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Chapter forty
TESSA
Tessie! In here, come in here!” my father calls down the hall, excitement clear in his loud voice.
I climb out of my small bed and rush out to him. The loose ties on my robe nearly trip me in my haste, and I fumble to bind them again as I burst into the living room . . . where my mother and father are standing next to a beautifully decorated and lit-up tree.
I’ve always loved Christmas.
“Look, Tessie, we got you a gift. I know you’re an adult now, but I saw this and had to get it for you.” My father smiles and my mother leans into him.
An adult? I look down at my feet, trying to decipher his words. I’m not an adult, at least I don’t think I am.
A small box is placed into my hand, and without so much as a thought I eagerly rip the shiny bow off the gift. I love gifts. I don’t get them often, so when I do, it’s special for me.
As I tear at it, I look up at my parents, but my mother’s excitement throws me off. I’ve never seen her smile this way, and my father, well, I feel as if he shouldn’t be here, but I can’t remember why that is.
“Hurry and open it!” my father urges as I lift the lid off the box.
I nod excitedly and reach inside . . . only to pull my hand back when something sharp pricks my finger. I nearly curse from the pain and drop the box to the floor. A needle falls onto the carpet. When I look back up at my parents, my father’s skin has lost all color and his eyes have gone void.
My mother’s smile is bright again, brighter than I’ve ever seen it before—as bright as a blinding sun, it suddenly seems. My father bends down and grabs the needle from the floor. He takes a step toward me, needle in hand, and I try to back away, but my feet won’t move. They won’t move no matter how hard I try, and I’m left helpless, only to scream as he pushes the weapon into my arm.
“TESSA!” LANDON’S VOICE is frantic, loud, and frightening as he shakes my shoulders.
I’m sitting up somehow, and my shirt is stained with sweat. I look at him, then back down to my arm, searching like a lunatic for puncture marks.
“Are you okay?” he exclaims.
I gasp for breath, my chest aching as I struggle to find air and my voice. I shake my head, and Landon tightens his grip on my shoulders.
“I heard you scream, so I—” Landon is rendered silent when Hardin barges into the room.
Hardin’s cheeks are flushed a deep red, and his eyes are wild. “What happened?” He brushes Landon off me and sits next to me on the bed. “I heard you scream—what happened?” His hands move to my cheeks, and his thumbs brush over the tearstains there.
“I don’t know. I had a dream,” I manage to say.
“What sort of dream?” Hardin’s voice is nearly a whisper, and his thumbs are still gliding, slowly as ever, across the skin just under my eyes.
“The kind that you have,” I reply, my voice equally hushed.
A sigh leaves his lips, and he frowns. “Since when? Since when do you have my sort of dreams?”
I take a moment to collect my thoughts. “Only since I found him, and it’s only been twice. I don’t know where they’re coming from.”
His distressed hand runs over his hair, and my heart twists at the sight of the familiar gesture. “Well, I’m sure finding the body of your dead father would cause anyone to—” He stops midsentence. “I’m sorry, fuck, I need a filter.” He sighs in frustration.
He shifts his eyes from mine and looks over to the bedside table. “Do you need anything? Water?” He tries to smile, but it’s forced, sad even. “I feel like I’ve offered you water a thousand times in the last few days.”
“I just need to go back to sleep.”
“I’ll stay?” he half demands, half asks.
“I don’t think . . .” I look over at Landon. I almost forgot he was in the room with us.
“It’s cool.” Hardin’s eyes stare past me at the wall behind my head. “I get it.”
When he shrugs his shoulders in defeat, it takes everything inside me, every ounce of my self-respect, not to wrap my arms around his neck and beg him to sleep with me. I need his comfort; I need his arms around my waist and my head on his chest as I fall asleep. I need him to give me the peace in sleep that I have always provided for him, but he’s no longer the safety net I relied on. Then again, has he ever been? He’s been on and off, always just out of reach, constantly running from me and our love. I can’t chase him again. I simply don’t have the strength to chase after something so unattainable, so unrealistic.
By the time I manage to break free from my thoughts, only Landon remains in the room with me.
“Scoot over,” he quietly instructs.
I do just that and fall back asleep, regretting my earlier thoughts of wishing I had stayed away from Hardin.
Even in the midst of the inevitable tragedy that was our relationship, I would never take a second of it back. I wouldn’t do it again, but I don’t regret a moment I spent with him.
Chapter forty-one
HARDIN
The weather here is much better than in Seattle. The rain is nowhere to be found, and the sun has come out for a rare appearance. It’s April now: it’s about damn time that the sun is out.
Tessa has been in the kitchen with Karen and that Sophia chick all day. I’m trying to show her that I can give her space, that I can wait until she’s ready to talk to me—but it’s harder than I could have imagined. Last night was hard for me—really damn hard, to see her so distraught, so afraid. I hate that my nightmares have rubbed off on her. My horrors are contagious, and I would take them from her if I could.