Woody and Yale Falling Under

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Yale's Point of View

My father had left, and it was time.

I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this.

Tears sat in my eyes before they fell down and streamed wet paths across the skin of my cheeks. I wiped them away as I sniffed and then continued to shove my clothes into my suitcase.

I swallowed as I walked over to my closet to gather another bunch of random items to just shoved them all in.

What if I leave and he finds me.
What if he...

I froze as I could hear myself breathing and then lifted my hand to cup my forehead.

Maybe I shouldn't leave. Leaving will mean war.

But staying...

Staying, will mean much worse.

I began to frantically move things around in our bedroom unfocused and confused.

I do love him but I can't-

I heard footsteps walk into our home as my eyes grew to half the size of my face.

Shit!

I pulled the suitcase off the mattress of our bed and shoved it underneath. I'm dead. If he finds it. I'm dead.

I need to stall.

I began to tidy up as I closed our closet door and then heard the sound of heels enter our home.

Two pairs of footsteps.

Chad's and...

He shouldn't even fucking be home for a few hours. What is he doing home!?

I grabbed my phone from our beside table and then rushed over to pull up my secret floorboard, to safely place it inside before closing it off.

"Yale!" I heard the sound of Chad's voice as his footsteps began to step themselves up the staircase. Calmly, one foot followed the other.

I swallowed. Shit, I need to keep him out of our bedroom for as long as I can.

I pulled open our bedroom door and then stood in the doorframe as my eyes had met his. He stood on the staircase, just staring at me for a moment.

He wore his white work shirt, his blonde hair was neatly combed back while he wore black trousers, with black dress shoes to match.

"You look like shit, have you been crying?" He spoke with his brows pushed together curiously.

I neatened my hair.

"How was your work thing?" I cleared my throat and then gently stepped towards him after closing our bedroom door softly.

I'm wearing Woody's sweats but I don't think he'll notice. I usually wear sweats around the house and it seemed like he wasn't even present right now, as if he had a lot on his mind.

The heels.

"Work was good." He spoke as I tried to walk past him on the staircase but then he gripped my wrist and pulled me towards him, forcing my body to crash into his. He held me firmly against him.