Page 45 of Bitter Truths

Staring at the canvas blankly, I finally set down the brush. Something is churning in my chest, and it needs to be free, but when I have the brush in hand, nothing but darkness comes to mind.

Once again, there’s a big fat wall in front of me, and I can’t get past it. With a sigh, I sit on my bed and rub my brow.

I feel stuck, but I don’t want to move forward because doing so means letting go. It’s completely ridiculous, but what if I lose—everything?

I tell myself I hate Griffin, but underneath the layers is the girl who connected with him all those years ago. Why can’t she be free?

Am I fucked in the head? A glutton for punishment?

When I lay in bed at night, all I see is his face when he admitted the truth. But what really happened with Jason?

What did he say? Why?

Do I want to know the answer? I think I do. Hell, he owes me.

Picking up my phone, I go to tap out a text when the phone buzzes in my hand.

Max. Shit. I have no desire to speak to him, none, but I know I have to make an effort for my mom if nothing else. Besides, if I don’t answer, I’m sure she’d have something to say about it during our awkward as fuck Sunday calls.

“Hello?”

“Hals,” Max says gruffly.

“Yeah?”

“I need to see you. Can you meet me at the student union?”

“Why?” With a frown, I pace before my bed, denial on the tip of my tongue.

Just speaking to him on the phone gives me the creeps, my own damn brother. How did I not see the jealousy he’s been harboring for years?

“I just—. Please?” he says.

“Fine,” I sigh, already regretting my answer.

I’m still waiting for the apology I’m not sure I’ll ever get, and there’s too much unresolved between us, but I guess it will continue unless I try. And I studiously ignore the parallels to my issues with Griffin because some things are just too painful to get past.

“Thanks, see you in an hour?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

When I roll up to our designated meetup place, I slow when I spy Griffin standing there too. I’m appropriately suspicious until he glances up with a frown as I approach.

He looks me over quickly, a brilliant flash in his eyes, before glancing away. “Halsey? What are you doing here?”

My heart thumps at the heat I think I spy in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly.

“Meeting Max. You?”

“Same,” he says quietly, and we stand in awkward silence, the tension so thick I can feel it in the icy cold tremble of my fingers.

Winter came in with a bang, even though it’s still fucking fall, and I’ve been perpetually cold since the temperatures dropped. I haven’t spoken to or seen Griffin beyond our shared class, where he avoids looking my way since our brutal conversation.

Now it’s ridiculously awkward to be in his presence. Maybe hate is another form of love because right now, my heart is on fire with both.

He looks good, he always does, but the dark circles under his eyes show his fatigue. Does he lay awake thinking of me?

Shit. Glancing away, I shiver because I can’t even look at him without hating the distance between us.

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