Page 108 of Bitter Truths

“Hals,” Griff says, grabbing my arm.

Wrenching away from him, I sneer. “Who else? Who else did you share my greatest shame with?”

“No one! Please, I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says, reaching for me with wide hazel eyes.

“Oh really? So, it just popped out by accident?”

“Hals, she saw your paintings. And—”

“Great! Well, she wouldn’t have seen those either if you hadn’t gone straight to her,” I scream before stalking away, the vision of Miranda standing on the stairs and watching our scene with a tiny frown dancing over my eyes.

∞∞∞

“Hals, I think you have to hear him out,” Aaron says, shaking his head.

Lying on the couch, staring at the television mindlessly, I turn my head his way lazily and say, “Hm.”

It’s been two days, and I’ve been ignoring his calls, texts, and knocks on the door, but he hasn’t given up, and even now, another text comes through.

I know I should forgive, but I need time to process the motherfucking pain that’s clenching at my sternum and burning its way up my throat.

That he would share something so deeply personal with someone—especiallyher—cuts fucking deep. It doesn’t matter that she knew already because he didn’t know that.

Besides, I’ve had time to think without Griffin looming over me, and maybe this is a better end than the one barreling down on me. I can’t help but think that inevitably he will see how dirty I am, and then what?

All the secrets and lies are heavy, and I’m helpless under the weight of them.

“Hals,” Aaron says, sitting down beside me, “you promised him he could be here. He’s probably going out of his mind with the Max shit.”

Fuck. Do I ever get a break?

“Fine,” I sigh, ignoring all his texts and sending him a message.

I’m home, and we’re eating dinner

After which, I shower grimly and dress in a nice pair of jeans and a sweater, pulling my long blonde hair back into a ponytail. With light makeup and a frown, I enter my room to find Griffin sitting on the bed with a grim expression.

After looking me over quickly, he opens his mouth, but I cut him off, holding up my hand. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“No way. You’ll hear me out.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

How many different ways can I say I’m sorry?

GRIFFIN

“Really?” she says, slamming her hand on her hip.

She looks fantastic with her luminous eyes and pretty tits, and I shift to hide the evidence of my erection because I’m pretty sure it would only set her off even more.

“Yes,” I say, standing from the bed and stalking toward her.

She looks away, and my stomach drops to my knees. How do I continue to end up here? Fuck me.

“Why? Why did you do it?” she asks.

Sighing, I drop my head and say with a sardonic smile, “She found the paintings, and it was a really bad day, and I needed a friend. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I regretted it the minute I did it.”