THE NEXT MORNING I’m a little anxious about going on my first business trip and begin to panic. Plus I forgot to get someone to fix my car. I look up the nearest mechanic and call them. I’ll probably have to pay them extra to keep my car for the weekend, but that’s the least of my worries right now. I don’t mention it to the friendly man who answers in the hopes they just won’t bother charging me for it.
I get myself ready, curling my hair and putting on more makeup than usual. I choose a navy-blue dress that I haven’t worn yet, something I bought because I knew Hardin would love the way the thin material hung on my curves. The dress itself isn’t revealing at all; the hem reaches just below my knees and the sleeves go halfway down my arm. But the way it fits makes it look really good on me.
I hate that everything makes me think of him. As I stand in front of the mirror, I imagine how he would be looking at me in this dress, the way his pupils would dilate and he’d lick his lips before pulling his lip ring between his teeth while he watched me adjust my hair one last time.
A knock on the door brings me back to reality.
“Ms. Young?” A man in a blue mechanic’s uniform asks when I open the door.
“That’s me,” I say and pull open my purse to grab the keys. “Here, it’s the white Corolla,” I say as I hand them to him.
He looks behind him. “White Corolla?” he asks, confused.
I step outside. My car is . . . gone.
“What the . . . Okay, let me call the front desk and see if they had my car towed for leaving it here yesterday.” What a great way to start my day.
“Hello, this is Tessa Young, room thirty-six,” I say when the front desk guy answers. “I think you had my car towed?” I’m trying to be nice, but this is really frustrating.
“No, I didn’t,” he replies.
My head is spinning. “Okay, well then, my car must have been stolen or something . . .” If someone took my car, I am beyond screwed. It’s almost time for me to leave.
“No, your friend came and got it this morning.”
“My friend?”
“Yeah, the one with . . . all the tattoos and stuff.” He says it quietly, as if Hardin could actually hear him.
“What?” I know what he said, but that’s all I can think to say.
“Yeah, he came with a tow truck this morning about two hours ago,” he says. “Sorry, I thought you knew—”
“Thanks.” I groan and hang up. Turning to the man before me, I say, “I am so sorry. Apparently someone has already had my car taken to another mechanic. I didn’t know; I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
He smiles and assures me that it’s okay.
After my fight with Hardin yesterday, it slipped my mind that I needed a ride to work today. I call Trevor to let him know, and he tells me that he already asked Mr. Vance and Kimberly to swing by and pick me up on their way. After thanking him, I hang up and pull back the curtain on the window. A black car pulls into the lot and stops in front of my room. The window rolls down and I see Kimberly’s blond hair.
“Good morning! We’re here to save you!” she announces with a laugh when I open the door. Smart and kind Trevor, always thinking ahead.
The driver gets out and with a tip of his cap grabs my bag and stashes it in the trunk for me. When he opens the back door, I see two seats that face each other. On one, Kimberly pats the leather, inviting me to sit next to her. On the other, Mr. Vance and Trevor look at me with amused expressions.
“Ready for your weekend getaway?” Trevor asks with a wide smile.
“More than you can imagine,” I reply and get into the car.
Chapter nine
TESSA
As we pull out onto the highway, Trevor and Mr. Vance return to what appears to be a deep conversation about price per square foot on a new building in Seattle. Kimberly nudges me with her elbow and then mimics their talking with her hand.
“Those boys are so serious,” she says. “So, Trevor said something happened to your car?”
“Yeah. I have no idea what,” I say, trying to keep a light tone, which is easier with Kimberly’s friendly smile. “It wouldn’t start yesterday, so I called someone to fix it. But Hardin already had someone come get it.”
She smirks. “Persistent, isn’t he?”
I sigh. “I guess so. I just wish he would give me a little time to process all of this.”
“Process what?” she asks. I forget that she doesn’t know about the bet, my humiliation, and I certainly don’t want to tell her. She only knows that Hardin and I broke up.
“I don’t know, just everything. I have so much going on right now, and I still don’t have anywhere to live. I feel like he isn’t taking this as seriously as he should. He thinks he can just play puppeteer with me and my life. He thinks he can just show up and say sorry and all will be forgiven, but that’s not how it works. Not anymore at least,” I huff.
“Well, good for you. I’m happy you’re standing up for yourself,” she says.
I’m just glad she isn’t asking for details. “Thank you. Me, too.”
I really am proud of myself for standing up to Hardin and not just giving in, but at the same time I feel terrible for what I said to him yesterday. I know he deserved it, but I can’t help but think, What if he does care as much as he claims? But even if somewhere deep down he does, I just don’t think it’s enough to ensure he doesn’t hurt me again.
Because that’s what he does: he hurts people.