Chapter 29

                                    

                                          
I know some of you didn't read the other fic first, so tsk tsk  on you. Now, you won't get something that I put in the chapter.
                          
Song: Dear Darlin' by Olly Murs
                          
America's POV
                          
     After the whole incident with Maxon's phone call and my mother, I'd been angry with her for a while. What right did she have to make my decisions for me? I did eventually forgive her though because I realized she was trying to protect me. She didn't want me to get hurt again. I understood where she was coming from. 
                          
      It had been five days since I'd left the palace and I just didn't know what to do with myself. I'd played every board game we had with Gerad at least twice, I'd talked with May for approximately eight hours about everything except Maxon, and read every book in the house that could hold my interest. I'd stupidly left my violin in my room at the palace so I couldn't escape into the world of music. With nothing to keep me busy, my mind drifted to him. 
                          
       He hadn't tried to call again and whenever I tried, he wouldn't pick up. I had no clue what he was thinking or what he was feeling. Was he over me? Was he missing me? Was he angry? Did he care at all anymore?
                          
       I knew that I had to get in contact with him somehow. I needed to know what was going on with him. It was like the distance between us was growing more and more with each passing day. The more time that passed, the more I started to hide within myself around my family. I would just sit on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and stare out the window, wishing things could be the way they were before.
                          
      Suddenly, I got an idea. I moved faster that I had in days and went to find what I needed. Once I got my supplies, I sat down and started.
                          
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Maxon's POV 
                          
    A full week. That's how long it has been since I've seen America. I hadn't bothered to try calling again. I obviously wasn't wanted. I just wished that she had at least told me that she didn't want to talk herself. It felt cruel for her to not even give me that. It would've given me at least a little bit of closure.
                          
    I was standing by my window, nursing a cup of tea that was slowly turning cold. I stared out into the darkness of the night. I thought about what I could've done to prevent this, what I would've done if I'd known that it would turn out like this. I would've been more forgiving, I would've listened, I would've tried harder. It was all my fault.
                          
    There was a knock on my door. It was probably my mother, coming to address how I'd skipped out on all of my meals today. I'd felt especially awful today and I just couldn't listen as my father gave me another lecture about how I was being a pansy and sissy and whatever other word he felt could describe how I was acting. I didn't answer it. Maybe she would give up if I didn't respond. 
                          
    The knocking grew more insistent and I reluctantly walked over, placed my cup on my desk, and opened the door. Gabriel entered, an urgent look on his face. He started babbling instantly.
                          
    "So I was making my rounds, the usual stuff that I do around here and this maid comes up. Very pretty, a little short, not really my type, but anyways that's not what is important. So she hands it to me and scurries off, a little odd but you know how some people are. Once I realized what it was I came here because, you know, I figured you would want to see it so here I am."
                          
     I blinked, not really understanding the point of what he was trying to say. "What are you even talking about, Gabriel?" I asked, feeling like I was missing something.