Forever Mine (ROYAL RIDERS SERIES BOOK #2)

21| You

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You

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Chapter 21: You (Amelia's POV)

He sat on the grass between the two stones and tried to hold himself together, tried not to cry, not to fall apart. Uncle Mason already left, telling me instead of Michael because Michael didn't hear him. Michael's gone so far into his own head, his haunting thoughts, that he's not listening to anyone. 

When we were at the bench, he held his head in his hands and I thought he was okay. It was when he started hyperventilating that I realized he wasn't. I brought him back to reality as fast as I could, but he's still thinking about it. I can see it on his face. 

He's... dwelling over it. Blaming himself. The apologies he's mumbling to the ground give that away. He's just been sitting here for thirty minutes, hugging his knees. 

I hesitated, taking a step forward and crouching down beside him. "Michael." I put a shaky hand on his back. 

He didn't move but let out a sigh and then finally looked at me. His eyes were bloodshot and raw with tears, he wiped his cheeks roughly. He just looked restless. His black button-up was all wrinkled, the sleeves were carelessly pushed and rolled up, his hair was a mess from him running his hands through it and tugging. He nodded ahead of him. "Can you sit with me?" 

I nodded, moving forward and sitting across from him, kneeling. 

"Can you tell me the truth, Amelia?" he asked so softly. 

I stared at him. "The truth?" 

"I want to talk. Now. About you, anything about you. Anything to take my mind off of where I am," he exhaled shakily. 

"Do you want to leave?" 

He shook his head. "I want to be with them a little longer without thinking about it so much that it... hurts," his voice broke. "You're sober, stone cold. And I want answers." We shouldn't be doing this now. When he's already so overwhelmed and fragile. But he's tired of running from it and so am I. 

"I... I don't—" 

"Start at the beginning. Where do you think we went wrong?" 

I thought for a moment. "We went wrong right away. That very first argument, we cracked," I breathed out.

 A few months before we really broke up, Michael had come to my dorm room, as usual. We were together, just having fun, hanging out, and then we had our first ever fight. 

I rocked my legs back and forth while sketching, feeling him kiss my shoulder a few times. I turned to him and his eyes met mine. "Do you have something to tell me?" 

"Huh?" He blinked. 

"You look so nervous," I laughed, putting my sketchpad aside and facing him. "Tell me." I stroked his cheek. 

He took my hand, kissing it a few times. "At the game last week," he began, "do you remember that man? The one who came to see me after the game?"