Page 47 of Before We Break Again
“Dusty,” she begins, her voice gentle now, “you don’t have to disappear, not from us.You’re ours and a part of our soul.When you try to run away, you hurt us.You’re not doing anyone a favor.”
I look at her, trying to find the words, but they’re caught somewhere deep in my throat.How do I explain that sometimes disappearing feels safer?That it’s easier than staying and facing whatever this is between us—the mess, the uncertainty, the fear?
But then her hand finds mine, warm and steady, calming me in this moment.And for the first time in hours, I feel like I can breathe again.She stares at me as if saying leaving isn’t the answer.Staying is.
“Let’s say I believe you.”She narrows her eyes at me.“You could’ve told us where you were going and what you were doing.”
“I didn’t want to add more to your plate,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.“You’ve been dealing with so much—San, your mom, work.I thought if I could just handle it, if I could make sure everything was set, you wouldn’t have to worry about one more thing.”
Her gaze softens, the tension in her face easing just a little, but there’s still something behind her eyes—doubt, maybe even hurt.“It’s just ...Five hours, Dustin.It felt like you disappeared and weren’t coming back.Like you didn’t want to be around us, or maybe ...”Her voice trails off.
“You thought I’d run off to find a dealer or drown my sorrows in some seedy bar?”I ask bluntly, the edge in my voice sharper than I intended.“You need to have more faith in me, beautiful.”
She sighs, looking down for a moment before meeting my eyes again.“Oh, I have faith in you, Dustin.But I don’t know this part of you—these demons.They’re not something I can just brush off.”
I reach for her hand, intertwining my fingers with hers, and give it a gentle squeeze.“I’m not going anywhere, Hals.Last night was rough, yeah.But you helped me more than you know.And today ...”I pause, taking a breath.“It was hard seeing you two together and not being able to be there.With him.With you.It’s just ...we can’t do that in public.He’s not ready.”
Her eyes search mine, and I can feel the tension between us—the things we can’t say out loud yet, the parts of our lives that don’t fit neatly into the world around us.But I keep going.“And like I said, I just needed to make sure everything was perfect for you.Even if he chooses to stay in Portland, I want you to have the option to move to Baker’s Creek.I want you to have something for yourself.”
When Dr.Aldridge offered her that job in Baker’s Creek, I saw the flicker of excitement in her eyes.It was real—genuine.But, of course, she immediately thought about us first.Because that’s who Halsey is.She doesn’t make decisions for herself.She always puts everyone else first.It’s like she doesn’t know how to be selfish.Like she doesn’t think she deserves to be.
And maybe that’s the part that kills me the most.She’ll be so busy making sure San and I are okay that she’ll forget about herself.We need to find a balance.
“You need to start looking out for yourself too, Hals,” I say, my voice softer now, almost pleading.“I know you’re always thinking about the bigger picture—about us.But sometimes, you have to come first.”
She looks away for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line.I can tell she’s fighting with herself, with the idea of putting her own needs above everyone else’s.I know that feeling all too well.But it’s different now.It has to be.
Not that I’m one to talk.I’ve been running from my own mess for years.Still, every therapist I’ve ever seen has told me the same thing: “You can’t keep giving pieces of yourself away and expect to stay whole.”Maybe that’s something Halsey needs to hear too.
“You’re allowed to take the job if you want it,” I add quietly.“We’ll figure the rest out.Together.”
“Let me think about it,” she says, letting out a long breath and leaning back into the seat.“Still, you should’ve told us you’d be gone for that long.”
“I know,” I admit, my thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand, the familiar warmth of her skin comforting me.“Next time, I’ll be better.I promise.”
She doesn’t say anything, just watches me, her eyes filled with that quiet understanding that always makes me feel like she sees more than I’m ready to admit.
“To make it up to you,” I continue, “how about dinner?Something fancy—candlelight, reservations, the whole deal.We’ll dress up, maybe grab a table at some trendy spot downtown.Wine, steak, the works.I’ll even pretend to know which fork to use.”
She laughs, but shakes her head, glancing down at her outfit—a mix of comfort and exhaustion, like she’s too tired for anything that demands more effort.“Fancy, huh?You really think that’s my vibe right now?”
Her eyes lift back to mine, playful but tired.She gives me thatreally?look, the one that’s always a step ahead of me.
“Maybe not tonight,” she adds, a teasing smile on her lips.“But if you had a little hole-in-the-wall joint that serves the best pizza or a place with greasy hamburgers, now that sounds like something I could get behind.Something comforting, you know?”
I grin, squeezing her hand.“Pizza it is.No white tablecloths, no fancy silverware.Just us, and the best damn food we can find.”
“Now you’re talking,” she replies, her eyes brightening just a bit.“Throw in some garlic knots, and I’m all yours.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
Dustin
We’re standingat the entrance of the suite, and it’s like the world narrows down to just us.The lights are dim, shadows flickering along the hallway walls, but all I can see is her—Halsey, standing there, looking up at me with those eyes that have always seen through every damn thing I try to hide.
My fingers twitch at my sides, restless, aching to touch her, to pull her close.There’s a tension between us, thick and heavy, like it’s been simmering all night or maybe since yesterday, and now it’s about to boil over.
She’s standing so close, her lips slightly parted, and I can’t stop staring at her mouth.God, I’ve been holding back for hours, trying to play it cool, trying to keep everything in check.But right now, all that restraint shatters.It’s like something in me snaps, and before I can second-guess it, I’m moving.
