Page 102

“You know how fucked-up you are? You pretended to by my fucking friend, and then you go and pull this shit?” Hardin begins pacing again, this time in a smaller circle across the empty space in the dining room.
“I wasn’t pretending! You messed up again, and I was trying to help her!” Landon yells back at Hardin. “I’m both of your friends!”
My heart is racing as Hardin crosses the room and wraps his fists around Landon’s shirt.
“Help her by taking her away from me!” Hardin pushes Landon against the wall.
“You were too high to care!” Landon screams into Hardin’s face.
Sophia and I are both watching, frozen. I know Hardin and Landon much better than she does, and even I don’t know what to say or do. It’s pure chaos: the two men yelling in each other’s face, the noise from Ken and Karen rushing down the stairs, the rattling and shattering glasses and plates from how Hardin grabbed and dragged Landon to the wall.
“You knew what you were fucking doing! I trusted you, you piece of shit!”
“Go on, then! Hit me!” Landon exclaims.
Hardin’s fist rises, but Landon doesn’t blink. I yell Hardin’s name, and I think I hear Ken doing the same. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Karen tug at Ken’s shirt, holding him back from stepping between the two men.
“Hit me, Hardin! You’re so tough and violent—go on and fucking hit me!” Landon goads again.
“I will! I’ll—” Hardin’s hand lowers, only to rise again.
Landon’s cheeks are red with anger and his chest is heaving, but he doesn’t look the least bit afraid of Hardin. He looks pissed off and very collected at once. I feel the opposite; I feel like if the two people I care about the most get into a fight right now, I don’t know what I would do.
I look at Karen and Ken again. They don’t seem concerned for Landon’s health. They are too calm right now while Hardin and Landon are screaming back and forth.
“You won’t do it,” Landon says.
“Yes, I fucking will! I will smash this stupid fucking cast . . .” But Hardin trails off. He stares at Landon and turns back to look at me before focusing on Landon once more. “Fuck you!” he shouts.
He lowers his fist and turns on his heel to leave the room. Landon is still against the wall, looking as if he might punch something himself. Sophia is on her feet now, moving to comfort him. Karen and Ken are talking quietly between themselves, walking toward Landon, and I . . . well, I’m standing in the middle of the dining room, trying to understand what just happened.
Landon demanded that Hardin hit him. Hardin’s temper was already shot; he felt betrayed and screwed over again, and yet he didn’t do it. Hardin Scott walked away from violence, even in the heat of the moment.
Chapter sixty-one
HARDIN
I keep walking until I’m outside, and only then do I realize that Ken and Karen had been in the room. Why didn’t they try to stop me? Did they somehow know that I wouldn’t hit him?
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
The spring air isn’t fucking crisp or fresh or flowery or anything that could help me snap out of this shit. I’m getting back there; I’m seeing red around the corners of my vision, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to slip and fucking lose everything that I’ve been working toward. I don’t want to lose this new and much easier version of myself. If I had hit him, if I had knocked Landon’s goddamn teeth down his throat, I would have lost. I would have lost everything, including Tessa.
Then again, I don’t really have her. I haven’t had her since I sent her packing in London. She’s been planning this little getaway the entire time. Right alongside Landon. Both of them have been plotting behind my fucking back, planning to leave me behind in the shitty state of Washington while they travel the country together. She sat there in silence as I poured myself out to her and let me make a fucking fool of myself.
Landon had me fooled this entire time, thinking that he actually gave a fuck about me. Everyone around me keeps fucking me over and lying, and I’m sick of it. Hardin, stupid fucking Hardin, the guy who no one gives a fuck about, always the last to know every fucking thing. That’s me—always has been, always will be.
Tessa is the only person in my entire life that ever took the time to care about me, care for me, and make me feel like I’m actually worth someone’s time.
I agree we haven’t had the easiest relationship. I’ve made mistake after mistake, and I could have done a lot of shit differently—but I would never abuse her. If she sees me or our relationship like that, then there really is no hope for us.
I think the hardest thing to explain is that there is a big difference between our relationship being unhealthy and being abusive. I think that a lot of people are quick to judge without putting themselves in the shoes of people who deal with this shit.
My shoes track across the grass and toward the line of trees at the end of the property. I don’t know where the hell I’m going or what I’m going to do back here, but I need to calm my breathing and concentrate before I snap.
Fucking Landon had to push me; he just had to push my fucking buttons and try to make me hit him. But I didn’t have the raging rush of adrenaline, my blood wasn’t singing in my veins—my mouth wasn’t watering at the idea of a fight, for once.
Why the hell would he tell me to hit him? He’s an idiot, that’s why.
Motherfucker is what he is.
Bastard.
Asshole.
Fucking idiot asshole motherfucker.