He’s managed to build this life around him, full of people who love and cherish him, while I’ve managed to destroy every relationship I thought I had. We fought and we battled, we won and we lost, and now my friendship with Landon has become just another casualty of Hardin and Tessa.

As soon as I’ve thought his name, like he’s some kind of genie I can summon, Hardin opens the door, strolling in calmly while he rubs a towel over his wet hair.

“What’s going on?” he asks. But as soon as he sees my state, the towel is quickly discarded, and he darts across the room to kneel before me.

I don’t try to mask my tears; I don’t see the point. “We are Catherine and Heathcliff,” I proclaim, devastated by the truth.

Hardin frowns. “What? What the hell happened?”

“We have made everyone around us miserable, and I don’t know if I just didn’t notice or I was too selfish to care, but it happened. Even Landon—even Landon has been affected by us.”

“Where is this coming from?” Hardin stands. “Did he fucking say something to you?”

“No.” I pull Hardin by the arm, begging him not to go downstairs. “He only said the truth. I see it now, I was just trying to force myself to see it, but now I get it.” I wipe my fingers under my eyes and take a breath to continue. “You aren’t the one who was ruining me; I did it myself. I changed, and you changed. But you changed for the better. I did not.”

Saying it out loud makes it easier to accept. I’m not perfect. I never will be. And that’s okay, but I can’t drag Hardin down with me. I have to fix what is wrong inside me—it isn’t fair to want that from Hardin without doing it myself.

He shakes his head, staring at me with those beautiful emerald eyes. “You’re talking crazy. None of this makes any sense.”

“Yes.” I stand and tuck my hair behind my ears. “It’s completely clear to me.”

I am trying to stay as calm as I can, but it’s hard, because he doesn’t get it and it’s so clear—how does he not get it?

“I need you to do something for me. I need you to promise me something right now,” I beg.

“What? Hell no, I’m not promising anything, Tessa—what the fuck are you going on about?” He reaches under my chin and gently lifts my head to him. His other hand wipes at the moisture covering my face.

“Please, promise me something. If we could ever have a chance of a future together, you have to do something for me.”

“Fine, fine,” he quickly agrees.

“I mean it, I am begging you, if you love me, you will listen to me and do this for me. If you can’t, we will never have a future, Hardin.”

I don’t mean the words as a threat. They are a plea. I need this from him. I need him to understand and to heal and to live his life while I try to fix mine.

He swallows; his eyes meet mine, and I know he doesn’t want to agree, but he says anyway, “Okay, I promise.”

“Don’t follow me this time, Hardin. Stay here and be with your family and—”

“Tessa”—he cups my face with his hands resting under my jaw—“no, stop this. We will figure this New York shit out, don’t overreact.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going to New York, and I promise you that I’m not overreacting. I know this seems dramatic and impulsive, but I promise it’s not. We have both been through so much in the last year, and if we don’t take a little time to make sure this is what we want, we will end up taking everyone down with us, even more so than we already have.” I try to make him understand; he has to understand.

“How long?” His shoulders slump and his fingers brush his hair back.

“Until we know that we’re ready.” I feel more resolute than I have in the last eight months.

“Know what? I already know what I want with you.”

“I need this, Hardin. If I can’t get myself together, I would resent you and myself. I need this.”

“Fine, you can have it. I’m giving this to you, not because I want to, but because this will be the last doubt I will ever entertain from you. After I give you this time and you come back to me, that’s it. You aren’t leaving again, and you will marry me. This is what I want in return for this time you need.”

“Okay.” If we make it through this, I will marry this man.

Chapter sixty-three

TESSA

Hardin kisses my forehead and closes the passenger door of my car. My bags have been packed for the thousandth and last time, and Hardin is leaning against the car now, bringing me to his chest.

“I love you; please remember that,” he says. “And call me the second you get there.”

He isn’t happy about this, but he will be. I know this is right; we need this time for ourselves. We are so young, so confused, and we need this time to repair some of the damage that has been done in the people’s lives around us.

“I will. Tell them bye for me, remember?” I lean into his chest and close my eyes. I’m not sure how this will end, but I know it’s necessary.

“I will. But get in the car, please. I can’t draw this out and pretend that I’m happy about it. I’m a different person now, and I can cooperate, but much longer, and I’ll want to drag you back into that bedroom for all time.”

I wrap my arms around Hardin’s torso, and he rests his arms around my shoulders. “I know you are—thank you.”

“I love you, Tessa, so fucking much. Remember that, okay?” he says into my hair. I can hear his voice breaking, and the need to protect him starts to claw its way into my heart again.