All I can think of is her packing her bags and leaving me with nothing but some bullshit note on the counter. “Don’t you dare try to blame me.” My voice doesn’t hold as much conviction as I intended.

“I’m not blaming you, but I knew you wouldn’t be supportive; you know how important this is to me.”

“What are you going to do, then? If you go, I can’t be with you. I love you, Tessa, but I’m not going to Seattle.”

“Why? You don’t even know if you’d like it or not. We could at least try it, and if you hate it, we could go to England . . . maybe,” she says with a sniffle.

“You don’t know if you’ll like Seattle either.” I look at her with blank eyes. “I’m sorry, but you have to choose: me or Seattle.”

She looks up at me for a moment, then moves back to the passenger seat without a word.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but time is running out.” I put the car in drive and pull out of the small space.

“I can’t believe you’re making me choose.” She doesn’t look at me.

“You knew how I felt about Seattle. You’re lucky I kept my cool back there when you were with him.”

“I’m ‘lucky’?” she scoffs.

“This day is shit already; let’s not fight about it. I’m going to need an answer by Friday. Unless, of course, you’ll be gone by then.” The idea sends a chill through my body.

I know she’ll choose me—she has to. We can go to England and get away from all this bullshit. She hasn’t said a word about missing classes today, which I’m glad for, since that’s another fight I don’t want to have.

“You’re being so selfish,” she accuses.

I don’t argue, because I know she’s right. But I do say, “Well, some might say selfish is also not telling someone when they plan on leaving them. Where are you going to live? Do you already have a place?”

“No, I was going to look for one tomorrow. We leave Wednesday for the trip with your family.” It takes me a moment to realize who she’s referring to.

“We?”

“You said you’d go . . .”

“I’m still trying to recover from this Seattle shit, Tessa.” I know I’m being an asshole, but this is so fucked up. “And let’s not forget you calling Zed,” I add, doubling down.

Tessa stays silent as I drive. I have to look over at her multiple times to make sure she’s still awake.

“Are you not speaking to me now?” I finally ask her as we approach the parking lot of our . . . my apartment.

“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice is quiet, defeated.

I park, and it hits me. Shit. “You’re dad’s still here, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know where else he would go . . .” she says without looking at me.

We get out of the car, and I say, “Well, when we get upstairs, I’ll ask him where he needs to be dropped off at.”

“No, I’ll take him,” she mumbles.

Even though my girl’s walking next to me, she seems miles away.

chapter

six

TESSA

I’m too disappointed in Hardin to argue, and he’s too pissed at me to speak without screaming. He actually handled the news better than I thought he would, but how could he make me choose? He knows how important Seattle is to me, and it’s not like he has a problem with me giving something up for him—that’s what hurts me the most. He always says he can’t be away from me, that he can’t live without me, yet he’s giving me an ultimatum, and it’s not fair.

“If he took off with any of our shit . . .” Hardin begins as we get to the door.

“Enough.” Hopefully my exhaustion is heard through my soft dismissal, so he won’t press it.

“Just saying.”

I push my key into the lock and twist, momentarily considering the possibility of what Hardin has mentioned. I don’t know the man, really.

Any paranoia I have disappears when we walk inside. My father’s body is slumped over the arm of the couch. His mouth is wide open, and deep snores escape from his parted lips.

Without another word, Hardin walks into the bedroom and I go to the kitchen for a glass of water and a minute to think about my next step. The last thing that I want to do is fight with Hardin, but I’m beyond sick of him only thinking of himself. I know he has changed so much, tried so hard, but I’ve given him chance after chance, resulting in an endless breakup-makeup cycle that would make even Catherine Earnshaw cringe. I don’t know how long I can keep my head above water when I’m fighting off the tidal wave that we call a relationship. Every time I feel like I’ve learned to tread its waters, I’m sucked back under by yet another conflict with Hardin.

After a few moments, I get up and look over at my father: still snoring in a way I would find amusing if I wasn’t so preoccupied. Deciding on a course of action, I head into the bedroom.

Hardin is lying on his back, his arms tucked under his head as he stares at the ceiling. I’m about to speak when he breaks the silence.

“I got expelled. Just in case you were wondering.”

I turn to him quickly, my heart racing. “What?”

“Yep. Sure did.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry. I should have asked earlier.” I thought for sure Ken could get his son out of this mess. I’m devastated for him.

“It’s okay. You were otherwise occupied with Zed and plans for Seattle, remember?”

I sit on the edge of the bed, as far from him as possible, and try my best to bite my tongue. It’s a wasted effort. “I was trying to find out about the charges against you. He says he’s still—”

He interrupts me with his eyebrows raised in mockery. “I heard him. I was there, remember?”

“Hardin, I’ve had enough of your attitude. I know you’re upset, but you need to stop being so disrespectful.” I speak slowly, hoping the words sink in.

He’s dumbfounded for a moment, but he quickly recovers. “Excuse me?”

I try to keep the most neutral, if stern, expression I can manage. “You heard me: stop talking to me like that.”

“I’m sorry—I get kicked out of school, then find you with him, then learn you’re going to Seattle. I’d say I’m entitled to be a little angry.”

“Yes, you are, but you aren’t entitled to be a jerk. I was hoping we could actually talk about this and work it out like adults . . . for once.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sits up, but I keep my distance.

“It means that after six months of this back-and-forth, I thought we could possibly solve a problem without one of us leaving or breaking things.”

“Six months?” His jaw drops.

“Yes, six months.” Awkwardly, I avoid his eyes. “Well, since we met.”

“I hadn’t realized it’s been that long.”

“Well, it has.” It feels like a lifetime to me.

“It doesn’t feel like that long . . .”

“Is that a problem for you? We’ve been seeing each other too long?” I finally meet his green eyes.

“No, Tessa, it’s just odd to think about, I guess. I’ve never been in an actual relationship, so six months is a long time.”

“Well, we haven’t been dating the entire time. Most of it was spent fighting or avoiding one another,” I remind him.

“How long, exactly, were you with Noah?”

His question surprises me. We’ve had a few talks regarding my relationship with Noah, but they usually last less than five minutes, ending abruptly because of Hardin’s jealousy.

“We were best friends since I can remember, but only started dating halfway through high school. I think we’d basically been dating before then but we just didn’t realize it.” I watch Hardin with careful eyes, waiting for a reaction.

Talking about Noah makes me miss him—not in a romantic way, but in that way you miss your family after not seeing them for an extended period.

“Oh.” He rests his hands in his lap, making me want to reach across and hold them. “Did you fight?”