After (The After Series)

What am I doing here? Why do I keep thinking he will stop the endless string
of insults long enough to have an actual conversation with me? Because I am an
idiot, that’s why.
“It’s fine, really. That’s who you are; that’s what you do. You find people’s
weakness and you exploit it. You use it to your advantage. How long have you
been waiting to say something about my father? You’ve probably been waiting
for an opening since you met me!” I shout.
“Damn it! No I haven’t! I wasn’t thinking when I said that! You are not
innocent here—you provoke me on purpose!” he yells, even louder than I did.
“Provoke you? I provoke you! Please, do enlighten me!” I know everyone in
the house can hear. But, for once, I don’t care.
“You always push my buttons! You constantly fight with me! You go on dates
with Zed—I mean, fuck! You think I like being this way? Do you think I like
you having this control over me? I hate the way you get under my skin. I loathe
the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about you! I hate you . . . I really do!
You’re such a pretentious little . . .” He stops and looks at me. I force myself to
look back at him, putting on the charade that he didn’t just tear me apart with
every syllable.
“This is what I am talking about!” He runs his hands over his hair as he paces
back and forth across the room. “You . . . you make me crazy, literally fucking
mental! And then you have the nerve to ask if I love you? Why would you even
ask that? Because I said that one time, by accident? I told you already that I
didn’t mean it, so why would you ask again? You like rejection—don’t you?
That’s why you keep coming around me, isn’t it?”
All I want to do is run, run out of this room and never, ever look back. I need
to run, I need to flee.
I try to stop it, but he has me in such a rage, I yell the thing I know will get to
him, break his control: “No, I keep coming around because I love you!”
I cover my mouth immediately, wishing I could push the words back in. He
couldn’t possibly hurt me worse than he has, and I don’t want to be left
wondering years from now what he would have said if I told him. I am okay
with him not loving me. I got myself into this knowing how he was all along.

---

He looks astonished. “You what?” He blinks rapidly as if trying to process the
words.
“Go on, tell me how much you hate me again. Go ahead and tell me how
stupid I am for loving someone who can’t stand me,” I say, my voice coming out
foreign and almost in a whine. I wipe my eyes and look at him again, feeling as
if I’ve been gravely defeated and need to leave the scene to bandage my wounds.
“I’ll be going now.”
As I go to turn, he takes one long stride to close the gap between us. I refuse
to look at him as he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Damn it, don’t go,” he says,
his voice full of emotion.
Which emotion is the question.
“You love me?” he whispers and puts his busted hand under my chin to tilt my
head to him. I dart my eyes away from his and nod slowly, waiting for him to
laugh in my face.
“Why?” His breath comes in a hot burst against my face.
I finally bring my eyes to his and he looks . . . afraid? “What?” I ask softly.
“Why do you love . . . how could you possibly love me?” His voice cracks
and he stares at me, and I feel like the words I say next will determine my fate
more than anything I’ve ever done before.
“How could you not know that I love you?” I ask instead of answering him.
He doesn’t think I could love him? I have no explanation except that I just do.
He drives me crazy, makes me angrier than I have ever been, but somehow I fell
for him, hard.
“You told me you didn’t. And you went out with Zed. You always leave me;
you left me on the porch earlier when I begged you for another chance. I told
you I loved you, and you rejected me. Do you know how hard that was for me?”
he says.
I must be imagining the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, though I am
too aware of his callused fingers under my chin.
“You took it back before I could even process what you said. You’ve done a
lot of things to hurt me, Hardin,” I tell him and he nods.
“I know . . . I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you? I know I don’t deserve you.
I don’t have the right to even be asking this . . . but please, just one chance. I am
not promising not to fight with you, or get mad at you, but I am promising to
give myself to you, completely. Please, just let me try to be what you need.” He
sounds so unsure of himself, it turns my insides to liquid.
“I want to think this can work, but I just don’t know how it could, so much
damage has already been done.”
But my eyes betray me as the tears fall. Hardin brings his fingers up from my

---

chin and captures them, even as a single tear escapes down his own cheek.
“Do you remember when you asked me who I love the most in the world?” he
asks, his lips inches from mine.
I nod, though it seems so long ago, and I didn’t think he was even paying
attention.
“It’s you. You’re the person that I love most in the world.”
His words surprise me and dissolve the ache and the anger in my chest.
Before I will let myself believe him and turn me to putty in his arms, I ask,
“This isn’t part of your sick game, is it?”
“No, Tessa. I’m done with the games. I just want you. I want to be with you,
in a real relationship. You’ll have to teach me what in the hell that even means,
of course.” He laughs nervously and I join him with earnest laughter of my own.
“I have missed your laugh. I haven’t heard it enough. I want to be the one to
make you laugh, not cry. I know I am a lot to handle—”
I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. His kisses are rushed and I can
taste blood from his cut. My knees want to buckle from the electricity shooting
through me, it seems so long ago that I last felt his mouth on mine. I love this
damaged, self-loathing asshole so much that I’m afraid it will crush me. He lifts
me up and I wrap my thighs around him, tangling my fingers into his hair. He
moans into my mouth and I gasp, pulling harder. My tongue runs over his
bottom lip and when he winces, I pull away.
“Who did you get in a fight with?” I ask and he laughs.
“You’re asking that now?”
“Yeah, I want to know.” I smile.
“You always have so many questions. Can’t I answer them later?” He pouts.
“No, tell me.”
“Only if you’ll stay.” He holds me against him tighter. “Please?” he begs.
“Okay,” I say and kiss him again, completely forgetting about my question.

---

chapter sixty-eight
E
ventually we stop kissing and I go to sit at the foot of the bed, and Hardin
follows me, sitting up by the headboard.
“Okay, now tell me who you fought with; was it Zed?” I ask, afraid of his
answer.
“No. It was just a few random guys.”
I’m relieved it wasn’t Zed, but then I register what he actually said. “Wait, a
few? How many?”
“Three . . . or four. I am not really sure.” He laughs.
“It’s not funny—why were you fighting, anyway?”
“I don’t know . . .” He shrugs. “I was pissed that you left with Zed and it
seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Well, it’s not a good idea, and now look how busted up you are.” I frown and
he cocks his head to the side with a puzzled expression. “What?”
“Nothing . . . come here,” he says and holds his arms out to me. I move across
the bed and lean back on him between his legs.
“I am sorry for the way I treated . . . well, treat you,” he says quietly into my
ear.
A shiver runs through my body from his breath in my ear and his unforced
apology. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay. But I am going to give you one more
chance.”
I hope he doesn’t make me regret it. I don’t think I can handle any more hot
and cold from him.

---

“Thank you, I know I don’t deserve it. But I am selfish enough to take it,” he
says, his mouth against my hair. He wraps his arms around me, and sitting with
him like this feels foreign and nostalgic at the same time.
When I stay silent he turns my shoulders slightly to have me look at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. I’m just afraid that you’ll change your mind again,” I say. I want to
dive into this headfirst but am desperately afraid I will hit the bottom.
“I won’t. I have never changed my mind. I’ve just fought my feelings for you.
I know you can’t trust my words alone, but I want to earn your trust. I won’t hurt
you again,” he promises and leans his forehead against mine.
“Please don’t,” I beg. I don’t care how pathetic I sound.
“I love you, Tessa,” he says and my heart leaps out of my chest. The words
sound perfect coming off his lips and I would do anything to be able to hear
them again.
“I love you, Hardin.” This is the first time we have both openly said the
words, and I fight down my urge to panic over the possibility that he could take
them back again. Even if he does, I will always have the memory of how they
sounded, how they made me feel.
“Say it again,” he whispers and turns me around to face him. In his eyes I see
more vulnerability than I had thought possible for him. I move to my knees and
take his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs over the light stubble on his
perfect face. I can tell by his expression that he needs me to say it, over and over
again. I will say it as many times as I have to until he believes that he is worthy
of someone loving him.
“I love you,” I repeat and cover his lips with my own. He hmms in
appreciation as his tongue grazes gently over mine. Kissing Hardin feels new
and different each time, and he is like a drug that I can’t get enough of. His
hands press against the small of my back, bringing our chests together. My mind
is telling me to take it slow, to kiss him gently and to savor each second of this
gentle calm between us. But my body is telling me to grab a fistful of his hair
and pull his shirt over his head. His lips travel down my jaw and attach
themselves to my neck.
That does it. I can’t control myself anymore. This is us, all anger and passion
and now love. An involuntary moan escapes my lips and he groans against my
neck, grabbing my waist and flipping us over so he is hovering over me.
“I . . . have . . . missed you . . . so much,” he says in between sucking the skin
on my neck. I can’t keep my eyes open; it feels too good. He unzips my jacket
and looks down at me with hungry eyes. He doesn’t ask for my permission
before tugging at the fabric, pulling my tank top up and over my head, and he

---

sucks in a sharp breath as I arch my back so he can unclasp my bra.
“I have missed your body . . . the way you fit perfectly in my hand,” he growls
as he palms my breasts. I moan again and he presses his lower body against mine
so I can feel his arousal pressed against my lower stomach. Our breathing is
rapid and uncontrolled, and I have never wanted him more. It seems the
admission of our feelings hasn’t lessened the overwhelming passion between us.
I am glad. His hand glides down over my bare stomach and pops open the button
on my jeans. As his fingers slide into my panties he gasps into my mouth. “I
have missed how wet you always are for me.”
His words do wicked things to me, and I lift my hips again, begging for
contact.
“What do you want, Tessa?” He breathes heavily into the crook of my neck.
“You,” I answer before my mind can process what I just said. But I know it’s
true: I want Hardin in the most primal, deep way possible. His finger slides
easily into me and my head falls back against the pillow as he slips in and out.
“I love to watch you, to see how good I make you feel,” he says and I moan in
response. My hands fist his T-shirt at his back. He has too many clothes on, but I
can’t form a coherent sentence to demand their removal. How do we go from “I
hate you” to “I love you” to this? I don’t care for the answer, though—all I care
about is the way he is making me feel, the way he always makes me feel. His
body slides down mine and he removes his hand from my pants. I whine from
the loss of contact and he smiles.
As he pulls down my jeans and panties, I gesture at his fully clothed body.
“Undress,” I say, and he chuckles.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smirks and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his inked
skin. I want to run my tongue along every single line on every single tattoo. I
love the way the infinity symbol above his wrist is so out of place among the
flames inked below it.
“Why did you get this?” I ask, running the pad of my index finger over the
mark.
“What?” He’s distracted, his eyes and hands focused on my breasts.
“This tattoo. It’s so different than the rest. So much . . . softer, and sort of
feminine?”
His fingers roam across both breasts and he leans in, pressing his arousal
against my leg. “Feminine, huh?” He smiles and traces his lips across mine
before pulling away and cocking a brow.
I no longer have interest in his tattoo or why he got it. I just want to touch
him, to feel his mouth on mine.
Before either of us can ruin the moment with more words, I grab hold of his

---

hair and pull his face to mine. I kiss him briefly on his lips before moving to his
neck. From my experience in pleasuring Hardin, I know that the spot on his neck
just above his collarbone drives him crazy. I plant wet and warm kisses against
there, feeling his body jerk and tense as I lift my hips to him again. The feeling
of his bare body on top of mine is exquisite. All of our bare skin is already
starting to shine a little with perspiration. If one small movement is made, this
will be taken to another level. A level that I had never been ready to reach until
now. The flexing of Hardin’s hard muscles as he slowly rubs himself against me,
moaning, is too much for me to resist.
“Hardin . . .” I moan as he glides against me again.
“Yes, baby?” He stops moving. I bring my heels to his thighs and force him to
move again. His eyes flutter closed. “Fuck,” he moans.
“I want to . . .” I say.
“You want to what?” His breath is hot and heavy against my clammy skin.
“I want to . . . you know . . .” I say, finding myself suddenly embarrassed
despite our intimate position.
“Oh,” he says. He stops moving again and stares into my eyes. He seems to be
wagering some internal battle with himself. “I . . . I don’t know if that’s a good
idea . . .”
What? “Why?” I push him off me. Here we go again.
“No . . . no, baby. I just mean for tonight.” He wraps his arms around me and
puts me on my side, lying next to me. I can’t look at him, I’m too humiliated.
“Listen, look at me,” he says, tilting my chin. “I want to, fuck do I want to.
More than anything, trust me. I have wanted to feel you around me since I met
you, but I . . . I just think after everything today and . . . I just want you to be
ready. I mean all the way ready, because once we do this, it’s done. You can’t
take it back.”
My humiliation eases and I look at him. I know he is right, I know I need to
think about this more, but I have a hard time believing that my answer will be
any different tomorrow. I should think about it when I’m not under the influence
of his naked body grinding against mine. He’s worse than alcohol running
through my veins.
“Don’t be upset with me, please, just think about it for a little while, and if
you’re sure that’s what you want to do, I will gladly fuck you. Over and over,
when and where you want. I want to—”
“Okay! Okay!” I bring my hand up to cover his mouth. He laughs against my
palm and shrugs his shoulders as if to say, “Just saying.”
When I remove my hand from his mouth, he playfully bites my palm and pulls
me to him. “I guess I should put some clothes on so you aren’t so tempted,” he

---

teases and I blush.
I can’t decide which aspect of this is more surprising: the fact that I just
suggested we have sex, or the fact that he actually has enough respect for me to
turn me down.
“But first, let me make you feel good,” he mutters and flips me onto my back
in one swift motion. His mouth ducks down between my legs, and within
minutes my legs are shaking and I’m covering my mouth with my hand to keep
from screaming his name for everyone to hear.

---

chapter sixty-nine
I
wake up to Hardin snoring lightly, his lips pressed to my ear. My back is tight
against his chest and his legs are hooked around mine. Memories from last night
bring a smile to my lips, before the euphoric feeling is replaced by panic.
Will he feel the same in the light of day? Or will he torture and taunt me for
offering myself to him? I roll over slowly to face him, to examine his perfect
features while his permanent frown is smoothed by sleep. I reach out and run my
index finger over his eyebrow ring, then down to the bruise on his cheek. His lip
looks better, as do his knuckles, since he finally agreed to let me help him wash
them off last night.
His eyes snap open as my finger greedily traces his lips. “What are you
doing?” he asks. I can’t decipher his tone, which makes me uneasy.
“Sorry . . . I was just . . .” I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what type of
mood he will be in after we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers and closes his eyes again. Half of the weight on my
chest disappears and I smile before tracing over the shape of his plump lips
again, careful to avoid his injury.
“What are your plans for today?” he asks a few minutes later, reopening his
eyes.
“I actually have plans with Karen to work on her greenhouse out back,” I tell
him and he sits up.
“Really?” He must be mad. I know he doesn’t like Karen, even though she is
one of the sweetest people I have ever met.

---

“Yeah,” I mumble.
“Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about my family liking you. I think they
probably like you better than they do me.” He chuckles and runs the pad of his
thumb across my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. “The problem with
that is, if I keep hanging out here my dad may start to believe I actually like
him,” he says, his tone light but his eyes dark.
“Maybe you and your dad could hang out or something while Karen and I are
outside?” I suggest.
“No, definitely not,” he growls. “I’ll go back to my house, my real house, and
wait for you to be done.”
“I wanted you to stay here, though; it may take a while. Her greenhouse is in
pretty bad shape,” I say.
He seems to be at a loss for words, which makes my heart warm at the thought
that he doesn’t want to be away from me for very long. “I . . . I don’t know,
Tessa. My father probably doesn’t want to hang out with me anyway,” he
mumbles.
“Of course he does. When is the last time you two were even in the same
room alone together?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know . . . years. I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he
says, running his hands over his head.
“If you get uncomfortable, you can always join Karen and me outside,” I
assure him. Frankly, I’m astonished that he is considering spending time with his
father.
“Fine . . . but I am only doing this because the thought of leaving you, even
for a little while . . .” He stops. I know he isn’t good at expressing how he feels,
so I stay quiet, giving him time to collect himself. “Well, let’s just say it’s worse
than hanging out with my prick of a father.”
I smile, despite the harsh words against his dad. The father that Hardin knows
from his childhood is not the same man that is downstairs, and I hope Hardin can
come around to see that. After I climb out of bed, I remember that I have no
clothes with me, no toothbrush, nothing.
“I need to go by my room and grab some things,” I tell him and he tenses.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have any clothes, and I need to brush my teeth,” I say. When
I look at him he has a small smile on his face but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“Nothing . . . How long will you be gone?”
“Well, I was assuming you would come with me?” As the words leave my
mouth, he visibly relaxes. What is with him?

---

“Oh.”
“Are you going to tell me why you are being weird?” I ask with my hands on
my hips.
“I’m not . . . I just thought you were trying to leave. Leave me.” His voice is
so small and unlike him that I get the urge to walk over and cradle him. Instead, I
gesture for him to come to me and he nods before getting up and standing in
front of me.
“I’m not going anywhere. I just need some clothes,” I tell him again.
“I know . . . it’s just going to take a little getting used to. I’m used to you
running away from me, not leaving and coming back.”
“Well, I’m used to you pushing me away from you, so we both just have some
adjusting to do.” I smile and lay my head on his chest. I feel oddly comforted by
his worry. I had been terrified that he would change his mind this morning and it
feels good to know he was just as afraid.
“Yeah, I guess we do. I love you,” he says, and it hits me just as hard as it did
the first time, and the twentieth, last night.
“And I love you, too,” I tell him and he frowns.
“Don’t say too,” he says.
“What? Why?” My doubt is on call, waiting for him to deny me, yet hoping
that he won’t.
“I don’t know . . . it just makes me feel like you are just agreeing with me.”
He looks down. I remember the promise I made to myself last night that I would
do whatever I can to help him conquer his self doubt.
“I love you,” I say and he looks up at me. His eyes soften and he gently
presses his lips against mine.
“Thank you,” he says when he pulls away.
I roll my eyes at how flawless he looks in a plain white T-shirt and black
jeans. He never wears anything except plain white or black T-shirts and black
jeans every single day, but he looks perfect, every single day. He doesn’t need to
follow whatever trend is hot; his simple style suits him so well. I put on my
clothes from last night and he grabs my purse for me before we head downstairs.
We find Karen and Ken in the living room. “I made some breakfast,” Karen
says cheerfully.
I feel slightly uncomfortable with Karen and Ken knowing I stayed with
Hardin, again. I know they seem to be perfectly fine with it, and we are adults,
but that doesn’t stop my cheeks from blushing.
“Thank you.” I smile and she gives me a curious look; I know I will get some
questions when we are in the greenhouse. I walk into the kitchen and Hardin
follows. We both fill our plates with food and sit at the table.

---

“Are Landon and Dakota here?” I ask Karen when she comes in. Dakota will
probably be confused seeing me with Hardin again after being with Zed last
night, but I shake off the negative thoughts.
“No, they went to Seattle for the day to do some sightseeing. Were you still
wanting to work on the greenhouse today?”
“Yes, of course. I just have to run to my room and change my clothes,” I tell
her.
“Excellent! I’ll have Ken bring the bags of soil out from the shed while you’re
gone.”
“If you wait until we get back, Hardin can help him?” I half-ask, half-offer,
looking to Hardin.
“Oh, you will be around today as well?” she asks, her smile growing. How
can he not see that people care about him?
“Uh . . . yeah. I was going to just hang out here today . . . I guess. If that’s cool
with y-you?” he stutters.
“Of course! Ken! Did you hear that, Hardin is going to be here all day!” Her
excitement makes me smile and Hardin roll his eyes.
“Be nice,” I whisper in his ear as he plasters the fakest smile I have ever seen
across his face. Then I giggle and kick his foot with mine.

---

chapter seventy
I
remove my clothes and take a quick shower, even though I’m going to get dirty
gardening with Karen. Hardin waits patiently, fiddling through my underwear
drawer to keep himself busy. When I’m done, he tells me to pack enough clothes
to spend another night with him, which makes me smile. I would spend every
night with him if I could.
As we drive back, I ask him, “Do you want to get your car and take it to your
dad’s?”
“No, I’m okay. As long as you stop swerving all over the road.”
“Excuse me? I am an excellent driver,” I say defensively.
He snorts but keeps his mouth shut. “So what made you decide to get a car,
anyway?”
“Well, I got the internship, and I didn’t want to keep taking the bus or
depending on other people to take me places.”
He looks out the window. “Oh . . . did you go alone?”
“Yeah . . . why?”
“Just wondering,” he lies.
“I was alone; that was a bad day for me,” I say and he flinches.
“How many times did you and Zed hang out?” he asks.