Page 95 of Bitter Truths

“What?” she says, touching my shoulder. “How could she? What does that mean?”

“She was . . .” Clenching my hand into a fist, I smirk into her skin, unable to hold back the knee-jerk reaction. “She thought I was the devil. Literally.”

There’s an awkward pause where I stop fucking breathing before she says, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because when you looked at me, I wanted to be what you saw. But I’m not that person. I’m a fucking mess. I lied through our whole friendship because if it meant being with you, it was worth it.”

“Lied how?”

With a sigh, I rub my brow. “Hals, I’m a monster. I’m . . . filthy. But when I’m around you, I want to be what you see. I want to be . . . better.”

“Oh, Griff,” she whispers, and I wince.

“It’s fine,” I huff, pushing away, but she grabs my hair and forces me to look into her eyes.

They blaze at me with an emotion I can’t define, and panic claws at my throat. Shit. This is it. I fucking knew it.

“Griffin, your mom was sick,” she says, and I laugh, the bitter sound burning my tongue.

“She fucking hated me, Hals. If my own mother hated me . . .”

I trail off and look away, the acidic blaze of rage flooding my veins. I spent years trying to be what she needed. I learned to be as quiet as a fucking mouse. I stopped asking why and started saying yes. I hid when her eyes were feverish and lied when she wanted false platitudes.

But in all that, I never earned her love, and in me, she created her hate. It lives on in me. She couldn’t love me, and I refused to love her. So, if I’m Mother, where does that leave me?

Halsey pulls my head around and smiles, her blue eyes bright. “I don’t understand why your mom did what she did, but the boy who brought me my favorite soda every day after class was real. The boy who always let me sit in the good seat and who gave me his jacket when I was cold, he was real. Griff, the boy who made me smile, he was real.”

With a miserable smirk, I say quietly, “I was doing those things for you.”

Her fingers spasm against my skin, and I close my eyes against the truth. I’ll never be good enough for the girl sitting beside me.

“Griff, that was still you.”

“No, Hals. I’m a fucking monster,” I say, looking up.

Her glistening eyes meet mine, and she says softly, firmly, “You’re not a monster.”

I don’t believe her. How can I? But the light is still in her eyes, and it slays me. Maybe there’s hope for me after all.

With my brutal confession, I have the burning need to claim her because some sick part of me knows it’s the only way to keep her.

Rolling between her legs, I press my erection between her folds and breathe, “Sweet.”

She bucks against me, and I groan. I need this, her and the connection we have when we’re joined and the world can’t intrude, but of course, as soon as I think it, a soft knock sounds at the door.

We both pause, turning when Aaron says through the wood, “Hals, Max is here.”

At the mention of her goddamn brother, I go rigid, glaring at the door. Of course, Max is fucking interfering again. Never mind that I showed up here out of the blue.

Halsey reaches up and soothes her hand over my brow, gracing me with a shy smile, and I shudder, holding onto the feeling invading my chest.

“He’s my brother. I can’t not help him,” she says, begging me with her wide luminous eyes.

I don’t understand her need to be there for Max when he spent years making her miserable, but I suppose this is part of what I love about her. She loves deeply, and thank fuck that love includes me.

Sighing, I lean against her and bury my head into her neck, muttering, “Okay.”

I’d rather chain her to the bed and fuck her all day, but I can see this is important to her, and I have the feral desire to be whatever she needs, so I relent, grudgingly.

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