Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

FIFTY-ONE

"Oh my God," Isabel gasped as she met us in the door.

Max was holding tightly onto my hand and I was trying to get my shaking legs under control. Isabel's widening eyes and frozen reaction to our presence wasn't really doing anything to calm my nerves.

"Hey," Max greeted quietly, apparently deciding to not dwell any further into Isabel's reaction.

Isabel put her hand on Max's arm, stopping him. "What did you do?"

I felt the heat rush to Max's face and his fingers tightened around mine. "You know what-"

Isabel rolled her eyes. I noted that she wasn't wearing any make-up and her hair was an unorganized collection of strands. She was wearing cotton pajamas with cupcake print.

"I know what you've done," she said, slightly annoyed. "But there's..." She put her head to the side and let her eyes drift across our bodies. She tapped her long finger against her mouth in contemplation. "There's something else..."

"Is dad up?" Max interrupted and my eyes flickered to his profile as I was brutally brought back to our reality.

The reality in which we had to face Max's father and lay our relationship out in front of him.

Isabel's face paled. "You're really doing this?"

"Is he in the kitchen?" Max asked, his voice filled with the tension that was thrumming through his body.

Isabel nodded and added weakly, "Yeah..."

Max squeezed my hand and then we were walking. Towards the kitchen.

"Max," Mr. Evans voiced from the kitchen as we got closer to the entrance. "I thought I heard your voice."

Under Max's guidance, we rounded the vaulted doorless doorframe and stepped into the impressive kitchen. Mr. Evans was over by the coffee machine, his back towards us. He was dressed in beige stylish trousers and a white shirt.

"You were supposed to come ho-" I froze along with him as he turned around and noticed me standing next to his son.

He frowned for a second, before his face bloomed in barely convincing surprised joy. "Oh, Ms. Parker. I wasn't expecting you." He glanced at the clock on the wall and I felt the temperature in the room drop a couple of degrees as his voice turned even happier. "Especially not at 6.03 a.m."

"We need to talk," Max declared and I was impressed by the strength and calmness of his voice.

I watched Mr. Evans slowly look to Max and my interlocked hands, his face unreadable, before he gestured towards the kitchen table. "Take a seat."

Max lead me by the hand and pulled out a chair for me. I sat down slowly, keeping my eyes on Mr. Evans as he approached the opposite side of the table. As soon as Max sat down next to me, he released our hands, grabbed the sides of my chair, let it scrape against the floor as pulled me up so close to his that the chairs bumped together.

I looked at him in surprise at his obvious display of possessiveness, but his face was almost as unreadable as his father's when he glanced at me before grabbing my hand again.

I refocused my attention on Max's father, wondering how I was supposed to hear anything of this discussion over the roaring sound of my blood in my ears.

"We need your help," Max said evenly and Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes slightly while leaning back against the backrest.

I watched him cross his arms across his chest and his voice was no longer shrouded in feigned happiness. It was as cold as the air around him. "What have you done, Max?"