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chapter twelve

We've gotten at least three feet so far-E

I'm so jealous. It's just cold rain here-B

I wouldn't expect anything different from Forks-E

I smile as I put my phone back into my pocket. I glance at my dad as he walks through the front door shaking rain from his coat. I watch the drops darken the rug in the hall.

"Hey, Bell," he says gruffly, stripping off the coat and stepping out of his boots.

"Hey," I say, my voice soft from not using it. "Dinner's ready. I made a roast."

"Are you sure you don't want to move back home?" he jokes and I roll my eyes. We sit at the small, wooden table in our kitchen, the light above us is too harsh and it washes everything out. My dad scoops roast and potatoes onto his plate as he tells me about his day. When he asks me about mine, I can only think back to my morning of sleeping in and my afternoon of flipping through the channels on TV. Jake wanted to hang out but I didn't feel like putting on a happy face for him like I have been the last few days. It's exhausting.

My dad and I fall into silence save for the scraping of forks and knives on plates and though he's finally home, the house has the sounds of another person echoing off the walls, I feel more alone than ever.


"Sweetie, hope you're having a great Christmas. My gifts are coming soon, I promise."

"It's okay, Mom. Hope your day is good too."

"Consider spending the New Year over here, okay? Phil's going to be out of town so it'll be just us girls."

I can't help but think that she's only inviting me so she doesn't have to spend the evening alone.

"I'll let you know what's going on," I say. "Jake's here, I have to go."

It's not a lie, I can hear him knocking on the front door. It's our annual gift exchange with a viewing of Elf and leftover ham and mashed potatoes.

I find him grinning at me when I swing the door open and I try to remember a time when he used to walk right in, throwing a hello over his shoulder at my dad.

"Jacob," my dad says gruffly. It doesn't faze Jake, he just nods at him, his hands behind his back and I make my way into the living room.

Dad disappears upstairs and Jacob grins, pulling a box from behind his back.

"I got you something," he says, shaking it. I watch the shiny red paper reflect the light from the floor lamp and I hear something rattle around inside.

"So I guess it's not fragile?" I say and he rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to the couch.

"Just open it," he laughs and I give him what I'd gotten a few days earlier. I watch as he tears at the newsprint to find a vintage book on auto repair—one that goes with the car he's fixing up. It's nothing compared to the small, silver ring with a stone that's a little dull but nice nonetheless.

"You know? Like my eyes?" he says, so proud of himself. I inspect it further, green and brown mixing together under the light.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"I can't stay," he tells me but doesn't give a reason. I ignore the burn I feel in my chest. "But I just wanted you to have this. And I just, I don't know, I think I'm ready to give us another shot. If you are."

I take him in, the way he bites his lip nervously and the way he keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot until he decides to take a step forward.

"Don't leave me hanging," he says and I feel his lips press lightly against mine before he walks out the door.

This was what I wanted right? It's finally time to get things back on track.

But my phone dings and I know it's Edward.

You've got two weeks left to decide to take that poetry class. Tick tock. Oh, and Merry Christmas ya filthy animal.-E

I know he's kidding, he's just giving me a hard time but it makes me feel like the world is caving in all around me, crushing me.

There's so much I want to say to him, I want to scream at him for making everything so complicated—for making me second guess everything.

Instead, I send him a quick Merry Christmas and I set my phone down so it's only me standing in the center of the room the emptiness of the space closing in around me.

I take a breath.


It takes forever to get to Tacoma. A three hour drive alone in my truck, the radio fading in and out miserably and all I have is an old Mamas and the Papa's cassette tape stuck in the player. I focus on Cass Elliot's voice, and avoid all of my own thoughts, stepping around them carefully as I make my way down the highway.

I'd agreed to spend the new year with my mom in a desperate attempt to avoid Jacob's party invitation. I still haven't given him an answer and I feel incredibly guilty about it. But then I think of the lip gloss in his car and I feel sick.

My mom's apartment is just as I remember it. Graffiti next to the door proclaims that yuppies can suck a dick. I stare at it as I ring the bell for her to let me up. Is that like twenty years old? Do people still say yuppies?

There's a buzz and the door unlocks. I'm halfway upstairs when I hear a squeal and my mother is on the top of the landing, clapping her hands excitedly.

When I reach her, she pulls me into a hug, trying to work around my backpack. She smells like vanilla, like always and her curly hair is suffocating me.

"It's been so long, baby."

"I know," I say, trying to pull back but she keeps holding me tightly. When she does let me go, she smiles so brightly at me that I think I can see all of her teeth.

I follow her inside and her apartment is different than what I remember. It's sparser and cleaner and there are broken down boxes in the corner, next to the bed. The television is blaring and her computer is open on the table near the small kitchen space.

"Sorry about the mess," she says, her arms out, gesturing to the room. I want to tell her that the place is cleaner than I've ever seen but I wait for her to continue.

"We're in the process of moving," she explains, moving towards the oven. I watch her check whatever she's making and I try to process what she's said.

"Moving?"

"Oh, yes, we found a place in Jacksonville that's just perfect."

"Jacksonville? As in Florida?"

"Yes," she says and then her eyebrows pitch upwards. "I forgot to tell you that, didn't I?"

I just stare at her because how the fuck could she forget to tell me that.

"It's not set in stone yet," she says quickly. "I've been offered a job there."

"Oh," I say softly. I don't know why I'm reacting to her news like this—I should be glad, she'll be gone and busy with her new life and out of my hair.

But instead, I feel a little abandoned and…hurt.

I don't want to call Jacob—he'll tell me how I should feel. He'll tell me that I should be happy.

No, I want to call Edward. I want to hear his voice so I think back to the CD of his sitting on my dresser at home.

I want to scream and rage at her all night. I want to sulk when she sets up plates of appetizers and uncorks bottles of wine. I let her paint my fingernails silver and I smile and I pretend to be enjoying myself. In all honesty, this will probably be the last time I see her for a very long time.

So of course, instead of staying on the easy, lighthearted topics to end this time together on a good note, she brings up Jacob.

"Are you two still broken up?"

I ignore her question.

"That ring is nice. Is that from him?"

I shrug.

"Bella, come on."

I turn to her—I see her brows furrowed, the concern in her eyes and I just want to break down and let her hold me like she did when I was little and afraid of thunderstorms. I feel like I'm caught in one giant storm and I can't get a hold on anything.

I see her apartment in various shades of change around me, the fraying couch cushion under me and I miss the sound of Edward's voice so badly I feel it swallow me up and tears threaten to spill over my cheeks.

"Bella, are you okay?" she asks, her hand on my shoulder and I feel wetness on my cheek—I'm on the verge of a panic attack or something.

"You can talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what's going on."

But how can I tell my mother that she's made me so afraid of the world? She doesn't realize that she's done this though and I'd have no idea how to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to see her eyes shift downwards, her mouth spilling out apologetic but defensive statements.

It's like I'm being torn in half and everything I do to stitch myself up is falling flat.

For now, I just let her rub my shoulder while we watch the ball drop in New York, crowds filling the icy streets.

Jacob texts me and I ignore it, feeling like a total bitch but I don't have the energy to think about him. I get a video from Emmett—I can see Edward and Jasper holding guitars, their eyes bleary and hair messy.

"This is a cover," Jasper begins and they both laugh easily. I watch Edward's fingers find their places on the strings and his voice comes over softly and he's smiling and Jasper is nodding his head, finding the beat.

"This must be it, welcome to the new year."

I suck in a breath and my mom wanders back into the room, her hair damp from the shower.

"I'm not smiling behind this fake veneer."

"What are you watching?"

"A video some friends of mine sent me. They're in a band." She moves closer, looking over my shoulder so she can get a better view while Jasper chimes in, both of them harmonizing and goosebumps show up on my arms.

"Why won't she listen to me?"

"They're really good," she murmurs. I just nod, I can't say anything.

"Heads up Damage Control, there's a ring around her finger."

Edward's voice gets more intense, it cracks a little when he sings the next line.

"Last chance for changing lanes, and you missed it by a mile."

When the song ends, their smiles are back and Jasper is getting up, heading towards Emmett. As the camera starts to move, Edward's crooked grin grows wider.

"Happy New Year, Bella," he says but the frame flips and he's gone.

"He's cute," my mom tells me and I refuse to look at her—I can feel her questions about him radiating off of her.

"Yeah," is all I say and I lay down on the couch, ready to sleep. The words from the song keep echoing in my head and it only makes me more agitated.

Why won't I listen to him?


don't hate my poor B, she's trying. she'll get there. love you all, until next time.