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“I don’t believe you, especially since it doesn’t sound like you believe yourself.” He leans back against the cushion on the chair and lifts his legs onto the table. “Where’s your place at, then? Which neighborhood in Seattle?”
“It’s not in Seattle,” I say curtly. My tongue is suddenly made of lead, and I can’t get a word out.
“Oh, where, then? Which suburb?” he asks snidely.
“It’s New York, Hardin. I want to go—”
That gets him believing. “New York?” He removes his feet from the table and stands up. “You’re talking about actual New York? Or is that some little hipster neighborhood in Seattle that I haven’t come across yet?”
“Actual New York,” I clarify as he paces across the deck. “In a week.”
Hardin is silent except for his feet hitting the wood as he walks up and down the length of the deck. “When did you decide this?” he finally asks.
“After London and after my father passed away.” I stand.
“So me being an asshole to you made you want to pack your shit and go to New York City? You’ve never even left the state of Washington—what makes you think you could live in a place like that?”
His response stirs my defensive side. “I could live anywhere that I want! Don’t try to belittle me.”
“Belittle you? Tessa, you’re one thousand times better at everything than I am—I am not trying to belittle you. I’m only asking, what makes you think that you can live in New York? Where would you even live?”
“With Landon.”
Hardin’s eyes widen. “Landon?”
This is the look I’ve been waiting for, wishing wouldn’t come, but now that it’s here, sadly, I feel slightly at ease. Hardin was taking everything so well; he was being more understanding, calm, and cautious with his words than ever before. It was throwing me off.
This look I know. This is Hardin trying to control his temper.
“Landon. You and Landon are moving to New York.”
“Yes, he was already going, and I—”
“Whose idea was this—yours or his?” Hardin’s voice is low, and I realize that it’s much less angry than I expected. There is something worse than anger, though, and it’s hurt. Hardin is hurt, and I can feel my stomach and chest tightening at the surprised, betrayed, guarded energy taking over him.
I don’t want to tell Hardin that Landon asked me to move to New York. I don’t want to tell Hardin that Landon and Ken have been helping me with recommendation letters and transcripts, admission packets and applications.
“I’m going to take a semester off when I get there,” I tell him, in hopes of distracting him from his question.
He turns to me, cheeks red under the patio light, eyes wild, and hands clenched at his sides. “It was his idea, wasn’t it? He knew this all along, and while he had me convinced that we were—I don’t know—friends . . . brothers even, he was going behind my back.”
“Hardin, it isn’t like that,” I say to defend Landon.
“Like hell it isn’t. You two are something fucking else,” he shouts, waving his hands frantically in front of his body. “You sat there and let me make a fool out of myself offering you marriage and adoption and all kinds of shit, and you knew—you fucking knew—you were leaving anyway?” He tugs at his hair and changes the direction of his moving feet. He’s walking toward the door now, and I try to stop him.
“Don’t go in there like this, please. Stay out here with me and we can finish talking about this. We have so much more to talk about.”
“Stop! Just fucking stop!” He shrugs my hand off his shoulder when I try to touch him.
Hardin yanks on the handle of the screen door, and I am sure that the noise I hear is its hinges loosening. I follow closely behind him, hoping that he isn’t going to do exactly what I think he will, exactly what he always does when anything bad happens in his life, in our life.
“Landon!” Hardin yells the moment he steps into the kitchen. I’m thankful that Ken and Karen seem to have gone upstairs for the night.
“What?” Landon shouts back.
I follow Hardin into the dining room, where Landon and Sophia are still seated at the table, a nearly empty plate of desserts between them.
As Hardin barrels into the room, jaw clenched, fists tight, Landon’s expression changes. “What’s going on?” he asks, eyeing his stepbrother carefully before looking to me.
“Don’t look at her, look at me,” Hardin snaps.
Sophia jumps in her seat, but quickly recovers and turns her focus to me as I stand behind Hardin.
“Hardin, he didn’t do anything wrong. He is my best friend, and he was only trying to help,” I say. I know what Hardin’s capable of, and the thought of Landon being on the receiving end of that makes me sick to my stomach.
Hardin doesn’t turn around, but just says, “Stay out of this, Tessa.”
“What are you talking about?” Landon asks, though I know that he is fully aware of what it is that made Hardin so angry. “Wait, this is about New York, isn’t it?”
“Fuck yes, it’s about New York!” Hardin yells at him.
Landon stands up, and Sophia sends Hardin a murderous warning glare. Right then I decide that I’m okay with her and Landon becoming more than friendly neighbors.
“I was only looking out for Tessa when I invited her to come with me! You broke up with her and she was broken, absolutely broken. New York is what is best for her,” Landon calmly explains.