Chapter 77: Chapter 77

Ken’s face gets red with anger. And then he’s yelling. “No money? I sent money every month! A lot of money! And your mum wouldn’t accept the car that I offered her!”

“Liar!” Hardin blows out a hard breath. “You didn’t send shit. That’s why we lived in that crap house and she worked fifty hours a week!”

“Hardin . . . he isn’t lying,” Trish interjects.

Hardin’s head snaps around to his mother. “What?”

This is a disaster. A much bigger disaster than I saw coming.

“He sent money, Hardin,” she explains. She puts her glass down and comes over to him.

“Where is the money, then?” Hardin asks his mother, disbelief clear in his tone.

“Paying your tuition.”

Hardin points an angry finger at Ken. “You said he was paying the tuition!” he yells, and my heart aches for him.

“He is—with the money that I’ve saved over the years. Money that he sent us.”

“What the fuck?” Hardin rubs his forehead with his hand. I move to stand behind him and thread my fingers through his free hand.

Trish puts a hand on her son’s shoulder. “I didn’t use all of it for your tuition. I paid the bills as well.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this? He should be paying it—and not with money that was meant to keep us fed, keep us in a house day to day.” He turns to his father. “You still left us, whether you sent money or not! You just left without so much as a fucking call on my goddamned birthday.”

Excess saliva pools in the corners of Ken’s mouth, and he begins blinking rapidly. “What was I supposed to do, Hardin? Stay around? I was a drunk, a worthless drunk—and the two of you deserved better than what I could give you. After that night . . . I knew I had to go.”

Hardin’s body goes rigid, and his breathing comes in ragged breaths. “Don’t you speak of that night! That happened because of you!”

When Hardin pulls his hand out of mine, Trish looks angry, Landon looks terrified, Karen . . . well, she continues crying, and I realize that I’m the one that’s going to have to stop this.

“I know it did! You don’t know how much I wish I could take that back, son—that night has haunted me for the last ten years!” Ken says hoarsely, clearly trying not to cry.

“It haunts you? I fucking watched it happen, you prick! I was there to clean up the fucking blood off the floor while you were still out getting shit-faced!” Hardin balls his fists.

Karen whimpers and covers her mouth before leaving the room. I don’t blame her. I hadn’t realized that I was crying until the warm tears hit my chest. I had a feeling something would happen today, but nothing like this.

Ken puts his hands in the air. “I know, Hardin! I know! There’s nothing I can do to erase that! I’m sober now! I haven’t had a drink in years! You can’t hold that against me forever!”

Trish screams as Hardin lunges at his father. Landon rushes over to try to help, but it’s too late. Hardin pushes Ken back against the china cabinet, the replacement for the one Hardin had broken months ago. Ken grabs Hardin’s shirt and is trying to hold him back when Hardin’s fist connects with his jaw.

I stand frozen, as always, as Hardin attacks his own father.

Ken manages to turn himself and Hardin around before Hardin can hit him again. Instead, Hardin punches through the glass cabinet door. Seeing the blood, I break out of my stupor and grab Hardin’s shirt. His arm jerks back, knocking me into a table. A glass of red wine topples over, covering my white cardigan.

“Look what you did!” Landon yells at Hardin and rushes over to my side.

Trish is standing by the door, giving her son a murderous glare, and Ken looks at his broken cabinet, then me, as Hardin stops his attack against his father and turns to face me.

“Tessa, Tessa—are you okay?” he asks.

I nod mutely from the floor, watching a trail of blood running off his knuckles and down his arm. I didn’t get hurt; my sweater being ruined is too trivial to mention in the middle of this chaos.

“Move,” Hardin snaps at Landon and takes his place next to me. “Are you okay? I thought you were Landon,” he says and helps me up with his one bruised but unbloodied hand.

“I’m fine,” I repeat and move away from his touch once I’m upright.

“We’re leaving,” he growls and goes to wrap his arm around my waist.

I move farther away from him. I look over at Ken as he uses the sleeve of his crisp white button-down to wipe the blood off his mouth.

“You should stay here, Tessa,” Landon urges.

“Don’t fucking start with me, Landon,” Hardin warns, but Landon doesn’t seem to be fazed. He should be.

“Hardin, stop it now,” I snap. When he lets out a breath but doesn’t argue, I turn to Landon. “I’ll be fine.” It’s Hardin he should be worried about.

“Let’s go,” Hardin commands, but as he walks toward the door, he looks back to make sure that I’m behind him.

“I’m sorry . . . about all of this,” I tell Ken as I follow Hardin.

Behind me, I hear him softly say, “It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

TRISH IS SILENT. Hardin is silent. And I’m freezing. The leather seats are ice-cold on my bare legs, and my wet cardigan isn’t helping either. I turn the heat all the way up, and Hardin looks over at me, but I focus out the window. I can’t decide if I should be angry with him. He ruined dinner and literally assaulted his father in front of everyone.