She goes to the kitchen and calls over her shoulder, “I’m going to get to bed. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

I walk toward her and wait until she finishes her glass of water. “You work tomorrow, too?”

“Yeah, I work all day.”

“Why?”

She sighs. “Well, I have bills to pay.”

She’s lying. “And?” I press.

She wipes at the counter with her hand for a minute. “And maybe I was trying to avoid you.”

“You’ve been avoiding me long enough, don’t you think?” I raise a brow at her.

She swallows. “I wasn’t avoiding you. You barely reach out to me anymore.”

“That’s because you avoid me.”

She walks past me, pulling her hair from its ponytail as she does. “I didn’t know what to say. I was pretty hurt by you leaving the graduation and—”

“You left. Not me.”

“What?” She stops and turns around.

“You left the graduation. I only left after looking for you for thirty minutes.”

She looks offended. “I looked for you. I did. I never would have just left your graduation.”

“Okay, well, I seem to remember a different story there, but there’s no real point in arguing over it now.”

Her eyes lower and she seems to agree with me. “You’re right.” She refills her empty glass. And takes a small sip.

“Look at us, not fighting and shit,” I tease her.

She leans her elbow onto the counter and shuts the faucet off. “?‘And shit,’?” she repeats with a smile.

“And shit.”

We both laugh and continue to stare at each other.

“This isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be,” Tessa says. Untying her apron, her fingers get stuck on the knot.

“Need help?”

“No.” Her answer comes too quickly and she tugs at the strings again.

“You sure about that?”

After a few more minutes of struggling, she finally scowls and turns around to give me access to her back. Within a few seconds I’ve untangled the strings and she’s counting her tip money on the counter.

“Why won’t you get another internship? You’re more than a waitress.”

“There is nothing wrong with being a server, and this isn’t the end goal for me. I don’t mind it and—”

“And because you don’t want to ask Vance for help.” Her eyes widen. I shake my head, pushing my hair back. “You act like I don’t know you, Tess.”

“It’s not only that; I just like that this job is mine. He would have to pull some serious strings to get me an internship out here—I’m not even actively enrolled in college for a few months.”

“Sophia helped you get your job,” I point out. Not to be cruel, but I just want to hear her say the truth. “What you really wanted was something that wasn’t tied to me. Am I correct?”

She takes a few breaths, looking everywhere in the room except at me. “Yes, that’s true.”

We stand there quietly, too near each other and too far away in the tiny kitchen. After a few seconds, she stands up straight and gathers her apron and water glass. “I need to go to bed. I have to work all day tomorrow and it’s late.”

“Call in,” I casually suggest, even though I want to demand it.

“I can’t just call in,” she lies.

“Yes, you can.”

“I’ve never missed a day.”

“You’ve only been there three weeks. You haven’t had time to miss a day, and really, it’s what people do on a Saturday in New York. They call in to work and spend time with better company.”

A playful smile tugs at the corners of her full lips. “And you are this said better company?”

“Of course.” I wave my hands over my torso to prove my point.

She regards me for a moment, and I can tell she’s actually considering taking the day off. But at last she says, “No, I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t. I can’t risk the shift not being covered. It will make me look bad, and I need this job.” She frowns, all playfulness gone now, replaced by overthinking.

I almost tell her that she doesn’t actually need the job, that what she needs to do is pack her shit and come back to Seattle with me, but I bite my tongue. Dr. Tran says control is a negative factor in our relationship, and I “need to find the balance between control and guidance.”

Dr. Tran really pisses me off.

“I get it.” I shrug, mentally cursing the good doctor out for a few beats before smiling at Tessa. “I’ll let you go to bed, then.”

With that, she turns on her heel and retreats to her closet-room, leaving me alone in the kitchen, then alone on the sofa, and then alone in the dreams that come.

Chapter sixty-eight

TESSA

In my dreams, Hardin’s voice rings through loud and clear, begging me to stop.

Begging me to stop? What is that . . .

My eyes open, and I sit up in bed.

“Stop,” he strains out again.

It takes me a moment to realize this isn’t one of my dreams, it’s Hardin’s actual voice.

I rush out of my room and into the living room, where Hardin is sleeping on the couch. He’s not yelling or thrashing the way he used to, but his voice is pleading, and when he says, “Please, stop,” my heart sinks.

“Hardin, wake up. Please, wake up,” I calmly say, running my fingers over the clammy skin on his shoulder.

His eyes pop open, and his hands lift to touch my face. He’s disoriented when he sits up and pulls me onto his lap. I don’t fight it. I couldn’t possibly.