Page 34 of Bitter Lies

“You know Will, then, eh, Halsey?”

Rigidly, I smile but its halfhearted. “Yes.”

“Hm,” he says.

Avoiding his gaze, I glance up to find Max now looking at me with a speculative gleam. “That’s right. I think I heard something about that. Didn’t you fuck him?”

Flinching, I stare at him incredulously because up until a few days ago, it never occurred to me he or they might hear about it, and now it’s coming at me from all sides.

This is the truth I’ve been trying so hard to hide, and I feel dangerously exposed.

“What?” I demand.

Max’s mouth curls into a nasty smile. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

“No!” I exclaim, but a glance between the two with their twin expressions of skepticism says they don’t believe me. “What?”

“That’s not what he said,” Griffin says, his eyes burning dangerously.

“Who? What did they say?” I whisper, caught between the shame clenching my stomach and the rage making my fingers tremble.

Griffin raises his brow, his tone brutal as he searches my eyes. “That you were a wildcat.”

Does he see what he’s looking for? Probably not since there’s a void in my chest so fucking wide it’s a wonder I can still breathe.

“Yeah, and that you fucked like a little whore,” Max chimes in, smirking.

“And it never occurred to you to defend me?” I push roughly back from the table and press my palms to the wood.

“Why would I?” Max asks, and frankly, he seems genuinely bewildered.

Curling my hands into fists, I slam them against the top. “Because the fucker was spreading rumors about me!”

“Is it true?” Griffin asks, raising his brows over his ice-cold eyes.

“That he fucked me? Yes. That I’m a wildcat? Debatable,” I mutter, brushing past him to my room and locking myself inside.

I’m not sure who to be angrier with—my dick brother for not defending my honor or Will Jameson for having the balls to brag about what he did, either way, I’m so fucking enraged that I’m shaking.

But on the tide of this emotion is fear clenching my gut because I’m splayed wide open, and this time there’s nothing I can do to hide.

Fuck this. Grabbing my jacket, I exit the room and head toward the door, ignoring two sets of eyes watching me the entire way.

∞∞∞

By the time I return, having walked the block about twenty times, I’m tired and still seething, but what can I do?

I walked into a nightmare, and when I couldn’t pull free, I made the choice to pretend it didn’t happen, and even now I have to stick with it because I can’t imagine confessing my truth. Frankly, the thought is so reprehensible that I puked in a bush, and the burning bile still rolling around confirms it.

This means I have no choice but to parade around as the wildcat while my brother laughs, and Griffin judges me.

He probably thinks I slept with Will just to forget him, too. Asshole.

Staring at the ceiling blankly, I scroll through the memories, thankful they’re not as harsh as they could be before rolling out of bed. If I go down this road, I fear it will be brutal and resolve myself to another sleepless night.

I’d like to shower again, but I know it will only leave me scalded because what’s beneath can’t be washed away with soap and water.

The house is quiet when I plop down onto the couch and turn on the television with the sound set to low. I’m exhausted, but I can’t rest, and I’m hoping the low din in the background will soothe me.

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