A/N All Twilight character's belong to Stephenie Meyer

I admit..Full Circle Bella is sorta (well really) pretty spineless...she should have dumped Embry a long time ago...but, alas, everything that happens, happens for a reason. My beta ShelbySue rocks..next update..soon..I have to write the next chapter..lol.

Bella

Embry was the last person I expected to see standing on the other side of the door when I opened it. Two weeks, fourteen very long, very guilt filled days passed since I'd last had any contact with Embry so to see him standing on my doorstep was a surprise to say the least.

He looked worse than I felt, almost like he hadn't slept at all in the last two weeks. His left hand was encased in a black cast; his fingers, which peeked through the end, looked swollen. I wondered, and almost asked what happened; the dark look in his eyes stopped me.

He looked at me as I pulled the door open wider and I knew he knew. His eyes were flat and lifeless…tormented almost. The spark that had once shined so brightly was gone. Now looking into his eyes was like looking at a beautiful meadow that had been plowed under.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping aside. He walked by me and stopped in the center of the living room, his good hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans. He ignored the greeting and raised his eyes to mine. I stood there in the spotlight of his glare fidgeting with the hem of my tee-shirt.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and ran them through his hair. Halfway through he stopped and grabbed a handful of hair in each hand, tugged then exhaled. The accusation hung, unspoken in the air and I knew for sure that he knew.

He ran his hands the rest of the way through his hair then finally spoke. "Did you-" his voice broke, angry tears filled his eyes.

My heart began to race; it slammed painfully against my ribs. I sucked in a lungful of the stale air, wiped my hands on my pants. "Embry what's wrong?"

Stupid question I know, but you see I never wanted to hurt him; that was never my intention. I loved him more than anything else in this world and maybe that was the problem. I spent so much time loving him, being devoted to him that I lost me. I put myself aside, convinced myself I was overreacting, that this was normal. I spent so long being neglected that maybe subconsciously I thought that he deserved this, that he deserved to hurt the way I had.

Hell, maybe he did deserve it.

Maybe he didn't. No, he might have acted like an ass but I don't think he deserved this. And Jake. I never meant for it to be him. He was my friend, he was always there when I needed him. Maybe that's how he happened.

Yes, it sounds like a lame excuse, but Jake was there. He was always there when I needed him. He paid attention to me, he came to my shows, he answered my calls and texts and emails. He was always supportive.

I felt like Mary Jane Watson torn between Peter Parker and Harry Osborne. I wanted to check the corners of the apartment to see if maybe a black suited Spidey was hanging around hoping for some superhero loving.

Sleeping with Jake was an accident. Not the kind of oops-we-slipped-and-fell accident, but the kind where your boyfriend says he'll be there and then he's not and you're so pissed off you think you can drown your sorrows in the bottom of a bottle but the only thing that does is makes your forget for a minute or two why you were pissed off in the first place.

So now your drunk and the one person who has been there for you, who has expressed an interest in what you do is scooping you up and taking you home and as your standing in your kitchen guzzling down more alcohol you have one of those drunken moments of clarity where everything becomes clear. But it's really not clear, why? Oh because your drunk. So by now your pissed, drunk and looking for revenge so what do you do? You sleep with your boyfriend's best friend because that'll really show him and the next thing you know clothes are being ripped off and you're falling into bed with your friend. And while he may be absolutely gorgeous, he's a friend nevertheless. And what does this all add up to?

Exactly where I was right now; feeling guilty as hell and staring at my boyfriend as he struggled to muster the courage to ask me if I slept with his best friend.

I reached out to brush the hair from his face; my fingers trembled visibly as I reached for him. Embry shied away from my touch. My hand dropped to my side, slapping my thigh.

There was too much space between us, figuratively and literally. I felt the hope rush out of the room then, his action confirmed my fear: he knew.

Embry took a deep breath; his eyes hardened. "Did you sleep with Jake?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

There was no point in lying and yet I still felt the urge to lie, to look him in the eye and deny my infidelity until I was blue in the face. My weeping eyes betrayed me. Traitorous tears slid down my face like a liquid admission of guilt. "Yes," I finally whispered. "Embry, I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry?" he sneered. "You're sorry? Jesus Bella, I…I don't even know what to say." He walked past me, yanking the front door open violently. As he crossed the threshold he turned to me, his good hand on the brass door knob. "You and me," he said motioning the space between us, "we're through."

I sobbed, breath catching in my throat. Reaching for him, I cried, "Embry wait."

"No Bella. I loved you, why, how could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry," I cried. "Embry I'm so, so sorry."

He shrugged and pulled the door closed behind him.

"Embry," I cried, "Come back."

I stared at the front door silently willing him to walk back through it. My vision swam behind a veil of tears; acidic bile climbed its way up the back of my throat. I rushed to the kitchen and dry heaved in the sink.

More tears poured down my face, my head felt light and faint. Leaning over the sink I cried, fat tear drops slid down the drain. When I felt all cried out I staggered to the living room and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch. Wrapping it tightly around me I laid down on the couch.

How could this happen? How did I let myself get into this situation? Was I really that weak and selfish that I hurt the one person I loved more than anything in this world?

The sun traveled across the baby blue sky, continuing her journey westward. I closed my eyes willing myself to wake up, hoping this was just one hell of a nightmare. Sometime during the day the front door squeaked open, then slammed shut. I lay on the couch with no idea how much time had passed. I didn't know if it'd been minutes, hours or even days.

Heels clicked on the foyer tile, keys jingled as they hit the ceramic bowl. "Bella?" Rosalie's voice called out in the darkness.

A sob escaped my lips, a hiccup of breath bursting forth from my chapped lips.

Rosalie rushed over, crouching beside me on the floor. "Bella?" she brushed the hair from my face. "Sweetie, what happened?"

I lay there, unable- no, incapable of answering her. It hurt too badly.

"Oh honey what's wrong?"

I cried into the cushion. Embry. What was I going to do without Embry? He'd been there for me since my first day of school in Forks, when Jake was being an asshole and stolen my notebook. He held my hand and walked with me every step of way. He'd been there for me even when I'd been cruel to him, even when I ran off to Jacksonville after he kissed me. Now he was gone.

"Okay," Rosalie said, rubbing my back. "I'm gonna called Embry."

I sobbed harder at the mention of his name. Rosalie pulled her cell phone out. I heard the soft beeping as she dialed his number. The soft ringing of the phone, the rough edge to his voice when he answered; it all came crashing down on me with crystal clear quality.

"Embry? It's Bella-" she stopped and listened. "Oh, okay, sorry I didn't know. Yeah. No, no, I totally understand. I'm um, I'm sorry." She paused, listening to whatever it was he was saying. I heard my name, and Jake's, then he muttered something that I couldn't make out.

Rosalie made a sympathetic noise and said goodbye. She hung up and sank down beside me. "Embry told me what happened." she rubbed my back. "Should I call Jake or Sue?"

"No," I sobbed. "Don't call either of them." I sniffed lamely and looked at her, my eyes puffy. "I'll be okay."

I wasn't. All I wanted to do was cry. The week after the break up, I skipped classes, staying at home, locked in my room. I pulled the curtains shut, thankful that they blocked out all the happy sunshine. I never wanted to be happy again. I pulled the comforter tight around me, cocooning myself in my misery and huddled against headboard, waiting for the pain to alleviate – or my heart to grow numb.

Neither came.

A week turned into two. I cried and I slept. There were nights that I laid in bed, so lost in misery that I tricked myself into believing that Embry was actually laying beside me. I made myself believe that I could hear his steady puffs of breath as he dreamed beside me. I pretended my fluffy pillows were his chest. I would lay my head on them allowing the tears to soak the thin pillowcases.

If I could make this right, if he would at least answer my phone calls, I swore I could make it right, I could make him forget that I'd hurt him. But he never answered. In fact, it wasn't even his number anymore.

It didn't get any easier. By the start of the third week I began contemplating suicide. Anything to make the pain go away.

Instead of relief or acceptance coming, Jake came. He knocked at the door, calling for me to let him in. I ignored him and curled myself into a smaller ball – knees tight against my chest, tears flowing in lazy rivers down my face.

What was the point in opening the door? The last time Jake and I lay in this bed, - stop it, I ordered. What's done is done. You can't take it back, you just have to live with it.

The door knob clicked; it swung open slowly. "Bella? Sweetheart, are you in here?"

The light poured in from the hallway stinging my eyes. I don't know how long it'd been since I'd seen the light. The light hurt; in the dark I was alone. I could be miserable and unhappy and the darkness was my company. The light was too happy, too revealing. It proved I wasn't alone.

"Bella, where are you?" Jake asked again. His tall frame blocked the light. My eyes relaxed and I wished him away. "Bella, come on, you can't stay in here forever."

"Go away, this is all your fault," I sniffled.

Jake crossed the pitch dark room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress sagging under his weight. "I talked to Embry," he said quietly. "He's pretty mad. He told me to never call him again."

I took a deep breath, shuddering as I exhaled.

"I'm sorry Bella," Jake sighed. He lay down next to me. "I never meant for any of this to happen. This is my fault."

For some reason I had trouble believing that even though I just blamed him for it thirty seconds ago. I slowly let go of my legs. It hurt as I stretched them out. Jake pulled me towards him, my head on his chest I listened to his heart beat.

"It's not your fault," I rasped.

"Yes it is. I knew better but didn't stop it from happening."

"It's all of our faults. Embry ignored me; I turned to you instead of talking to him. We all knew we were wrong, but we did what we did and now we have to live with it."

Jake rubbed my back. This was so fucked up. Four years ago, this would've been Embry lying beside me, telling me everything was gonna be okay. My how the times have changed.

"You know you need to go back to class," Jake told me. "Don't let this ruin everything you've worked for."

"It all seems so pointless now," I said as more tears trailed down my face.

"It's not," Jake said.

But it did seem pointless. I never really cared about going to college, but it had been paid for; everything had been paid for. One of those things Phil did just because he could. I had a college fund, a trust fund, a living fund. It was just ridiculous. I had more money than any twenty-two year old should have.

I sighed and shoved my hands through my hair and stared at the ceiling.

"Why would you quit now?" Jake asked. "You're so close to being done. Finish school Bells, if you don't you'll regret it as long as you live."

I rolled over, resting my head on Jake's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was amazing. Three weeks ago we had crazy hot sex right here, in this room, in this bed, and nothing changed. If it wasn't for my broken heart you'd never know anything had ever happened. What had happened? I mean, we had sex, he said he wanted me, but what did that mean? Did he just want me then, or had he wanted me all this time?

And why was he here now? Why did he drive three hours to see me?

"Jake…" I let my voice trail off.

He looked down at me but did not say a word. I needed to know what the hell we were doing, what was going on between us.

"What are we doing?" I finally asked after a moment of heavy silence.

The weight of my words hung in the air around us, lingering in the atmosphere as Jake contemplated his response.

"I…I really don't know Bella. We're friends, good friends for sure and we've been friends for a long time now, I'd hate to see that change because of one indiscretion. What I'm saying is I don't want to lose your friendship, and I really hope I don't, but I mean I guess it's really up to you. We can stay friends if you want, or I can leave right now and you'll never hear from me again. It's whatever you want, just say the word."

I stared up at him, amazed. Here was this person whose friendship lay in ruins, partly because of me, and he would understand if I never wanted to see him again. "I'd like things to stay the same Jake. You're always here for me, and I appreciate that more than you know. If things, mainly our relationship, can stay the same that would be awesome, but if it ever gets to be too much and we can't handle it, well then I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Okay." That was all he said as he resumed rubbing my back. The ache in my chest dulled a bit as I lay there cradled in his arms.

Some things stay the same even when everything changes. I took comfort in that thought; that even though my relationship with Embry had finally gone down the drain and we were no more, I still had Jake. I still had my friend.

I dozed off. When I woke up, the curtains were pulled back. Awesome November sun beamed into the room, illuminating it for the first time in weeks. From where I lay, I could see the leaves on the trees outside. They had turned from their summery green to autumnal hues of orange and red.

I rolled out of bed slowly. My vision swam, my head was faint and my stomach rumbled. I went pee then went all survivor girl on the refrigerator.

As I scavenged the fridge, I looked around wondering where Jake was. I pulled a couple of plastic bowls out of the fridge, then closed it. That's when I saw the note taped to the center of the stainless steel door.

Hey Bells, I had to get back to school. Big game this weekend so if you're up to it, it would mean a lot if you came. If not, I totally get it. Now please, go to class. See you later, Jake.

I smiled at the note, the expression felt strange after so many days of misery.

I had mixed emotions about going back to classes, the game. Part of me wanted to sit in my room and be miserable, then another part of me wanted to scream "fuck it" as loud as I could to the star studded heavens above – that part of me wanted to be happy.

As I stood there shoving a week's worth of different leftovers down my throat I felt schizophrenic, or maybe it was bi-polar. Happy one minute, miserable the next.

I was sick of crying, of always having a reason to cry. I slept with Jake. It happened and it sucked, well not really, the aftermath sucked, but what's done is done. I couldn't take it back, couldn't change it, so the only option left was to live with it.

So I did. I called Jake later that afternoon and told him I would be at the game. I could hear him smile into the phone when I told him.

I went back to class the next day and before I knew it the week was over and it was Friday. I packed a bag that afternoon after class and drove the three very long, very boring hours to Tallahassee. That night I sat in the stands with the thousands of other Seminoles fans.

The night was cool, the warm weather had finally given way to the cooler temperatures of winter, and the crowd was excited. Clemson kicked the ball off at seven thirty and the game got underway.

At half-time the Seminoles were down by fourteen points. I saw Jake's face as he marched off the field. He looked pissed; the pinched expression drew his eyebrows up making him look like Bert from Sesame Street.

With the start of the second half, the Seminoles had their heads in the game and quickly closed the gap in scores.

At the start of the fourth quarter they were down by a field goal with two and a half minutes left, twenty yards to go until they were within field goal range.

The clocked ticked down with agonizing speed as the Seminoles marched down the field. The kicker took the field, fifty four seconds blazed on the clock. The crowd held its breath in giddy anticipation. Could he make the play, score the field goal that would throw the whole game into overtime?

I sat on the edge of my seat, fingers crossed, willing Jake to make the right play. The count was called, the center snapped the ball and instead of setting it up for a field goal, Jake held onto the ball. He took two steps back, looking for the intended receiver.

Clemson, however, anticipated this move. The defensive back charged toward Jake trying to sack him. I held my breath as the two collided. Jake went down, a crumpled heap of garnet and gold on the football field.

He yelled out from his place on the ground. I bolted out of my seat and rushed toward the field calling his name.

Whistles blew as trainers and refs piled onto the field. Commentator's voices echoed over the still stadium. I couldn't get to Jake. I stood there, helpless as the stretcher rushed onto the field and Jake was helped onto it.

He was favoring his throwing shoulder, and from all the commotion on the field I knew it was bad. I ran up to one of the event coordinators patrolling the edge of the field in their neon yellow jackets.

A burly man with graying red hair stopped me. "Miss, you can't go on the field," he said as he placed an arm on mine.

I pointed to Jake. "Is he okay?"

The coordinator looked over his shoulder. "I'm not sure miss, but the trainers will do everything they can to make sure he's going to be okay."

The trainer and the offensive coach walked by me. "Jake," I called. "Jake, oh my god, are you okay?"

Jake turned his head toward me and smiled feebly. "Bella," he croaked. The coach waved me toward him. The man in the yellow jacket stepped aside and let me.

"Thanks," I called over my shoulder as I rushed toward Jake. "Oh my god. Are you okay?" I asked when I reached his side.

He groaned, "It's my damn shoulder. Seventy seven hit me pretty damn hard. I heard it pop. Russ is gonna take a look at it. Come on."

The stretcher creaked down the long concrete hallway. The coach held the door open and Jake slid off the stretcher and hobbled into the trainer's office. I took a seat along the wall and out of the way. The trainer helped Jake out of his jersey.

I gasped when they removed his pads. Jake's shoulder was visibly injured, bone pressed against skin, tight and white over the injury. I looked away, feeling my stomach roll.

"This is bad," Russ, the trainer, said.

Jake nodded. I think it was obvious that his injury was bad. He hissed, his face turning bright red as the trainer did his thing, which looked like he was hurting Jake more than anything.

"We're going to need to get you to the hospital and get x-rays. But my best guess is a shoulder separation."

"What does that mean?" I asked from my perch along the wall.

Russ turned and gazed at me. "It means Jake's season, and very well possibly his career, is over. I won't know more until we get the x-rays done."

Tears filled my eyes. Football meant the world to him, not being able to play anymore was going to be tough on him. Jake sighed, visibly upset.

"I'm going to get the van ready and we'll head to the hospital," Russ said and left the room.

I went to Jake's side. "Are you okay? Does it hurt badly?"

Jake nodded his head, up and down.

"Well don't worry, you'll be fine," I assured him, though I didn't believe the weight of my own words.

"Thanks Bella. I appreciate you being here."

I sat down beside him, careful not to jostle his shoulder. "Of course I'd be here. You're my friend. We'll get through this together."

We sat together in easy silence for a while longer until Russ came back and announced the car was here. He helped Jake off the examination table; I followed them back down the dank concrete hallway as we headed off to learn the fate of Jake's future.

Reviews are better than getting busted for cheating on your boyfriend...

"Consoler of the Lonely" by The Raconteurs