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“Why couldn’t you bring this up to me before throwing it in her face at the fucking dinner table—in front of everyone!” I shout at him, squeezing my fists tight to my sides.
“I think Tessa should have some say in it, and I knew you’d refuse my offer to pay.” His voice is calm, unlike mine. I’m pissed the hell off and my blood is boiling. I’m reminded of the many times I stormed out of family dinners at the Scott residence. It might as well be a damn tradition.
“You’re damn right, I refuse. You don’t need to be throwing your fucking money around to us—we don’t need it.”
“That’s not my intention here. I just want to help you in any way that I can.”
“How is sending her fuckup of a father to rehab going to help me?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
He sighs. “Because if he’s well, then she’s well. And she’s the only way to help you. I know that, and so do you.”
I let out a deep breath, not even arguing back, because he’s right this time. I just need a few minutes to calm down, to bring myself back to reason.
Chapter one hundred and twenty-seven
TESSA
I’m relieved when neither Hardin nor Ken come back into the dining room with a bloody nose or black eye.
As Ken sits back down and places his napkin on his lap, he says, “I apologize again for bringing that up at the table. I was completely out of line.”
“It’s okay, really. I really appreciate your offer.” I force a smile. I do appreciate it, but it’s too much to accept.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Hardin hums into my ear.
I nod and Karen stands up to clear the table. I’ve barely touched my food. The mention of my father’s . . . problem . . . stole away my appetite.
Hardin pulls my chair closer to his. “Eat some dessert, at least.”
But I’m cramping again; the ibuprofen has worn off, and my headache and cramps have returned with a vengeance. “I’ll try,” I agree.
Karen brings a tray stacked with mounds of her maple-flavored treats to the table, and I reach for a cupcake. Hardin grabs for a square, eyeing the perfectly iced flowers on top.
“I did that one,” I lie.
He smiles at me, shaking his head.
“I wish we didn’t have to leave,” I say when he glances at the clock. I try not to think about the watch he gave away to pay my father’s debt to the drug dealer. Is rehab really the best thing for my father? Would he even accept the offer?
“You’re the one who packed up and moved to Seattle,” he grumbles.
“I meant here, tonight,” I clarify, hoping he’ll catch on.
“Oh no . . . I’m not staying here.”
“I want to,” I say with a pout.
“Tessa, we’re going home . . . to my apartment, where your dad is.”
I frown; that’s exactly why I don’t want to go there. I need some time to think and breathe, and this house seems to be perfect for that, even with Ken’s mention of rehab at the dinner table. It’s always been a sort of sanctuary. I love this house, and being in that apartment has been torture since I arrived yesterday.
“Okay.” I pick at the corner of my cupcake.
Finally Hardin sighs in defeat. “Fine, we’ll stay.”
I knew I’d get my way.
The remainder of our time at the table isn’t as awkward as what came before. Landon is quiet, too quiet, and I fully intend to ask him what’s wrong after I finish helping Karen clean up the kitchen.
“I’ve missed having you around here.” Karen closes the dishwasher and turns to me, wiping her hands on a towel.
“I’ve missed being here so much.” I lean back against the counter.
“I’m glad to hear it. You’ve become like a daughter to me; I want you to know that.” Karen’s bottom lip quivers, and her eyes shine under the bright lights of the kitchen.
“Are you all right?” I ask her, moving to stand next to the woman whom I’ve come to care for so much.
“Yes.” She smiles. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so emotional lately.” She shakes it off, and just like that, she’s back to normal, presenting a reassuring smile.
“Are you ready for bed?” Hardin joins us in the kitchen, grabbing another maple square on his way over to me. I knew he liked them more than he let on.
“Go on, I’m just a mess.” Karen hugs me and places a loving kiss on my cheek before Hardin wraps his arm around me, practically forcing me out of the kitchen.
I sigh as we make our way to the staircase. Something doesn’t feel right. “I’m worried about her, and Landon,” I say.
“They’re fine, I’m sure,” Hardin says as he leads me upstairs and to the door of his room. Landon’s bedroom door is closed, and there’s no light leaking out from beneath it. “He’s sleeping.”
Stepping into Hardin’s bedroom, I immediately feel like it welcomes me, from the bay window to the new desk and chair, replacements for the ones Hardin destroyed the last time he was here. I’ve been at the house since then, but I didn’t pay much attention. Now that I’m here again, I want to take in every detail.
“What?” Hardin’s voice startles me from my own thoughts.
I look around the room, remembering the first time I stayed here with him. “I’m just reminiscing, that’s all,” I say, stepping out of my shoes.
He grins. “Reminiscing, huh?” In an instant, his black shirt is pulled up and over his head and tossed to me, dragging me deeper into my memories. “Care to share?” His jeans are next; he pushes them down his legs quickly, tossing them to the floor in a messy heap.