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After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)

“I would have told you if you’d answered when I called you. I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t know you made me a cake or that you were waiting on me. It’s already hard enough to get you to see that I’m trying here, but then he has to come in between us and plant these ideas in your head.”

She stays silent.

“So where do we go from here, Tess? I need to know, because this back-and-forth shit’s killing me and I can’t give you space any longer.” I kneel down in front of her, and her eyes meet mine as I wait for an answer.


chapter one hundred and twelve


I don’t know what to do or say to Hardin at this point.

Part of me knows he isn’t lying to me about the texts, but I don’t think Zed would do that to me. I just got finished talking to him about everything with Hardin, and he was so kind and understanding.

But this is Hardin.

His voice is low and slow, but he presses: “Can you give me an answer?”

“I don’t know, I’m tired of the back-and-forth, too. It’s so exhausting and I can’t do it anymore, I really can’t,” I tell him.

“But I didn’t do anything; we were fine until yesterday, and none of this is my fault. I know it usually is, but not this time. I’m sorry I didn’t spend my birthday with you. I know I should have, and I’m sorry,” Hardin says.

He rests his palms on his thighs as he sits in front of me on his knees, not begging like before but just waiting.

If he’s telling the truth about not sending the texts, which I believe he is, then this really is just a misunderstanding.

“When will it stop, though? I’ve had enough of all of it. I had such a great time when you took me out, but then you wouldn’t even stay until morning.” It’s been bothering me that he left like that, but I hadn’t fully realized it, I guess.

“I didn’t stick around because—per Landon, who I also consulted—I’m trying to give you space. I’m shit at it, obviously, but I thought if I gave you a little space you would have time to think about all of this and it would be easier for you,” he tells me.

“It’s not easier for me, but it’s not all about me. It’s about you, too,” I tell him.

“What?” he questions.

“It’s not only about me. I mean, this has to be exhausting for you, too.”

“Who gives a shit about me? I just want you to be okay and for you to know that I’m really trying here.”

“I do.”

“You do what? Believe that I’m trying?” he asks.

“That, and I give a shit about you,” I tell him.

“So what are we doing, Tessa? Are we okay now? Or at least on the road to being okay?” He lifts his hand and brings it to my cheek.