The other half of me is tired. Tired of this cycle with Hardin. In the beginning of our relationship, it was a constant back-and-forth, with him being cruel, then nice, then cruel again. Now the cycle has evolved somewhat, but it’s worse. Much worse. I leave him, then come back, then leave him again. I cannot keep doing this—we cannot keep doing this. If there’s anything else that he’s hiding, it will break me—I’m barely holding myself together now. I can’t take any more secrets, any more heartache, any more breakups. I always used to have everything planned—every detail of my life was calculated, overanalyzed, until Hardin. He’s completely turned my life upside down, often in a negative way. And yet he’s also made me happier than I have ever been.

We need to be together and try to move past all of the terrible things he’s done, or I need to end things and keep them that way. If I leave him, I need to move away from here, far away. I need to leave behind every reminder of my life with him or I’ll never be able to move on.

And suddenly I realize the tears have stopped, telling me that my verdict is in. The pain that comes from considering leaving him is much worse than the pain he has caused me.

I can’t leave him. I know I can’t.

I know how pathetic that is, but there’s no way I can be without him. No one will ever make me feel the way he does. No one will ever be him. He is it for me, just the way I am it for him. I shouldn’t have had him leave. I needed time to think and I should take more time, but I’m already wanting him back. Is love always like this? Is it always so passionate, yet so damn painful? I have no experience to compare this to.

Hearing the front door open, I climb off the bed and rush into the living room. But I’m disappointed to find Trish instead of Hardin.

Trish hangs Hardin’s keys on the rack and removes her snow-covered shoes. I’m not sure what to say to her since she told me to leave with my mother.

“Where is Hardin?” she asks as she walks into the kitchen.

“He left . . . for the night,” I explain.

She turns to me. “Oh.”

“I’m sure if you call him he’ll tell you where he is, if you don’t want to stay here . . . with me.”

“Tessa,” she says, clearly searching for words, but with sympathy on her face. “I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t want you to think I have any ill feelings toward you—I don’t. I was just trying to protect you from what Hardin can do. I don’t want you to . . .”

“To end up like Natalie?”

I can see that the memory pains her. “He told you?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?” I hear the doubt in her voice.

“Yes—the tape, the pictures, the scholarship. Everything.”

“And you’re still here?”

“I told him I needed time and space, but yes. I’m not going anywhere.”

She nods, and we both sit down at the table across from each other. When she looks at me with wide eyes, I know what she’s thinking, so I say, “I know he’s done terrible things, deplorable things, but I believe him when he says that he’s changed. He isn’t that person anymore.”

Trish puts one hand over the other. “Tessa, he’s my son, and I love him, but you really have to think about this. He just did the same thing to you that he did before. I know that he loves you—that’s clear to me now—but I’m just afraid that the damage has been done.”

I nod, appreciative of her honesty. But I tell her, “It hasn’t. Well, damage has most certainly been done, but it’s not irreversible. And it’s my decision to figure out how to deal with his past. And if I hold his past against him, how will he move forward? Is he never deserving of love forever more? I know you probably think I’m naive and foolish to keep forgiving him, but I love your son, and I cannot be without him, either.”

Trish softly clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Tessa, I don’t think you’re either of those things. If anything, your forgiveness shows maturity and compassion. My son hates himself—always has—and I thought he always would, until you. I was mortified when your mum told me what he did to you, and for that I’m sorry. I don’t know where I went wrong with Hardin. I tried to be the best mother that I could be, but it was so hard with his father not being around. I had to work so much, and I didn’t give him the attention that I should have. If I had, maybe he would have more respect for women.”

I know that if she hadn’t already cried herself out today, she’d be crying now. The guilt in her is so thick, I just want to comfort her. “He’s not this way because of you. I think it has a lot to do with his feelings about his father and the type of friends he has, both of which I’m trying to work on. Please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault.”

Trish reaches across the table, and I give her my hands. Taking them in hers, she says, “You are certainly the most kind-hearted person I’ve met in all of my thirty-five years.”

I arch my brow. “Thirty-five?”

“Hey, just go with it. I can pass, right?” She smiles.

“Definitely.” I laugh.

Twenty minutes ago I was just crying and on the verge of a breakdown, and now I’m laughing with Trish. The moment I decided to let Hardin’s past be his past, I felt most of the tension leave my body.

“Maybe I should call him and tell him what I’ve decided,” I say.

Trish tilts her head to the side and smirks. “I think he could use a little time to stir.”