Page 94 of Bitter Truths

“I love you too,” I cry, and with tears in my eyes, I hold him to me and pray nothing ever comes between us again.

∞∞∞

GRIFFIN

I’m overcome. There’s no other way to describe it. I thought I had to let her go, which was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I left the house last night confused as fuck and miserable.

I struggled with what I wanted to do and what I knew was the right thing, but to be honest, I didn’t want her to get over me. I don’t want her to be free, and the dark part of me hoped she was fucking miserable too. Stupid, I know, because I walked away to let her be, but I’m a selfish bastard.

I came here tonight with warring needs, to let her fucking go and to reel her back in. I know she wants me, but does she need me? I don’t know because the Halsey that’s risen from her past is a different girl from the one I knew.

I admire this new Halsey’s spirit, and I love the fire, but it also scares the shit out of me because maybe in her healing, she’s come to realize her need is gone while I’m still sniffing around like a complete pussy.

But maybe now we can finally be free of the tragic mistakes because I know in my heart whether she’s with me or not, there can never be another.

Thank fuck, she wants me too, and if in the future she finds she doesn’t need me, well, I’ll have to fix that too.

She feels so good in my arms that I tighten my embrace, tracing her beautiful skin softly. I’ve craved the right to touch her like this for so long that my fingers burn at the contact. I can’t get enough of her, and I never want to let her go.

“I can’t do this again. I need you,” I say gruffly, my chest tight with my truth. Despite my resolve to do whatever it fucking takes to keep her, I’m a realist, and exposing my need sits like a hot poker on my chest.

“I do too,” she says, tipping her head up and looking into my eyes.

My chest swells, my heart stuttering at her soft look before taking off uncomfortably. With a groan, I pull her to me and kiss her ravenously, the need to claim her deep and filthy.

When we pull back, panting, she touches my cheek and says, “Why me?”

My stomach clenches, and I look away. I want nothing more than to ignore the question and slip inside her because that’s when everything makes sense, but I know I can’t hide anymore.

It’s a harsh fucking reality, but if I don’t show her the real me, I’ll always wonder when the truth will emerge. I’m a fucking bastard, and she deserves to know what lingers below my skin.

“Griff?”

Staring into her bright eyes, I shudder and turn her over so my face is buried in her chest. I can’t see her when I admit this because I might just fucking die if I see the light I’ve been craving for years blink out for good.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Okay,” she says, and in that simple word, I hear the Halsey I knew long ago.

Shame fills me that I never spoke my bitter truth before because maybe we wouldn’t have struggled to be here now.

Closing my eyes, I clutch at her side. This was never going to be easy, but I’ve known that since the day I laid eyes on her and never looked back.

“My mother—she was sick and very, well, emotionally unstable.” My lip curls at the words I’ve heard Father say too many fucking times to count. Unstable doesn’t begin to cover it.

Clearing my throat, I mutter, “Sometimes she went into the hospital.”

“Okay,” she says softly.

Running my fingers over her satiny skin, I say, “You saw me.”

“I what?”

“You saw me when no one else did. Mother never saw me. She never . . .” My throat closes, and I swallow. Fuck me, but now I’m about to bitch out.

“What?” She touches my hair, and I shudder before sucking in a breath.

“She . . . she hated me. I don’t know why. I . . . she just . . . hated me.”

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