Page 114 of Bitter Truths

“Are you high?” he demands.

Max shifts on his feet, his right eye twitching, before his brows slam over his eyes, and he says, “Fuck off. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Griffin says, setting me aside gently. “You’re fucking high. You need to call your fucking parents. Jesus, Max.”

“I’m not calling anyone. I’m fucking fine. Mind your own goddamn business,” Max bellows, clenching his hands at his sides.

Although I’m relieved Griff is here, I still step back cautiously because Max high is like a raging bull, and I have zero desire to interact with him when he’s like this. Sadly, I look him over and wonder what did it this time? Was it the reappearance of Patch or something else?

Shit.

“Just fucking go,” Griffin says.

Max looks at me with an intensity that raises the hair on my neck but then turns, and I slump when he walks toward the door only to suck in a breath when he turns back to us with a nasty smile. “Has Hals here told you about her revenge?”

“What?” Griffin says impatiently. “Just go.”

“I’ll take that as a no. Hals, I’m disappointed you wouldn’t tell Griff about the video,” Max says, shaking his head. “Doesn’t he have a right to know? Doesn’t this affect his football scholarship?”

“What are you talking about?” Griffin growls, stepping toward Max, who raises his arms, shrugs for effect, and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

With my heart pounding uncomfortably out of my chest, I turn to Griffin to see him looking at me curiously.

“What was he talking about, Hals?” he asks, pulling me into his arms and tipping my chin up.

Glancing away, I whisper, “Um, I kind of . . . convinced Randy Hughes to post that video with the comments.”

∞∞∞

GRIFFIN

Pulling back with disbelief, my adrenaline, which had just started to subside after confronting Max, ratchets right back up again. Halsey is looking at my chin, which bugs the shit out of me, so I tap her lip and say, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I made him do it,” she whispers, her lower lip wobbling.

“You made Randy Hughes post that video?” I ask slowly, searching her eyes.

She sucks in a breath and nods her head. “Yes.”

“When? How?”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s done.”

“How?” I bark, and she flinches, but I don’t have it in me to fucking care. She lied to me. What the fuck?

“I went to his house and told him he had to do it,” she whispers, looking up at me with her pretty pleading eyes.

“You went to your rapist’s house? Alone? And forced him to post a fucking video?” I bellow.

I can feel my blood pressure flying through my veins. I’m so fucking angry I’d like to hit something, but hitting Halsey is clearly out of the question, so I turn away and slam my fist into the refrigerator.

She could have been hurt. She could have been raped again. She opened a can of worms that not even the lawyer can stop if those guys decide to pursue something. She risked her fucking life. And for what, revenge?

“It’s all over now,” she pleads, and I look away. My heart fucking hurts. It hurts that she did this to begin with. It hurts that once again, this is my fucking fault. It fucking hurts.

I want to take her over my knee and bruise her ass for even considering this, much less carrying it out. Instead, I rub my hands over my face and say gruffly, “I can’t believe you would do this. It’s fucking dangerous and stupid.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t understand,” she says sourly. “I was showing the world I’m not a whore.”

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