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“I’m not a mind reader, Tessa. What are you confused about?”
A lump forms in my throat. “This. Us. I don’t know what to do. About us. About your betrayal.” We’ve just started this conversation, and I’m already on the verge of tears.
A little harshly, he says, “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
He calls me out. “Yes, you do.”
There are a lot of things that I need to hear him say before I can be sure of what I want to do. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to stay with me. I want you to forgive me and give me another chance. I know I’ve asked you too many times, but please, just give me one more chance. I can’t be without you. I’ve tried, and I know you have, too. There isn’t anyone else for either of us. If it’s not us, it’s nothing—and I know that you know that, too.” His eyes are glassy when he finishes, and I wipe my tears away.
“You hurt me, so terribly, Hardin.”
“I know, baby, I know I did. I would give anything to take that back,” he says, then looks down at the bed with a strange expression. “Actually I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t change anything. Well, I would have told you sooner, obviously,” he says. I snap my head up. He brings his up and stares right into me. “I wouldn’t take it back, because we wouldn’t have been together if I hadn’t done such a fucked-up thing. Our paths would have never really crossed, not in the way that has bonded us together so tightly. Even though it’s destroyed my life, without that stupid, evil bet, I wouldn’t have had a life at all. I’m sure that makes you hate me even more, but you wanted the truth. And that’s the truth.”
Looking into Hardin through his green eyes, I don’t know what to say.
Because when I think about it—really think about it—I know I wouldn’t change anything either.
Chapter thirty-three
HARDIN
I’ve never been so honest with anyone before. But I want everything to be out on the table.
She starts crying and asks softly, “How will I know that you won’t hurt me again?”
I could tell she was trying to hold her tears in the whole time, but I’m glad she can’t anymore. I needed to see some emotion from her . . . she’s been so cold lately. So unlike her. I used to be able to tell what she was thinking by her eyes alone. Now a wall is up, blocking me from reading her the way only I can. I pray to God that the time we spent together today will work in my favor.
That and my honesty. “You won’t. Tessa, I can assure you that I will hurt you again. You will hurt me, too, but I can also assure you that I’ll never keep anything from you or betray you again. You may say some shit that you don’t mean, and God knows that I will, but we can work through our problems because that’s what people do. I just need this one last chance to show you that I can be the man you deserve. Please, Tessa. Please . . .” I beg.
She stares at me with red eyes, chewing on the inside of her cheek. I hate to see her this way, and I hate myself for making her this way.
“You love me, don’t you?” I ask, afraid of her answer.
“Yes. More than anything.” She admits with a sigh.
I can’t hide my stirrings of a smile. Hearing her say that she still loves me brings the life back into me. I’ve been so worried that she was going to give up on me, stop loving me and move on. I don’t deserve her, and I know that she’s aware of that.
But my mind is reeling, and she is being too quiet. I can’t handle the distance. “What can I do, then? What do I need to do so we can get through this?” I ask desperately. I use too much emphasis—I know because of how she looks at me, like she’s suddenly scared, or annoyed, or . . . I don’t know what. “I said the wrong thing, didn’t I.” I bring my hands to my face and wipe the moisture from my eyes. “I knew I would, you know I’m not good with words.”
I’ve never been this emotional in my entire life, and it doesn’t feel good. I’ve never had to or even cared to express my emotions to anyone but I will do anything for this girl. I always fuck everything up, but I have to fix this, or try as hard as I can.
“No . . .” she sobs. “I’m just . . . I don’t know. I want to be with you. I want to forget everything, but I don’t want to regret it. I don’t want to be that girl, the one who gets walked all over and treated like shit and just puts up with it.”
I lean toward her and ask, “To who? Who are you worried will think that?”
“Everyone, my mother, your friends . . . you.”
I knew that’s what it was. I knew that she was more worried about what she should do rather than what she wants to do. “Don’t think about anyone else. Who gives a shit what anyone else thinks? For once just consider what you want—what makes you happy?”
With big, round, beautiful, bloodshot, and crying eyes, she says, “You.” And my heart leaps. “I’m so tired of keeping everything in. I’m exhausted by all of the things I haven’t said and wanted to say,” she adds.
“Then don’t keep it in anymore,” I tell her.
“You make me happy, Hardin. But you also make me miserable, angry, and—most of all—you make me insane.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s why we’re so good together, Tess, because we are terrible for each other.” She makes me insane, too, and angry, but happy. So happy.
“We are terrible for each other,” she says with a small smile.
