A/N: Well, this chapter has some darker themes, but it's my favorite one so far. I wrote it all in a day, because it just felt right.

Thank you again to those who have been reviewing - if you haven't, please do so! It's a big motivator for me to see that people like it (I almost gave up on it this weekend, but...I gave in).

I started another story, so feel free to check that out too, if you have a chance.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or its people. And I hate being 26.

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CHAPTER 12 – AUGUST 13, 2013

EPOV

The dining room was completely empty, as it usually was once dinner ended. I had arrived here early for once, and I had taken advantage of the solid cooking and two glasses of wine to loosen me up a bit. This place felt like a dream, really, like something my brain cooked up two days out of the year, where I could escape the very real demands of my daily life. I had jumped through some major hoops to make the trip up here this year, and my excuses sounded thin even to me. But I didn't have a choice, really. Or did I? Some unexplained force pulled me here year after year, even though I hadn't talked to Bella in months. I hardly missed her anymore. I hardly thought about her, because I had trained myself not to. It was amazing what time and distractions could do.

So instead of thinking about Bella, because, my mind wandered to college and life and my uncertain future. Carlisle had gently pushed me towards med school, but I wasn't feeling it. That was his thing, not mine. I didn't want to be the clichéd son who followed in Doctor Dad's footsteps. I had no idea what the fuck I wanted to do, but I'd find something. I'd take the LSAT or the GRE or some other mindless standardized test, and figure something out. I had a year of college to go. I had time.

When I thought about it, though, a year didn't seem like a hell of a lot. Had I really spent three years in college, partying and drinking and studying, and now it was almost over? People always told me college was the best four years of your life. These three were pretty good, honestly. Maybe not the best, but good. It depressed me a little bit to think that the best years had passed, that no matter what happened down the road, things were downhill from here. That seemed depressing as hell, but what did I know? It was probably true.

And as for California, well, I liked the sun, but I needed a change. I had my connections there, the people I knew and liked and saw on a daily basis, but was that enough to keep me there? I had dated a variety of girls, but only the most recent one had really meant much to me, and even she…well, yeah. If she found out about this, it would crush her. It was hard enough lying to her about coming here—so hard, in fact, that I thought twice about coming…but here I was, in this room, waiting for someone I hadn't seen in an entire year. Someone I no longer thought about, because it was easier that way.

I downed the last of my Syrah and felt my stomach twist at the sound of the doorknob turning. Shit, I hadn't expected that. I honestly wasn't sure if she would come—I hadn't really thought about it all that much, but it definitely sent a thrill through my veins when I heard those hinges groan. It opened slowly, and I couldn't help but stare at the door as I waited for someone to enter.

But then, the strangest thing happened. I didn't see anyone's face, nor did I hear a sound. The door swung back into its original position and I heard it shut with a quiet click. My heart was racing now because that was kind of strange, and I wanted to know who had opened the door and then changed their mind. Seriously, who did that? You either opened a door or you knocked or you just walked away. You didn't…change your mind halfway through the process.

I was upset about a door. I was really, truly angry about it. And once I realized it wasn't about the door, but the person behind the door, I kicked my chair back and nearly sprinted over to the large oak frame. I wrenched open the door loudly and stepped out into the empty reception area, but there was no one there. A few seconds had passed, nothing more. Right? Had I sat there brooding about the stupid fucking door for longer than a few seconds?

I noticed the little sign on the reception desk indicating that Denali had gone to bed or wherever the hell he went, and I also knew he would never disturb me in the dining room. It wasn't his style. I looked around frantically, searching the room for signs of life—a suitcase, a backpack, a map of the ridiculously confusing grounds. Nothing.

But no, not nothing. As I walked toward the front door, I sensed the slightest, faintest, most wonderfully breathtaking scent of strawberries and flowers and rain. Where was she? Where was she?!

I ran out the front door, forgetting about everything and everything except her. I finally saw her in the distance, running toward the dock, her long, lush brown hair bouncing against her back. For once, I hoped she would stumble so that she would slow down, because I had to catch her. I had to reach her before that fucking ferry operator found her and took her away from me, because if that happened, I knew I would never see her again.

So I ran. Hard. I sprinted down the paths I knew so well, avoiding the familiar ditches and oversized tree roots. I didn't know if she heard me coming. I didn't care. I wanted to call out but I was breathing too hard, my chest heaving with nerves and fear and exertion as I closed the distance between us. She was stepping onto the ferry ramp as I reached the dock, which was slippery and wet but I didn't give a fuck. I ran through the rain that had begun to fall and then she saw me, drenched and gasping and speechless.

Her hair was wet and her face glistened in the full moon, and she was even more beautiful than I had remembered. Her expression was blank, but her chocolate eyes danced with expectation and surprise and a hint of sadness. I couldn't read her expression but I could read her eyes, which made my nerves tingle with anticipation and overwhelming relief. She had one foot on the ramp and one on the dock, and I didn't know what was she was going to do. I stood rooted in place, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. Still trying to process how the thought of losing her made me feel like breaking down right here, on this dock, in the rain. And I wouldn't give a shit if that happened. A part of me wanted her to feel it, too.

She just looked at me for what could have been seconds, or minutes, or hours—I have no idea. But then she dropped her backpack on the ground and ran toward me, and she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me furiously, passionately, so that my head spun and my heart thundered in my chest. I parted my lips when she begged for entrance with her tongue, and I happily deepened the kiss, exploring her with a hunger I hadn't felt in a very long time. I felt my entire body tremble in anticipation as she pressed herself into me, intensifying my arousal. I was impossibly hard and I knew she felt it, kissing me all over my face, consuming me like a crazed, wild fire. I did the same, and it was the most frenzied, intense, hot as fuck kiss I had ever experienced in my twenty-one years.

"Edward," she said, moaning breathlessly as I ran my hands through her hair. I set her down gently, trying to consider the wet dock and the possibility for disaster. It was hard to think about anything but her when she was this close, breathing hard as her hips met my throbbing cock, but I had to. I had to focus. I had to get a grip on what the fuck had just happened, and how close we had come to losing it all.

"Where the fuck were you going?" I said, more angrily than I intended. My breathing was so ragged that it was embarrassing.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she said softly, stroking my wet hair as the rain fell steadily.

"Why would you just leave like that?" I pressed, and I sounded desperate, broken. I couldn't believe how quickly my emotional detachment to Bella had completely vaporized. I had gone from never thinking about her to needing her like air.

She took my hand slowly, and her deep, dark eyes met mine, and they were sad, lost. I hadn't seen it until now. I hadn't noticed in the dark and the rain. She was stunningly, strikingly beautiful, but her skin had an uncharacteristic pallor to it and her eyes were rimmed with dark circles. I noticed the slight protrusion of her cheekbones and the feel of her knuckles in my hands. My heart wrenched in my chest as I absorbed it all, as I realized that Bella was broken somehow.

"What happened, Bella?" I asked, almost in a whisper.

"I…I can't…" she trailed off, and I felt her little body begin to tremble. She must have been freezing, and we were standing out here in the cold and rain. I draped my arm over her and pulled her close to my side, hoping that my body heat would grant her some relief. I held her to me and guided her toward the cabin, where it sat like always, radiating its warm, white light at the water's edge.

***

As soon as we got to the cabin, I helped her remove her drenched clothes until she was completely nude, and I ran the shower as hot as she could stand it. She climbed in gingerly, and I gasped at the weight that had fallen from her frame. She looked so vulnerable, almost childlike. I must have grimaced because her eyes fell, and she suddenly looked ashamed.

"No, Bella," I said. "Look at me."

She looked up tentatively, as the hot water rushed over her shoulders and the steam clouded the glass walls.

"I want you to tell me what happened," I said, and my voice was steady, firm.

"I will," she said. "But first, can you stay with me?"

"I am staying with you. I'm right here."

"No, closer," she said. And her little fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt, while a little smile crept onto her face.

I was worried as fuck about Bella, because she looked like she was wearing the weight of the world on her shoulders, but I couldn't resist her when she did that. Her whole face lit up when she smiled, and it had been so long since I had seen that smile, the very same one that danced on her lips when she told me she loved me. I hadn't heard those words from her in a long time, either, but I was okay with that. There was love in her face, her smile. That was enough.

So I stepped out of my soaked pants and boxers and acquiesced to her shy, quiet demand. I inhaled sharply as the hot water cascaded over my back, but it didn't even remotely compare to the feel of her soft, smooth hands all over my body. She moved them slowly, deliberately, as though rediscovering something she had lost. It felt fucking incredible, and I just enjoyed it for a long time. Just enjoyed the feel of her.

Of course, I couldn't enjoy the feel of her without really enjoying the feel of her, which became readily apparent within a few minutes. A devious grin spread on her face, and I smiled in spite of myself. I liked it when Mrs. President came back to torture me, and I was liking it now. A lot. She moved her little hands down my chest and took my rock-hard cock in her hand, and I inhaled sharply when she did that. My breathing was picking up and so were her hand movements, until she pushed me back gently against the shower wall and she sat demurely on the little bench, gazing up at me with lusty, eager eyes.

My eyes widened at the realization of what she was about to do, and I groaned loudly when she took me into her mouth, deeply and fully and fucking aggressively. I wasn't expecting that at all. I expected a little tease maybe, like a little preparation for the main event. But no, this was Mrs. President from our card playing days, and she had her mouth around me and her tongue on me in ways I had only fucking dreamed about. I had to lean my hands against the wall for support, and she was going quickly now, rocking my hips in a steady, furious rhythm. I didn't want to rough it up, really, but this was too much and I thrust my hips into her mouth, matching her pace with my own. She started fucking humming against me and I felt the tension building, my cock pounding into her as she gave me the blow job of my life. A low, guttural moan escaped my throat as I felt myself coming, and I tried to give her a signal to pull out, but of course she wouldn't.

So I came, and I came in her mouth, filling her completely and feeling her throat muscles contract as she swallowed every bit of it. I tried to say something but I was expending all my energy attempting to restore strength to my legs and arms and every inch of my shuddering body, while Bella sat on that bench, a smug smile on her face. When I finally regained control of my faculties after that mind-blowing release, including the insanely hot activity that led to it, I managed a smirk of my own. She thought she was sneaky, eh? I'd get her later.

"You didn't have to do that, Bella," I said, my voice still low and husky.

"Oh, yes I did," she said, still smiling devilishly. I wasn't going to argue.

"Are you warm yet?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice. As the massive cloud of lust cleared from my head, I processed the alarming weight loss in her already slight frame.

"I'm okay," she said, registering the change in my tone. I wondered if she had been trying to run away from the impending discussion.

"Bella, I'm worried about you," I said.

"I know."

She smiled sadly and stepped out of the shower, taking my hand as she did so. The little twinkly lights were on in the bedroom, and they cast a dim light on the breezy, dark room. She climbed into bed and I followed, rolling over so that she was on top of me, resting her chin on my chest. She sighed deeply.

"You have the most mesmerizing eyes," she said. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"You did, I think. A long time ago."

"Well, I miss them. Most people have boring eyes."

I chuckled. "Well, I'm glad I don't have that."

"You should be," she said, smiling playfully. "It's a deal-breaker."

"Oh? You have high standards, then."

"How's that?" she asked.

"Most deal-breakers include something like snoring, baldness, poor hygiene, bad breath, lousy job, annoying laugh, small…johnson," I said, wondering where the hell that one came from.

"Small johnson?" she asked.

"Hmm…yes. It's a euphemism for—"

"I know what it is, Edward. Don't worry, you definitely don't have that problem." She blushed a light pink and I smiled at her modesty.

"Glad to hear it," I teased. "You know, you have lovely eyes yourself."

She shook her head. "No, I don't. They're a boring brown."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "They're a deep, seductive, radiant brown. I fucking love your eyes. In fact, that's why I get caught staring at you so much. Hell, if we were in kindergarten, you would always be asking me, 'Hey, punk, do you have a staring problem?'"

She giggled. "Is that what you did in kindergarten?"

"No, but that was Emmett's favorite line. Then it kind of caught on."

"Well, I'm glad you have a staring problem," she said, breaking eye contact as she looked down shyly. "I like the way you look at me."

"I like the way you look at me," I replied. More than she could possibly know.

She took a deep breath, and rested her head on my chest. I stroked her hair gently as her quiet breathing mingled with the sound of the rain on the porch steps.

"I'm glad you stopped me on that dock, Edward," she said softly.

I inhaled deeply and braced myself for this conversation. I had a feeling it would be hard—if not for me, then definitely for her. But for some reason, I could feel an overwhelming sense of guilt slink into my subconscious, and I couldn't shake it.

"I almost lost you," I said.

"I know. I just…I wasn't sure I could face you," she said, her voice almost a whisper. I had to strain myself to hear, but I didn't want to push her. I waited for her to continue.

"I know I…look different, Edward. I had a difficult year," she started, and her voice was trembling. "Something happened to me this past winter."

I felt my chest tighten at her words, which sounded really fucking ominous. Had someone hurt her? Had someone been there to comfort her, to save her? It sure as fuck didn't look like it. Bella was clearly struggling—I could see it in her eyes, her face, her body. I had failed her somehow. I knew it and there was nothing I could do about it.

"What happened, Bella?" I asked.

"I was at a party," she started, her voice shaking now. "I was there with…my…the guy I'm…"

"It's okay, Bella," I said, although my throat was clenched so tight I felt like I was choking. What guy could possibly be good enough for this perfect creature?

"I lost track of him, and people kept giving me drinks, too many drinks…" she continued. "I blacked out and when I woke up, some guy I didn't know was on top of me."

"No," I uttered in sheer, utter denial as a low hiss escaped my throat. As I internalized her words, I felt so fucking angry, guilty, horrified, enraged, devastated, that it took everything I had to resist walking out that door and throwing myself into the fucking bay because I had failed her in the worst possible way. I had failed Bella, like a useless, idle pawn in her life who appeared once a year to enjoy her for a few days, and then let her go like a coward.

Bella, though, was not a coward. She was a fighter, and she was fighting this so very hard that it made my heart ache.

"At first," she continued, "I didn't know what had happened. My vision was all foggy and my body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but I fought back somehow," she said, crying softly now. "I ran out of the house and someone found me, and took me to the emergency room."

She cleared her throat, determined to continue.

"He didn't rape me, Edward," she said, sighing deeply. "He almost did, but there was no—" she stopped to take another deep breath, but it caught in her throat.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. And I held her in my arms because I didn't know what else to do.

"I'm doing better, Edward," she said, her voice infinitesimally steadier. "I stopped eating for a while…and it was hard to sleep, with the dreams…but I'm doing better."

"Are you, Bella? You can tell me the truth," I said, because I had learned my fucking lesson. Never again would I let Bella endure something like this on her own. Even if she was with someone else, living somewhere else, doing something else—I didn't give a shit. I was done living on the periphery of Bella's life.

"Yes," she said. "Although this is the first time I've ever really done anything…um…sexual with anyone, in a long time…" she said, and my heart brightened, just a little bit. I must, in some way, make her feel safe. Even after all this time.

"I wish I had been there for you, Bella. I wouldn't have let this happen."

"It's not your fault, Edward. Things happen. Don't ever feel guilty about what happened to me, because there was nothing you could have done."

"I could have done something, Bella! If I had been there…" but I trailed off, because I wasn't there and someone else was, and Bella wasn't my girl to protect. This was the way it had been for years, and neither one of us had made any effort to change that. We had accepted our separate lives in separate places, and even I had grown used to it. I imagined Bella had, too.

She moved her head from my chest and fixed her eyes on mine, probing the hurt and guilt and anger that colored my face. Her eyes were wet from her tears, but her expression was strong, her face set in a resolve she had carefully constructed through months of recovery. My heart swelled with pride at the sight of her, despite the brokenness that shadowed her eyes. She was strong, so fucking strong. Bella would overcome this, and she would do it without me if she had to. I just didn't want her to.

"I know, Edward," she said. "I never forgot about you."

"I never forgot about you," I said, which was true. I had just tried to forget.

"I feel safe now," she whispered. "I feel safer with you than I feel with anyone."

"Then stay with me," I said, surprised by the slight tremble in my voice. I felt my eyes watering and I had no fucking idea why, because I wasn't supposed to cry. Not now, not ever. But the emotions I had suppressed for an entire year were all bubbling up to the surface, ripping my chest open, filling my eyes and tightening the walls in my throat.

"Stay with me, Bella," I said again, my voice a deep, throaty plea. I cupped her face in my hands and probed the depths of her eyes with mine, determined to find the truth in there somewhere. The truth that both of us had been denying for too fucking long.

"I'm damaged, Edward," she murmured.

"So am I," I said, holding my voice as steady as possible. "I'm damaged because you aren't in my life."

"I'm not the same," she argued softly.

"No, you're not."

She looked at me, her eyes red from crying, and a single tear trickled down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb.

"You're stronger. You're wiser. You're more incredible, more resilient, more amazing than you have ever been, Bella. Don't you ever fucking forget that."

Her face remained set in a sad, stoic expression, but her dark eyes brightened at my words. She looked up at me and nodded softly, and her tears fell silently onto my chest. She leaned in and kissed me softly, and I relished the sweet, salty taste of her tears on her lips.

"Edward?" she asked softly, her lips still grazing mine.

"Hmm?" I managed.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?" I asked, stroking her deep brown hair, savoring its soft, familiar texture in my fingers.

"For saving me."

"I didn't save you, Bella."

"You did. You just haven't realized it yet."

***

Hmm, will they actually get together this time? We'll see!