed with me. Let’s cancel.” I reach for her arm, and she rolls onto her side, molding her body to mine.

“We can’t cancel
Christmas.”
She laughs as she speaks and presses her lips against my neck. I rock into her, pushing my hips against hers, and she playfully pulls away. “Oh no you don’t.” Her hands push at my chest to keep me from rolling on top of her.

She climbs out of bed, leaving me alone. I have half a mind to follow her into the bathroom—not to do anything to her, just to be near her. Yet the bed is too warm, so I decide against it. I’m still reeling from the fact that she’s still here. Her forgiveness and acceptance of me will never fail to surprise the fuck out of me.

Having her here for Christmas will be different, too. I’ve never really given a shit about holidays like this, but watching Tessa’s face light up over some stupid tree with overpriced ornaments makes the whole thing a little more tolerable. My mum being here isn’t too bad, either. Tessa seems to adore her, and my mum is almost as obsessed with my girl as I am.

My girl.
Tessa is my girl again, and I’m spending Christmas with her—and my fucked-up family. What a difference from last
year, when I spent Christmas Day wasted out of my mind. A few minutes later I force myself out of bed and find my way to the kitchen. Coffee. I need coffee.

“Merry Christmas,” my mum says when I enter the kitchen.

“Same to you.” I walk past her to the fridge.

“I made coffee,” she says.

“I see that.” I grab the Frosted Flakes from on top of the fridge and walk over to the coffeepot.

“Hardin, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I know that I upset you when I agreed with Tessa’s mum, but you have to see where I was coming from.”

The thing is, I
do
understand where she’s coming from, but it’s not her damn place to tell Tessa to leave me. After everything Tessa and I have been through, we need someone on our side. It feels like it’s only her and me, fighting against everyone, and I need my mum to be on our side.

“It’s just that she belongs with me, Mum, nowhere else. Only with me.” I grab a towel to wipe up the excess coffee spilling over my mug. The brown liquid stains the white towel, and I can almost hear Tessa’s voice scolding me for using the wrong towel.

“I know she does, Hardin. I see that now. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. I’m sorry for being a dick all the time. I don’t mean to be.”

She seems to be surprised by my words. I guess I don’t blame her. I never apologize, regardless if I am right or wrong. It’s my thing, I guess—being an asshole and not owning up to it.

“It’s okay, we can move past it. Let’s have a nice Christmas at your lovely father’s house.” She smiles, sarcasm clear in her voice.

“Yeah, let’s move past it.”

“Yes. Let’s. I don’t want today to be ruined because of that mess last night. I understand it better now, the whole situation. I know you love her, Hardin, and I can see you’re learning to be a
better man. She’s teaching you, and that makes me so happy.” My mum brings her hands to her chest, and I roll my eyes. “Really, I’m so happy for you,” she says.