Chapter Twenty
"Don't turn your back on me."
Alec's voice is razor-edged, slicing right through me.
In the beat it takes me to realize he's not the sweet-natured, mild-mannered guy I think he is, I'm pressed against the side of the car, his weight crushing me from behind, my arms pinned between my body and the car.
"Come on," he whispers. "I saw the way you looked at me."
His breath brushes against the back of my neck, the side of my face, my cheek. He reeks of whiskey and cologne.
"Get off me," I force out between gritted teeth, trying to push him away.
"You know you want this," he says, pressing himself against my lower back. His hand slides over my hip, his fingers reaching up beneath my T-shirt. My throat tightens with fear, but instead of pressing back against him, I slam my hips forward, trapping his fingers against the car door.
"Don't be like that," he says with a sickly sweet tone. His voice makes my skin crawl.
"I said stop."
He chuckles, his breath hot on my face. "Yeah, you said that. But I know what you're like. You can't tell me you don't want it."
I try my hardest to wriggle free, my mind reeling at just how strong he is. "I want you to get the fuck off me."
Alec eases up the pressure against me for a split second, just long enough to slam my head against the truck window. Pain lances through my cheekbone and into my skull, sending white-hot sparks dancing across my vision. The glass is icy cold against my face, so cold it almost burns.
"You've got a fucking mouth on you."
He laughs again, but there's venom behind it; he's not playing around anymore. He's angry. He's angry and he's drunk and it's one in the morning and there's not a single soul around. The door handle bites into my hip, and my heart hammers so hard I'm momentarily worried I'll throw up.
All I can think of is Emmett.
All I can think about is getting home to him, to the safety of my apartment, and to the safety of a pair of strong arms I know are waiting for me.
My blood pumps hard, pushing adrenaline around my body until I hear my heart beating in my ears.
Hot, clammy hands reach for my waistband, and it's like something snaps inside me. Alec's fatal error is releasing his hold on me for a split second.
He leans back, trying to tug at my jeans, and I take the opportunity to throw my head back as hard as I can into his face. The back of my skull connects with his nose, and once again stars and colored spots dance in my vision. Yelping, I press a hand to the back of my head, watching as he stumbles backward, his hand clutching his nose.
That step back puts some space between us, and, the pain in my head forgotten, I slam my foot between his legs.
His high-pitched yell echoes around the empty lot as he crumples to his knees, his hands clutching his crotch. "F-fucking bitch," he spits, rolling onto his side.
The urge to sink my foot into him again is there, but the pain in my head and the thumping of adrenaline through my veins has me fumbling for my keys instead.
I don't know how I make it home.
I can't remember the drive, only the thunder of the blood in my head and against my cheekbone. My legs scream as I climb the stairs two by two, my hands shaking and the side of my face feeling swollen and painful. A woman from the floor below mine pushes past me in the stairwell.
"Hey, watch it!"
By the time I reach my apartment, my legs are like jelly and every step feels like a mountain. But i'm so close. So close to safety.
I just make it to the kitchen sink before I throw up. Again and again my stomach rolls. My knees wobble and I have to brace myself against the counter.
"Bella?"
The kitchen is flooded with light as the bedroom door opens behind me. I wipe a hand across my mouth and then rest my hands on either side of the sink, breathing deeply, waiting for the nausea to go away.
Edward's warm hand is on my back a second later. "You okay?"
With a shaking hand, I brush the hair from my neck, sweeping it to the side. I turn around to face him, and even in the dim light I see the color drain from his face. His hands lift to my face, his touch unsure but gentle, his eyes assessing.
"I…"
I don't know what to say.
"Who did this to you?" he asks, his tone dark like an approaching thunderstorm. "Was it Marcus?"
I shake my head, my bottom lip quivering.
"Someone at the club?"
I shake my head again.
"Tell me, Bella," he hisses. "Tell me who it was."
"I don't know who he was," I reply quietly, my voice wobbling. Just talking sends a jolt of pain through my face. "He was just some guy. He cornered me in the parking lot."
Edward's entire body tenses as he catalogues every inch of my body, hands fluttering nervously over my stomach and hips. "Did he…"
"No."
Silent, Edward's brows draw together tightly as he looks down at me. "Tell me what happened," he says quietly, his thumb brushing against my cheek gently.
Unable to look at him, I tell him everything. The guilt feels so thick on my tongue my mouth feels full of it. Every word I say is laced with it, drowning in it.
"I wanted to tell you," I say afterward, my hand resting on his. "I just didn't want you to worry. I thought it would be okay."
Stepping away from me, he pulls his hand from beneath mine.
He presses the palm of his right hand to his eye, his jaw set tight. Instantly, every lie and every stupid thing I've done feels like they're filling my bones, weighing me down.
When Edward shifts his hand away from his face, his expression is carefully blank. The wheels are spinning inside his head, and whatever he's thinking is carefully hidden away from me. I've seen it before, but never like this. This is palpable; a real living thing coiled up inside his muscles, the only hint of its presence the gentle tremors shaking his hands, and the tick, tick, tick of his jaw muscles.
Even from across the room, where he paces back and forth across the linoleum, the tension in his arms is visible, his muscles coiling beneath his skin.
The thumping of the blood against my skin feels like a jackhammer. With the adrenalin gone, my body is running on empty, every muscle limp and shaking.
Edward takes a series of big, deep breaths. His jaw shifts as the muscles on either side flex.
"Edward—"
When his fist connects with the wall in the kitchen I jump—even though I see it coming.
The second blow causes a crack to appear in the drywall, and it's not until there are dots of blood on the wall that he stops.
"Fuck," he whispers, shaking his hand once.
"Edward," I say again, my voice raspy. "Stop."
His shoulders sag, and finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, he turns to me, his expression softening.
Without a word, he walks to the freezer and pulls out a bag of frozen peas. Silent, he wraps them in a dishcloth and comes to stand in front of me, his head ducking a little as he presses the compress to my cheek. I flinch at the touch of the ice bag, and his hand comes to rest on my other cheek, cupping my head softly. He shakes his head, his expression tight, pulling me close and wrapping me in his arms. The weight of him around me makes me feel like I can finally breathe again.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly.
Edward doesn't answer.
"I'm so sorry."
Sighing, Edward says, "I know."
I rest my head against his chest.
"This isn't over," he whispers, his arms tightening around me. "We're going to talk about this, and you're going to tell me everything."
I nod.
His hand runs the length of my back slowly in long, soothing strokes. "I'm really fucking angry right now."
I nod again.
I don't know how long we stand there, but after a while Edward reaches down, linking his hand with mine.
"Come on."
Silent, Edward leads me into the bathroom, where—very slowly—he peels my layers of clothing off, dropping them at our feet. The muscles in my neck and shoulders ache, and the pulse of the blood behind my swollen eye is so painful I want to cry.
When I'm in nothing but my underwear, Edward cups my cheeks gently, lifting my gaze to his.
He kisses me softly. Chastely. Tenderly.
Tears roll down my cheeks, silent, mixing with the taste of him. I try not to feel Alec's hands on me when I close my eyes, but still my skin prickles with fear.
As if he senses this, Edward pulls away, thumbs brushing the tears from my chin, where they threaten to fall farther.
Shivering, I wait as Edward starts the shower.
"Get in," he says.
My muscles ache so much all I can do is stand there and let the hot water run over my body. Thankfully, a few minutes later Edward slides the curtain across, turns the taps off, and helps me out gently.
Still shivering and damp, Edward walks me into the bedroom.
Reaching over his head, he tugs his shirt off before holding it out for me to slip my arms through. He turns away as I drop the towel, allowing me a moment to slide his shirt on. It falls to mid-thigh, warm from his skin.
"In," he demands, gesturing to the bed.
Wobbly-kneed, I flip back the sheets and slide in.
Ink ripples and shifts as Edward toes his shoes off at the end of the bed, his jeans sitting low, exposing the fine hipbones that, even now, beg me to touch them. He slides into bed beside me and, as if we're drawn together like magnets, his skin finds mine beneath the sheets.
I close my eyes, basking in the feeling of familiarity, the feeling of safety in his arms.
"Talk to me," he whispers as my eyes drift shut.
I frown, my head already filling with sleep pictures, my body singing as my muscles relax. "I'm so tired."
His fingers brush over my cheekbone. "I know. But I need you to stay awake just a little longer."
Sighing, I reach for his fingers, kissing them gently before closing my fist around them. "What do you want to know?"
He's silent for a moment. "Tell me about when Emmett was born."
Even though I'm so tired and overwhelmed I want to cry, I can't help but smile. "Emmett Charles Swan was born on a Thursday night, three weeks premature." I stifle a yawn, hiding my gaping mouth behind my hand.
"He made it out okay?" asks Edward.
"Perfect," I reply. "I went into labor at two in the morning. Just about scared my dad to death."
"What was your dad's name?"
"Charlie."
"Ah. Charles. So, you scared the pants off of Charlie. Then what?"
"The hospital." I slur. "The rest is kind of a blur." My eyes feel like lead weights are drawing them shut. "One minute I was pushing and the next there's a little boy in my arms, staring up at me."
Edward chuckles once. "Did he cry?"
"No," I say with a tiny shake of my head. "But Charlie did. Like a baby."
We're both quiet for a moment, and then his lips press against my cheek. "Stay with me, Bella. Wake up, please."
I suck in a big breath, trying to peel open my eyes. "Emmett looked up at me with those blue eyes and I knew I'd never love another human being that much. Quietest baby they'd ever had, the nurses said. They kept watching him all night, waiting for him to cry, but he didn't." Edward smiles, looking almost proud. "Not once."
"What did Emmett's father say when you told him about Emmett?"
"Eric? He said okay."
"Okay?"
I nod. "He said 'okay,' and then he hung up."
"Idiot."
I manage a little smile. "Yeah."
The back of Edward's fingers brush across my cheek. "How are you feeling? Sore? Do you want more ice?"
"No. Just stay here with me. That's all I want."
His beard brushes the shell of my ear as he whispers, "I'm not going anywhere."
I reach for him, my lips seeking his.
Edward laughs, kissing me softly before pushing me back to rest. "Rest, Bella. I'll stay."
He does stay. All night. Waking me every few hours, asking me questions.
The moments between, where I find sleep, are filled with visions of what could have happened in that parking lot. But every time I wake, my heart racing and my head thumping, he's there.
Even in the early hours of the morning, as he sleeps beside me, he offers a kind of comfort I never knew I missed until it was right there. That encompassing feeling of being able to wrap myself up in him, to press my body against his and feel his skin against mine, the weight of him beside enough to chase away the bad dreams.
I just have to hope when he wakes he still feels the same.
Edward is sitting on the side of the bed when I wake, his back to me, his elbows on his knees. His long fingers bend and crack, the knuckles popping, the tendons stretching. It amazes me that even after such a short period of time his shape can be so familiar to me. The way his shoulders slope gently, the curve of his spine, the long, gentle arch of his neck. I feel like I know it all, and would know it all with my eyes closed.
"Edward?"
His head turns slightly and he looks at me over his shoulder, his face troubled.
I sit up, my knees bent beneath the sheet.
He turns back to the window, and he's silent for a moment, lost in thought. I leave him be, allowing him the time to gather whatever thoughts he has tumbling around his head.
"I don't know…" He stops, his long fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck. He smoothes a hand down the back of his head. "You went to that apartment last night knowing what could happen. You know exactly what Marcus is like and you walked in there anyway."
"I thought I could handle it," I say, pressing a palm to my face. "I thought I could just get in and get out."
Standing, Edward shakes his head. He slips his shirt on over his head, running a hand over his hair before slipping a baseball cap on.
I sigh. "The money was too good to pass up, Edward. God knows I need it right now."
He considers his next words carefully. "And was it worth it?"
I'm silent with guilt, and the shame rolls over me like a wave, its weight crushing. Nothing is worth being treated like I was.
"No," I whisper.
"Momma!"
Emmett runs in, his clothes already on, ready for a day at preschool. His blond hair has been combed over, styled perfectly.
"Did Edward do your hair?" I ask as he crawls into my lap.
Emmett nods. "Yeah. And now he's driving me to school in his car. How cool is that?"
Cupping his cheeks in my hands, I kiss both of them. "So cool."
A concerned crease appears between Emmett's brows, and his small hand lifts to touch my cheek gently. "Why do you have an oops, Momma? Did you fall?"
I nod. "Yeah, I fell over. But I'm okay, it doesn't hurt."
"Do you need me to get you the pictures?"
"No," I reply with a smile. "I don't even need a Band-Aid. Hey, have you brushed your teeth?"
He shakes his head. "You want me to kiss your oops better before I go to school?"
"Yes, please. Just be gentle." I point to my cheek and turn a little, waiting for a kiss.
Leaning in slowly, Emmett places feather-soft a kiss on my cheek and then bounces off the bed to the bathroom. Through it all, Edward stands by quietly, his hands tucked beneath his arms, his expression now a little softer than it was earlier.
"I didn't think I had another choice," I say quietly, watching Emmett across the hall. "After the break in, and with Emmett's birthday, not to mention the loans and credit cards and the rent going up this month…things are bad at the diner, and I didn't know what else to do."
Edward sighs, his frustration palpable. "I know that, but I can't…I don't…" He looks down, staring intently at the floor by his feet. "I don't know why you can't just let me help you."
"Because I can do this, Edward." I wince as a shot of pain shoots across my cheek. I press a hand to my face, swallowing through my shame. "It's not forever; it's just until I find something better. Safer."
Jaw clenched tight, Edward clasps his hands behind his head. "I swear, Bella, if I find out who did this to you I'll kill them. I can't sleep knowing that whoever hurt you like this is out there."
"Edward…"
He looks at his red knuckles, the skin broken and bloody. He licks his lips, finally looking up at me. "You make me crazy. I can barely stand to be near you without wanting to touch you. I can't think. I can't eat. I barely sleep. Just the thought of someone hurting you keeps me awake at night."
Tucking my hair behind one ear, I watch as he tugs on the collar of his T-shirt, his shoulders flexing.
"But you can't make me sit by and watch you hurt yourself like this."
He steps forward tentatively, coming to rest on the bed in front of me. "I know that you know this already, but last night could have been so much worse. When I think of what could have happened…" He drops his head into his hand, his fingers pressing hard into his closed eyes. "A black eye is nothing."
I scoot toward him, resting my cheek against his shoulder. "I know. And I wish I could adequately explain how stupid and ashamed I feel for going to that party. I should never have trusted Marcus, no matter how scared I was."
We sit, quiet for a moment.
"I wish I could be better for you," I say. "I wish I could be the girl that makes smart decisions and who doesn't have this mess of a life."
"Bella—"
"And I know I keep a lot from you, Edward, and that I'm stubborn and pig-headed, and that I probably don't tell you enough how grateful I am for everything you do, but…I'm drowning here. I feel like I'm drowning and you and Emmett are the only things keeping me afloat right now."
Sighing, Edward leans toward me, tucking me into his side until I'm wrapped up in him.
"I've got you," he whispers.
There's so much more I want to tell him, so much more I want to say.
"Can we go yet, Edward?" Emmett whines from the doorway, his timing perfect as always. "I brushded my teeth."
For the first time all morning, Edward smiles. It's small—a little quirk at the corner of his mouth—but it's there.
"Yeah, dude. Let's go."
Emmett fist-pumps the air. "Bye, Momma. See you later!"
I laugh, and Edward leans in to press a kiss to my cheek quickly. "I'll be right back," he says. "And you and me, we're going to have a talk."
Wink x