Chapter 2 – Love Is

"Love is the hardest habit to break and the most difficult to satisfy." – Drew Barrymore

"I swear I'll pay you back as soon as I get my paycheck." Angie promised, stashing the cash in her purse like it was the Hope Diamond.

With a wave of my hand, I dismissed her concern. "It's not a big deal, Ange. I don't need it anytime soon." Angie, bubbly and bright, was the best friend I could ask for. She was the first friend I made when we moved to Folly Beach. She was a capsule of energy and a shiny light in darkness.

She offered a genuine smile, thanking me again. "You're welcome, now stop. Are you ready to go to work?" I laughed, pulling down my sunglasses, letting my brown curls fall into my face.

Angie followed suit, taking her 1970's huge sunglasses out of her purse. She then blew a big pink bubble with her gum, "Yep." Her soft brown hair cascaded down her back as she swayed and twirled in the sand. Her playful nature and compassionate heart were two of my favorite things about her.

I welcomed the warmth of the sun on my bare shoulders and hung my whistle around my neck. This was my bliss. It was late June, warm and sticky. It was just right for dresses, flip flops, and spending all day outside. I breathed in the salty air and beamed, my gaze on the sapphire blue ocean dancing along the shoreline.

"Can I ask you something?" Angie inquired after we had been sitting at our stand for a few minutes, all playing and lightheartedness aside. She held out a bag of cookies, which I happily dug right into, nodding my head.

"I'm thinking of taking some time apart from Eric" She told me, nibbling on her cookie while waiting for my reaction.

I cocked my head to the side, surprised. "Really? Are you two having problems?"

She shrugged her shoulders, unsure." That's just it. We aren't having problems and we're not crazy-obsessed. We aren't passionate. I'd give anything just to even have a fight. We're…stagnant. We come and go. We're repetitious." She tapped her sky-blue painted toe nails against the wooden panels beneath us.

Beating around the bush was never our style. I asked her bluntly, "Do you love him?"

She nodded her head, not missing a beat, "Absolutely."

"Are you in love with him?" I pressed softly.

She frowned and I already knew the answer. "I think I used to be, but I'm not so sure I am anymore. I'm not happy. There's no spark and I know he feels it, too. We're stuck in limbo, just going through the motions. You know?"

I pulled my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. "Of course, I do. Maybe this is just me," I began, pulling my hair into a ponytail so it was off of my neck. "But why nurse a lukewarm connection just for the sake of not being alone? What if there is someone out there that completes you? What if it's a love heightened and ignited? What if it's a love intensified times ten, a hundred, or a thousand? Is Eric worth missing out on all of that?"

I watched as her mind reeled through the possibilities I'd just laid out for her, opening herself to prospect of it. "Do you think a love like that exists?" She inquired after a moment, a mixture of hope and doubt on her face.

I knew that it did. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. Amaranthines are guaranteed that kind of love, that kind of connection. When we reach full maturity we receive our imprint. The imprint that we possess is the other half of our soul mate's, bringing us together in an inexplicable bond. So when Angie asked if I believed it, I did. I believed in it with my whole heart. "I do," I confessed passionately.

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, thinking on what I had said. "This is so hard."

"Love is equal parts shy and courageous. It isn't easy; it's sacrifice and vulnerability. It's also electric, unconditional, and raw. It's supposed to be beautiful and intense."

She observed, the corner of her lips turned up. "You're intense."

I grinned, eating the last bite of my cookie. "You love it," I quipped, winking.

"I really do," she admitted with honesty. "But I'm really mad that you ate my last cookie." She turned over her empty bag, showing me.

I shrugged my shoulders and batted my eyelashes apologetically. She didn't buy into it one bit. "You're pathetic." She mock-groaned, "And you owe me a bag."

"Deal," I said while she held out her pinky for me to promise.

We spent the majority of the next few hours laughing, but the happy mood shifted as clouds rolled in, bringing a horrible sensation of darkness and dread. A shiver ran down my spine, the feeling so heavy and consuming. I looked at Angie on my left to see if she was aware of the experience. Angie wore a happy smile, bopping her head lightly to the beat of whatever music was playing through her headphones, oblivious to my discomfort.

When our gazes met, Angie pulled her hair back, fanning herself. "It's so hot. Want some lemonade?"

I nodded my head and pulled a five from my wallet. "It's on me," I told her while she thanked me and then left to get our drinks.

With a deep breath I closed my eyes and let the wind blow across my face. Only a select few times had I gotten feelings like these…but each and every time I did, my feelings always came true. It was like I had the gift of knowing the future, or maybe it was a curse, but I couldn't help but worry that something bad was going to happen.

Angie soon returned with my drink and I gratefully took a sip of the bitter lemonade, which needed five hundred packets more of sugar. My lips puckered in response and she laughed.

"It's gross, huh?"

"Horrible," I managed, turning to her. Her lips were puckered just as mine and I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of us. I tried to maintain some sort of normalcy while my mind was flashing mental warning signals of doom and gloom.

"Let's take a selfie to show off our duck faces!" She piped up, pulling her phone out.

"Not a chance," I protested.

"We can send it to Edward. Come on," Angie urged in excitement. "Please? I won't ask you for anything for the rest of the day, I swear!"

I pretended to think it over. "Snapchat or it's no deal," I fake-huffed and settled, giving her a stern look.

"Deal," She squealed, pulling me close to snap the photo. With a big, goofy smile on her face, she sent the picture to Edward. I knew he'd get a kick out of it.

Afternoon transitioned to late evening quickly and I was grateful for the quiet ride home so I could be alone with my thoughts. As soon as I walked through my front door, I was greeted with the aroma of something delicious cooking in the kitchen. I hummed in approval, perking up. "What smells so amazing?" I strolled inside.

"Uncle Jasper's grilling steaks out back," My niece, Kimmy, answered, her face covered in flour. "And we're making homemade rolls, mashed potatoes, and a salad."

I kissed the top of her head, wiping the flour from her cheek with my thumb. "Sounds delicious," I praised her.

"Did you have a good day, honey?" My mom asked from beside Kim, tossing the salad.

I shrugged, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "Yeah, it was good."

She smiled approvingly. "I'm glad. Will you set the table? We're just waiting on Emmett to get home."

"Sure thing," I did as I was told and fifteen minutes later we were all seated at the dining room table waiting.

When my brother walked through the door, it was clear something was really wrong. I hoped it didn't have anything to do with my feeling at the beach. His yellow suspenders and black boots were covered in fresh ashes. He looked exhausted and devastated. "Em, what's wrong?" His wife, Rosalie, asked.

He shot a heartbreaking glance at us all and then silently went up the stairs, ignoring her question. Rosalie was up and out of her seat immediately, following him.

My mom and I shared worried glances. "Don't eavesdrop," she commanded to my family but we all knew that was nearly impossible. We could hear them from anywhere in the house. There was no such thing as privacy in a household of immortals.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Rose asked him from upstairs but was still met with saddened silence. "You're scaring me," she pressed. "Talk to me."

Emmett let out a strangled sob, his voice catching in his throat. "A little girl died today," Was his reply. "A little girl died in a fire today because I wasn't fast enough."

He stood up and I could hear his footsteps above me. "Her name was Lindsay. She was Kimmy's age. By the time I reached her bedroom it was completely engulfed in flames. I tried to get to her, I really did." He paced and declared.

"Of course you did," Rose spoke softly, consoling him. "You did everything you could. This isn't your fault."

A loud crash erupted and the sound of glass breaking followed. "It is my fault!" He yelled. "If I had gotten us there just a little bit sooner she would still be alive!"

Hardly able to stand it, I scooted my chair back to go to tell him that it wasn't his fault. A hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned to look at my sister who wore my same expression. "Let him get past this. He won't hear anything you have to say right now, no matter how true it might be." Alice whispered.

"He has to know this isn't his fault." I protested, my throat tight with emotion.

She nodded her head, "He knows. He just has to deal with it."

"Is daddy going to be okay?" Kimmy's voice broke through and it hadn't registered to me just how traumatic this must be for her, to see her father out of control.

I embraced my niece in a hug, holding her. "He's fine, sweetheart. He's sad but he's okay." She looked up at me with wide, trusting eyes. I held her tighter.

"Dinner's getting cold. Let's eat and I'll save their plates in the microwave." My mom interjected, digging into the mashed potatoes. I kept my hand in Kimmy's for comfort and followed my mom's lead, taking a bite of my already cooled dinner.

We began eating in a soundless sorrow, mourning for the man we loved upstairs, who was fighting a battle between his heart and mind.

A knock at the door broke the tension and I looked to my family for an answer. "Expecting company?" I asked around the table. Everyone shook their heads no.

That sickening feeling I'd had at the beach resurfaced. My heart sunk out of fear. Jasper stood up from the table, placing a single finger over his lips, indicating for all of us to keep quiet. Kimmy clung to my side, fisting my shirt.

Movement on the stairs caught my attention. Emmett and Rosalie slowly descended, aware of the situation. Jasper kissed his wife's cheek, ushering her to strand with the rest of the family. Then both men of the house went to the door. It all happened so incredibly fast.

With silent gestures and unspoken communication, Emmett and Jasper were in synch with one another, a plan formed between them.

"Who is it?" Emmett asked, braced for anything that may come his way.

"My name is Phil Dwyer. I'm looking for the Swan family," An unsure voice came from the other side of the door.

A collective gasp erupted around the room and my mother shouted, "Oh, for heaven's sake, open the door!" Emmett and Jasper obeyed and my mother ran into the familiar man's arms.

Shock and relief washed over my family. A man we thought had died was standing on our doorstep. Phil was my father's best friend and was also with him the night he died.

"Thank God," he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her. "Is your family okay?" He searched, peeking around my mom.

She nodded her head. "We're fine," she reported, her face pale as she stared at him in unwavering disbelief. "You're alive?" She barely whispered, brushing her fingers across his cheek.

"I am," Was his response. "I came looking for your family after the attack. No one was at your house and I thought they had gotten all of you." He professed. "I've spent a year trying to track your family."

Tears formed in her eyes at that realization, while everyone else was stunned and silent. "We thought there were no survivors. We thought you were dead. You have to know that we would've waited for you."

Her hands looked fragile in his as he pulled her close, "Renee, I know that. You took care of your family and that was the most important thing."

She nodded. "What about Davina?" My mom questioned with hope.

Phil hung his head in sadness and I knew that meant that his soul-mate was dead. "She didn't make it," He voiced sullenly.

She frowned in sorrow and understanding. "I'm so sorry, Phil. Please, come inside."

He nodded his head and came in. "It's good to see you again," my brother shook Phil's hand and embraced him in a welcoming hug. "I'm so glad you're okay and I'm very sorry about your wife."

"Likewise, thank you." He returned the gesture and then patted Jasper on his back in greeting

Everyone entered the dining room and each of us welcomed Phil. We expressed our happiness that he had returned safely but it felt discordant with the news of his wife's demise. We also expressed our condolences.

Alice and I re-warmed dinner and set a place for Phil.

"How did you find us here in Folly Beach?" Jasper mused from across the table. "I thought we covered our tracks well enough."

"You did and that's why it took me a year to find all of you." Phil made known, wiping his lips with his napkin. "But clearly you're not impossible to find and that worries me. If I could find you, there's no doubt in my mind that the Volturi can."

Mom's expression filled with worry. "Are you saying we need to leave?"

"Not yet," he observed. "You need to cover your tracks better and take more precautionary methods. The Volturi are very skilled and will leave no stone unturned. If we miss one thing, they'll find it. It will lead them here."

We all nodded our heads and let silence fill the atmosphere around us. We had been doing so well, dodging bullets and maintaining secrecy. It was frustrating and worrying to know we were accessible.

After a few moments, Phil confessed, "I owe all of you an explanation for my unforgivable actions." I knew the upcoming topic wasn't going to be easy.

"I've gone over this a million times in my head, how I'd tell you about Charlie's decision." Phil decided to break the ice. "I couldn't change Charlie's mind when he came to me and proposed that he wanted to go after the Volturi. I agreed to go with him because he didn't stand a chance alone. The odds weren't in his favor and I knew that. I begged him to let it go and live the rest of his life in peace. He acknowledged that he knew it was a suicide mission and chose the battle anyway." Phil took a deep breath.

Betrayal shined in my mom's watery blue eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've talked to him."

He swallowed and hesitated before speaking. "He made me promise not to tell you. He knew you'd never let him go. I couldn't risk you or your family getting hurt. I thought I could talk some sense into him or stop him. The truth is, Charlie planned this long before any of us were aware. His heart was filled with sickness and hurt. The desperation for vengeance became all he knew and he acted on it."

I closed my eyes tightly, processing his words. "Did he even bother to think of how his actions would affect his family? He was supposed to be devoted to us!" My heart shattered like a glass thrown against a wall. It was my turn to feel betrayal. "I mean, did he not understand that he'd reveal his entire family by doing so? Did he not think we'd live with those consequences every single day of our lives? Or that we would hardly be able to move on, that he would leave his family broken, scarred, and afraid?"

"Isabella Marie!" My mom shouted, clearly take aback by my outburst.

Being desperate to remain strong, I stood my ground. "Don't you agree, mom? Can't you see that dad has ruined this family? Our lives are full of danger and fear of the danger!" The blue fire in her eyes flared at me in disbelief. Her silence was the kerosene to my burning nerves. I bit my bottom lip and held back my tears, hardening my hold. I watched as she stared right back into my eyes, like I was the one that started this fire.

The truth was that this was entirely my father's fault and while I loved my dad, I couldn't negate that reality. If he hadn't chosen to go after the Volturi we wouldn't be running for our lives, living in fear. They would have no idea about his half-human family if it weren't for his actions. She needed to recognize that.

I wanted to yell at her and tell her that no matter how perfect she made him out to be, the ugly facts still lingered like dust on every surface, where his betrayal had latched on.

"Your father is dead, Isabella. Show him some respect."

"His family is alive, mom. He should've shown us some respect." My voice was laced with unintentional anger. I wasn't angry with her. I was angry with him. My father sought out vengeance at the expense of his own family's lives. I felt like he signed our death certificates and I resented him for that. "I need some air," I pocketed my phone and got up from the table, walking out the front door. I didn't look back.

I ran until I was at the place I was most content. The air started to smell like salt water, while the ocean looked like shimmering diamonds under the moon. Seeking more comfort, I called the only person I knew who could bring me some.

"Hey gorgeous," Edward answered brightly, unaware of my less-than-thrilled mood.

My response was opposite his. "Hey," I wallowed.

"What's wrong?"He worried while I played with my bracelet for a distraction.

"Everything," I confessed, crying. I wished he was here so he could wipe my tears and hold me tight.

"Freckles, tell me what's going on." He pleaded through the phone in desperation.

With a deep breath I allowed myself to recount the last thirty minutes. "It all started when Emmett got home. He walked through the door like a zombie. I haven't seen him look like that since…since my dad died. He lost a little girl in a fire today and blames himself for not getting to her fast enough."

"Damn it," Edward cursed. "He couldn't have prevented it."

I kicked a seashell and sat down in the sand, not even caring that I was getting my clothes wet. "I know. He's taking this really hard."

"They have counseling at the station, all sorts of programs for things like this." Edward would know. He and my brother had worked as firemen for years together. "I'll talk to him when I get home."

"Thanks," I offered and then confessed my own burdens. "I got in a fight with mom, too. I basically told her that our screwed up lives were all my dad's fault and she needed to stop being naïve and face that reality." I cringed as I relayed it.

"Whoa, what brought all that on?" Edward inquired without judgment and I was grateful for that, already berating myself.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Phil Dwyer brought it on. He showed up on our doorstep tonight. He's alive."

"What?" I knew I was hitting him with a hundred things at once and figured it must be difficult for him to keep up.

"Apparently after the attack he came to look for all of us. We had already left, though. He's spent the last year trying to find us."

He let out an overwhelmed breath of air, processing everything. "I really don't know what to say."

"I know," I related. "So when he told us that my dad knew it was a suicide mission, I lost it. I just got so angry. I'm so mad that he knew it! He knew what he was doing. He knew he was leaving his family behind. He knew he was putting all of us at risk. If my dad hadn't done this, your parents would be alive! Why does everyone praise him when he's caused so much destruction and loss?"I cried hysterically, devastated.

"The Volturi killed my parents, Bella, your dad didn't." He murmured. "The first few days I was so angry with my dad for going along with it and angry with your dad for recruiting him in his crazy, twisted plan. I never told you because you were dealing with your own loss and you didn't need to know that."

"I'm not going to make excuses for your dad and you should definitely feel what you feel. All I want to do is make sure you know that your dad loved you and sometimes we make poor choices. I know that if your dad could go back and change his decision, he would."

I backtracked. "I know he loved all of us. What I doubt are his intentions and respect. I distrust his motives and allegiance." I admitted. "I love my dad so much but that doesn't change how angry I am. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel differently, but tonight, tonight I'm so angry with him."

"And you have every right to be," he agreed wholeheartedly.