AN: Thanks for all the fantastic reviews for ch 3! A lot of you are also thrilled I have decided to continue--and to that I only have to say "WOO HOO!"

Also, the readers who are leaving some of their own stories, that is so neat. I love hearing them!


BPOV

For the next week, I barely saw Edward. I knew I was avoiding him, but I couldn't seem to help myself. Every time I thought about the things I'd screamed at him, I felt sick to my stomach. Now, I thought in the dark reaches of the night, he'd think I hated him. And not just the same way I'd hated him before—now he'd think I really hated him.

So I spent a lot of time alone, partially to help me avoid the burn of shame and also because I wouldn't even know how to react if I had to face him. Edward seemed to be avoiding me too, and though I didn't know exactly why, it was easy to guess. No doubt the hateful way I'd behaved had something to do with it.

By the end of the week, I knew that Renee and Esme were both worried. Neither of them were very good actresses, and concern was transparently written all over their faces. In addition, they'd often have hushed conversations that ended the moment I walked into the room. Finally, a week to the day from when we'd arrived at the beach and Edward and I had blown up at each other, Renee cornered me in the room I shared with Alice and Rose.

"Bella, please tell me what's going on between you and Edward." She crossed her arms across her chest and gave me one of the firmest, most determined looks in her entire arsenal of motherly expressions.

For about a split second, I considered trying to deny it, but I saw Renee's gaze narrow and I knew it was no use. I'd just piss her off more if I didn't admit to something this obvious.

I shrugged, trying to play it off cool and casual, like Edward and I purposefully avoiding being in the same room together for a week straight was no big deal. "Um, yeah, we might have had a disagreement."

Renee looked at me harder, clearly not buying the vibe I'd attempted. "Regardless of your inability to see eye to eye for several years now, you and Edward have never avoided each other like this. Somehow I doubt it was merely a 'disagreement.'"

She was right. Though we'd had our own issues over the last few years, Edward and I had never really fought. We'd both held all our feelings inside—at least I had. I'd been completely pissed off at him for years now, but I'd been so afraid of scaring him away, of driving that final wedge between us that I'd stayed silent, letting that anger bubble and boil away inside. Last week I'd finally had enough and, for just that moment, I hadn't cared if my words were enough to make him hate me.

But of course, I did care. Truth was, I cared too much. Even though it had felt damn good at the time, now I felt like I'd taken one step too far and there was no rewind button. A tiny voice inside my head told me that apologizing might be a good place to start, but the truth was, I was still more than a little angry that he'd pulled away from kissing me. No, I was more than angry. I was more than pissed off. He'd humiliated me completely and totally and I was still fucking furious. But I was also afraid—afraid that I'd said one thing too many.

That fear made me clam up in front of Renee. I couldn't open my mouth and confess to her that I'd possibly driven away the most important friend I'd ever had.

Renee was a mother though, and somehow she knew that there was something deeper that I couldn't actually say. She nodded sympathetically and drew me into a big hug.

"Apologies, sweetie," she said as she brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen from my ponytail, "may seem simple, but can mean the world to someone."

I pulled away from her loving embrace just a little so I could look her directly in the eyes. "I can't apologize to Edward," I protested, sensing that the sick feeling at the base of my stomach was about to return.

"Why not?"

How could I possibly tell my mother that it would be humiliating in the extreme to have to face Edward and only have him reject me yet again? I'd done enough offering and he'd done enough rejecting to last me awhile. So I just stayed silent, avoiding looking into her eyes. Finally, she sighed and I surmised she was giving up.

Before she could decide there was more to say, I grabbed my running shoes and as I slipped out the door I yelled out, "Going for a run, be back soon!"

This was the first summer since I'd developed a hobby of running in the evenings, and I found that I especially loved the burn as my feet pounded the sand.

Once on the porch, the scene of my fight with Edward, I tied my shoes and hurriedly went through my stretches, trying to ignore those twinges of guilt that just wouldn't subside. Though the days were already much longer, I could already see the sun beginning to set behind the dunes as I took off jogging at a slow pace and I told myself that I'd try to keep my run shorter. Running here was different than running in my neighborhood at home. There were different people on the beach every night, and far too many strangers for me to feel comfortable staying out past dark.

But I was increasingly preoccupied tonight with what Renee had said and with mental reenactments of my fight with Edward. Before I even realized how far I'd gone or how late it was, the sun had begun to set, sending a sudden chill sweeping down my sweat-soaked neck.

I glanced around my surroundings and knew I had gone too far. It would be full dark by the time I reached the beach house. I turned around immediately and headed back. The coolness of the night air combined with my apprehension and I began to shiver, almost uncontrollably. I'd never been good at controlling my physical reactions and tonight, I thought ruefully, was no exception as I ordered myself to stop pointlessly freaking out. I would be fine. I had to be fine.

At first, all I saw were families folding up their umbrellas and repacking coolers with empty cans of soda and wrappers from sandwiches bought from the deli in town, but as it grew progressively darker, I saw more and more bonfires being lit, and kegs being hauled down rickety wooden steps towards the water. My apprehension grew as I saw the beach slowly being invaded by a totally different breed—the young, drunk and belligerent twenty something male.

Reassuringly, I told myself that I was not exactly attention-grabbing under the best of circumstances and with my sweat stained t-shirt and athletic shorts I definitely wouldn't merit a second glance. But I couldn't deny that my heart hammering out of control had nothing to do with my workout and everything to do with the fear of my vulnerability.

I pressed on, forcing my tired legs to move faster than they really liked, and I knew the next morning I'd definitely be sore, but I decided that would be better than being attacked or raped or . . .worse.

I saw them from a distance at first, and I tried to pretend that this was a group like any other that I'd passed, but I knew I was lying to myself. Unlike all the other groups, they were loud already. It was possible they'd started drinking before ever making it to the beach, because at this point, they were clearly already drunk. I could hear it in their rough, loose voices. And even worse, I thought with my heart sinking to the base of my stomach, there were no girls with them. Of all the other crowds gathered around bonfires that I'd seen this was the only group with just men.

They looked big even from a distance, almost larger than life, their faces almost maniacal in the dancing firelight, and I quickly glanced around, hoping I'd see anyone else around, but the beach was empty in either direction. It was just me and . . .them.

There was no way to avoid running right past them, so I skirted the edge of the water, feeling the difference between the dry and the wet sand. They might think, if they were still coherent enough, that I was avoiding them, but I hoped that they just wouldn't notice me at all.

Of course, I was wrong. As soon as I got close enough to make out the details of their faces, I glanced over at them as unobtrusively as possible, hoping that they'd be totally engrossed with their own stupid drunken antics. Sick fear congealed inside of me like old bacon grease as I saw that instead of ignoring me, they were all watching me with beady, questioning gazes.

Quickly I looked down at the sand and began to pray in my head that they would just leave me alone. I thought about running away, but discarded that idea almost instantaneously because not only were they bigger and stronger and had fresh legs, my running away would only incite whatever madness they had in mind.

They waited until I was almost past them, until I was almost sure that I was out of danger. That was when I heard the wet sand crunching as someone jogged up behind me.

"Hey girl," the man asked, his words slurring together and I wanted to cry. He sounded even drunker than I'd thought they were. Too drunk to care about things like consequences.

I kept running, hoping that by ignoring him he'd leave, but by now, I knew that it wouldn't happen. Then, I felt his arm grab my hand and though I tried to shake him off, he was still strong. Impossibly strong. He whirled me around to face him with a sickening lurch and immediately I smelled the booze on his breath.

"I said 'hey,'" he countered and he seemed angry that I'd ignored him. Slowly I realized that all the other men from the bonfire had joined him near the edge of the water. Before I'd thought that something bad was a slight possibility, but I'd also been sure with the invincibility of a teenager that nothing bad was really going to happen. Now it seemed with a certainty that I'd been totally and completely wrong and that my safety was in definite jeopardy.

I stayed silent, knowing that nothing I could say would possibly convince them to let me go. They circled around me and my captor, like predatory buzzards looking for their next meal. I knew there was no way I could avoid the inevitable now. Closing my eyes, I prayed that it would at least be over soon and that they'd let me go afterwards.

I felt another hand grab me and whoever it was didn't even recoil from the feel of my sweaty skin. I didn't even bother struggling. In despair, I decided that it would only make them angrier and then they might hurt me worse.

As I felt myself slip further away from the moment, I heard what could only have been Edward's voice, yelling my name. But the sound was tiny and impossibly far away. I decided that I must be imagining things now, anything to take my mind off what was about to happen.

My knees gave out, and I would have sagged to the ground if I wasn't being held up. A sharp wrench of pain echoed through my scalp as another attacker grabbed my ponytail and jerked me upwards, so I could look into his dark crazed eyes. It was then I realized that it didn't matter if they were drunk or not—they would have done this anyway. They were evil men and they were enjoying this.

Blackness threatened to envelop me again, but then I heard Edward's voice yet again. I focused on it, and let the warmth of his mental presence seep through me. It was only then that I realized I couldn't go out like this. I couldn't let them just do whatever they wanted with me without even trying to fight. I had to make one effort to get away—and not even just to get away. I had to show them that I hated them, that I would do anything to prevent what they were about to do to me.

I took a short deep breath and glanced upwards, deciding which of my assailants that I'd take my anger out on first. Taking him by surprise, I jabbed my knee upwards at the man to my right. It hit his crotch dead on, and he doubled over, swearing in anger and pain.

Before any of the other men could figure out what I had just happened, I blindly kicked at the man behind me and by his shriek of pain I hoped that I'd nailed him right in the shin. I tried to jerk my arm away from the man holding it, but he simply looked down at me, with anger and gritty, steely determination in his gaze and then I knew, it didn't matter how much I fought. I wouldn't get away. My eyes sunk again to the sand and I stilled.

I heard Edward again and I desperately tried to focus on the sound of his voice as I felt someone's hand connect to my jaw, jerking it back. My face exploded with pain and I thought I felt blood dropping down my chin, but I couldn't bear to open my eyes and see for sure.

Edward, I thought with despair as another fist hit my side and I bent in agony at the throbbing in my ribs. And like the voice from my dream, I heard him again. Except this time he wasn't shouting my name and he sounded angry—angrier than I'd ever heard before.

I felt the men let go of me and I collapsed to the ground. Barely, I managed to look up and I couldn't believe the scene in front of me.

Edward stood there, panting hard, his hands balled into fists, as he screamed at the men that the police were on their way. And unbelievably, they believed him and splintered, running in a dozen separate directions.

Unsteadily, I willed my knees to work and I tried to raise myself. "Bella," Edward said, rushing towards me, and cradling me in his arms. "We have to go. As fast as we can. Before they realize I was lying."

Fear curdled in my stomach as I recognized that they could come back. Edward must have sensed the stiffening of my muscles because he murmured reassuringly. "If they come back, I swear they will not lay one more finger on you." His voice was determined but kind and caring and so much like the Edward I'd used to know that I almost burst into tears.

But there was no time to fall apart now. I knew I had to get out of here with Edward before the men came back to finish what they'd started. Even though Edward was young and strong there were too many of them and I couldn't bear that the thought that they'd hurt him too.

Hesitatingly, and with Edward's support, I managed to start to walk. "Ugh," I moaned as my bruised ribs start to protest at the movement.

"It's okay, Bella," he told me again reassuringly, "just a little while longer."

With him nearly carrying me and whispering encouragingly into my ear, we managed to make it back to the beach house. I collapsed onto the porch step and though I'd been determined to hold them back, tears began to trickle down my cheeks.

Edward put a hand on my shoulder and I could hear the worry in his voice. "I'll be right back Bells, I've just got to get you some ice for your. . .face."

It was only then that I remembered my jaw and carefully I raised a hand to the throbbing in my face.

"It's going to be bruised," Edward said, "but I don't think they've broken anything." He sounded profoundly grateful and I sank back into the step with a sigh of relief.

The screen door banged behind Edward as he went into the house to get the ice. He came back outside only moments later with a bag of frozen peas. I saw it and tried to smile, but it hurt too much so I just took the bag from him and tried to hold it to my jaw, but my hands were trembling too violently.

"Here, let me," Edward said, taking the bag away from me as he settled down on the step next to me. Gently he placed the icy bag on my aching cheek and I hesitatingly rested my head against his shoulder.

We were silent for a long time. I wondered how he'd come to find me there, but I wouldn't let myself think of the possibility that he hadn't. The experience was still too raw and too fresh.

Finally, Edward spoke and again, his voice so much like that of the boy I'd once known that I just cried harder. "Are you okay, Bells?"

I tried to take a deep breath to stop the sobs as I thought about it. There was still some fear pumping through my system, but the majority of it had dissipated. My face was already feeling much better, though I knew it would probably be a million nasty colors by tomorrow. I gingerly felt my ribs and though they were sore, I was pretty sure that they weren't broken. Overall, I decided, I could be so much worse.

"I'm . . .I'm okay," I stuttered, my throat thick with tears. I paused, wondering how you could possibly thank someone for saving your life and how you could even begin to thank someone for saving your life that you'd screamed hatefully at only a week before.

I decided that there were really only two words that I could use that could possibly express to him how I felt.

"Thank you, Edward," I whispered. "Thank you."

The arm that was draped over my still-shivering shoulders pulled me closer. He turned towards me and looked directly into my eyes. "Bella, you know that I would never let you be hurt. I hate that they did even this to you."

I shrugged a little. "You came in time, that's all that matters."

"Still," he said, shaking his head, "I wish I could have been there sooner. I should have been there sooner." His voice grew angry and I knew that he blamed himself, but I couldn't bear that.

"Edward, it isn't your fault. Those men were crazy. You saved me."

He didn't say anything and the words still continued to tumble out of my mouth, before I could even stop to think about them. "And Edward, I am so sorry about last week. I should never have said those things to you."

He chuckled and the sound was harsh in the quiet night air. "I've been an ass, Bells. You don't have to apologize."

"But I want to," I insisted. "Please let me. Please forgive me."

Edward sighed. "I forgave you the moment I left the house. Maybe even before that."

I wouldn't have believed him if he hadn't sounded so resigned and sure. Besides, Edward never lied. Even when I wouldn't like the answer, he'd always told me the truth.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" I asked, confused. I placed my hand over his on the package of green peas so I could take it from him and move it to a place that hadn't been iced properly yet. He jumped as if I'd shocked him and dropped the bag into my hand.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I. . .I wish I had a good explanation for that. It was wrong of me, Bella. And I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

He smiled so winsomely at me then that I couldn't help it. Then I knew that I'd forgiven him too, long before he asked, and just like magic, all the anger inside me evaporated. And just like that it was just the two of us on the porch—a girl, a boy, a bruised jaw and a bag of frozen peas.