“Theresa,” my mother says. “I think we’ve have heard enough.” She grabs hold of my arm. “It’s time to go.”

Hardin moves toward her and she steps back, gripping me tighter.

“Let go of her, now,” he says through gritted teeth.

Her plum nails dig into my skin as I try to process the events of the last two minutes. I had not expected my mother to barge into the apartment—and I certainly didn’t expect Trish to drop hints about yet another one of Hardin’s secrets.

Has he done this before? To who? Did he love her? Did she love him? He said he had never been with a virgin before, he said he had never loved anyone before. Was he lying? The angry mask he wears makes it hard for me to decipher.

“You don’t get to have a say in anything that concerns her any longer,” my mother strikes back.

But, surprising everyone in the room, even myself, I slowly pull my arm from my mother’s grip . . . and step behind Hardin. Hardin’s mouth falls open, like he’s unsure what I’m doing. Trish and my mother wear identical horrified expressions

“Theresa! Don’t be stupid. Get over here!” my mother instructs.

In response, I wrap my fingers around Hardin’s forearm and stay hidden behind him. I don’t really understand why, but I do. I should be leaving with my mother, or forcing Hardin to tell me what the hell Trish is talking about. But, really, I just want my mother to go away. I need a few minutes, hours—some time—to comprehend what’s going on. I just forgave Hardin. I just decided to forget everything and move on with him. Why must there always be some secret locked away that comes to a head at the worst possible time?

“Theresa.” My mother takes another step toward me, and Hardin brings his arm back to wrap around me. To protect me from her.

“Stay away from her,” he warns.

Trish steps forward. “Hardin. That is her daughter. You have no right coming between them.”

“I have no right? She has no right coming into our apartment, into our fucking bedroom, uninvited!” he shouts. My grip on his arm tightens.

“That’s not her bedroom, nor is this her apartment,” my mother says.

“Yes. It is! See who she’s standing behind? She’s using me as a shield to block her from you.” Hardin points a thick finger at her.

“She’s just being foolish and doesn’t understand what’s best for her—”

But I interrupt her, finally finding part of my voice. “Stop speaking as if I’m not here! I’m right here, and I’m an adult, Mother. If I want to stay, I will,” I announce.

With pitying eyes, Trish tries to appeal to me. “Tessa, honey. I think you should listen to your mother.”

The sting of her dismissal burns my chest like a betrayal, but I don’t know what she knows about her son.

“Thank you!” My mother sighs. “At least someone in this family is reasonable.”

Trish shoots her a warning glare. “Missy, I don’t agree with how you treat your daughter, so don’t think that we’re on the same team here, because we’re not.”

My mother shrugs a little. “Regardless, we both agree that you need to go, Tessa. You need to leave this apartment and not come back. We can transfer you to another school if need be.”

“She can make up her own—” Hardin starts.

“He has poisoned your mind, Theresa—look at the things he’s done to you. Do you know him at all?” my mother asks.

“I know him, Mother,” I say through my teeth.

My mother turns her attention to Hardin. I don’t know why she’s not afraid of him, the way his chest is heaving up and down, the way his cheeks are flaring with anger, the way his fists are clenched into balls so tightly that his knuckles are white. He should intimidate her, but she’s unfazed as she says, “Boy, if you care for her, even a little bit, you will tell her to go. You have done nothing but break her down. She isn’t the same girl that I dropped off at college three months ago, and that’s your fault. You didn’t have to see her cry for days over what you did to her. You were probably partying with another girl while she was crying herself to sleep. You have destroyed her—how can you even live with yourself? You know you’ll hurt her again sooner or later. So if you have one decent bone in your body, you’ll tell her . . . tell her to come with me.”

The silence in the room is chilling.

Trish stands silently staring at the wall, deep in thought, likely mulling over Hardin’s past actions. My mother is glaring at Hardin, waiting for his response. Hardin is breathing so hard he may combust. And me, I’m trying to decide which will win the battle inside of me: my heart or my head?

“I’m not going with you,” I finally say.

In response to my decision—my adult decision, one that I know will have consequences I will have to deal with, that will make me endure some very difficult things as I try to figure out whether I can be with the man I love or not—my mother rolls her eyes.

And I lose it.

“You aren’t welcome here—don’t ever come back!” I scream with a bloody rawness in my throat. “Who do you think you are, busting in here, and with the nerve to talk to him that way!” I push past Hardin and come face-to-face with her. “I want nothing to do with you! No one does! That’s why you’re alone after all these years—you are cruel and conceited! You will never be happy!” I take a breath and swallow, feeling just how dry my throat is.