frustration that comes from dealing with Hardin. He was asleep when I got into the shower, and I pray he stays that way until I leave for my internship.
Unfortunately, my prayers go unanswered, and he is standing by the kitchen counter when I get out of the bathroom.
“You look beautiful today,” he says calmly.
I roll my eyes and walk past him to grab a cup of coffee before I have to leave.
“So you aren’t speaking to me, then?”
“Not right now, no. I have to go to work and I don’t have the energy to do this with you,” I snap.
“But you . . . you came to bed with me,” he pouts.
“Yeah, only because you were screaming and shaking. That doesn’t mean you are forgiven. I need an explanation for everything, all the secrets, all the fights—even the nightmares—or I’m done,” I surprise him and myself by saying.
He groans and runs his hands through his hair. “Tessa . . . it’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, it is, actually. I trusted you enough to give up my relationship with my mother and move in with you so soon; you should trust me enough to tell me what is going on.”
“You won’t understand. I know you won’t,” he says.
“Try me.”
“I . . . I can’t,” he stutters.
“Then I can’t be with you. I’m sorry, but I have given you a lot of chances and you keep—” I begin.
“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare try and leave me.” His tone is angry, but his eyes are hurt.
“Then give me some answers. What is it that you think I wouldn’t understand? About your nightmares?” I ask.
“Tell me you aren’t going to leave me,” he pleads.
Standing my ground with Hardin is proving to be much harder than I imagined, especially when he looks so broken.
“I have to go. I am already running late,” I tell him and go to the bedroom to get dressed as quickly as I can. Part of me is happy that he doesn’t follow me, but part of me wishes he would.
He is still standing in the kitchen, shirtless, and gripping his coffee mug with white and busted knuckles when I leave.
I mull over everything Hardin said this morning. What could I possibly not understand? I would never judge him for something that causes him to have nightmares. I hope that is what he was talking about, but I can’t ignore the feeling that I am missing something very obvious here.
I feel guilty and tense almost all day, but Kimberly emails me the links to one too many funny YouTube videos for my sour mood to last. By lunch, I almost forget the problem at home.
I’m sorry for everything, please come home after work, Hardin texts while Kimberly and I eat from a muffin basket someone sent Mr. Vance.
“Is that him?” she asks.
“Yeah . . .” I tell her. “I stood up to him, but I feel terrible, for some reason. I know I am right, but you should have seen him this morning.”
“Good. Hopefully he learns his lesson. Did he tell you where he was?” she asks.
“Nope. That’s the problem.” I groan and eat another muffin.
Please answer me, Tessa. I love you, he sends minutes later.
“Just answer the poor guy.” Kimberly smiles and I nod.
I will be home, I respond.
Why is it so hard for me to hold my ground with him? Mr. Vance lets everyone go a little after three, so I decide to stop by a salon and get my hair trimmed and a manicure for the wedding tomorrow. I hope Hardin and I can work this out before the wedding, because the last thing I want to do is take an already angry Hardin to his father’s wedding.
By the time I get home it’s almost six o’clock and I have multiple texts from Hardin, which I have ignored. When I get to our door I take a deep breath to mentally prepare for what is to come. Either we will end up screaming at each other, which will lead to one of us leaving, or we will actually talk through it and work it out. Hardin is pacing back and forth across the cement floor when I enter. His eyes shoot up to my figure in the doorway, and he looks relieved.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he says and steps toward me.
“Where else would I go?” I say in response and walk past him into the bedroom.