Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
I fucked up today.
I don't know how and I don't know why but I made her run.
Maybe I went too fast.
I shouldn't have shown her the house I built specifically thinking about her.
She's only twenty-three, she's probably nowhere near settling down.
I can't let her go though.
Tomorrow. I'll go see her tomorrow.
I have to fix this.
The weekend passes in a haze of marathoning the episodes of A Game of Thrones that I'd seen before the accident but had forgotten about and Bella laughing at my reactions to the insanity of Westeros.
I then proceeded to tickle her into submission whilst informing her that winter was coming.
It had been amazing until she'd pulled away from me – again. She'd been laughing one minute, her eyes alight while her body squirmed away from my fingers until she'd ended up beneath me on the couch and had frozen and pushed me away.
She'd spent the entire weekend keeping me away from her, finding some excuse for us not to be touching and I had to pretend it didn't hurt me each time. It did though, each time she pulled her hand away from mine or when she'd go from laughing with me to cold indifference.
It wasn't until I caught her staring at me with an expression that I'd craved from her, only to have the look disappear as soon as she knew she'd been caught that I'd realised why she continued to pull away from me.
I wasn't who she wanted.
She wanted him.
The other me.
The one I was before the accident.
But who was he?
"What are you thinking about?" Bella asked, pulling me from my thoughts as we washed and dried the dishes side by side. "That spoon has been dry for at least two minutes."
"My journal, had I been writing in it before the accident?" I ask, praying that my obsessive writing hadn't lessened with her around to distract me with those brown eyes.
"Daily." She says with a smile. "I put it in the top drawer of your nightstand when you were in the hospital. I didn't read it."
"I probably wouldn't have minded if you had." I admit with a sheepish smile, she had me wrapped around her finger, whether she wanted it or not.
She smiled and handed me another dish and we fell back into comfortable silence, my mind on the journal that I prayed held the answers I needed to get the girl – again.