Page 84 of Bitter Truths

What the hell was I thinking? Now I’m going to pretend I don’t crave her every time I have to look into her eyes.

Shit.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Maybe it’s true. Loving someone means setting them free—what a crock of shit.

HALSEY

“How was your holiday, Halsey?” Dr. Marks asks.

“It was okay,” I mumble, rubbing my forehead wearily.

Truthfully, in the wake of Griffin’s confession, I’ve been struggling for the past few days. Most mornings, it’s an accomplishment to get out of bed. I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, but knowing that Griffin, the guy who’s known far and wide as a free fucking agent, committed to Miranda broke something in me I thought long since dead. I’m a shadow, and I can’t find the fucking light.

“You seem off. Are you experiencing any symptoms I should know about?”

Shrugging, I pull at the seam in my jeans half-heartedly because I’m not sure I care about this either.

“Halsey?”

“Yes,” I whisper, glancing up.

“Have you given any more thoughts to what I said?”

“About . . .?”

“Yes,” he says gravely.

“No, not really. I mean, even if I was, what does that mean? The only person who makes me feel doesn’t want me, not anymore.”

“Then you find someone who does and who will show you the way,” he says.

“How?”

“Open your mind to it. Allow it in. There are ways, and I can help you, but you need to be fully invested. There’s no going back.”

“Okay.” I’m too numb to care, and if my counselor thinks this will bring me peace, who am I to stand in the way? Does it even matter? Does anything?

“Good,” he says with an encouraging smile.

After our session, I step into the chilly air with a sigh and I’m halfway down the sidewalk, staring at my feet, when Dr. Marks says behind me, “Halsey?”

“Yeah?” I turn around.

“There is hope, and I can show you. Just think about it,” he says, his blue eyes lit up with an inner fire that sends a tingle down my spine.

“Okay,” I say uneasily, watching as he walks away.

With a shiver, I turn and step back with a gasp when Griffin stands before me with a cool expression.

“Griff,” I say weakly, pausing when he says gruffly, “Hals.”

Thank fuck we no longer share a class because the awkward tension between us was so miserable I was starting to hate it. A shame, since I took it because I loved the subject.

And in the wake of everything else, I don’t think I could stand to look at him every class and know it’s truly and completely over. His words about being a better person for me stung because I just wish it wasn’t with her, and now the sentiment is decidedly fucking flat.

“Hey, how’s everything?” I ask, wishing myself a million miles away even as I look him over desperately. He’s so close I could touch him, but that’s just it. I can’t because he isn’t mine.

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