Page 54

The back door opens with a creak, and I curse at myself, hoping that my mother doesn’t come flying out into the yard to drag me back into the house. The sun has worked magic on the thick mud that covered the floor of the greenhouse. Dark, wet patches still cover half the space, but I’m able to find a dry spot to stand. The last thing I need is to ruin these high-heeled shoes my mother couldn’t afford to buy me in the first place.
A movement catches my eye, and I begin to panic until Hardin comes into view from behind a shelf. His eyes are clear, and beneath them dark circles shadow his pale skin. The usual glow, the warm tan, of Hardin’s skin has vanished and been replaced with a fragile, haunted ivory.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” I say, quick to apologize and immediately backing out of the small space. “I’ll go.”
“No, it’s fine. It was your hiding space to begin with, remember?” He gives me a small smile, and even the tiniest of smiles from him feels more real than the countless fakes I’ve received today.
“True, but I need to go inside anyway.”
I grab the handle of the screen door, but he reaches out to stop me from opening it. I jerk away the moment his fingers graze my arm, and he sucks in a harsh breath from my rejection. He quickly recovers and reaches past me to hold on to the door handle, making sure I can’t leave.
“Tell me why you came out here,” he softly demands.
“I just . . .” I struggle for the words. After my conversation with Zed, I lost the urge to discuss my terrible thoughts about my father’s death. “It’s nothing.”
“Tessa, tell me.” He knows me well enough to know that I’m lying, and I know him well enough to know he isn’t going to let me leave this greenhouse until I tell him the truth.
But can I trust him?
My eyes look him over, and I can’t help but focus on the new dress shirt he’s wearing. He must have purchased it solely for the funeral because I know every shirt he owns, and there is no way he could fit into Noah’s clothes. Not that he would ever wear them . . .
The black sleeve of the new shirt is ripped open from the cuff, making room for his cast.
“Tessa,” he presses, bringing me from my inner distraction. The top button on his shirt is undone and the collar is crooked.
I take a step back from him. “I don’t think we should do this.”
“Do what? Talk? I just want to know what it is you’re hiding from.”
What a simple yet loaded demand. I’m hiding from everything. I’m hiding from too many things to name, him being the most important of those things. I want to vent my feelings to Hardin, but it’s just too easy to slide back into our pattern, and I’m not willing to play these games anymore. I can’t take another round. He has won, and I’m learning to be okay with that.
“You and I both know you’re not leaving this greenhouse until you spill, so save us both the time and energy and tell me.” He attempts this line as a joke, but I can see the flicker of desperation behind his eyes.
“I’m mad,” I finally admit.
He nods sharply. “Of course you are.”
“I mean I’m really mad, like pissed-off.”
“You should be.”
I look over at him. “I should be?”
“Hell yeah, you should be. I’d be pissed off, too.”
I don’t think he gets what I’m trying to say. “I’m mad at my father, Hardin. I’m so mad at him,” I clarify and wait for Hardin’s response to change.
“So am I.”
“You are?”
“Hell yeah, I am. And you should be, too; you have every right to be pissed-off at his ass. Dead or not.”
I can’t stop the laugh that falls from my lips at the serious expression covering Hardin’s face while he speaks such ridiculous words. “You don’t think it’s wrong that I can’t even be sad anymore because I’m so damn mad at him for killing himself?” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and pause before continuing, “That’s what he did. He killed himself, and he didn’t even think about how it would affect anyone. I know that’s selfish of me to say that, but that’s how I feel.”
My gaze drops to the dirt floor. I’m ashamed to say these things, to mean them, but I feel so much better now that they are out there floating around. I hope the words stay here, in this greenhouse, and I hope that if my father is up there somewhere, he can’t hear me.
Hardin’s fingers press under my chin and he tilts my head up. “Hey,” he says, and I don’t flinch from his touch, but I am grateful when he drops his hand. “Don’t be ashamed to feel that way. He did kill himself, and it’s no one’s fault but his own. I saw how fucking excited you were when he came back into your life, and he’s an idiot for throwing that away just to get high.” Hardin’s tone is harsh, but his words are exactly what I need to hear right now.
He softly chuckles. “But I’m one to talk, right?” He closes his eyes and slowly shakes his head back and forth.
I quickly direct the conversation away from our relationship. “I feel bad for feeling this way. I don’t want to disrespect him.”
“Fuck that.” Hardin waves his cast-covered hand through the air between us. “You are allowed to feel how you want to fucking feel, and no one can say shit about it.”
“I wish everyone felt that way.” I sigh. I know confiding in Hardin isn’t healthy, and I have to tread lightly here, but I just know he’s the only one who actually understands me.