“He wouldn’t be able to go a weekend without her,” Trevor teases. “Because of her office management skills, of course.”
I give a little smile. “I can see that. So why are you going?” I ask, and then mentally slap myself. “I mean why are you going, since you work in finance, don’t you?” I try to clarify.
“No, I get it, you bookies don’t need the human calculator around.” He rolls his eyes, and I laugh, really laugh. “He’s opening a second office in Seattle shortly and we’re going to a meeting with a potential investor. Also, we’ll be scouting locations, so he needs me to make sure we get a good deal, and Kimberly to make sure whatever building we like functions with our work flow.”
“Are you into real estate, too?” The room is finally warm, so I take my shoes off and tuck my feet underneath me.
“No, not at all, but I’m good with numbers,” he brags. “It’ll be a good time, though. Seattle is a beautiful city. Have you been?”
“Yeah, it’s is my favorite city. Not that I have a lot to choose from . . .”
“Me either; I’m from Ohio, so I haven’t seen much. Compared to Ohio, Seattle is like New York City.”
I find myself genuinely interested in knowing more about Trevor. “What made you come to Washington?”
“Well, my mother passed away my senior year of high school and I just had to go. There’s just so much more to see, you know? So I promised her right before she died that I wouldn’t spend my life in that dreadful town where we lived. The day I got accepted to WCU was the best and worst day of my life.”
“Worst?” I ask.
“She passed away that same day. Ironic, isn’t it?” He gives a wan smile. The way only half of his mouth turns up is lovely.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. She was one of those people that didn’t belong here with the rest of us. She was too good, you know? My family got to have more time with her than we deserved, and I wouldn’t change a thing,” he says. He gives me full smile and gestures at me. “What about you? Are you going to stay here forever?”
“No, I always wanted to move to Seattle. But lately I’ve been thinking of going even further,” I admit.
“You should. You should travel and see everything you possibly can. A woman like you shouldn’t be kept in a box.” He must notice some odd look on my face, because he quickly says, “Sorry . . . I just mean you could do so much. You have a lot talents, I can tell.”
But I wasn’t bothered by what he said. Something about the way he called me a woman makes me happy; in my life, I’ve always felt like a child because everyone treats me like one. Trevor is only a friend, a new friend, but I’m really glad to have his company on this terrible day.
“Have you had dinner?” I ask.
“Not yet. I was debating whether or not to order a pizza, so I don’t have to go back into that blizzard.” He laughs.
“We could split one?” I offer.
“Deal,” he says, with the kindest look I’ve seen in a long time.
Chapter six
HARDIN
My father has the stupidest expression on his face; it always happens when he tries to look authoritative, like now, with his arms crossed as he stands filling his front doorway.
“She isn’t going to come here, Hardin—she knows you’ll find her.”
I fight the urge to knock his teeth down his throat. Instead, I rake my fingers through my hair, flinching slightly when my knuckles twinge. The cuts are deeper than usual this time. Punching the drywall did more damage to my hands than I thought. It’s nothing compared to how I feel inside. I never knew this type of pain existed; it’s so much worse than any physical pain I could cause myself.
“Son, I really think you should give her some space.”
Who the fuck does he think he is?
“Space? She doesn’t need space! She needs to come home!” I yell. The old woman next door turns to look at us, and I raise my arms at her.
“Please don’t be rude to my neighbors,” my dad warns me.
“Then tell your neighbors to mind their own damn business!” I’m sure the old gray-hair heard that.
“Goodbye, Hardin,” my father says with a sigh and closes the door.
“Fuck!” I yell and pace back and forth on the porch a few times before finally going back out to my car.
Where the hell is she? As mad as I am, I’m worried as hell about her. Is she alone, or afraid? Oh course, knowing Tessa, she isn’t afraid at all; she’s probably going over the reasons she hates me. Actually, she’s probably writing them down. Her need to be in control of everything and her stupid lists used to drive me crazy, but now I long to see her scribbling the most irrelevant things. I would give anything to watch her chew on her full bottom lip in concentration, or see that adorable scowl take over her sweet face, even one more time. Now that she’s with Noah and her mother, the small chance I thought I had is gone. Once she’s reminded why he’s better for her than me, she’ll be his again.
I call her again, but her phone goes straight to voicemail for the twentieth time. Goddammit, I’m such a fucking idiot. After driving around for an hour to every library, every bookstore, I decide to go back to the apartment. Maybe she’ll show up, maybe she’ll show up . . . I know she won’t.
But what if she does? I need to clean up the huge mess I made, and buy some new dishes to replace the ones that I smashed against the walls, just in case she comes home.