After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
And right then I feel Hardin’s hand clamp over my mouth and his strong arms pull me back against his chest.
The whole time, I had just been thinking that her mum better not slap her again. I hadn’t really considered Tessa going on the offensive like this.
Her face is red, and her tears are pouring down my hand.
Why does her mum always have to ruin shit? I can’t blame her for being angry, regardless of how much I hate her. I did hurt Tessa. But I don’t think I ruined her.
I don’t know what to do. I glance at my mum for help—the look she gives me lets me know that she hates me. I didn’t want her to know what I did to Tess. I knew it would kill her, especially after what happened before.
But I’m not the same person I was then. This is totally different.
I love Tessa.
Through all the chaos I caused, I found love.
Tessa screams into my hand and tries to push me off of her, but she isn’t strong enough. I know one of two things will happen if I don’t keep her away: either her mum will slap her and I’ll have to intervene, or Tessa will say something she’ll regret forever. “I think you need to go now,” I say to her mother.
Tessa is throwing a fit beneath my grip and keeps kicking her feet into my shins.
It’s always so unsettling to see her angry—especially this angry—although part of me is selfishly pleased that her anger isn’t directed at me this time.
It will be soon . . .
I know her mother is right about me: I am terrible for her. I’m not the man Tessa thinks I am, but I love her too much to let her leave me again. I just got her back, and I will not lose her again. I just hope that she’ll listen to me, listen to the entire story. Even then, I don’t think it will matter. I know it’s coming; there’s no way she’ll stay with me once she hears it. Fuck, why did my mum have to say anything?
I lead Tessa toward the bedroom. As we go, she twists so hard she spins us both around, so we’re facing her mom again. With one last hateful glare, she makes her point and lunges, but I hold tight.
Pulling her into our room, I let go and quickly slam the door and lock it.
And she turns her poisonous glare at me. “Why did you do that! You—”
“Because you’re saying things you know you’ll regret.”
“Why did you do that!” she yells. “Why did you stop me! I have so much shit to say to that bitch, it’s not even . . . I can’t even . . . !” She pushes her hands against my chest.
“Hey . . . hey . . . calm down,” I say, trying to remember that she’s displacing her anger at her mother toward me; I know she is.