After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
I spit my coffee back into my cup. “Marry her? Are you mad?”
He raises a brow. “And why would my intention to marry her be mad?”
“I don’t know . . . she’s already been married . . . and you’re our neighbor . . . her neighbor.”
“I can take care of her the way she should have been taken care of her entire life. If you don’t approve, I’m sorry, but I thought I’d let you know that when the time is right, I’ll be asking her to spend her life with me, officially.”
I don’t know what to say to this man, the man who has lived next door to me my entire life, the man who I’ve never seen angry, not even once. He loves her, I can tell, but this is too weird for me to comprehend right now.
“Okay then . . .”
“Okay then,” he echoes back and then looks behind me.
My mum walks into the kitchen with her robe wrapped tight around her and her hair in a mess on her head. “What are you doing up, Hardin? Are you going back home?” she asks.
“No, I couldn’t sleep. And this is home,” I tell her and take another drink of coffee. This is my home.
“Hmm . . .” she sleepily replies.
I’m getting sucked back in, back under. The memories that I shared with Hardin tug at my feet, attempting to pull me under the water.
I roll the windows down in an attempt to get some air. Zed is so sweet to me, he’s understanding and kind. He’s dealt with a lot for me and I’ve always brushed him aside. If I could just stop being foolish, I could try with him. I can’t even imagine being in a relationship right now, or really anytime soon. But maybe with time I could. I don’t want Zed to break up with Rebecca because of me if I can’t give him an answer, or even a hint of an answer.
As I drive back to Landon’s house, I’m more confused than ever.
If I could just talk to Hardin, just see him once more, I could get closure. If I could hear him say that he doesn’t care, if he would be cruel to me just one last time, I could give Zed the chance, give myself the chance.
Before I can stop myself, I grab my phone and press the button that I’ve been avoiding since day four. If he ignores me, I can move on. We are officially over if he doesn’t answer my call. If he tells me that he’s sorry and that we can work on it . . . no. I put the phone back on the seat. I’ve come too far to call him again, to break down again.
But I need to know.
The line goes straight to voicemail. “Hardin . . .” The words leave my lips at a frantic rate. “Hardin . . . it’s Tessa. I . . . well, I need to talk to you. I’m in my car and I’m so confused . . .” I begin to cry. “Why haven’t you even tried to contact me? You just let me leave, and here I am pathetically calling you and crying into your voicemail. I need to know what happened to us. Why was this time different—why didn’t we fight it out? Why didn’t you fight for me? I deserve to be happy, Hardin,” I sob and hang the phone up.