My heart was in my throat, as I looked at him across the room. He had dark circles under his eyes, but it still didn't take away from his beauty. And a part of me wondered if he could have possibly spent his night like I did.
I didn't even notice when Alice slipped out of the kitchen. I couldn't stop looking at him. He didn't move – he never made one attempt to come closer. And I just stayed where I was, wondering what he was thinking. What he'd overheard.
"Do you want to go for a walk with me, Bella?"
His voice was quiet and questioning. And just like all those years before, I knew I didn't have a choice. I would go anywhere he asked.
"Okay."
I stood up, the chair scraping across the wooden floor, but the sound of my pounding heart sounded louder. At least to me.
I walked over to him, our eyes locked together the entire time. He was standing in the doorway, so I couldn't pass. I stopped before him, wanting him to just reach out and touch me, but equally terrified that he might. He took a deep breath, and I still held his eyes…searching for a sign that Alice had been right. That he could possibly feel the same way.
And then it happened.
He reached out; his finger touched my cheek. It tingled and almost burned. I wanted to reach up and hold his hand against my face. I wanted to cry and push it away. I wanted to know that he wanted to touch me at all.
"You look tired," he whispered.
"So do you."
He looked like he wanted to say something right then. And I realized that I was holding my breath. He didn't say anything, though. He just dropped his hand, and we walked to the foyer, but I remembered that my coat was upstairs.
"I need to go grab my coat," I told him, feeling awkward, and my voice shaking from nerves.
"That's okay," he murmured, taking his own jacket off. "Wear mine."
"You don't have to…" I started. "I mean…what about you? You'll get cold."
"I'll be fine," he said, holding it out and offering to put it on me. "Please…just…I want you to wear it."
I nodded my head as he slipped it over my shoulders. I was immediately warmed from his remaining body heat. And my senses were assaulted by his fragrance. The same fragrance that always lingered on my sheets. It was just him.
We stepped out onto the porch. The morning was bitter cold – the chill almost too much – and I worried that he wouldn't be able to stand it. But he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and headed out into the snow. Like always, I followed.
My nerves took over once I knew we were completely alone. He wasn't really saying anything, and I didn't really have the courage to speak up yet. Though, I did wonder how long he'd been standing there in the kitchen…and what he heard before he spoke up.
We walked to edge of the yard. And I was looking at his footprints next to mine – outside and in the daylight. We were actually doing whatever this was. He'd all but acknowledged it in front of Alice. There was proof left behind. Even if the snow would eventually cover it back up. And then I wondered if this walk – this talk – was something I'd want to remember.
He was looking out over the hillside. There was a small creek at the bottom – frozen – just like the two of us standing there. He didn't say anything at first, and I stood there…waiting. Nervous and unsure if I should start. But I couldn't. Because I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what he'd heard.
"Alice knows," I finally said.
If he heard me, he didn't acknowledge it. He just continued to look out…and not at me. So, I waited. If we were going to do this, he was going to have to be a part of it.
"I figured she did," he finally said. "But thank you for telling me."
"I didn't tell her," I admitted. "She told me she knew this morning."
I shivered from the cold, wrapping myself up tighter in his coat. Who knows? Maybe I was trying to hold myself together.
"And what did you tell her?" he asked, finally looking down at me.
I didn't know how to answer his question. I didn't know what I could say that wouldn't just be me laying myself all out on the line. And it wasn't fair for him to ask me – not when he'd given me so little.
"What did you hear?"
His eyes were pained as he looked at me. Something about his posture seemed broken, even though he was standing straight up. He reached out nervously; his hand touched my face. It was cold, even though it had been in his pocket. But there was still this spark – still this electric charge that went straight through and warmed my body.
"Who is Jacob?" he asked, his eyes wounded. "You've never told me."
"I…I don't think…" I stammered. My mind was confused. I couldn't focus while he touched me, while he looked at me like that. "I don't think it's fair for you to ask me about him. Not when…not when there's still so much that you haven't told me."
Something flashed in his eyes – it looked like anger. And that made me defensive because he had no right to be angry with me. And if he only knew the truth about Jacob – about my feelings at all – he would have no reason to be angry.
"I don't know what you want me to say," he said, pulling his hand back. I wanted to reach for him – to offer him comfort. But I was so far beyond that. Where was my comfort? "I don't know what you want to hear."
"I don't want to hear anything," I spat, angry. "I want you to tell me the truth. You were the one who said you wanted to talk. So, talk. Talk to me. Tell me something…anything."
Hot tears spilled down my frozen cheeks. I hated that I was crying. I hated that it made me weak. Not that he didn't already know just how weak I really was. How hopeless I was for him. I turned away; I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't be the one who broke down and admitted everything first, when he just stood there giving me nothing.
We stood there…silent. I could feel him behind me. I could hear his breathing. I could feel his need to reach out to me, but I couldn't understand why he wanted to.
"Do you want to know why I never bring anyone around to meet our family?" he asked, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. I didn't want to think about him with anyone else. Imagining it at all broke my heart.
But my heart was already broken.
"Why?"
"Because no one has ever been good enough to meet them."
His response was simple. And I felt like he was trying to tell me something with his words. But then I remembered that he'd never told our family about me. And maybe that was because I wasn't good enough either.
"I tried," he continued. "I tried so hard to find someone. There were…a lot of other women. You don't even know, Bella. But there's no one…"
His voice trailed off and my heart shattered into a million pieces. I'd always assumed he'd had other women. I just never wanted to think about it. I never allowed myself to imagine him with someone else. Because when he was with me…he was everything. And for those few stolen moments, one week a year, he made me feel like I was everything, too.
But the reality was that I wasn't.
The harsh reality was that I was someone else that he fucked when no one else was good enough to bring around.
And because I was hurt – because I was fucking devastated – I wanted to hurt him, too.
"Jacob loves me," I said, turning around to meet his eyes. "Jacob's in love with me. And he's good to me. He makes me smile and he makes me laugh. And he's never once made me feel like anything less than someone he wants to be with. In his life. His real life. He takes me on dates…I've met his friends. He doesn't keep me a secret. "
Victory surged through me, as I saw the wounded expression on his face. But it was quickly replaced with remorse, as his pained eyes bore into mine.
"Then why isn't Jacob here with you?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Why didn't you bring him here to meet us?"
And I couldn't tell him the answer because that would expose me. He would know everything then; it would lay me wide open. And he would have the power to finally break me completely.
Forever.
"Fuck you," I spat, turning to walk away from him. "That's none of your business."
He grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, stopping me momentarily. But I was too humiliated to stay. I couldn't – not when the emotions and tears I'd been holding in for so long were about to expose me.
I shrugged out of his coat, pulling away. The cold air was enough to shock me, stopping the tears. But Edward was right behind me, his hands gripping me once more.
"Isn't it?" he asked. "Isn't it my business? You wanted to talk…and I'm talking. You tell me that you're in love with someone else, and then you tell me that's none of my business. Don't you think that's something I deserve to know?"
"Why are you deserving of anything, Edward?" I asked. "Why do you deserve to get answers, when you've given me none?" My voice was louder and higher than I expected, but I couldn't stop. "You're angry about one man, when you just told me that there were so many other women that I didn't even want to know. That's fucked up. How do you think that makes me feel?"
"I didn't love any of them," he said.
"Did you just fuck them, too?" I asked. It all seemed wrong. This wasn't how I wanted this conversation to go. But I couldn't stop myself. We were laying everything out and examining at it – and maybe it would break us – but there was no way to stop it now. "Did you just fuck them the same way you fucked me?"
He grabbed me by my shoulders. He was holding me so roughly, it almost hurt.
"I never once fucked you," he said sharply. His eyes were intense – more intense than I'd ever seen them.
"You're wrong," I cried, a sob breaking out of my chest. "You did fuck me. Those were your words, Edward. Yours! And maybe I should have stopped you, but I didn't. And I didn't because I wanted you so much."
Tears were in his eyes, too. And it broke me to see him cry – to know that I was causing him pain. It killed me. But he needed to know the truth. And I knew that I had to say the words. Because otherwise, I was never going to move on.
"Bella," he whispered. His voice sounded so small against my own voice that was still screaming in my mind.
"No," I cried. "You don't get to do this. Not when…not…not now."
"What?" he asked. "You're not making any sense. I don't understand."
"I'm so fucking stupid," I said. "All these years. All these years of taking what I could get…whatever you offered. And just hoping that maybe…" I sucked in a deep breath, stopping myself from telling him that I wanted him to love me. That I loved him. I couldn't tell him that. Even though I did. Even though I knew I always would. "All these years, and I have nothing to show for it. Not one thing."
"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice frantic.
"It doesn't matter," I told him. "It never has."
"You matter," he rasped. "This matters."
I looked at him then – his eyes desperate like his voice – and something in me snapped. He'd said those words to me before. Time and time again. But they were just words with no meaning behind them. I could blame him forever for never saying or doing the right thing. But it wouldn't help. Not me or him. This cycle would just continue. So I gave him the only thing I had left to give him…the truth. And he could take it – he could have it and do whatever he wanted with it. And yeah, it might break me even more. But I was already so broken it wouldn't matter.
"It's always been you, Edward," I said. "For as long as I can remember. There's never been anyone else. Not Jacob…not anyone. Not in my heart…or even my body. Both have always been yours."
He choked…or maybe it was a sob. He looked shocked and stricken at my words, but I couldn't stop talking. If I didn't get this out, I never would. And I owed myself this moment. I owed myself being able to speak the words out loud. And he would have to hear me. Even if it was only one fucking time.
"I've lived my whole life on the periphery of who you are. Drawn to you…in love with you. And I thought what we had could be enough. But it's not. I wanted you to love me, but you never did. And I've wasted my whole life waiting…wanting something you were never going to give me. And that's my fault. Not yours."
I looked at him, as his hands dropped from my shoulders. I waited for him to say something…anything. To tell me he felt the same way. That he loved me at all. But he didn't. Instead, his eyes dropped to the ground, and his body shook as he cried silently.
I never wanted to make him cry.
I never wanted to hurt him.
He was my Edward.
And that's when I knew I had to walk away.
Because I loved him so much that I would stay. I would stay and try to make it better. I would stay – and in the end – my loving him enough to stay would destroy us both.
I turned around slowly, and headed back to the house. My body was numb from the cold…from our words. But I embraced it…needed it. Anything to dull the pain of what I'd just lost. What I never really had to begin with.
"Bella," he called my name behind me.
I stopped out of habit, knowing that there would always be a part of me that would want to go to him. To give him everything I had. But I didn't have anything left to give him. He'd taken it all.
"Please," he said. "Please don't walk away."
"I have to," I told him sadly. "It's too late for anything else."
.
.
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A/N
(Shortest Ever due to real life swoony date that kept me out late last night.)
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