Page 68 of Bitter Lies

Some sins can never be washed clean.

Shivering in the cool air, I make another lap of the quad, relieved to find that where before the thought of being in the open air made it hard to breathe, I can do it now without the same pressure on my chest.

Maybe I am making progress? But it’s fucking cold, so I hurry it along, anxious to get home and eat before the guys return, but my hopes are dashed when I spy Max’s car in the drive. I’m hesitant to be alone with him because he’s fucking insane when he’s high, and with Griffin not home, he’s likely to be doing it now.

Cautiously, I let myself inside and tiptoe to my room only to come to an abrupt stop when I spy my brother fucking none other than Miranda on the couch, but most disturbingly, there’s blow on the coffee table—they got high together.

Neither of them notices me, and I back out quietly, retreating down the block. Something’s got to give with Max, and I don’t know what to do, but if I do nothing, he could die. He’s hanging around thugs, and his behavior continues to get riskier.

Still, I’m stuck on his friend’s threats and the horrific reality that my brother stood by and did nothing while his companion threatened to rape me. The insanity of it blows my mind.

Now he’s fucking Griffin’s girl, but why? Why would he betray his best friend?

I’ve sensed a distance between them that was never there before, and now I have to wonder if Max is pushing Griffin away, too? And if so, is it related to his discovery of the adoption? Our past? Or something else?

Settling on a bench at a small park near the house, I shiver into my jacket as I wait it out. I’m tired of the deception, and I could have just as easily escaped to my room but being around Max when he’s like this feels skeevy at best and unsafe at worst.

And what the hell is Miranda thinking? If she genuinely likes Griff, fucking Max isn’t going to win her any favors, although Griffin isn’t exactly exclusive. Maybe neither of them cares?

After a while, I’m too cold to stay, so I head back, relieved to see Griffin is now home but scared of what I might find when I enter, but it’s as though it never happened, and all the evidence is gone.

Bewildered, I stare between Griff and Miranda snuggled on the couch, nary a drug nor my brother in sight. Did I make the whole thing up? No fucking way—I’m not that crazy.

Miranda smiles and gives me a wave as Griffin raises a cool brow, but I must stare at Miranda for a beat too long because he asks icily, “Did you need something?”

Miranda shrinks a little under my look before glancing away uncomfortably. Turning away, I say, “Nope.”

Maybe this is what Griffin deserves? After all, he’s as much as admitted he doesn’t care about another person’s feelings. Although maybe that’s just about me?

I’m just stepping into my room when Max pushes me through and closes the door behind him, and cautiously I turn his way, hopeful when I see his eyes are clear, but unfortunately, they’re hard and cold.

“What did you do?” he demands, leaning against my door.

“About what?”

“Don’t be stupid, Hals. What did you say to Griff?”

“I didn’t say anything,” I say, acknowledging that I should have, but what the fuck? Nothing about this is easy, and frankly, I don’t exactly trust him.

“Then why was he looking through my room this afternoon?” he asks brusquely, running his hand through his hair.

“Maybe he was looking for a pen. Maybe your suspicious-ass behavior clued him in. I don’t know!” I say, waving my arms around.

His eyes grow dark, his brows slamming over his nose as he grabs my arms and shakes me. “This is serious, Hals. You heard Patch. He’s not someone to mess with.”

Patch? The dude’s name is Patch? The mundane name is so at odds with his dark demeanor that I have to laugh, although it’s more out of desperation than amusement.

“Why would you hang around someone like that? Do you hear yourself right now?”

He shoves me away, and I stumble into the dresser, the one picture I had of our little family back in the day toppling forward and dropping to the floor.

Sadly, I spy the crack down the middle of the glass and acknowledge that my family is broken before looking away from the evidence with an aching stomach. What’s happened to us? Why are we all so twisted?

We had each other, and we were happy. So, why has it all fallen apart?

“Fuck off, Halsey. You don’t know shit. Just keep your mouth closed,” he snaps in my face.

Searching his features, I see that the boy who was my brother is gone, and in his place a monster, leaving me cold and disheartened. Where do we go from here?

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