Page 57 of Bitter Truths

“I know.” He drops his hand and steps back. “Whatever you think, know I didn’t do it to hurt you. I guess it doesn’t matter because it backfired anyway.”

Nodding, I turn my head away, blinking back tears.

“I should’ve kicked his ass. A punch to the gut didn’t do much,” he mumbles.

“You hit him?”

He smiles sheepishly. “He said some shit I didn’t appreciate.”

“Like what?” Why am I even asking this? Because I can’t let it go.

“Hals . . .”

“Tell me,” I say, clenching my jaw. If Griffin thinks he can protect me now, he’s delusional.

Sighing, he says, “He called you a whore. I set him straight.”

“You punched him for calling me a whore?”

“Yes,” he says. “I did bait him, and it’s my fucking fault, but I made him shut his fucking mouth.”

“Oh.” My mind is a jumble of confusion, and I’m spiraling. What does this mean for me? I need time to think. I need time. Turning away, I murmur, “Just call the lawyer and stay away from him.”

I don’t need Griff to fight my battles because I’m determined now more than ever to make them pay. You wanna mess with me and mine? Let’s see how well this plays out.

He sighs, running his hand over his hair, which leaves the glossy dark strands standing on end. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You can and you will. For me,” I say firmly.

His eyes light with desperation, and he searches my face with a grimace before he finally nods, and I ease. I’m going to annihilate those fuckers. I just need to figure it out without it leading back to me. As much as I’d like to take the credit, I know I can’t mess with the legal stuff already in play.

“Halsey?”

Glancing up, I’m pulled back to the present because Griffin’s still here, and I can’t do anything until he goes. Shit. I need him to go.

“I-I have my weekly call with my parents,” I say, and I do. It’s just not for several hours.

Griffin’s face spasms before he smooths it into a blank smile, and I brush away the pity I feel, for he broke his trust with my mom, not me. I can’t fucking control everything.

“I’ll let you know after I speak to Lowery,” he says gruffly.

When I nod, he turns away but hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. My chest clenches at his misery, watching warily when he bows his head. I don’t know if I want him to leave or stay, but thankfully, he decides for me, exiting quietly.

Turning away with a sigh, I sit back down before my laptop and continue my search.

∞∞∞

GRIFFIN

Rolling over, I clutch my head and wince. Shit. I’m pretty sure I didn’t need those last few shots of whiskey. And pushing the empty bottle away with a groan, I swing my feet around, sitting up in the bed.

I’m fucking fucked. Halsey’s words gutted me. I don’t remember how I got home, only that I drank myself into oblivion once I was here, not that the alcohol did much to fill the hole in my chest. I made a valiant effort, though, it would seem.

What the fuck am I going to do?

Footsteps down the hall draw my attention, and Miranda emerges. Blankly I stare at the numbers on my jersey before shaking my head. When the fuck did she get here?

All I remember is stalking into the house and turning on the music full blast. And with the damn whiskey bottle clenched in my hand, I stared at the fucking wall.

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