Page 80 of Lilah

I pull away. I don't deserve to be comforted. Or to be happy. I deserve to take Jake's place.

"Please don't cry," he uses his manners and I almost hold my heart. His hands find my cheeks and he wipes the tears away.

"I don't like it when you cry," he says, looking one-hundred percent truthful.

"I deserve to feel sad."

"You don't," he says in a final tone, gripping my chin so that I'm looking right at him.

That's not what my father tells me.

"But I killed hi-"

"Don't.Say that," he says sternly, his eyebrows furrowed unhappily, "you didn't kill Jake."

How did he..? I must've mentioned his name without realizing.

"No more of that," his hands come to rest on the sides of my torso, "no more crying either."

He jerks me flush against him, wrapping his strong arms all the way around me. He's hugging me.

"Good?" he questions about the hug. I feel a little smile creeping up on my lips.

"Good."

? ♦? ♦? ♦? ♦? ♦? ♦? ♦? ♦

There's the insight into what happened during the wreck. It hurt my heart to write it. Next chapter coming soon! Thank you for reading!

P.S: I'm sorry for the cliche eye color part :)

*Not edited*

Word count: 4243

-Ashlyn Montgomery

Chapter 12: Destroyed

?Azalea?

I don't remember my bed ever being this comfortable. I actually recall it feeling like a rock on my back.

I open my eyes and for the first time, it feels like I actually have energy. I let out a little evil giggle. I'm not going to be needing coffee today.

I stretch my limbs letting a groan out as my back arches and my buttcheeks shake from how good the stretch is.

I look around. I'm met with an unfamiliar room. The last thing I remember from yesterday was sitting on Grey's lap. After I told him about Jake.

Is this Grey's room? Gray, white, and black cover most of the room. Fitting.

Thank the good Lord he didn't take me home.

I look down at the black comforter and catch sight of how big this bed is. I could spend all day in this bed. I look at the foot of the bed and see a door, most likely leading to the bathroom.

I have to brush this God-forbidden bad breath away. I don't necessarily want to get up though. Or rummage through his bathroom. Good Lord only knows what I could find.

Preparation H? I hope not.