After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
He pulls me down and lays my head on his chest. “Because I knew you were already feeling bad about not getting me something.” He lets out a laugh. “And that you would feel even worse after my amazing gift.”
“Wow, so humble,” I tease.
“Also, when I had it made for you, I had no idea if you would ever speak to me again,” he admits.
“You knew I would.”
“Honestly, I didn’t. You were different this time.”
“How so?” I look up at him.
“I don’t know . . . you just were. It wasn’t like the other hundred times you said you wanted nothing to do with me.” Hardin’s voice is light as he pushes my loose hair from my forehead with his thumb.
I concentrate on the rise and fall of his chest. “Well, I knew . . . I mean, I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew I would come back. I always do.”
“I won’t give you reason to leave again.”
“I hope not,” I say and kiss the palm of his hand. “Me, too.”
I don’t say anything else; there’s nothing to say at the moment. He’s sleepy, and I don’t want to talk about me leaving him any longer. Within minutes he’s asleep, breathing heavily. Hardin calling me Daisy this morning made me want to reread The Great Gatsby, so I scroll through my e-reader’s library to see if Hardin already loaded it on there. And find that, of course, he has. Just as I’m about to get up and join his mother, I hear a woman’s angry voice.
My mother. I toss my e-reader to the end of the bed and get up. Why the hell is she here?
“You have no right to go in there!” I hear Trish yell.
Trish. My mother. Hardin. This apartment. Oh my Lord. This isn’t going to go well.
The bedroom door crashes open to reveal my mother, looking sophisticated yet menacing in a red dress and black heels. Her hair is curled and pinned up to resemble a beehive, and her red lipstick is bright, too bright.
“How could you be here! After everything!” she yells.
“Mother . . .” I begin as she turns to Trish.
“And who the hell are you?” she asks, their faces close together.
“I’m his mother,” Trish says sternly.
Hardin groans in his slumber and opens his eyes. “What the fuck?” are the first words out of his mouth when he spots the devil in the crimson dress.
My mother snaps her head back in my direction. “Let’s go, Theresa.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Why are you even here?” I ask her, and she huffs, putting her hands on her hips.
“Because I have already told you. You are my only child, and I will not sit back and watch you ruin your life over this . . . this asshole.”
Her words light a fire under my skin, and I immediately go on defense. “Do not speak of him that way!” I shout.
“That ‘asshole’ is my son, missy,” Trish says with hooded eyes. Underneath her humor is a woman clearly ready to go into the ring for her son.