All Chapters of Bared To You : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Maximillian Edwina Danielle Jonas was a menace, pure and simple. She drove me absolutely crazy with her childish antics—her ability to poke at every nerve I had like she enjoyed it—but the truth? That same childish behavior was the very thing that made me fall for her in the first place. God help me, she was chaos wrapped in sunshine, and I was addicted. Despite all her mischief, Edwina had the most caring heart of anyone I knew. I’d been on the receiving end of it more times than I could count. Yeah, I should know. She’d held me together when I thought I’d fall apart, even if she didn’t realize it. And maybe that’s why no matter how much she exasperated me, I could never stay mad at her for long. She was my constant storm and my quiet refuge all in one.Princess Miranda, on the other hand, was becoming a thorn in my side. Scratch that—she was the thorn. She refused to take no for an answer, clinging to me like a curse I couldn’t shake. My patience was thinning by the second. My s

Edwina Not that I was hoping he’d come looking for me, but I didn’t see Max for a while—not even in church. The empty pew where he usually sat was like a hollow reminder that maybe I’d gone too far with him the last Sunday I saw him. My mind kept replaying it over and over: the way he pulled me out of the street, saving me from becoming nothing more than a road pancake, and how I, in all my brilliance, shoved his help right back in his face by ramming my fist into his gut.What kind of thank-you was that? He probably hadn’t liked it. Maybe he’d decided I wasn’t worth all the trouble. The thought stung like lemon juice on a paper cut. But wasn’t it the truth?After all, he was the Crown Prince of Mercia—a billionaire’s son with the world at his feet and an endless lineup of women who would never dare punch him for saving their lives. Me? I was just… me. Ordinary. Stubborn. Too quick to lash out when cornered.I finally forgave Steven for what he did, but our friendship had shifted in

Maximillian One whole week. That’s how long I waited—every second dragging like a century—for Edwina to storm into my life, guns blazing, demanding to know why I’d paid her father’s hospital bills. I’d pictured it a dozen different ways: her shouting, her crying, her refusing to look at me. And in every version, I couldn’t decide whether I dreaded it or longed for it.When it became clear that either she didn’t know yet or didn’t know where I was living now, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Relief seeped into my bones, loosening the tension that had wound me so tight. For the first time in days, I allowed myself to slip into the chaos of my new life as a teacher.Homework to grade, books to read—things I hadn’t done since my own school days. I even squeezed in a few movies, the kind I used to ignore. On this particular day, I’d decided to catch up on the episodes of a series I’d abandoned before the accident. My little escape from reality.Everything was ready:

Edwina“So, I heard you have like four siblings. Is Prince Julian your twin?”“No. Bianca is my twin, although people outside our family can’t differentiate between me and Julian, so they think he’s my twin. We’ve used that to our advantage so many times.” He chuckled, and I caught a glimpse of the boy beneath the title.“That’s nice. Having so many siblings,” I said, though in truth, it sounded overwhelming. My own life had been a storm of loneliness; his was an ocean of expectations.“They’re coming to pay me a visit soon. Would you like to meet them?”“Me, face a bunch of royals? Absolutely not!” My horrified expression was genuine—I could already feel the weight of their eyes, the judgment I wouldn’t survive.“I think you can hold your own against them.” His confidence in me startled me more than the idea itself. “Bianca will definitely look down on you, but I think you are capable of putting her in her place. Annabeth is Julian’s twin and she’s very sweet.”“That’s a lovely name—

Maximillian I couldn’t sleep. No matter how I tossed and turned, my mind refused to shut down. Maybe it was the silence of the house—it was so quiet it almost felt alive, pressing against me like it wanted to suffocate me. The air itself felt too heavy, too sharp to breathe. I gave up on rest, slipping outside into the garden at two in the morning.The pavement lights lined the path like little soldiers, dutifully showing me where to go. I didn’t really need them, though. What I needed was the dark. Something about it felt more honest, more in tune with the void inside me that I kept fighting to climb out of. Funny, wasn’t it? I was supposed to be healing, supposed to be grateful, yet all I could feel was guilt.Maybe it was this house. Maybe it was me. The guilt of living in luxury, of moving forward while others couldn’t, gnawed at me. My life was getting back on track—almost like it had been before the accident. And wasn’t that the cruelest part? That I could smile again. That