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I must be imagining the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, though I am too aware of his callused fingers under my chin.
“You took it back before I could even process what you said. You’ve done a lot of things to hurt me, Hardin,” I tell him and he nods.
“I know . . . I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you? I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t have the right to even be asking this . . . but please, just one chance. I am not promising not to fight with you, or get mad at you, but I am promising to give myself to you, completely. Please, just let me try to be what you need.” He sounds so unsure of himself, it turns my insides to liquid.
“I want to think this can work, but I just don’t know how it could, so much damage has already been done.”
But my eyes betray me as the tears fall. Hardin brings his fingers up from my chin and captures them, even as a single tear escapes down his own cheek.
“Do you remember when you asked me who I love the most in the world?” he asks, his lips inches from mine.
I nod, though it seems so long ago, and I didn’t think he was even paying attention.
“It’s you. You’re the person that I love most in the world.”
His words surprise me and dissolve the ache and the anger in my chest.
Before I will let myself believe him and turn me to putty in his arms, I ask, “This isn’t part of your sick game, is it?”
“No, Tessa. I’m done with the games. I just want you. I want to be with you, in a real relationship. You’ll have to teach me what in the hell that even means, of course.” He laughs nervously and I join him with earnest laughter of my own.
“I have missed your laugh. I haven’t heard it enough. I want to be the one to make you laugh, not cry. I know I am a lot to handle—”
I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. His kisses are rushed and I can taste blood from his cut. My knees want to buckle from the electricity shooting through me, it seems so long ago that I last felt his mouth on mine. I love this damaged, self-loathing asshole so much that I’m afraid it will crush me. He lifts me up and I wrap my thighs around him, tangling my fingers into his hair. He moans into my mouth and I gasp, pulling harder. My tongue runs over his bottom lip and when he winces, I pull away.
“Who did you get in a fight with?” I ask and he laughs.
“You’re asking that now?”
“Yeah, I want to know.” I smile.
“You always have so many questions. Can’t I answer them later?” He pouts.
“No, tell me.”
“Only if you’ll stay.” He holds me against him tighter. “Please?” he begs.
“Okay,” I say and kiss him again, completely forgetting about my question.
Chapter sixty-eight
Eventually we stop kissing and I go to sit at the foot of the bed, and Hardin follows me, sitting up by the headboard.
“Okay, now tell me who you fought with; was it Zed?” I ask, afraid of his answer.
“No. It was just a few random guys.”
I’m relieved it wasn’t Zed, but then I register what he actually said. “Wait, a few? How many?”
“Three . . . or four. I am not really sure.” He laughs.
“It’s not funny—why were you fighting, anyway?”
“I don’t know . . .” He shrugs. “I was pissed that you left with Zed and it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Well, it’s not a good idea, and now look how busted up you are.” I frown and he cocks his head to the side with a puzzled expression. “What?”
“Nothing . . . come here,” he says and holds his arms out to me. I move across the bed and lean back on him between his legs.
“I am sorry for the way I treated . . . well, treat you,” he says quietly into my ear.
A shiver runs through my body from his breath in my ear and his unforced apology. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay. But I am going to give you one more chance.”
I hope he doesn’t make me regret it. I don’t think I can handle any more hot and cold from him.
“Thank you, I know I don’t deserve it. But I am selfish enough to take it,” he says, his mouth against my hair. He wraps his arms around me, and sitting with him like this feels foreign and nostalgic at the same time.
When I stay silent he turns my shoulders slightly to have me look at him. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. I’m just afraid that you’ll change your mind again,” I say. I want to dive into this headfirst but am desperately afraid I will hit the bottom.
“I won’t. I have never changed my mind. I’ve just fought my feelings for you. I know you can’t trust my words alone, but I want to earn your trust. I won’t hurt you again,” he promises and leans his forehead against mine.
“Please don’t,” I beg. I don’t care how pathetic I sound.
“I love you, Tessa,” he says and my heart leaps out of my chest. The words sound perfect coming off his lips and I would do anything to be able to hear them again.
“I love you, Hardin.” This is the first time we have both openly said the words, and I fight down my urge to panic over the possibility that he could take them back again. Even if he does, I will always have the memory of how they sounded, how they made me feel.
“Say it again,” he whispers and turns me around to face him. In his eyes I see more vulnerability than I had thought possible for him. I move to my knees and take his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs over the light stubble on his perfect face. I can tell by his expression that he needs me to say it, over and over again. I will say it as many times as I have to until he believes that he is worthy of someone loving him.