Naturally, I assumed that Max Evans had people making his bed for him.

The intimacy of the wrinkled bed sheets surrounding me and the smell of him from the pillow pressed against the back of my head coupled with the morning attire of sweatpants and a white T-shirt he was wearing, tempted me to sleep. To drift away.

"Stay with me," he mumbled and my eyes snapped open.

He was seated next to me, his right hip against my left, looking at me as if I was about to vanish into thin air any second.

I felt myself falling into those eyes of sadness and forced myself to break away from his hold, letting my curiosity master the fatigue as I glanced around the room. A strong sense of déjà vu hit me with full blast as I took in his room.

Had I been here before?

No. I frowned. No, the Halloween party was the first time I was at Max's house and I was only downstairs for that one.

"Is this your room?" I asked, mostly in an attempt to smother the loaded silence (and to help me stay conscious). Of course it was his room.

"Tell me what happened," Max interrupted, an impatient sharpness to his voice. "Start from the beginning."

I blinked. "Well... You did something to me, but you are probably more equipped at accounting for whatever hell that was than me." My words were slurred. So tired. I was so tired.

He frowned, but apparently let it slide. "After. When you got to Maria's."

"My mom's dead," I stated, with more grief than I had intended. I really didn't have the energy to answer any of his questions.

His eyes softened and he silently brought his hand up to the side of my face, gently touching a strand of my hair between his fingers before cradling my cheek against his palm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and he looked so sad that I had to look away, the barely suppressed grief over my mother's absence suffocating me. I tried to inhale, but my lungs felt like they would explode. My body wanted to sob and cry hysterically.

His thumb pressed into the softness of my cheek and he gently commanded me, "Breathe."

"I can't," I pressed out, controlling my emotions by squeezing my fists tightly.

His hand moved from my cheek to the top of my chest, his fingertips touching my exposed collarbone above the hem of my shirt and his palm came to rest on the upper part of my breast. The touch wasn't really making it easier for me to breathe. As he leaned in, his lips two inches from mine, I thought my chest was going to explode for real.

Closer now, he repeated, "Breathe."

And the pressure was instantly released from my chest, my grief downgraded from frantic to semi-manageable.

I looked up at the golden flecks in his brown eyes and asked, fearfully, "What did you do?"

He took a deep breath and leaned back, removing his scorching touch from my chest. Giving me space. The air in the room felt ice-cold in the absence of his touch.

"Your mom couldn't be saved," he said slowly, avoiding my eyes.

I managed to raise up on my elbows, trying to get closer to him. I couldn't hide the anger and hurt in my voice as I asked, "What do you mean?"

"When I got to you..." he swallowed and I could see his Adam's apple bop. "She was already dead."

"You saw her?" I asked, my voice breaking with restrained tears.

Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) ·  √Read this story for FREE!