Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Halsey
“You just want me to fix Santos, and then you’ll disappear again? You’ll leave me behind, just…watching me from afar?”
The silence that follows is heavy, almost suffocating. I wait, my pulse quickening, as if bracing for the impact of his response. Finally, he murmurs, almost to himself, “We’re two very broken men, Halsey.”
The way he says it—so calm, so resigned—sends a shiver through me, unsettling in its simplicity.
It’s not just a confession. It’s a plea.
There’s something deeper beneath the surface of his words, something that feels like desperation.
He’s not just asking for help with Santos.
He’s reaching out for a lifeline—for redemption. Maybe even for love.
“You deserve better than us,” he continues, his gaze distant, as if he’s lost in a memory that still hurts. “But I’m begging you . . . please try to help him. For old times’ sake. Hockey is all he has left after we lost you.”
The atmosphere in the car shifts, thickening with everything that’s been left unsaid.
And just like that, it’s back. That familiar burden. The one I thought I’d let go of years ago. The one that comes with caring too much about two people who I thought had long since moved on.
But how can he say that when they still have each other? How can he stand here and act like I was the one thing holding them together when, clearly, I was the one who fell apart?
I bite my lip, trying to control the bitterness in my voice. “So, you two can be happy together and—”
The sound of his laugh is sharp, bitter. It cuts through the air like a knife, jagged and painful. “Happy? You think we can be together, Halsey?”
There’s something almost maniacal in the way his laugh fills the car, a dark edge to it that sends chills down my spine.
He leans back in the seat, rubbing a hand over his face as if he’s trying to wipe away the reality of his words.
“Baby, he and I . . . we can’t be anything.
Santos still does whatever his narrow-minded, bigoted father says, and I .
. . I’m an addict who can’t get his shit together.
If I could, I would’ve come for our girl and begged her to take me back, to love me. ”
I knew he was an addict—of course I did.
It’s been all over the tabloids. But hearing him say it out loud, in that broken voice of his, makes it real.
I’d hoped it was a lie, just something the media spun to get more clicks, but the way he looks at me now?
It’s the truth. And it hurts to learn he’s been so lost. It hurts more than I thought it would.
“You could hire anyone else to help him,” I say, my voice betraying the cracks at the edges.
The truth is that I don’t want to be a part of this. I don’t want to live through another round of heartbreak and impossible dreams. I couldn’t survive any of it.
“Sure,” Dustin says, his voice low but firm. “But they’ll be someone we pay. Not someone who really cares—someone who loves him.”
“If you pay enough, they’ll care,” I snap unintentionally.
Dustin sighs heavily. “Here’s the thing, Hals. I sorta need to kidnap him. Take him to a clinic where the staff is discreet. A place where the doctors care and they won’t be disclosing his whereabouts. You’re the best option.”
“Kidnap him?” My head whips around, disbelief surging through me. “I’m not going to be an accessory to—”
“I said sorta. I need to take him away from Jean-Luc,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “This has to happen fast before his father sends him to another conversion center where they tell him being bisexual is a sin.”
My heart stutters, and I stare at him in disbelief. “They sent him to—”
“Of course they did.” Dusty’s voice grows harsher, the bitterness thick in his throat.
“His parents and yours are both so . . . narrow-minded. His parents, just like everyone else in town thought our relationship was unconventional because we were both fucking you. It never crossed their mind that San and I were also in love.”
His words hit like a slap, heat rising to my cheeks. Concern creeps in, mixing with the shame they drilled into me. “No one caught us having sex . . . we were just kissing,” I whisper, almost defensively. Okay, it was more like making out, but it wasn’t all the way.
“Not the point, Hals,” he says, voice sharp.
“The thing is, two weeks later, Jean-Luc did catch us fucking. A few weeks after your parents dragged you away, everything went to hell. He nearly shot me with his rifle, Hals. Santos? They shipped him off to some conversion center and afterward they sent him to Canada to live with his uncle. They tried to spin it, saying it was to ‘jump-start his career,’ but we both know it was just to keep him far away from me. Because apparently, he learned all that from me. You know, the guy from LA, where sex and depraved people roam freely.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t process it. Santos . . . Santos was sent away? To a conversion center? My stomach churns. “He’s in his thirties. There’s no way his father can still . . .”
“You’re probably right, but I can’t take any chances,” Dustin says, his tone deadly serious. “I’m being proactive this time. Conflict of interest or not, you’re probably his only chance to recover.”
The silence in the car is crushing. I can’t find the words. My mind is racing, spinning, trying to make sense of everything. But nothing makes sense anymore.
“Why me?” I finally manage, my voice barely audible.
Dustin’s gaze locks onto mine, his eyes steady, unflinching. “Because you love him more than anything in the world.”
“I don’t,” I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, they feel like a lie.
He laughs again, that same harsh, bitter sound. “Right. Which is why you closed your eyes in pain when I showed you his picture. Just quit and I’ll open a center for you. You said you needed money to open your own practice. Sounds like you don’t enjoy being there anymore.”
“I—” I’m speechless for a second. Is he always spying on me? “How do you know?”
“I heard your conversation with Roni while I was waiting in your office.”
Of course he did. “We’d have to relocate. If I quit, I can’t work as an orthopedic surgeon—or in a sports medicine clinic—for two years in the Dallas area.”
“That’s predatory,” he says, leaning forward, “but we’d go to my house. There’s enough acreage to set up whatever you need for this. We can rent a space for you to start your own practice if you prefer. Give me your wish list.”
It all sounds too good to be true. Like some fantasy he’s pulling out of thin air to lure me back into their lives. But the way he says it . . . It makes me wonder if he’s not just spinning dreams. Maybe he believes in them. Maybe this is his way of trying to put the pieces back together.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” I warn him, my voice low, but even I can hear the hesitation.
“Sure, you’re still thinking about it.” He smirks, that cocky glint back in his eyes. “But can we go to your place? I’m starving.”
“Your five minutes are up,” I reply flatly.
“Are you really going to toss me out on the road?” Dustin’s tone is challenging.
“No, but if I’m taking you with me, you’re answering more questions,” I say, gripping the steering wheel and guiding the car toward my apartment.
“As long as you tell me what happened with the asshole,” he counters.
“Asshole?” I frown.
“Carson.”
“It didn’t work out,” I mutter.
“This was your longest relationship yet,” he says, his voice tight. “I was afraid you were suddenly ready for more with him.”
“More?” I repeat, not understanding.
“Living together, marriage . . . something,” he replies, his tone flat, almost emotionless.
“That would’ve implied I was in love with him.” The words slip out, and I can hear the exhaustion in my own voice. The kind that comes from having this conversation more times than I can count—in my head, with myself, never aloud.
Dustin’s eyes stay locked on mine, his voice low, barely more than a whisper. “You weren’t?”
The question hits me like a punch, stealing the breath from my lungs. I can’t stop the surge of anger that rises. I slam the car into park, glaring at him before throwing the door open and stepping out. How can he ask me that?
He took part of my heart, both of them did.
Santos and Dustin—they held it once, or at least I thought they did.
But then they probably threw it away, somewhere out into the world where it gave its last beat.
Now, it feels like it’s nothing more than a dull throb, an echo of something that used to be whole.
There’s nothing left to say. No more talking, no more excuses.
Just this shared silence between us, thick with everything that’s been left unsaid.
I walk toward the entrance. Dustin follows, his footsteps steady and deliberate, always close enough to remind me that he’s here, that he won’t leave until I give him what he wants.
As we approach my apartment, a man stands waiting by the door. He’s holding a bag of groceries, and a duffel bag is slung over his shoulder.
“Mr. Haverbrook,” the guy greets Dustin with a nod, like this is all some pre-arranged agreement. “I’ve got everything you requested. Groceries, clothes, the essentials.”
I whip my head toward Dustin, my frustration reaching its peak. “You really think I’m going to invite you to stay with me?”
His lips curl into that maddening smirk that I used to find charming, but now it just makes me want to scream. “Well, I’m not planning on leaving until you agree to treat him—and come with me.”
I fold my arms across my chest, trying to build some kind of barrier between us. “You really think you can just stay here until I agree?”
“Pretty much,” he says, completely unfazed, his tone casual.
I let out a long, exasperated sigh, pushing past him toward the door. “I’ll probably say no.”
But even as I say it, there’s no real conviction behind the words. I’m too tired to fight with him, and he knows it. I try to walk past him, but he steps in front of me, blocking my way with that same determined look I remember from all those years ago.
“There’s nothing you can say or do that will convince me,” I mutter, but I’m not sure if I’m saying it for him or for myself.
“I can be more stubborn than you, baby,” he replies, his voice low, and that damn glint in his eyes—he hasn’t lost it. “Try me.”
“You’re infuriating,” I say, my voice tight as I try to push down the rising frustration. But there’s something else underneath the surface, something I don’t want to name. That feeling I used to get when he’d push my buttons just to see how far I’d go before I broke.
“And you’ve always found me endearing for it,” he shoots back with a grin, his eyes softening in a way that makes it impossible to stay completely mad at him.
I roll my eyes, wishing I could still resist that grin, but it’s been years, and even now, he can still get under my skin. “Go book some swanky hotel and leave me alone.”
He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a serious tone.
“No one can know I’m in Dallas, especially close to Santos.
There was some misunderstanding while I visited him.
If people find out I’m here, the rumors about us being caught kissing will start up again, and cleaning up his image is fucking exhausting. ”
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fine,” I say, my voice resigned. “But you’re staying on the couch, and you’re leaving tomorrow first thing in the morning.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you’ll be leaving with us?”
“No, I’m not doing this,” I snap, but even as I say that, I know I’m only arguing for the sake of it.
The truth is, the idea of helping Santos, of being part of their lives again—it’s all been sitting at the edge of my mind, waiting for the right moment to slip in.
And Dustin—he knows it. He can probably sense it.
But can I just up and start a new life close to them? Can I let myself dream, believe once more?
It’s fear versus love, and I’m not sure which one will win.
Fear of reopening old wounds, fear of being shattered again, of stepping back into a world that left me broken once before.
Or love—the kind that never truly fades, no matter how much you try to bury it.
The kind that stays with you, etched into your bones, long after you’ve convinced yourself you’ve moved on.
And with Dustin and Santos, it wasn’t just a regular first love.
It was something more—something deeper, overwhelming, like falling into a whirlpool where there was no escape, no turning back.
It was the three of us, tangled up in a mad, undeniable love, a connection that went beyond anything known to humans.
They weren’t just my first loves. They were my everything.
The two people who shaped my entire existence, who made the world make sense in a way it hadn’t before.
I loved them recklessly, desperately, long before I understood what that love would cost me.
They were my whole world once, and deep down, no matter how much time has passed, I know they always will be.
That kind of love doesn’t fade. It lingers, an ache that never really leaves, pulling you back to what could have been, to the possibilities you never let go of.
As I glance at Dustin, standing there with that familiar smirk that hides all the pain beneath it, I wonder if this time we can make this work, or if it’s already over and we can never love again.
And if being with them will be simple, and most of all, if I’ll survive the fall.