What the hell about my dad? I haven’t seen or heard from him in eight years. The way Noah was acting kind of solemn . . . Did he die? I don’t know how I’d feel about that.

“What about Dad?” I raise my voice as I burst into her room. Her eyes go wide but she composes herself quickly. “Well?” I shout.

She rolls her eyes. “Tessa, you need to lower your voice. It is nothing, nothing that you need to worry about.”

“That’s not for you to decide—tell me what’s going on! Is he dead?”

“Dead? Oh no. I would tell you if he was,” she says and drops a hand as if to pooh-pooh me.

“Then what is it?”

She sighs and looks at me for a second. “He’s moved back. Not too far from where you are now, but he won’t be contacting you, so don’t you worry about it. I took care of it.”

“What does that even mean?” I don’t have enough space in my head for all of this crap with Hardin, and now my absentee father is moving back to Washington. Now that I think about it, I didn’t know he moved away in the first place. I only knew he wasn’t around me.

“It doesn’t mean anything. I was going to tell you when I called you Friday night, but since you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone, I handled it myself.”

I was too drunk to answer that night—thank goodness I didn’t. I could have never handled this wasted. I can barely handle it now.

“He isn’t going to bother you, so wipe that sad look off of your face and get ready, we’re going to do some shopping,” she says, too indifferently.

“I don’t really want to go shopping, Mother. This is sort of a big deal to me, you know.”

“No, it isn’t,” she says, full of annoyance and venom. “He hasn’t been around for years. He still won’t be around now, nothing has changed.” She disappears into her closet, and I realize there’s no use arguing with her.

I walk back to the living room, grab my phone, and put my shoes on.

“Where are you guys going?” Noah asks.

“Who knows,” I say and walk out into the chill air.

I wasted all this time coming here, two hours of driving in the snow just to have her be a complete witch . . . no, bitch. She’s a complete bitch. I wipe the snow off my windshield with my arm; a terrible idea, since it only freezes me further. Climbing inside the car, I clench my rattling teeth as I start the engine and wait for it to heat up somewhat.

As I drive, I scream, repeatedly calling my mother every foul name I can think of. When I’ve exhausted my voice, I try to figure out what to do next, but memories of my father flood my mind, and I can’t concentrate on anything. Tears soaking my cheeks, I grab my phone off the passenger seat.

In a few seconds, Hardin’s voice booms through the small speaker. “Tess? Are you okay?”

“Yeah . . .” I start, but my voice betrays me and I choke on a sob.

“What happened? What did she do?”

“She . . . can I come back?” I ask, and he lets out a deep breath.

“Of course you can, baby . . . Tessa.” He corrects himself, but I find myself wishing we hadn’t.

“How far are you?” he asks.

“Twenty minutes,” I cry.

“Okay, do you want to stay on the phone?”

“No . . . it’s snowing,” I explain and hang up.

I shouldn’t have left in the first place. It’s ironic that I’m running to Hardin despite everything he has done.

Far too long later, when I pull into the parking lot, I’m still crying. I wipe my face the best I can, but my makeup streaks and dirties my face. When I step out into the snow, I see Hardin standing by the door covered in snow. Without thinking, I run over and wrap my arms around him. He steps back, obviously thrown off by my affection, but then he wraps his arms around me and lets me cry into his snow-covered sweatshirt.

Chapter twenty-eight

HARDIN

Holding her for the first time in what seems like a lifetime is better than I could even begin to describe. Physical relief floods through me when she runs into my arms—I never expected this to happen. She has been so distant, so cold lately. I don’t blame her, but fuck if it hasn’t hurt.

“Are you okay?” I ask into her hair.

She nods her head up and down against my chest but continues to cry. I know she isn’t okay. Her mother probably said some shit to her that she shouldn’t have. I knew this would happen, and honestly, the greedy part of me is glad for whatever she did. Not because she hurt Tessa, but because it meant my girl ran to me for comfort.

“Let’s go inside,” I say.

She nods but doesn’t let go of me, so I force myself to release my arms from her and walk us both inside. Her beautiful face is marked with black streaks and her eyes and lips are swollen. I hope she didn’t cry the whole drive.

As soon as we step into the lobby, I pull out the scarf I brought down and wrap it around her head and ears, making a soft purple bundle around her beautiful face. She must be cold only wearing that dress. That dress . . . I would normally go into an extended fantasy about peeling the thin fabric off her. But not today, not while she’s like this.

She lets out the cutest hiccup and pulls the scarf over her head. Her blond hair sticks up out of the side in a big knot, making her look even younger than usual.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I take the small chance to ask her when we step off the elevator and walk down to our . . . the apartment.

She nods, and I unlock the door. My mum is sitting on the couch and worry spreads across her face as she takes in Tessa’s appearance. I shoot her a warning glare, hoping she’ll remember the promise she made to not bombard Tessa with questions about her return. Mum tears her eyes from Tessa and looks at the television, feigning indifference.