Come To Me (Amelia and Patrick) novel Chapter 64

In the tax, her fingers seemed to be hooked by something but she didn't care as she fell weakly on the seat, shivering.

On the other side—

The high-school classmates party was still going on in full swing, but Patrick lost his previous interest and sat silently in the corner, shaking the fine wine in his glass.

Feeling a little guilty, Charles came to him and sat beside, saying, "Brother, I..."

Patrick glanced at him.

Charles began telling the truth, "Don't be angry with Amelia, please. I called her to tell her that you were drunk and I asked her to pick you. I just want to see if you really value her..."

Upon hearing this, Patrick's lazy eyes suddenly became sharp. He suddenly grabbed Charles's collar with terrifying momentum.

"..." After losing control for a moment, Patrick let go of Charles, putting on his coat and leaving in a hurry.

Charles, who had been thrown on the sofa, patted his chest with relief and muttered, "... Am I still alive?"

At home.

Patrick drove crazy all the way back.

As soon as he got home, he immediately ran to the master bedroom, but Amelia wasn't there.

His eyes turned cold as if he had thought of something. He turned around and went to the secondary bedroom. As expected, he found her in bed.

She laid with her back towards him. Even he came in, she didn't move.

When Patrick walked to her bedside and saw her eyes rolling, he whispered, "Don't pretend to be asleep. I know you're awake."

Amelia opened her eyes disappointedly and sat up with the quilt in her arms.

Seeing her hair was slightly scattered on her cheeks, Patrick naturally stretched out and wanted to pull her hair away, but she avoided it.

His fingertips slightly stiffened, but he pretended as if nothing had happened, asking, "Why not sleep in our bedroom?"

Sleep with a heartless man?

Amelia smiled slightly and said sarcastically, "I think this bed is much more comfortable than yours. I will sleep here in the future."

Patrick narrowed his eyes. There was anger in his heart, but he didn't vent it out. Instead, he said, "If you insist, I'll be with you!"

Amelia waved off his hand on her quilt and couldn't stand it anymore, saying, "No need. I'm not qualified."

She dissed him with his words, but there was a faint resentment.

When the sentence "I misunderstood you" was about to be blurted out, he saw the ankle exposed outside the quilt, asking with shock, "What happened to your ankle?"

With a trace of grievance in her beautiful eyes, Amelia put her foot back into the quilt, put her palm on her knees, and rested her head on the back of her hand, looking like a helpless cat.

Patrick said in an unusually serious tone, "Let me have a look at your ankle!"

Amelia turned her face away and said, "I don't need you to pretend to be merciful to me!"

Upon her rejection, Patrick lifted the quilt and grasped her sprained ankle while she was screaming.

"Be gentle!" She said in pain.

Patrick's face was still cold, but said with some tenderness, "Where did you get hurt?"

Amelia said simply, "On my way back."

With a gloomy face, Patrick tried to open the ointment on her ankle to see what was going on, but was stopped by her. "I just put it on. Don't waste it."

"Although the wound is a little red and swollen, as long as I don't move violently, I will recover in two days," she thought optimistically.

Patrick pursed his lips and dejectedly let go of her foot. She was not as gentle as an ordinary woman. She did not cry for help when in need. No wonder no man cared about her.

As soon as he let her go, she no longer clung to his arm. When she took back her arm, he suddenly asked in a tight voice, "Where is your ring?"