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As the words leave my lips, she gasps and reaches her hand up to smack me. I grab her wrist and push it back down gently. I would never hurt her or any woman, but neither am I going to let her hurt me.
I give her my best smile before I go back into the apartment and slam the door in her face.
Chapter forty
HARDIN
I rest with my head against the door for a moment, and when I turn around, my mum is standing in the living room, staring at me with a mug of coffee in her hands, her eyes completely bloodshot.
“Where were you?” I ask.
“The bathroom,” she says, her voice cracking.
“How could you tell Tessa to go? To leave me?” I say. I knew she would be disappointed, but that was too much.
“Because, Hardin”—she sighs, lifting her hands as if it’s obvious—“you aren’t good for her. You know you aren’t. I don’t want to see her end up like Natalie, or the others.” My mum shakes her head.
“Do you know what will happen to me if she leaves me, Mum? I don’t think you understand . . . I cannot be without her. I know I’m not good for her, and I regret what I did every single time I look at her, but I can be good for her. I know I can be.” I walk to the middle of the living room and start pacing back and forth.
“Hardin . . . are you sure you aren’t just feeding into your own game right now?”
“No, Mum . . .” I lower my head to try and keep calm. “This isn’t a game to me—not this time. I love her, I really love her.” I look up at my good, kind mother, who I know has had to endure so much. “I love her more than I can even begin to tell you, because I don’t even understand it myself. I never thought I could or would feel this way. All I know is that she’s my only shot at happiness . If she leaves me, I’ll never recover. I won’t, Mum. She’s the only chance I have to not be alone for the rest of my life. I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve her—nothing I know—but she loves me. Do you know how that feels to have someone love you despite all the fucked-up shit you do? She’s way too good for me, and she loves me. I have no fucking clue why.”
My mum wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, making me pause for a moment. It’s hard to go on, but I say, “She’s always there for me, Mum. She always forgives me, even when she shouldn’t. She always says the right thing. She calms me, but challenges me—she makes me want to be a better man. I know I’m a shitty person, I know that. I have done so much shit, but Tessa can’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone anymore, and I’ll never love anyone again—she is it for me. I know it. She’s my ultimate sin, Mum, and I’ll gladly be damned for her.”
I’m out of breath by the time I finish, and my mum’s cheeks are wet. But she’s also staring behind me.
I turn to find Tessa with her hands at her sides, her eyes wide and her cheeks just as wet as my mum’s.
My mum blows her nose, then softly says, “I’m going to go out for a little while . . . give you two some privacy.” She goes over to the door, grabs her shoes and coat, and heads out.
I feel kind of bad that there aren’t many places for her to go on Christmas Eve, especially in the snow, but I need to be alone with Tessa right now. As soon as my mum is out the door, I pad across the room to her.
“What you said . . . just now . . . you meant it?” she asks through her tears.
“You know I did,” I tell her.
The corners of her lips turn up, and she reaches across the small space between us to put her hand on my chest. “I need to know what you did.”
“I know . . . just promise me that you’ll try to understand . . .”
“Tell me, Hardin.”
“And that you understand that I’m not proud of any of this.”
She nods, and I take a deep breath as she leads us to the couch.
I really don’t know where the fuck to start.
Chapter forty-one
TESSA
Hardin’s face pales. He rubs his hands over his knees. He runs his fingers through his hair. He looks up at the ceiling and then back down. He, somewhere deep inside, probably wishes these things would stall this conversation forever.
But finally, he begins. “I had a group of shitty friends back home. They were like Jace, I guess . . . We would do this thing . . . this game, I guess. We would pick a girl—pick a girl for one another, and see who could fuck their girl first.”
My stomach drops.
“Whoever won would get the hottest chick the next week, and there was money involved . . .”
“How many weeks?” I ask, regretfully. I don’t want to know, yet I have to know.
“Only five weeks went by before this girl—”
“Natalie.” I say, connecting the dots.
Hardin looks over at the windows. “Yeah . . . Natalie was the last one.”
“And what did you do to her?” I am terrified of his answer.
“The third week . . . James thought Martin was lying, so he came up with the idea of proof . . .”
Proof. That word will always haunt me. The bloodstained sheets pop into my mind, and my chest starts to hurt.
“Not the same type of proof . . .” He knows what I was thinking. “Pictures . . .”
My jaw drops. “Pictures?”
“And a video . . .” he admits and covers his face with his large hands.
Video? “You recorded sex with someone? Did she know?” I ask. But I know the answer even before he shakes his head. “How could you? How could you do that to someone?” I begin to cry.