"Deal's off," Edward said, shaking his head. "No crazy, Alice-inspired wedding plans. Not happening."
"But—" Bella started.
"No," he said firmly, "you've given up too much to make other people happy. And I'm sorry I even convinced you to get into this mess—"
"Edward," Bella said firmly, "this matters to you—"
"You matter to me," he answered her, taking her chin gently with his fingers. "And only you."
"But—" she started.
His "no," was soft, and whispered into her lips as he kissed her. "But don't worry love, I haven't forgotten what I promised you."
He was laying her down in the grass, one hand at her back, leaning over her, kissing her.
It felt marvelous.
Then his hand slid under her shirt.
"No," Bella said to his lips, pushing him away with a hand. "We can't. You wanted to wait—"
"Yes," Edward said, placing his lips in that particular spot on her neck, "we can." Then he very carefully rolled over top of her, and she felt, for the first time with him, his very clear capacity to desire her, just as any human man would.
It was like something cracked. Like she was a jar, broken, so many small pieces falling away and her control oozing out of her.
She was suddenly, and utterly terrified.
Stay calm, some part of her brain mouthed to the rest of her. He'll think this is just excitement. Just keep it together.
Her heart was thudding, pounding out of her chest, and he took it as her mind assured her he would: as license to continue.
His kisses were gentle, so unlike—no, she told herself, don't even think about it. But the hardness pressed against her left no room to not remember what Jacob had done.
Edward didn't miss her shaky stillness, and drew back. "Bella?" he asked, suddenly uncertain. His face was silhouetted against the sun, features black in shadow.
She was trying to control her breathing, now shallow and panicked. She closed her eyes, taking in the smell of the meadow, of Edward, of his hand, cold and velvety over hers.
"Bella," he said again, this time with greater concern.
"Sorry," she said, "that was very...unexpected." She was still trembling. The paleness in her face betrayed all sense of calm.
She was afraid, Edward realized. Terrified.
"I frightened you," he said. A tightness gripped his chest.
Of course, he thought. This was a delayed reaction to what she'd seen with Victoria. His worry made him bring his fingers to rest on the wrist of her good hand, quietly confirming her pulse.
She jerked it away, like he'd hurt her, scrambling back in an awkward crab walk.
Despite what he suspected, it still shocked him.
"You're safe, Bella," he said, trying to soothe her, "I'm not going to touch you. Nothing is going to hurt you."
Bella stopped breathing. How—? He couldn't—couldn't know. He would have said something, or maybe she had, and not realized?
"I'm fine," she said, still shaking, arms giving as she sank onto her elbows, and then sat, scrambling to stand.
Clearly, she could tell, he wanted to come to her. He was holding himself back, the pinch at the centre of his forehead telling her as much.
"Are you feeling dizzy?" he asked, worried she was going into shock.
"No," she said. Her voice warbled over the syllable. She felt like she was going to vomit.
"This is perfectly normal, Bella," he said gently. "You're having a delayed reaction to the shock of it, that's all."
Oh my god, she thought. He knows. He knows. How—?
Jacob. She realized. When he was sick. He must have been out of his mind. Maybe he said something to Carlisle? Or Edward heard when he was there?
Then she turned and crouched on the ground, vomiting.
He couldn't stay away, and was there, brushing her hair out of her face, an arm bracing her shoulders.
"No!" she managed, "don't." Everything had been so carefully tucked away in denial. The thought of his touch, mixing with the memory of what had happened made her stomach convulse again.
"I can't," she said, pushing his hand away, tears clouding her vision. She was stumbling away from him, trying to get air, trying to find that place again where she'd shoved everything. Trying to put the cage of control back together again.
Edward was almost as equally distraught.
It made perfect sense. All of it.
She was finally reacting the way a human should to his kind.
With terror and revulsion.
Was this it? Now that all the mortal dangers that he had drawn into her life had passed, was she finally able to allow her instincts to manifest? To repudiate him as she should have a year ago?
The pain gripping him was only second to the one he'd felt when he thought her dead.
I need to put this aside, he told himself, for her. I need to take care of her now. See her safe. The thought of her distress, being caused by him raked itself across his heart.
Bella was having her own realization.
He hadn't said anything.
Her rational mind had reasserted itself. Surely he would have confronted her with the whole ugliness by now?
No, she determined, he didn't know.
"Bella," he said gently, "let me take you home, and then, if you want, I'll go. I don't want to frighten you."
"I'm not afraid of you," she said, as if this was obvious, "I just can't—I can't have you touch me, not now, not—" she couldn't finish, a sob taking her.
They waited, she half-crouched, he standing as non threateningly as possible.
He'd counted two hundred of her heart-beats, still too rapid for his liking, when she spoke again. "Can you take me home?" It was whispered, and shaky.
"Of course."
He approached slowly, cautiously.
As if he was afraid of what I might do, Bella thought.
This struck her as hilarious, suddenly, and she laughed.
It wasn't her normal laugh, though. It was high and uncertain.
Edward stopped, mid-stride, hearing it.
"Bella?" he asked.
She was half-crying, half-laughing, "you look like...you look like you're afraid of me."
She couldn't name the expression on his face. Pained was far too simple a word.
"I don't want to frighten you," he said softly, and then half-turning, "why don't you come here, and I'll take you home." He put his arms out to his back, where he normally carried her, and she approached as steadily as she could, climbing on.
This was safe, and she felt herself relax over his back, closing her eyes against the movement she couldn't stomach.
They were at her truck in just a moment. Edward didn't ask if she minded him driving.
When they pulled up in front of her house, he was at her door before the engine was fully off, taking her hand.
"I'm fine," she said, "I don't know what got into me."
Don't, the voice in her head said. Make a plausible excuse.
"It must have been yesterday. Everything—" she started.
"You don't need to explain to me," he said, squeezing her hand. "I've put you through enough. I'm sorry."
She nodded, hoping this was the end of it.
But it wasn't. He insisted on making dinner, letting her give direction from a chair in the kitchen. When he could hear the particular hum of Charlie's cruiser, he said, "Charlie's almost home. Do you want me here, or gone?" He'd knelt in front of her, kissing the backs of her hands, as she smiled over him.
"Why don't I see you later," she said. "Just in case Charlie's crabby."
"Mm," he said, allowing the corners of his mouth to tug upward. "Alright. I'll come back later tonight." He would barely disappear. The snarling mass of fear that had snaked up his gut in the meadow was on a low simmer, and he couldn't bear the thought of being further than necessary from her.
He retreated to the cover of the woods, pulling out his phone.
"The only thing I see amiss is Bella not wanting to try on her wedding dress," Alice said, sighing, "and that seems perfectly in character for her."
"Nothing else?" Edward asked, again.
"Nuh-thing. Relax. I even see telling Charlie going fairly well," she replied.
This made Edward smile in relief. "Thank you," he said.
"You're not welcome. Stop worrying. We've earned the right to that," Alice snapped, and then hung up on him.
Everything seemed, in fact, perfectly normal. Bella and Charlie's evening progressed as usual, and when Bella went upstairs to have a shower before bed, Edward thought nothing beyond pleasantly anticipatory thoughts.
It was Charlie, who'd enjoyed dinner, but whose stomach was objecting to the dubious sandwich he'd bought at lunch, who found himself hurrying a bit too fast up the stairs.
Bella hadn't locked the bathroom door. Distracted by the day's events, she'd closed it, showered, and was standing, brushing her teeth when Charlie pushed the door open.
They both startled.
She was just glad she hadn't dropped the towel.
But Charlie was staring, queasy stomach forgotten. If anything, it felt like it had fallen out of him.
He was focused on her arm, where a sturdy bruise rested just below her shoulder, and a matching one on her good wrist. They were dark, and precisely shaped against the fresh pink of her flesh.
The brace on her arm took on a whole new meaning.
He'd seen the report on his desk, along with all the others the ER sent over. Routine. He'd given it to his deputy to evaluate, telling him to treat it like any other case.
Things fell into place. The overprotectiveness. Her running to him months ago after he'd abandoned her.
Nearly destroyed her.
He'd been abusing her.
He was sure of it.
So he said nothing.
He knew what happened in these cases when victims were confronted. And he damn well wouldn't be one of those.
"Sorry," he muttered instead, "are you done? I need to um…" and he let his face flush convincingly. She'd think he was embarrassed.
"Oh, yeah," she said, breathing too fast. Had he seen? No, he would have said something. She sidled past him, and without her seeing, Charlie held up his hand to her shoulder, measuring the span of the hand that would be needed to make the bruise there.
A man's hand, certainly.
Then he locked the bathroom door, using it for the purpose he'd intended, lost in thought. And worry.
Bella thought she'd escaped all notice, but Edward had registered every nuance of Charlie's alarm, and the source to which he attributed it.
He'd seen, and he knew that someone had hurt Bella.
Now his phone was ringing.
"What the hell is happening?" Alice said, "Why do I see your wedding cancelled?"
"I don't know," he said, the breath catching in his throat. He would find out, though. And soon.
