Chapter 66 (1/2)

Gathering all my strength and my phone in my hand, I check my reflection in the mirror one last time and then cross the hall. Just as I lift my hand to knock, the door opens, and there stands Hardin, shirtless and looking down at me.

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asks.

“Nothing, I—” I ignore the twist in my stomach as his brows pull together in worry. His hands touch me, thumbs gently pressing into my cheeks, and I just stand in the doorway, blinking up at him, not a coherent thought within reach.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I finally say. The words come out muffled, and he’s looking down at me with confusion clouding his brilliant green eyes.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he remarks somberly and drops his hands from my face.

Going to sit on the edge of the bed, he beckons for me to join him. I don’t trust the lack of distance between us, and even the thick air in the stuffy room seems to be taunting me.

“So? What is it?” Hardin spreads his hands out behind his head and leans back into them. His athletic shorts are tight; the waistband of them hangs so low that I can tell he is not wearing boxers underneath.

“Hardin, I’m sorry that I’ve been so distant from you. You know I just need some time to figure everything out,” I say by way of a preamble. That wasn’t what I had planned to talk to him about, but my mouth apparently has different plans than my head.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you came to me because we both know that I’m shit at giving you space, and it’s been driving me fucking crazy.” He seems relieved now that the words are between us. His eyes rest on mine, and I can’t look away from the intensity behind them.

“I know.” I can’t deny the control he has seemed to gain over his own actions during the past week. I like that he’s become a little less unpredictable, but the shield that I’ve built is still present, still lurking in the background, waiting for him to turn on me, the way he always does.

“Have you talked to Christian?” I ask, needing to move back to the topic at hand before I’m too far lost in the endless mess of us.

Immediately he tenses, scoffing, “No.” He squints at me.

This isn’t going well. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be insensitive. I just want to see where your head is right now.”

He doesn’t respond for a few moments, and the silence stretches between us like a never-ending road.

Chapter forty-four

HARDIN