𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 is far from perfect. Before starting her senior year of college, she's already guaranteed her position as the black sheep of her once prestigious family. To make matters worse, she took up bedding the rival family's eldest...
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"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆," Michael rasped into the quiet of his Hayvenhurst bedroom, his thumbs tracing every line of Evelyn's knuckles as if to commit the feel of her hands to his memory.
Evelyn stared down at his lap where his hands rested. She felt as though she was having an out of body experience. The physical closeness to him had been an unbearable craving over hers for so long that having it now took her outside herself, watching herself receive it from a bird's eye of view as if in a dream.
A house of luxury, full of achievements and children, and music was nothing but an eerie cocoon now, made to conceal whatever crisis or reunion that would be born within it from prying eyes. Evelyn squeezed Michael's oh-so-gentle hands lightly and silently prayed that this was going to be a reunion of love, something her own home had seldom seen.
Just as she remembered from the last time, his room was an assortment of comfortable chaos. Little messes consisting of clothing, books, novelty trophies from the university were all across the floor, and she could only imagine that they were evidence of the sacrifices he made for his academic and music commitments. They also perfectly encapsulated his sense of person; such disorder all neatly contained behind the polished exterior that was often locked tight. Her chest tightened, then she tightened her grip on his hands.
"I was there at the apartment waiting for you," Evelyn finally said, her silvery gaze flickering back over to where Michael sat across from her on his bed, studying her with an intensity that made her want to flee. His brows were drawn low over his big brown eyes, and his concern was unmistakably at war with the pain she wasn't aware he'd felt until now. "I was, Michael," she pressed in a more emphatic tone. "I moved in, and I was waiting for you to call me or something—"
"I mean before that," he said. His fingers stopped playing with hers. The absence of the affectionate pinches and pulls caused Evelyn's stomach to twist in knots. Up until now, the small habit was her only indicator that they were straying out of the woods, that things would be okay again. "In your song, you said I went away, but that's what you did to me." His frown deepened but in a manner that made her believe he was swallowing bile. "You left me, you didn't talk to me after kissing my brother. Besides you showin' up to the superlative awards, how was I supposed to know you didn't go back to him?"
Evelyn didn't have an answer for that. A second later, she felt the lump in her throat grow to the size of a baseball and its accompaniment of tears rush to her eyes. For once, she realized she wasn't soon to cry for herself. She was going to cry because she'd scared and hurt Michael badly, just in the way she'd always accused him of, and he didn't deserve any bit of it. "I don't know," she admitted in a strained whisper, pushing her limp shoulders up into a shrug. "I just wouldn't ever do that to you, so I thought—"
"The same way I didn't and wouldn't ever do that to you with Vivian or any other girl?" Michael's eyes searched hers, and he reached up to push the curl adhering to her damp cheek when he saw the tears there. "I know trusting is hard, Eve, but you gotta believe in me. You have to," he pleaded softly. "And you can't run away from me. You have to talk to me, be open. I thought you left and went back to Jackie."
