Chapter 85: Chapter Fourteen.-1

"He's just upset," I turn to Tessa to explain. "His feelings are hurt that you asked me to go instead of him. I think he really wanted to be there for you, that's all." I open the drawer on my desk and search for my car keys. My drawers are a mess. Markers, staples, a stack of homework to grade... no keys. Addy's report card is on top and I can't help but smile looking at my six-year-old's first grade report card. Perfect A's across the board, except one B, in her Social Studies class, the very same class that I happen to teach. She's like her mother, using her smile to wrap me around her finger, but when she doesn't do her homework, or rushes through it to play with Shopkins, I can't let it slide. If she wasn't my favorite little girl in the world, she would have a C. Tessa is standing at the side of my desk. The classroom looks like a war zone. Following my lesson plan, we planned trips for my students to learn how to tell directions. We made little steering wheels and I make a mental note to bring Jed, our janitor, a coffee in the morning to apologize for the glue stuck to the desks. Tessa places her hands on her swollen stomach. It's outgrown her body, my nephew will be here any day. Her blond hair is lighter from the summer sun and all their trips to the lake with Tessa's family. We met them out in Tessa's hometown twice this summer and took the girls up to the lake.  Tessa's mom's husband is a pretty cool guy and the girls loved hearing his silly stories around the fire each night we camped. When I say camped, I mean my family camped and the Scott's stayed in a luxury RV. They invited us, but we wanted to go camping. A little time in nature is good for the soul. Well, the Gibson soul at least. "He drives me crazy when he does this. There's no sense behind it," Tessa huffs and sits down behind my desk and swivels the chair to face me. "This is our second child and he has a signing tonight. His publisher scheduled it months ago and this was the doctor's only appointment for the next two weeks and I have to find out the sex of the baby before my shower," she takes a deep breath and rotates the chair again. "Do you want to explain to your wife why she has to cancel my baby shower? Because I sure wouldn't." Tessa shoots me a pointed glare and I stare at the picture frame on my desk. My beautiful wife on our first family vacation. Her hair a mess around her head and her arms lifting our two-year-old into the air. Addy was so small then. The smile on her face is filled with pure joy. As innocent as she looks in this picture, I know better than to have her cancel Tessa's baby shower, because of me. Or Hardin. Well, it would be pretty convenient for this to be Hardin's fault. However, I would still be guilty by association. It usually goes that way in our square. To be fair, when Tessa came home with tequila on her breath, before her pregnancy of course, my wife was usually behind it. I open the last drawer and turn to Tessa. "I understand what you're saying. I'm not saying it was okay for him to leave in the middle of his own book signing, but I get why he did it. If my wife was finding out the sex of our baby, you better believe I would trek across thousand villages to get there." Tessa laughs, turning my chair in a slow circle. My classroom is empty, school has been out for twenty minutes, and I still can't find my keys. Today's my day to pick Addy up from her girl's group and her mom will be on set all night. She's been working late every night this week, coming home with sore feet and a headache. I worry about her, but I know she knows what she's doing. "I guess you're right," Tessa stops the chair and leans forward to inspect my cluttered desk. I bet her fingers are itching to organize the messy papers, pens, empty staple boxes. When I laugh, she looks up at me and rolls her eyes. She reaches her hand out and grabs the newest George R.R Martin book from my desk. I waited years to finally have this book, I almost gave up hope that it would ever release. I thought it would never come since the show has been over for a while now. Tessa holds the heavy book in her hand and I try not to think about that show. That was a rough time in my life and my chest still aches at the thought of it. "Are these what you're looking for?" My keys, with a flower shaped keychain are dangling from her fingertips. Addy made me the keychain when she spent the weekend with her grandma. My mom tries to steal my daughter as often as she can, Abby and Addy are pretty close in name and age, so Addy loves going to Washington to visit her grandparents. "Just make sure he writes his publicist an apology e-mail for running out with a full bookstore waiting for him to sign their books," I advise Tessa the best that I can and grab the keys from her and my book from the desk and rush toward the door. My gray pants are stained with coffee, I pull a tissue out of my pocket and wipe it across my pants. Nope, not working. Tessa shouts past me, thanking me for the advice and I make my way to my car. .... NOW. When I get into the hallway, a string of curse words fly into the air. The voice is too low to recognize at first, but I have an idea of who it could be. If Hardin is breaking things in my living room, his ass is going right back where he came from. It takes my brain a few seconds to process what's happening. My grandma's table is knocked over, one leg broken and the vase from the top of it is on the floor, broken into glass shards around the stranger's feet. Hardin is kneeling down with his arm wrapped around a stranger's neck and a small pool of blood at the corner of his mouth. The man's face is red, a thick trail of blood flows down his face and has stained his mouth. The blood surely adds to the drama of this whole thing. When I pay close attention, he's small framed, and probably pissing himself because he thinks Hardin's going to kill him. I stop a few feet in front of them. What the hell is going on? Who is this guy? I search his face again. He looks a little familiar, but where do I know him from? "If you don't plan to kill him, you should let go," I caution Hardin. Going to jail would definitely throw a wrench into his weekend. He looks down at his new friend and back up to me. "Fine," he says and pulls his arms away from the man. Gasping, the stranger falls over onto his side and cups his hands around the front of his neck. "What's going on?" I grill Hardin. Whatever it is, happened really, really fast. In the last minute at most. Hardin stands up and puts his boot over the man's hand on the ground. "Don't move," he says to the man on the ground. He's holding his nose with one hand and his other is on the floor, open palmed. "When I got here, he had his ear pressed against your front door. I don't know what the fuck he was listening for. He was probably going to try to break in or some shit. I would know," Hardin doesn't take his eyes off of the intruder. The man tries to sit up and Hardin crushes his hand under his boot. "I said not to fucking move," Hardin raises his hand and causally pushes his hair back over his forehead, completely ignoring the shouts of the man on the floor in front of him as he steps on his hand.