Page 121 of Bitter Truths

The following morning, I get my ass out of bed because I know Aaron is watching. It’s the only damn reason. And getting up and brushing my fucking hair is about all I have the energy for.

“Hey, chica,” Aaron says softly when I emerge.

“Hey,” I say dully before grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

He looks me over with his pretty brown eyes, and I ignore the concern gleaming back at me. If he knew the shit rolling around in my head, he’d call my mom, and I can’t afford for her to come swooping in.

I don’t know what Dr. Marks would do, but I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t be pleased. Shit, maybe I should call his bluff. The hospital feels so much more acceptable to whatever he has planned.

But no, I will find a way through this, and I will come out the other side, even though my bruised and aching chest is telling me it doesn’t fucking matter anymore.

“What’s going on?” Aaron asks.

Turning my focus to him, I say, “We broke up.”

Just hearing the words out loud creates a cavern of panic that sits on my heart like a lead weight. I can feel my lungs constricting, and I take deep breaths to fight it off because I have to maintain the facade for a bit longer.

After that, it won’t matter anymore. Clenching my hand into a fist, I focus on the pain of my fingers digging into my palm until the worst of it has passed.

“ . . . understand?” Aaron says.

Staring at him blankly, I sigh and mutter, “There’s too much between us. Lies. Hurt. Anger. We can’t get past it.”

But we were close, and I wanted to so fucking badly. I even allowed myself to dream of a wedding and a happily ever after with a beautiful baby boy with Griffin’s eyes and a football clutched in his tiny hands.

It was stupid to let the hope through, I know, because now the reality hurts that much more. I guess love truly is a fucking fairytale. It’s not meant to be anything more than a dream.

My phone buzzing in my pocket breaks me from my reverie once more, and I pull it out to find a text from Max.

What’s going on?

The message is a screenshot from his social media account. Zooming in on the picture, I stare at Griffin’s grim face and wicked smirk before moving to his companions.

His arms are wrapped around two buxom chicks with long, lush dark hair wearing slinky dresses.

It would seem Griffin is sending me a message, or he’s moved on quickly enough. But my gaze moves back to his face, and I note the slash to his mouth and darkness in his eyes.

He may be trying to fool the masses, but I see his pain, and it makes my heart wrench in my chest. With a deep breath, I click out of the picture and send a text to Max.

I need you to do something for me

I can’t worry about this. In the end, I did Griffin a favor. He sure as shit doesn’t need my baggage, and I’ve got a truckload.

In this, I am settled, even if I feel positively dead inside.

Chapter Thirty-Five

What’s the fucking point?

HALSEY

It’s Friday evening. Tonight is when I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Marks. I haven’t showered in two days, and I have no fucking plans to now. He wants me? Well, here I am.

Although a large part of me wants to just give in, I’ve decided that I will never give this dick what he wants.

I’d rather spend an eternity in the fucking hospital than ever lay down and let him control me, and since I’ve already lost Griffin, I have nothing left to lose. I know no matter how this plays out, Griff will be better off without me, but because I have no plans to roll over, I also don’t want to bring him down with me.

I’m still devastated, but I had to let him go. Dr. Marks wants me to take back my control. Well, here I am, and he better be fucking prepared.

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