After (The After Series)

him so distant? Why can’t he just stay in a good mood?
I nod and walk across the hall, smelling bacon that causes my stomach to
grumble.
I put my bra on, and pull the drawstring on the plaid pants as tight as it will
go. I contemplate putting my dress back on, but I really don’t want to be
uncomfortable this early in the morning. Checking the large mirror on the wall, I
run my fingers through my unruly hair and wipe the sleep from my eyes.
As I close the bedroom door, Hardin opens his. Instead of looking at him, I
focus on the wallpaper and walk forward down the hall. I can hear his steps
behind me, and when I reach the staircase his hand wraps around my elbow,
pulling me gently.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, worry clouding his features.
“Nothing, Hardin,” I snap. I am overly emotional and I haven’t even had
breakfast yet.
“Tell me,” he demands, dipping his head so that his face is in full view.
I give in. “Who called you?”
“No one.”
He lies. “Was it Molly?” I don’t want to know the answer.
He doesn’t say anything, but his expression gives away that I’m right. He left
the room as I was about to . . . do that to him . . . to answer a phone call from
Molly? I should be more surprised than I am.
“Tessa, it’s not . . .” he begins. I pull my arm from his grip and he clenches his
jaw.
“Hey, guys.” Landon appears in the hall, and I smile. His hair is sticking up
slightly and he wears plaid pants similar to mine. He looks adorable and sleepy. I
pass Hardin and move toward Landon. I refuse to let Hardin know how

---

embarrassed and hurt I am by him answering Molly’s call while we were
together like that.
“How did you sleep last night?” Landon asks and I follow him down the
stairs, leaving a frustrated Hardin to himself.
Karen has gone all out on breakfast, like I could have predicted she would.
Hardin joins us at the table a few minutes later, but I’ve already piled eggs,
bacon, toast, a waffle, and a few grapes on my plate.
“Thank you so much for making this breakfast for us,” I tell Karen on mine
and Hardin’s behalf; I know he won’t be bothered with thanking her.
“It’s my pleasure, dear—how did you sleep? I hope the storm didn’t keep you
awake.” She smiles.
Hardin tenses beside me, probably worried I will mention his nightmare. He
should know by now I would never do that, so his lack of trust only bothers me
more.
“I slept great, actually. I sure didn’t miss my bed in my dorm!” I laugh and
everyone joins me, everyone except Hardin, of course. He takes a drink of his
orange juice and keeps his eyes focused on the wall. Mindless breakfast chatter
fills the dining room as Ken and Landon banter about some football game.
AFTER BREAKFAST,
I help Karen clean up the kitchen once more. Hardin
hovers in the doorway, not offering to help but just watching me.
“If you don’t mind me asking, is that a greenhouse in the backyard?” I ask
Karen.
“Why yes, it is. I haven’t done much with it this year, but I absolutely love
gardening. You should have seen it last summer,” she says. “Do you like to
garden?”
“Oh, yes, my mother has a greenhouse out back as well and it was where I
spent most of my free time as a child.”
“Really? Well, maybe if you two come around more often, we could make
something out of mine,” she says. She is so kind, and loving. Everything I wish I
had in a mother.
I smile. “That would be lovely.”
Hardin disappears momentarily, and when he returns he clears his throat
loudly. We both turn to look at him.
“We should get going soon,” he says and I frown. He has my clothes and
purse in his hands, holding out my Toms. It’s a little weird he doesn’t give me a
moment to change out of the pajamas, and a little discomforting that he went
through my things, but I overlook it. We say our goodbyes and I hug Karen and

---

Ken while Hardin waits impatiently by the door.
I promise them that we will return soon, and hope that it will come true. I
knew my time here would end, but it has been such a nice departure from my
normal life, no lists, no alarms, no obligations. I am not ready for it to end.

---

chapter fifty-one
T
he car ride is awkward. I hold my clothes on my lap and stare out the window,
waiting to see if Hardin is going to break the silence that hangs between us. He
makes no move to speak so I pull my phone out of my purse. It’s off; it must
have died last night. I try to turn it on anyway and the screen comes to life. I am
relieved to find that I have no new voicemails or texts. The only noise in the car
is the light rain and the slow screech of the windshield wipers.
“Are you still mad?” he finally asks as he pulls onto campus.
“No,” I lie. I am not exactly mad, just hurt.
“It sure seems like you are. Don’t act like a child.”
“Well, I am not. I couldn’t care less if you want to drop me off so you can go
hook up with Molly.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.
I hate the way I feel about him and Molly. It makes me sick to my stomach to
think of them together. What is it about her, anyway? Her pink hair? Her tattoos?
“That’s not what I am doing. Not that it’s your business,” he scoffs.
“Yeah, well, you jumped to answer your phone when I was about to . . . well,
you know,” I mutter. I should have just stayed quiet. I don’t want to fight with
Hardin right now. Especially when I don’t know when I will see him again. I
really wish he hadn’t dropped Literature. He just pushes my buttons, every
single one.
“It isn’t like that, Theresa,” he says.