Page 25 of Before We Break Again
“He needs you,”I dare to say once I feel like I’m more in control.
I swallow down the next words—I need you.Please stay.Those won’t come out because she doesn’t have to deal with this, with my shit.
She lets out a breath, her shoulders sagging slightly.“You can’t just pull me into something like this, Dust.I haven’t seen you—or him—in years and you want me to fix something I didn’t even know was broken.”Her words are clipped, controlled.
“I’m not asking you to fix anything,” I say, though we both know that’s a lie.I want her to fix everything.I want her to be the Halsey I remember, the one who made everything better just by being there.But that’s not fair to her, and I know it.“I just ...I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
I finally meet her eyes, and there’s a storm behind them—a mix of frustration, pain, and something else I can’t quite place.“It’s okay.You’re right.I should just let myself out and ...”I shrug because honestly I don’t know what’s next.
Gavin might be able to do something while I check myself into rehab.I swallow hard, trying to find the right words, but they stick in my throat.“I’m sorry,” I say, and it feels inadequate.“I didn’t mean to throw this all on you.I just ...I thought maybe ...”I trail off, standing up abruptly.“I don’t know what I thought.”
Halsey watches me, her expression softening for just a moment.“You’re trying to save him,” she says quietly, and there’s a hint of understanding in her voice.“But, Dust, you can’t save everyone.”
“I’m not trying to save everyone,” I mutter, but the words feel hollow.“Just him.”
“And who’s saving you?”she asks.
I laugh, but it’s bitter, a sharp, hollow sound that feels too loud in the small room.“You don’t need to worry about me or us.”The words come out harsher than I intend, like I’m trying to convince both of us that it’s true.But deep down, I know it’s not.
She shakes her head, her gaze cutting through me like a knife.“That’s the problem, Dustin.I always worry about you.”Her voice wavers, but her eyes don’t.They’re locked on me, full of something I can’t face.“I always hoped everything they wrote in those trashy magazines was a lie.But ...”Her words trail off, but the unfinished sentence hangs heavy in the air between us.We both know the truth.
And what can I say to that?There’s nothing.So I don’t.The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, wrapping around us until it feels like there’s no air left in the room.She’s waiting for me to say something, but I can’t.
Then it hits me—what’s the point of dragging this out any longer?I can feel the pull to leave, the way I always do when things get too heavy, too real.I turn toward my duffel bag, yanking it off the floor.
“Thank you for ...”My voice falters, because what am I even thanking her for?For listening to my plea even when you said no?For calming me down when I was on the edge?For giving me one last kiss, even if it was just on my shoulder?It’s pathetic, but the thought flashes in my mind—maybe I should find a tattoo parlor and ink the memory of her lips on my skin, a reminder of the last time she touched me.Our goodbye, carved into my flesh.
“You can’t leave,” she says suddenly, her voice sharp, desperate.“Not like this.”
I freeze, my hand still gripping the duffel strap, but I can’t turn around.Not when her words are pulling at something fragile inside me, threatening to unravel everything I’ve tried to hold together.“If there’s one thing I’ve learned after all these years,” I say, my voice low, barely steady, “it’s to not overextend my stay.”I swallow hard, the knot in my throat almost choking me.“Take care of yourself, Halsey.”
I’m ready to leave, to escape her silence and the memories pressing in on me.But before I can take a step, her voice rings out, stronger than before.
“Dustin Haverbrook,” she says, her words bouncing off the walls of the apartment, commanding in a way that leaves no room for argument.“Stop right there.If you think I’m going to let you walk out after what just happened, you’re wrong.”
“I’m fine,” I snap, gripping the door handle like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
“You’re not fine,” she fires back, her voice fierce.“And we both know it.”
“It’s not like you fucking care,” I mutter, the words spilling out before I can stop them.It’s defensive, a reflex to push her away before she can hurt me any more than she already has.
She’s quiet for a beat, and then her voice softens, and it’s worse—so much worse.“But I do care, Dusty.I’ve always cared, and you know that better than anyone.”Her voice wavers slightly, but there’s an honesty in it that cuts through me.“I care more than anyone in the world.”
She takes a breath.“I just ...I just need time.Time to wrap my head around everything.”
Her words hang in the air between us, and finally, I turn to face her.She’s standing there, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding onto something fragile, and for the first time she looks as vulnerable as I feel.
“Are you going to help him?”I ask, my voice raw, exposing the part of me that’s still clinging to some kind of hope.
She shakes her head slowly, pain flashing in her eyes.“Not the way you want me to.I can’t do that, Dustin.But I can be there ...in a different capacity.I can still help both of you.”
The frustration builds in my chest, and I grit my teeth.“What if Jean-Luc wins?What if he destroys him?”
Her eyes soften, and she steps closer, her voice quieter now but still steady.“Santos isn’t a kid anymore.He’s stronger than you think.”She pauses, the impact of her next words sinking deep.“And you’re not in danger of being shot for loving that boy anymore.This isn’t like before, Dusty.You’re not alone in this.”
But it feels like I am.It always has.
ChapterThirteen
