Edward

I wake with a start. Disoriented. Hot and sweating. The sun already high in the sky.

I take one quick look around before I'm down the ladder and out the door.

I stand in front of the barn, my shoes in one hand, trying to make out the path that led to Bella's house. The one that used to be there. And my mind must be playing tricks, because for a moment I can see it.

I look away before it disappears.

In the beginning, there was one well-beaten path to the barn. The grass and weeds had long surrendered to Bella's feet before we moved here.

And then there were two paths. One from her house. One from mine.

Later, the first path faded and there was only one path again, a wider one, just wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

And now, there are no paths at all. The night hid the change on the walk over. Here in the sunlight, it is clear as ever.

This place is truly abandoned.

I feel foolish, making the walk home in the daylight, pillow and blankets in hand. I'm a grown man, a doctor, doing little boy things.

When I get back to the house, dad is at the kitchen table. He sips his coffee, eyes filled with questions. I don't feel like answering them. I tell him without looking at him. "I decided to take the job."

"Just like that?" He wants a conversation.

I drop my bedding at the foot of the stairs and pour my own cup of coffee.

I sit across from him and look him straight in the face.

"Edward, I can't help but see this as a step down for you in your career."

"Same could have been said for you, dad. You regret it?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "No. That is not one of my regrets, son. I just think that for your specialization that being in a metropolitan area makes the most sense for you."

"I've already decided."

"Fair enough. We'll see you in three months then."

"Three months."

I want to ask him when she's leaving. If she's left already.

A tap to my shoulder, and he's left the room.

…

I've been ignoring the fact that the summer is almost gone. We all have. Denial is a powerful thing.

We wake up late, having stayed up half the night like we always do.

Talking.

Not talking.

Warm body pressed up against mine, she's tracing down my chest with her little fingers. I want to wake up this way for the rest of my life.

Her hands start to go lower and I cover them. "Don't tease me."

Eyes open, she's scowling at me.

I kiss it away.

"Morning, Bella."

She plants a kiss on my lips, and I roll her onto her back. Giggles and tangled blankets. There will be no more talking.

Shirts still on the floor from the night before.

Her hands. One tangled up in my hair. One tracing the waistband of my boxers.

I kiss along her jaw. Down her neck and she shivers.

Lower. Across her collarbone.

Lower. Above her heart.

Lower. I look up at her eyes, mouth hovering.

Begging me. Nails in my scalp.

Lips to puckered skin.

Soft and mine.

"Edward." Quiet and throaty whispers.

And then panic. Eyes to the door.

Alice. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god!"

I cover her half naked body with my own, holding her as close to me as I can, as if that will somehow turn back time.

"Alice, get out of here!"

"Don't you have a lock?"

"Don't you knock? Get out!""

A slam of the door.

Up on my forearms, careful not to crush her. Forehead to forehead.

"Did that just happen?"

Wide eyes. "At least it wasn't your dad."

"Don't even joke about that."

She gives me a quick kiss and then she's ducking under my arm, pulling the sheet from the bed, covering herself up.

I try to hold on to her, but she slips away from me. "I'm taking a shower."

She showers in my bathroom now. This makes me inexplicably happy.

I sit up in bed. "You need any help in there?"

She points her finger at me. Playful. "No."

I fall back towards the pillows.

I'll have to thank my sister for ruining a perfectly good case of morning wood.

I go downstairs for a bowl of cereal in my boxers, not bothering to put on a shirt. Dad is at the kitchen table, coffee in hand. He's watching my every move. As if cereal was suddenly fascinating.

"What?"

"Please tell Bella I'd like to speak with her."

"Speak with her about what?"

"About things."

And now I'm uneasy.

"Oh, and Edward?"

"What?"

"Sooner, rather than later."

When I go back upstairs she's just out of the shower, wrapped in a towel. Wet hair dripping down her back. Maybe sooner can mean tomorrow.

But she can see it on my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my dad just wants to talk to you about something."

Her eyes go wide. "About what?"

"I don't know. He's being all cryptic."

I pull her up against me, fistfuls of towel. Lips on hot lips.

She pulls the towel back up when it starts to slip. I try to pull it down, running my fingers against the edges. Kisses and words. "Bella, I don't like this towel."

Her hand in my face, pushing me away. "Which is fine, because I'm getting dressed."

I watch her walk from the room, water still dripping down her back.

I wait for her outside the guest room.

We walk down to his office side by side.

And now he looks nervous. Carlisle Cullen hasn't been nervous about anything a day in his life. "Oh, umm, take a seat, Bella. Edward, close the door on your way out."

I challenge him with my eyes but he wins. "Oh and Edward? Put some clothes on."

I pace the length of my room a thousand times.

She finally walks in, raised eyebrows, mouth open. She sits down on the edge of the bed. And then stands. Only to sit again.

"Bella, just tell me. It can be any worse than the thoughts going through my mind."

"This is so embarrassing."

I sit down next to her, fingertips under her chin. "Tell me?"

"Edward, I just got the sex talk from your dad! I went in there and he started pulling all kinds of things out of his bag, laying them out on his desk. All of my birth control options."

"He did not."

"He did!"

And then she's laughing. We're both laughing.

"Oh my god. What did you say?"

"I tried to tell him that we weren't exactly doing that. Exactly. Yet"

"Please tell me you did not say 'yet'."

She covers her face with her hands. "He got all flustered and awkward and … can we just please never speak of this ever again?"

I pull her hands off her face and she doesn't fight me. And she is more beautiful than she was yesterday.

"We can still talk about sex though, right?"

She swats at my arm. "Edward!"

"Well? Can we?"

She sighs and she's trying not to smile. "As long as your dad is nowhere to be found!"

I kiss the tip of her nose. "You want to get out of here?"

She nods. She doesn't ask where we're going. It's understood.

We go the store first. Graham crackers. Hershey's chocolate. Marshmallows.

Back at the house, she packs up food in the kitchen and I go out to the garage.

I have the wheelbarrow loaded up with firewood and she eyes me wearily. "Edward Cullen, you are going to burn down all of Forks."

"I promise you, I won't. Besides, haven't you ever done anything dangerous in your entire life?"

She laughs. "Oh, I see where this is going."

I grab her by the waist, pulling her towards me, wrapping her up in my arms. Lips in her hair. She holds on to me even tighter, as if that were possible.

Plaid blanket in the grass, we find ourselves watching the clouds. Well, I'm watching Bella watch the clouds. And there is nowhere else I'd rather be. Her hair draped around her. Nutmeg and cinnamon. I watch the shadows dance all over her face. I wish I could have a glimpse of what was going on behind those eyes.

"What do you see?"

She doesn't look at me. "Spilt milk."

And then it tumbles out.

"Bella, I love you."

And I mean it.

I don't expect her to say it back. That almost makes it better.

And now she's looking at me, eyes wide. "What?"

I trace her lips with my fingertips. "I love you."

"Edward…"

"I don't need you to say it. I just need you to hear it."

She doesn't respond.

"We should probably be getting back."

"Bella…"

And now she looks as if she's trying desperately not to cry.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

"Just don't say that to me, okay?"

"No."

"No?"

"I love you, Bella. And I'm going to say it."

"Can you just drop it? Please."

"Why?"

"Edward, we have one week left before you leave for school. Before I leave. Can we just enjoy it instead of ruining it?"

"Fine."

And now I'm watching the clouds. And now I'm the one who's trying not to cry.

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Pout."

I sit up and she pulls me back down. Folding herself into me. Holding me tight. My face in her hair. And I've never felt so far away from her.

Will she miss me? Or will she forget me?

I kiss her face and she won't look at me. She's on her feet, pulling up the plaid blanket.

She turns away from me, towards the barn and I can't breathe. I grab at her, like she's falling off a cliff, and pull her towards me, enveloping her mouth in mine. Frantic.

She gives me what I want, hands around my neck. Tongue pushing and pulling until I really can't breathe.

And then she's gone. Blanket scooped up, running to the barn. I watch her from where I'm standing until I can't see her anymore.

I give her space.

I arrange a bunch of large rocks on an open patch of dirt and build a fire pit. Firewood ready.

I walk to the barn, up the ladder and she's there with a book like I knew she'd be. One of my mom's books.

I lay down next to her without a word. She scoots over, head on my chest and keeps reading.

We don't talk about those words. I and love and you.

We watch the sunset.

We sit side by side in front of the fire, sipping hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.

I don't burn the forest down.

She however, keeps lighting her marshmallow on fire.

"You're holding it too close."

"I'm holding it just right. Your fire is an overachiever." She smiles at me and I can feel it in my toes. And other places.

"Here, I'll make you one." I hold my hand out and she passes me her skewer with the latest casualty. I scrape the charred mess into the fire.

"I make the perfect s'more."

"Of course you do." She rolls her eyes at me, but there's a smile.

I have a method. A marshmallow toasting method. You have to avoid the flames completely. The glowing orange embers are the only place to properly toast a marshmallow.

"Do tell, City Boy, where did you learn to roast a marshmallow?"

"My mom."

"She took you camping?"

"Well, no." I debate whether or not to tell her that I've never actually roasted a marshmallow. That I've only been given detailed instructions. And may have taken notes.

"My mom told me how to make the perfect s'more." I leave my eyes on the marshmallow as I rotate it evenly above the glowing embers. My face is suddenly uncomfortably warm. I can't tell if it's the fire or the schnapps or Bella. I can feel her eyes on me. I glance at her quickly and she wants to ask me more but she doesn't. I look away while I still can.

I set the chocolate on a graham cracker by the edge of the fire, giving it a chance to melt before assembling the perfect s'more. My mom swore by it. I believe her exact words were, "It will change your life forever."

I pass the finished s'more to Bella. I watch her take the first bite. And she moans. Nobody can be that sexy and not know it. I watch her, marshmallow all over her face, until the last crumb is gone. And it's almost like I'm waiting for it. For my life to change forever.

"You were right. Best fucking s'more of my life."

I pull her close to me and kiss the marshmallow off.

Her head under my chin, we sit in comfortable silence and watch the fire slowly burn itself out.

She starts to say something but stops herself. She starts and stops again, sitting up straight. "Do… Do you remember your last conversation?"

"With who?"

She picks at a loose string on her pants as she mumbles, "Your mom."

"Oh, yeah, of course."

"What did you talk about?"

You.

"Life. Everything."

"What about you? What was your last conversation with your mom?"

She stares blankly into the smoky fire pit. "I don't remember."

…

For years, after everything had fallen apart with Bella, I blamed my mom. It was so easy to blame her. To blame someone who wasn't there to defend herself. Part of me blames her still.

The day before mom died, Renee and Bella were all she could talk about. I couldn't make sense of everything she said me. I still can't. I asked my dad about it several times, but he always dismissed me. Didn't want to talk about it.

I told myself it was the morphine. She didn't know the half of what she was saying. It made her speak nonsense. She wasn't in her right mind.

She was my best friend.

How could I let her go?

How could she do that to me?

How could I do that to her?

How could I hate her for it?

Her own flesh and blood.

How could I, Edward, how could I?

No child should grow up without a mother.

I shouldn't have let her grow up without a mother.

You can make sure she's alright.

You go find her, Edward.

You can find her.

You have to find her.

She never told me what I was supposed to do next.

I wanted to find her. I needed to find her. I never expected to love her. It became all that mattered. It made everything else unimportant. Irrelevant. Insignificant.

I go down to the basement. Looking for something. I don't know what.

I pull out boxes upon boxes of her journals. I can't find the right years. There are too many.

Shoeboxes of photographs. Alice and I as babies. Old Christmas cards. Hairstyles that should be outlawed.

An envelope wrapped up tight with pink ribbon. A name scrawled across the front. Isabella Marie

I open it up slowly.

It's nothing but a stack of baby pictures. And there is no doubting this is Bella. I'd know those eyes anywhere. I leaf through them, not questioning why they're here. I'm too distracted by her tiny little perfect face.

I hold one picture in both hands, inches from my eyes. It's Halloween and she's dressed as a pumpkin. She's barely old enough to hold her head up.

This is what our babies would look like.

Like getting the wind knocked out of me.

I go from picture to picture, laying them all out on the floor. Pink and more pink.

And then there is a picture that I don't understand. I look at the words printed at the bottom and then the picture.

Back to the words.

Then the picture.

Again and again.

I take the steps two at a time. Heart pounding. Mind racing.

I push his office door open with a smack.

His eyes fly to me.

Across the room, picture in his face.

"Dad, what the hell is this?"

"Edward…"

"Do not bullshit me! What is this?"

There are tears from a man who doesn't cry.

A/N:

Next chapter up by Wednesday :)