*waves at whoever is still reading this story o'mine* Hmm, not many but that's ok, I love you all.

This chapter has a lot of backstory built into it. Hope it's clear and not too confusing. My stories tend to have alot of chapters that are all roughly the same length. That's how I roll :)

I do not own Twilight but it is permanently under my skin.

EPOV

"I stick up for you again and again and this is how you repay me!" Her tone is harsh, her words quick and to the point, her voice low. We're standing in the dimly lit hallway outside Bella's bedroom. My back is against the wall. Esme's arms are crossed at her chest. How I managed to sneak through the front door and all the way up the winding staircase with Bella in my arms before getting caught (and without dropping her) will remain a cosmic mystery until the end of time.

"You turned me in that day," I remind her with irritation.

"You ran!" she hisses, the red rushing to her cheeks. "What was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn't see you stealing from the market? You would have lifted my purse if you'd had the chance!"

"I had to do something!" I demand, my whisper turning into a ghostly shriek. "I was desperate. If you had seen where I was living -"

"I know that now but I didn't at the time."

"I'm not a thief –"

"I know that."

"- or any of the other things they say about me –"

"Who says?"

"Everyone around here. Newton and Beers especially, always jawwing me. And Big Daddy Swan -"

"You stole his horse, Edward. That horse was worth half a million dollars."

"He got it back."

"Eventually. And it had to be put down."

I wince at the truth in her statement. She senses the pain it causes me to remember and puts a warm hand on my arm.

"You're good with the horses here. Better than any of the other boys. You have a way with them. It's not your fault what happened to Midnight."

I shrug off the compliment.

"He'll never forgive me."

"Midnight Sun was his prized possession. You stole his horse, sold it, and -"

"Please stop," I beg her under my breath. I know what happened. I was there.

"Charlie doesn't have to forgive you. Just keep your head down, work off your debt, and for goodness sake don't ever again sneak into his house in the middle of the night carrying his passed-out daughter in your arms! Christ, Edward, if he saw you - - I don't want to think about what could have happened."

"I didn't get her drunk, Esme, I swear. I didn't even know she was going to be there tonight."

"What was she doing there then? Hm? At a bar, underage?"

"…I don't know."

"Oh, honey. Do I look like I was born yesterday? That girl would risk everything she's worked her whole life for if it meant spending five more minutes with you."

"I feel the same."

"You can't. She's not Tanya. She doesn't need saving."

There's that unfriendly twist in my gut again. And my issues with trust. I told her that in confidence. After I'd been sewn up from the barbed wire cuts it was Esme by my side and the painkillers in my bloodstream and the guilt creeping back into my thoughts that made me tell her about what happened to Tanya.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that – I'm sorry, Edward." But I shake my head and wave her apology away. There's no need.

"This is different. Bella's different. This is all so fucking different for me. This place, this job, her. She's like nothing I'm used to. I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to her."

"Which is why you need to be careful."

"I'm scared. The way I feel - - sometimes I want to be mean to her, to make her go away like that would be easier. Push her away, shut her out, hurt her so she'll hate me, forget about me and move on. But I can't do it. I try over and over and I can't."

She uncrosses her arms and the look on her face reminds me of my angelic mother and the urge to cry is sudden and sharp and at the front of my eyes before I can hold it at bay.

She barely reaches the top of my chest but I feel like a baby in her arms.

"Thank you," I sob into the messy bun at the top of her head. "Thank you for turning me in."

BPOV

A muted stream of yellow light creeps under my eyelids. Calm voices and the soft click of a door latch snuff out the glow and I'm once again in darkness. My hearing is surprisingly good given the high-pitched ringing in my ears but I can't bring myself to care. Blankets too comfy. Bed too warm. Pillow too soft, and I drift.

….

"Hey." I feel the corner of my bed sag under his weight.

"Hi."

"How's your head?"

"Um," I press the heel of my hand to my temple and wince. "It hurts."

He's quiet. My head clears enough to let it occur to me that he's sitting on my bed. Which is in my bedroom. In my house.

He must sense the question on my face because he answers it.

"Esme caught me. ...Again," he smirks and it's difficult to see him fully in the murky abyss of my room but I decide it's better that way cuz, again, he's sitting on my bed. "She let me stay if I promise to be quiet and to never, ever, do anything like this again. Her words."

As if on cue the bedroom door opens and Edward jumps to his feet like a startled deer ready to bolt. Esme pokes her head inside and puts a slender finger to her lips.

"It's ok, Edward. You're fine. I'm just bringing her these." She hands him a glass of water and some pain pills and smiles as she shuts the door. He sets the glass and pills on my nightstand and returns to his seat at the end of my bed.

"She changed your clothes. I didn't. Y'know, in case you were wondering how you got into your pajamas. I was going to take you to the loft for the night but that would have been more for my benefit than for yours," he snickers sweetly.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice raspy.

"Um, almost five, I think."

"You've been here all night?"

He nods and looks towards the window at the pale light signaling the sunrise. Chores will start soon. If I listen closely I'll hear the rattling sounds from the kitchen of breakfast beginning.

"Edward," I start, feeling a looming sense of guilt for putting him out this way. "You can go. Get some sleep. Crew will be up soon."

"It's ok, all the guys will be hungover. I'm sure they got back much later than us."

"But you – "

"I'm fine. I didn't drink that much. And if I had, my buzz was completely gone the minute you hit the ground." He's not being sarcastic or making fun of me. I can tell he's merely stating a fact.

"Yeeeah. I think I should probably be embarrassed by my behavior last night. And I totally would be if I could remember."

"Nah, it's no big deal, you just yelled at me a lot and called me a bunch of names. Nothing I'm not used to."

"I think I blacked out after I saw the red-head."

"Yeah, you were really pissed when you saw her."

"Who is she?"

"A friend."

"With benefits?"

"Sometimes."

Ouch.

"…Is that what I am, too?"

He lets out a deeeeep sigh and wipes both of his hands slowly down his face before answering. "You are nothing like Victoria. And that's not a good thing or a bad thing. It's just a fact. Can we please leave it at that? ...Anyways, it's over, she and I."

"Really?" I challenge. "You were with her last night at the bar. I saw her looking for you. You've been seeing her ever since you arrived in town. I've heard the stories of the red-head with the convertible. And you've been hooking up with her while you were with me."

His brow furrows. "Since when was I 'with you'?"

"You know what I mean. Since we've been fooling around."

"Is that what we've been doing? Fooling around? So you're saying that I've been cheating on you?" His tone is not aggressive or angry. There's a sense of confusion and frustration and I don't for a second feel threatened by any of it but I do feel the conversation shifting into a territory that we haven't explored before.

"Wull, no, not cheating cuz we're not exclusive but - - "

He lets out a laugh and holds up his hand. "Time out, let's stop before this turns into a juvenile pissing contest. Victoria is a thirty-year old woman who, yes, I've slept with on occasion. Or, 'hooked up with', if that's a term you're more familiar with."

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm not a baby."

"Then stop acting like one."

"I'm not!" Ok maybe I am, but whatever. "Why do you treat me differently from everyone else? Hm? Why can't I be upset that you'll sleep with a thirty year old woman that you meet at a bar but you won't go any further with me than putting your hand down my pants?"

"I treat you differently because you are different," he shrugs.

"How? How am I different, Edward? Tell me because I don't get it." He stares at me like I just asked him to explain string theory and I throw myself back into the mountain of pillows with a huff.

"Fine. Y'know, um, I'm going away to school soon...after Labor Day."

"...Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Esme told me."

"Oh? What did she tell you?"

"That you're leaving for school soon."

"Oh."

"Where are you going?" he asks, moving off the bed to stand by the window.

"Pennsylvania." I force out the words. "University of Pennsylvania."

He nods in understanding, his gaze fixed on the stable across the driveway.

"That's a good school. Congratulations."

"Edward –" But I can't finish my sentence because he's back on my bed with his hands in my hair holding my head to the pillow and his eyes are staring into mine with an intensity that's feral and raw and I open my mouth to speak, to say what I don't know but I don't have to know because with a groan he moves his head to the side and his lips easily find mine with that same urgency and oh god I'm breathless, and I want him to tell me to stay. Say it, say Don't Go. Please, say it. Say, Don't Go. But he won't say it. Because if he does, he knows I won't. I know I won't. Because I want to be with him.

So I say it instead.

"Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Stay with me."

"Yes."

"Don't go back to her."

"No."

And I go for broke.

"Be with me."

Edward pulls back and buries his head in my shoulder. "Dammit, Bella, you know I want to."

"Why are you so scared of this?" I whisper into his damp, musky smelling hair.

"I don't understand why you aren't scared of this."

"What is there to be scared of? It feels wonderful, just being here with you like this. I think about you all the time, about what you feel like and taste like. Your laugh. Your face. What it would be like to have sex with you. I can't think of anything better than you - "

"You don't even know me."

"I know you're a good person-"

"No, you don't know that. You don't know who I am or what I've done."

"I'm not scared of you. Whatever you did, I know it was done for love." My hand snakes its way under the covers that separate us seeking to take a full grip of Edward through his jeans. He resists and grabs my wrist, pulling it away from his erection and placing it at my side.

"I won't be the first thing you know of this. I can't be. You don't understand."

"Help me understand."

"Jesus, Bella." He swipes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. "I swore to myself I would do things differently if I ever got another chance to have a girl like - - I wouldn't be selfish, I wouldn't fuck it up. I wouldn't rush or think with my dick. "

"She was a big part of your life."

"Yes."

"Did you love her?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her still?"

"Yes. I do. Does that bother you?"

"Um...a little, I guess."

"It shouldn't. ...Do you remember that first night at the camp? When you slept in my arms on the ground? I didn't know it then, or maybe I did."

"Know what?"

"That I was falling for you. Which should have made me really happy. It did, but it also gave me this tremendous guilt, because that particular day happened to be the anniversary of her death. ...Tanya's death was the worst moment of my life."

"Worse than your parents? Sorry. Esme told me. I've been pretty obsessed with you since you got here, if you haven't noticed."

He smiles softly and takes my left hand in both of his. "I didn't have to watch my parents die. It was instant. Her death was slow and preventable. I should have prevented it, but I couldn't. Then one day she collapsed in my arms as we were crossing the street and she never woke up. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to tell her how much I loved her just one more time."

"I'm sorry."

"I look back on the feelings I had for Tanya and I can say that I love her because I know that at one time I did, and now she's gone. But as each day passes I have trouble remembering what that love for her felt like because the feelings I have for you are overpowering. I was hanging on to that love for her because I never in a million years thought I could feel it again. ...Why are you crying?"

"Because you just told me you love me." Without coming right out and saying it, Edward in his way has tilted my world on its ass. I launch myself at him and nearly topple us both off the bed. Holding onto the edge with one arm and clutching me against his chest with the other he lifts us back up onto the mattress so I am straddling his waist, kissing his face, every inch so he knows I feel the same way. He has to.

"We have to be quiet, crazy girl," Edward giggles between my relentless kissing assault.

"Let's pretend."

"Uh...okay. Pretend what?"

"That we're the only two people in the world. That time has stood still."

"Bella," he protests, groaning against my persistent lust-fest crotch writhing and rubbing of my barely covered tits against his chest.

"Just you and me and we can do whatever we want. We can be whoever we want. No consequences."

"There are consequences to everything," he pants. "Believe me."

"Come on," I insist, sweating now with desire and soaking wet from the pressure of his hard cock against my clit. "You want me. You can have me right here, right now."

"You're not thinking straight."

"We can be whoever we want in this moment. We can pretend that we have different lives."

In an instant I'm on my back, bouncing on the mattress with Edward's whole body hovering over me. His long bangs are tickling my forehead. My legs are spread and he's nestled between them. Holy shit, he's going to do it. He's going to fuck me. Wait. How's my breath? I haven't showered. Oh my god, is he really going to fuck me? Are we doing this?

He lets out a sigh through his nostrils and kisses my trembling lips. "Bella, this isn't a fairytale. I'm not secretly a prince who's going to shed his tattered stable boy clothes in a swirl of pixie dust and transform into the man of your dreams at the end of the story. I really am broke. I really have done a lot of terrible things and hurt a lot of good people. Your father fucking hates my guts and so do most of the people who live here. You're moving across the country in two weeks and I'll still be here. That's reality and that's where I live."

"Way to ruin the moment," I grumble.

"I want you to know what you're getting into. How about this... I take you out, like on a real date. I pick you up, we go to town, go to dinner, maybe a movie -"

"And at the end I put out?"

"Oh my God can you be serious for one freaking minute?" he laughs incredulously. "I'm trying to be romantic here. Let me do the right thing for once."

"Sorry," I say, chewing on my bottom lip. "You're just wrong about so many things." Clasping both of my hands around the back of his neck, I pull him ever so close to me. "Especially the part about not already being the man of my dreams."