Page 33

Worry builds inside of me. “Help? With what? Is he okay?”
“Yeah . . . well, no. He asked for help with you. He was completely distraught, Tessa. I mean, he came to his father’s house, of all places.”
“What did he say?” I can’t picture Hardin knocking on Ken’s door to ask for relationship advice.
“That he loves you. That he wants me to help him persuade you to give him another chance. I wanted you to know; I don’t want to keep things from you.”
“I . . . well . . . I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe he came to you. To anyone, really.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, he isn’t the same Hardin Scott that he was when I first met him. He even joked about hugging me.” He laughs.
I can’t help but join him. “He did not!” I don’t know how I feel about any of this, but that thought is definitely funny. When I stop laughing, I look at Landon and dare to ask, “Do you really believe that he loves me?”
“Yes, I do. I don’t know if I think you should forgive him, but if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that he does love you.”
“It’s just that he lied to me, made me a joke—even after he told me he loved me, he still went and told them all what happened between us. Then, as soon as I begin to think I could possibly consider trying to move past that, he sleeps with Molly.” Tears prick my eyes, and I grab the water bottle on the nightstand and take a drink in an attempt to distract myself.
“He didn’t sleep with her.”
I look over at him. “Yes, he did. He told me he did.”
Landon puts the food container down and shakes his head. “He just said that to hurt you. I know that’s not much better, but you two are both known to fight fire with fire.”
Looking at Landon, the first thing I think is that Hardin is good. He even has his stepbrother believing his lies. The second thing I think is: But what if Hardin didn’t actually sleep with Molly? Absent that, could I move toward forgiving him? I had my mind made up that I never would, but I can’t seem to shake that boy.
As if the universe is mocking me, my phone lights up with a message from Trevor that says Happy Birthday, Beautiful.
I send him a quick thanks, then say to Landon, “I need more time. I don’t know what to think.”
He nods. “Fair enough, so what are you doing for Christmas?”
“This.” I gesture to the empty takeout box and e-reader.
He grabs the remote. “You aren’t going to go home?”
“This is more of a home than my mother’s house,” I say and try not to think about how pathetic I am.
“You can’t just stay in a hotel alone on Christmas, Tessa. You should come to our place. I think my mother got you a few things before . . . you know.”
“My life went down the drain?” I half laugh and he nods playfully.
“Actually, I was thinking that since Hardin is leaving tomorrow, I would stay at the apartment . . . just until I get into the dorms, which hopefully will be before he returns. If not, then I can always come back to this lovely abode.” I can’t help but joke about how ridiculous of a situation I’m in right now.
“Yeah . . . you should do that,” Landon says with his eyes focused on the television.
“You think? What if he shows up or something?”
He still doesn’t take his eyes from the screen but agrees. “He’ll be in London, right?”
“Yeah. You’re right. My name is on the lease, after all.”
Landon and I watch television and talk about Dakota leaving for New York. He’s considering transferring to NYU next year if she decides to stay out there. I’m happy for him, but I don’t want him to leave Washington—not that I tell him that, of course. Landon stays until nine, and after he leaves I curl onto the bed and read until I fall asleep.
THE NEXT MORNING I get ready for my return to the apartment. I can’t believe I’m actually going back there, but I don’t have many options. I don’t want to take advantage of Landon, I definitely don’t want to go to my mother’s, and I’ll run out of money if I stay here. I feel guilty for not going to my mother’s, but I don’t want to listen to her snide comments all week. I still may go there for Christmas, but not today. I have five days to decide.
Once my hair is curled and my makeup is done, I put on a long-sleeved white shirt and dark jeans. I want to stay in my pajamas, but I need to go to the store to get some food for the next few days. If I eat whatever food Hardin has in the apartment, he’ll know I was there. I pack my few belongings in my bags and hurry to my car, which, to my surprise, has been vacuumed and smells faintly of mint. Hardin.
It starts to snow as I make my way to the grocery store. I buy enough food to last me until I decide what I want to do on Christmas. As I wait in line to check out, my mind wanders to what Hardin would have gotten me for Christmas. My birthday gift was so thoughtful, who knows what he’d have came up with. I hope it would be something simple, not expensive.
“Are you going to move up?” a woman’s voice barks from behind me.
When I look up, the cashier is waiting impatiently with a scowl on her face. I didn’t notice the line moving or disappearing in front of me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, placing my groceries on the belt.
My heart begins to race as I pull into the parking lot of the apartment. What if he hasn’t left yet? It’s only noon. I look frantically around the lot, and his car is gone. He probably drove himself to the airport and left his car there.