Chapter Eighty-Three

After We Fell


chapter eighty-three

 

HARDIN

 

I’m pacing back and forth across the floor, furious fingers tugging at my sweat-soaked hair, all the clothes and books I’m stepping on registering vividly on the soles of my bare feet.

    “Hardin? Are you okay?” Tessa’s voice is thick with sleep. I’m so glad she answered. I need her to be here with me, even through a telephone line.

    “I . . . I don’t know,” I croak into the phone.

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Are you in bed?” I ask her.

    “Yes, it’s three in the morning. Where else would I be? What’s wrong, Hardin?”

    “I just can’t sleep, that’s all,” I admit, staring into the darkness of our—my—room.

    “Oh . . .” She lets out a long breath of relief. “I was worried for a second.”

    “Did you talk to Zed again?” I ask her.

    “What? No, I haven’t talked to him since I told you about him wanting to visit.”

    “Call him and tell him that he can’t.” I sound like a lunatic, but I don’t give a shit.

    “I’m not calling him this late, what’s gotten into you?”

    She’s being so defensive . . . though I suppose I can’t blame her. “Nothing, Tessa. Never mind.” I sigh.

    “Hardin, what’s going on?” she asks, clearly worried.

    “Nothing, just . . . nothing.” I hang up the phone and press down on the power button until the screen turns black.