Chapter 125 (1/2)

Just as I decide I cannot take any more, the front door opens and Hardin walks in. His eyes go directly to mess of white paper printed with disgusting black words, and his phone falls to the floor, joining the chaos.

Chapter seventy-three

HARDIN

Complications.

Life is full of them; mine seems to be chocked-fucking-full of them, overflowing and spilling out of the top in a never-ending surge. Wave after wave of complications collide with the most important moments and things in my life, and this moment is one that I can’t allow to be drowned.

If I stay calm, if I stay fucking calm and try to explain myself, I can hold back the tidal wave that is bound to crash through this small living room at any moment.

I can see it brewing behind the blue-gray of her eyes. I can see the confusion swirling with anger, creating a heavy storm, just like the sea before the lightning flashes and the thunder rolls. The water is calm, resting, just barely rippling on the surface, but I can see it coming.

A sheet of white paper clenched between trembling hands and Tessa’s ominous expression warn me of the danger ahead.

I have no fucking idea what to say to her, where to start. It’s such a complicated story, and I am pure shit at problem solving. I have to get a grip, I have to make more of an effort to mold and shape my words, to form an explanation that will keep her from running, again.

“What is this?” Her eyes move across a page before she tosses it into the air with one hand and crumples the corners of the small stack left in her grasp.

“Tessa.” I take a cautious step toward her.

She stares. Her face is hard, guarded in a way that I’m not used to, as her feet shuffle backward.

“I need you to listen to me,” I beg, searching her clouded features. I feel like shit, complete and utter shit. We had just gotten back to us, and I had finally gotten back to her, and now this, after such a short time together.

“Oh, I’m listening, all right.” Her voice is loud, her tone sarcastic.

“I don’t know where to start; just give me a minute and I’ll explain.”

My fingers run over my hair, tugging at the roots, wishing I could trade her pain for mine and rip my hair straight from the scalp. Yeah, a fucked-up image.

Tessa stands, impatiently patient, her eyes moving from page to page. Her brows lift and drop, her eyes tighten and widen, as I begin.

“Stop reading it.” I take a step and grab the manuscript from her hands. The pages fall to the floor, joining the other bullshit pooling at her feet.

“Explain it. Now,” she urges, her eyes cold, a thunderous gray that terrifies me.