Page 61 of Bitter Lies

Unfortunately, we’re all riding home together, which means a four-hour drive in Griffin’s vehicle with my crazy-ass brother. Talk about awkward—fuck my life.

“Yo, let’s go,” Max calls through the door.

It takes me a moment to disassemble my barricade, and I fully expect him to be annoyed with me on the other side, but strangely, he’s smiling at me.

Which I get a glimpse of before I look away, uncomfortable under this change in demeanor, and, frankly, freaked the fuck out. His mood swings would give a chick on her period a run for her money, all of which leaves me on edge and waiting for the next freak-out.

Griffin is standing at the end of the hall, but I’m not interested in seeing his face either, so I squeeze through the jamb and avoid them both, ensuring I don’t touch my brother.

To say I feel betrayed would be an understatement. He brought a thug to our home and stood by while he threatened me. I don’t trust him, and I’m damned if I can’t get out of this house and pronto.

It’s not like I can tell Griff because what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks it’s a paranoid construct of my pathetic psyche? I mean, I painted my room and my body with black paint not so long ago. Who’s the crazy one now?

In either case, I’m not sure whether to take Max’s friend’s threats seriously, and if Griffin were to do nothing, I might lose my fucking mind for sure.

Max goes to grab my bag with a soft smile, although I see the grimness behind his eyes, and I pull away, noting Griffin’s confused frown as I do.

Taking the back seat, I plug in my headphones to drown out their conversation and fall into a deep sleep. I wake a while later with a gasp, Jason’s face interposed with Max’s new friend’s dancing over my vision.

We’re at a gas station, I note, and my trembling hand is on the door handle when Griff says from the front seat, “Halsey.”

Ignoring him, I escape into the lot, gasping for air as tears well in my eyes. This is too much, and I’m not sure I can get past it. I’m not that strong. I never have been.

My secrets are on the verge of being discovered, and the guys think I’m a whore who participated in a gang bang. Griffin made a cruel bet over my virginity, which truthfully hurts most of all because it erases all of my memories of our time before. And my fucking brother is not only getting high but hanging out with thugs.

Before, when I felt overwhelmed, I had someone to keep me going and lift me up. Now I’m a fucking island, and stormy seas surround me, battering at the shoreline.

Wearily, I rub my forehead where an ache has bloomed, stiffening when Griffin repeats my name behind me.

“What?” I ask icily, turning my face away.

It’s too painful to look in his eyes. I thought I had felt hurt before, but it’s nothing compared to the knowledge that the boy I pathetically loved for all these years was trading me away for a fucking coat and a fifty-dollar bill.

“What’s going on?” he asks gruffly.

“Nothing,” I mutter.

“What about with Max? Why is he acting so weird?”

Stiffening, I turn to him with my best sneer and hide the fear behind a mask of loathing, “Why? Because he’s being nice? Is that a fucking problem?”

His brows slam over his eyes as he says, “I never had a fucking problem with your brother and you.”

“Excellent. Are we done?”

“No,” he growls, grabbing my arm.

Pulling away, I raise my hands to ward him off. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

There’s a beat of silence before he pulls back with a thunderous expression, his mouth curling into his familiar sneer. “Not a fucking problem.”

“Hey,” Max says, approaching with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes as he glances between us. “I bought you a slushie, Hals.”

He holds the drink out to me and I only take it after a moment’s hesitation because his mouth tightens slightly, a warning to which I stare at the damn thing like it might bite me.

I have no idea what his game is, but I assume he thinks being nice to me will keep me calm and compliant. Fucker.

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