He jumps to his feet and hooks his fingers around my arm to gently pull me back. “Stop,” he orders. One large hand spreads across my waist while the other goes to my arm. I think about twisting free, but then he pulls me to his chest. “Stop fighting me—you’re not going anywhere.”

His lips press into a hard line as I pull my arm from his grasp.

“Let me go, and I’ll sit down,” I huff. I don’t want to give in, but I also refuse to ruin anyone else’s time on this trip. If I go downstairs, Hardin will surely follow, and we’ll end up staging a big blowout in front of his family.

He swiftly lets go of me, and I plop myself into the chair again. He sits back down across from me and stares at me expectantly with his elbows on his thighs.

“What?” I snap.

“So you’re leaving me, then?” he whispers, which softens my harsh demeanor a little.

“If you mean leaving to Seattle, yes.”

“Monday?”

“Yes, Monday. I’ve gone over this with you again and again. I know you thought that little stunt you pulled would discourage me,” I say, seething, “but it didn’t, and nothing you can do will.”

“Nothing?” He looks up at me through his thick lashes.

I’ll marry you, he told me while he was drunk. Does he mean it now? As much as I want to ask him right here, right now, I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready for his sober answer.

“Hardin, what is it in Seattle that you’re so eager to avoid?” I ask instead.

His eyes dart away from mine. “Nothing important.”

“Hardin, I swear, if there’s something that you’ve kept from me, I will never speak to you again,” I say, and mean it. “I’ve had enough of this shit, honestly.”

“It’s nothing, Tessa. I have some old friends there that I don’t particularly care for because they’re part of my old life.”

“ ‘Old life’?”

“My life before you: the drinking, the parties, fucking every girl that passed my way,” he says. When I cringe, he mumbles “Sorry” but continues. “There’s no big secret, just bad memories. But that’s not why I don’t want to go, anyway.”

I wait for him to get to the heart of the matter, but he doesn’t say anything else. “Okay, then tell me why. Because I don’t get it.”

His face is devoid of any emotion as he looks into my eyes. “Why do you need an explanation? I don’t want to go and I don’t want you to go without me.”

“Well, that’s not enough of an explanation. I’m going,” I say and shake my head. “And you know what? I don’t want you to come with me anymore.”

“What?” His eyes darken.

“I don’t want you to come.” I stay as calm as possible and stand up from the chair. I’m proud of myself for having this discussion without yelling. “You’ve tried to ruin this for me—this has been my dream since I can remember, and you tried to ruin it for me. You’ve turned something that I should be looking forward to into something that I can barely stand. I should be excited and ready to go meet my dreams. But instead you’ve made sure I have nowhere to live and no support system at all. So no, I don’t want you to go.”

His mouth opens and closes before he stands and paces across the wooden deck. “You . . .” he begins, but then stops himself, looking like he’s reconsidering his thoughts.

But being Hardin, things never change, and he chooses the harder, uglier path instead. “You . . . you know what, Tessa? No one gives a fuck about Seattle except someone like you. Who the hell grows up planning on moving to Seattle fucking Washington. Real ambitious,” he growls. He takes in a deep, violent breath. “And in case you forgot, I’m the only reason you have that opportunity to begin with. You think anyone else is getting a paid fucking internship as a freshman in college? Fuck, no! Most people struggle to get a paid internship even after they graduate.”

“That’s not even close to the fucking point here.” I roll my eyes at him and the nerve he has.

“Then what is the point, you ungrateful—”

I take a step toward him, and my hand flies at him before I really register what I’m doing.

But Hardin’s too quick and grabs me by the wrist, stopping me only inches from his cheek.

“Don’t,” he warns. His voice is rough, laced with anger, and I wish he hadn’t stopped me from slapping him. His minty breath fans across my cheeks as he tries to control his temper.

Bring it on, Hardin, my thoughts challenge. I’m not intimidated by his harsh breathing or his foul words. I can give them back to him in spades.

“You don’t get to talk to people like that without consequences.” My words come out low, threatening even.

“Consequences?” He stares down at me with burning eyes. “I’ve known nothing in my life but consequences.”

I hate the way he’s taking credit for my internship, I hate the way he pushes when I pull and I push when he pulls. I hate the way he drives my anger to grow so strong that I would try to slap him, and I hate the way I feel as if I’m losing control of something I’m not sure I’ve ever held. I look up at him, his hand still holding my wrist, using only enough pressure to keep me from attempting to slap him again, and he looks hurt, in a dangerous way. There’s a challenge behind his eyes that makes my stomach turn.

He brings my hand to his chest, his eyes never leaving mine, and says, “You know nothing of consequences.”

Then he walks away from me, that look still in his eyes, and my hand drops down to my side.

chapter

thirty-five

HARDIN

Who the fuck does she think she is? She thinks just because I don’t want to go to Seattle with her that she can say shit like this to me? She doesn’t want me to fucking go?

She fucking uninvited me to Seattle, and she’s the one trying to slap me? I don’t fucking think so. I was only seeing red as I spoke, and her trying to hit me surprised me—a lot. I left her with wide eyes, her pupils blown in rage, but I had to get as far from that bullshit as I could.

I find myself at the small coffee shop in town. The coffee tastes like tar, and the weird-ass muffin I got is even worse. I hate this bullshit small town and its lack of every goddamn thing.

I tear three sugar packets at once and dump them into the disgusting coffee, stirring it with a plastic spoon. It’s too early for this shit.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice greets. Not the voice I wanted to hear, though.

“Why are you here?” I roll my eyes and ask Lillian as she comes around from behind me.

“Well, you obviously aren’t a morning person,” she says saccharinely and takes the seat in front of me.

“Go away,” I huff and look around the small café. A line has formed nearly to the door, and almost all of the tables are full. I should probably do everyone in line a favor and tell them to find a fucking Starbucks, because this place blows.

She eyes me. “You didn’t apologize, did you.”

“God, you are so damn nosy.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, and she smiles.

“Are you going to finish that?” She gestures to the rock-hard muffin in front of me.

I slide it over to her, and she tears off a piece. “I wouldn’t eat that,” I warn, but she does anyway.

“It’s not that bad,” she lies. I can tell she wants to spit it out, but instead she swallows it down. “So are you going to tell me why you didn’t apologize to Tamara?”

“Her fucking name is Tessa, if you call her—”

“Whoa, calm down. Joke, joke! I was just messing with you.” She giggles, proud of her annoying self.

“Ha. Ha.” I down the rest of my coffee.

“Anyway, why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” she presses.

“Why do you care, anyway?” I lean toward her, and she sits back in the chair.