After Ever Happy (After #4) by Anna Todd Read Free Book Online Page A

reply, my eyes staring into his.
    “You are. You’re too perfect for me.”
    I want to cry— are we back to this? “I’m not going to let you push me away. I know what you’re doing: you’re drunk, and you are trying to justify this by comparing us. I’m just as fucked-up as you.”
    “Don’t talk like that.” He frowns again. His other hand moves up to my jaw and pushes into my hair. “It doesn’t sound right, coming from that beautiful mouth.” His thumb runs along my bottom lip, and I can’t help but notice the contrast between the way his eyes burn with dark pain and rage and his light and gentle touch.
    “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere,” I say, praying to break through his drunken haze. I search his eyes for any hint of my Hardin.
    “ ‘If two people love each other, there can be no happy end to it,’ ” he softly replies.
    Instantly recognizing the words, I tear my eyes from his. “Don’t quote Hemingway to me,” I snap. Did he think I wouldn’t recognize it and know what he was trying to do?
    “It’s true, though. There’s no happy ending—not for me, anyway. I’m too fucked-up.” He drops his hands from my face and turns away from me.
    “No, you aren’t! You—”
    “Why do you do that?” he slurs, his body swaying back and forth. “Why do you always try to find the light in me? Wake up, Tessa! There isn’t any fucking light! ” he screams, and slams both of his hands against his chest.
    “I’m nothing! I’m a fucked-up piece of shit with fucked-up parents and a fucked-up head! I tried to warn you, I tried to push you away before I destroyed you . . .” His voice gets lower, and he reaches into his pocket. I recognize the purple lighter as Judy’s from the bar.
    Hardin doesn’t look at me as he strikes the flame.
    “My parents are messed up, too! My father is in rehab, for God’s sake!” I shout back at him.
    I knew this would happen—I knew Christian’s confession would be Hardin’s breaking point. One person can only handle so much, and Hardin was already so fragile.
    “This is your last chance to go before this place burns to the ground,” he says without looking at me.
    “You’d burn down the house with me in it?” I choke out. I’m crying now, but I don’t remember when I started.
    “No.” His boots are so loud as he crosses the room; my head is spinning, my heart is aching, and I’m afraid I’ve lost my sense of reality. “Come on.” He lifts his hand to me, asking me to take it.
    “Give me the lighter.”
    “Come here.” He holds both arms to me. I’m full-on sobbing now. “Please.”
    I force myself to ignore his familiar beckoning, no matter how much it hurts to do so. I want to run into his arms and take him away from here. But this is no Austen novel with a happy ending and good intentions; this is a Hemingway at best, and I can see right through his gesture. “Give me the lighter, and we can leave together.”
    “You almost had me believing that I could be normal.” The lighter still rests dangerously in his palm.
    “No one is!” I cry. “No one is normal—I don’t want you to be. I love you now, I love you and all of this!” I look around the living room and back to Hardin.
    “You couldn’t. No one would, or ever has. Not even my own mum.”
    As the words leave his lips, the sound of the door slamming against the wall makes me jump. I look toward the noise, and relief floods through me when Christian rushes into the living room. He’s out of breath and panicked. He stops in his tracks when he takes in the state of the small room, liquor covering nearly every inch.
    “What—” Christian’s eyes narrow at the lighter in Hardin’s hand. “I heard sirens on my way here. We need to leave, now !” he shouts.
    “How did you . . .” Hardin looks back and forth between Christian and me. “You called him?”
    “Of course she did! What was she going to do? Let you burn the house down and get yourself