“I know.”

“If you need anything, call me,” he offers, and I nod before climbing out of the car.

I can see my breath coming out in front of my face in hot spurts through the cold air. I can’t feel the cold, though. I can’t feel anything.

Landon is my only friend, but he lives at Hardin’s father’s house. The irony of this is not lost on me.

“IT’S REALLY COMING DOWN out there,” Landon says as he rushes me inside. “Where’s your coat?” he scolds playfully, then flinches when I step into the light. “What happened? What did he do?”

My eyes scan the room, hoping that Ken and Karen aren’t downstairs. “That obvious, huh?” I wipe under my eyes.

Landon pulls me into his arms, and I wipe my eyes again. I no longer have the strength, physical or emotional, to sob. I’m beyond that, so far beyond it.

Landon gets me a glass of water and says, “Go up to your room.”

I manage to smile, but some perverse instinct leads me to Hardin’s door when I reach the top of the stairs. When I realize it, the pain that is so close to breaking back through stirs even more forcefully, so I quickly turn and go into the room across the hall. Memories of running across the hall to Hardin that night I heard him screaming in his sleep burn within me as I open the door. I sit awkwardly on the bed in “my room,” unsure what to do next.

Landon joins me a few minutes later. Sitting next to me, he’s close enough to show concern, yet far enough to be respectful, as is his way.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks kindly.

I nod. Even though repeating the whole saga hurts worse than finding out about it in the first place, telling Landon feels almost liberating, and it’s a comfort to know that at least one person didn’t actually know about my humiliation the entire time.

Listening to me, Landon is as still as stone, to the point that I can’t read what he’s thinking. I want to know what this makes him think of his stepbrother. Of me. But when I finish, he immediately jumps up with an angry energy.

“I can’t believe him! What the hell is wrong with him! Here I thought he was becoming almost . . . decent . . . and he does—this! This is so messed up! I can’t believe he would do this to you, of all people. Why would he ruin the only thing he has?”

As soon as Landon finishes speaking, his head snaps to the side.

And then I, too, notice it: footsteps rushing up the staircase. Not just footsteps, but heavy boots slamming against the wooden steps in a frenzy.

“He’s here,” we both say, and for a split second I actually consider hiding in the closet.

Landon looks at me with a very adult seriousness on his face. “Do you want to see him?”

I shake my head frantically, and Landon moves to close the door just as Hardin’s voice slices right through me.

“Tessa!”

Just as Landon reaches out his arm, Hardin bursts through the doorway and blows past him. He stops in the middle of the room, and I stand up off the bed. Not used to this sort of thing, Landon stands there, stunned for a moment.

“Tessa, thank God. Thank God you’re here.” He sighs and runs his hands over his hair.

My chest aches at the sight of him and I look away, focusing on the wall.

“Tessa, baby. I need you to listen to me. Please, just . . .”

I stay silent and walk toward him. His eyes light with hope and he reaches out for me, but when I continue past him, I catch the hope extinguishing in him.

Good.

“Talk to me,” he begs.

But I shake my head and stand next to Landon. “No—I’ll never be talking to you again!” I shout.

“You don’t mean that . . .” Hardin steps closer.

“Get away from me!” I scream as he grabs my arm.

Landon steps between us and puts his arm on his stepbrother’s shoulder. “Hardin, you need to go.”

Hardin’s jaw clenches and he looks back and forth between us. “Landon, you need to get the fuck out of the way,” he warns.

But Landon stands his ground, and I know Hardin well enough to know that he’s weighing his options, whether it’s worth punching Landon right now, in front of me.

Seeming to have decided against it, he takes a deep breath. “Please . . . give us a minute,” he says, trying to keep his calm.

Landon looks at me and my eyes plead with him. He turns back to Hardin. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what she wants!” Hardin screams and his fist connects with the wall, cracking and denting the drywall.

I jump back and begin to cry again. Not now, not now, I silently repeat to try to manage my emotions.

“Go, Hardin!” Landon shouts just as Ken and Karen appear at the doorway.

Oh no. I shouldn’t have come here.

“What the hell is going on?” Ken asks.

No one says anything. Karen looks at me with sympathy, and Ken repeats his question.

Hardin glares at his father. “I’m trying to talk to Tessa, and Landon won’t mind his own damn business!”

Ken looks at Landon, then at me. “What did you do, Hardin?” His tone has changed from worried to . . . angry? I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Nothing! Fuck!” Hardin throws his hands in the air.

“He messed everything up, is what he did, and now Tessa has nowhere to go,” Landon states.

I want to speak; I just have no idea what to say.

“She has somewhere to go, she can go home. Where she belongs . . . with me,” Hardin says.

“Hardin has been playing Tessa this entire time—he did unspeakable things to her!” Landon blurts out, and Karen lets out a gasp, stepping over to me.