Page 82 of Bitter Truths

GRIFFIN

After a painfully awkward dinner where Halsey’s mom and dad did most of the talking, she sends us back into the living room with snacks, and we crowd around the television just like old times.

Although I was surprised to hear from her and pleased, I was fucking nervous as all hell when I stood on the porch. I know Mrs. Moore comforted me in my time of need, but that’s just who she is.

Would she look at me with the same accusing blue eyes? Would the betrayal behind them hurt just as badly?

Thankfully, Halsey’s parents were welcoming, but as I sat through dinner, I realized even this could never be what it was. I lost my best friend, my first true love, and the only adults I’d come to respect.

And pretending that there wasn’t an elephant the size of a fucking meteor between us was excruciating. I love these people, even Max, for all his fucked-up-ness, but I don’t think we can ever go back. Fuck me.

“Griffin?” Pulled from my thoughts and the ache in my chest at how close Halsey is to me, I look up at Mr. Moore.

“How’s your father?”

“He’s fine,” I say, sagging on the couch.

Truthfully, I don’t fucking know. We haven’t spoken since the funeral, and arriving home for the holidays, I spied a new woman in the house when I dropped off my things.

She’s my age, which is pretty ambitious for the old bastard, but I don’t have it in me to care. Maybe he’s planning a new family, and if that’s the case, more power to him.

I wouldn’t have come home at all if Mrs. Moore hadn’t outreached me.

Max shifts across from me, and I frown at his curious gaze. He, of all people, should cherish what he has. Instead, he’s made an ass of himself and shunned the people who love him the most.

So what if he was adopted? These people have his back, drugs and all.

“Good. How’s, um, school?” Mr. Moore asks.

I sense Halsey’s curiosity, but I ignore it because I don’t want her pity. I want her fucking love.

“It’s good, great,” I say, clearing my throat and wishing this conversation wasn’t what it is.

Mr. Moore doesn’t know how to talk to me anymore, and the boy who idolized this man is gone. I don’t know who I am, but I know I will never be what he thought I was.

I’m a fucking mirage. Fuck me.

“Good, I’ll leave you young’uns alone,” he says with a smile, and Halsey chuckles beside me.

Now that we’re back in the family room, the memories rush through me, and it’s almost painful to sit down with them both because with the familiarity comes images I can’t see past.

Halsey, with her shining eyes looking at me as though I hung the moon. Her sweet smile when I brushed her perpetually unruly hair back from her face. Even Max, with his wicked smile and penchant for trouble.

Uncomfortably, I sit at the end of the couch, and when Halsey lies beside me, my heart lurches because instead of laying her head on my leg like she used to, she gives me a shy smile and pulls a pillow under her head instead.

Max sits before us, and soon we’re immersed in a movie that I’m not seeing because all I can feel is the heat of Halsey so close to my leg.

Max’s head tips forward, soft snores chuffing from his lips, and because I can’t resist touching her just one more fucking time, I run my fingers through Halsey’s silky hair.

When we were younger, she always had one stray hair that refused to conform, and I loved that lock of hair because it gave me an excuse to touch her.

She looks up with her lips parted, and I smile softly before motioning her forward, my heart lodged in my throat. Tentatively, she leans her head on my knee before relaxing into me, and my poor, confused fucking heart feels like it’s going to explode.

I go back to stroking her hair, memories of doing just this thing so many times in our past rolling through me. And every time, it felt so good, safe, wonderful, and now it does again.

On the wings of my contentment, need surges through me, and I shift, but it does nothing for my aching hard-on. I’ve been painfully stiff for fucking years around this girl turned woman. Why should now be any different?

Closing my eyes, I ignore the clenching in my stomach because I wish it could be this way forever, but it’s too late for us.

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