AN:
FOR THE MUSIC JUNKIES: I've created a account for this fic (awesome site where you can create playlists and 'play DJ'). The playlist includes the original two disc soundtrack (as best I could manage) and some of the new songs influencing this arc, and it will keep growing.
Again, user=velvetrecords (of course)
This one's a long one, so grab a snack and settle in!
As always Meyer owns all things Twilight. You all rock too, especially when you push me forward when stuck with hilarious kind or insightful reviews :)
Suspicious Minds Part 3: For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic...
"Looks like the end of days,
But it takes so much more for anyone to say..."
June Gloom – The Like
Alice's widening eyes took in the long brown waves, gathered loosely at the nape of the woman's neck, the plain white t-shirt and worn blue jeans dusty at the knees. Her own hands were trembling, the grocery bags clutched within them rustling slightly. This was simply not possible. She pressed her eyes shut tightly, counting to three and opening them. The vision wouldn't clear.
"Alice? I've been looking everywhere for you."
Alice swallowed hard, reaching deep down for her voice, "Obviously not everywhere. You haven't been to the store."
The woman wrung her hands, an old nervous habit, "I peeked in quickly twice; the hair must have thrown me. I almost didn't recognize you now."
"I wish you hadn't," Alice whispered, turning away and taking a step towards Jasper's Civic.
The woman hurried ahead of her, throwing herself into Alice's pathway. For a moment, Alice considered screaming for help, but would anyone truly intervene? Forks was a small town; everyone knew everyone here. Alice screaming at her foster mother would be seen as 'family matters'. Alice felt the trembling in her hands moving into her arms, her shoulders tensing, ready for... For what?
"Alice, give me five minutes to explain," the woman pleaded.
"You explained enough before you left, Diane. You left me with the house and the bills-"
"I know, and -"
"And you left with my money, and left me to myself. Crazy Alice, bastard child of a psycho, right? I don't owe you five minutes. I don't owe you anything."
Alice stormed past Diane, her hands fumbling with the key to the Civic, finally jamming it into the lock and eliciting the satisfying click that meant she was free to slip behind the wheel and leave this woman in her dust. Diane followed her, tears slipping down her prominent cheek bones, her voice grating to Alice's ears.
"Please, Alice! You don't understand. I'm different now."
Alice rolled her eyes, tossing her bags into the backseat, "Broke, you mean? That happens when you quit your job and run out on responsibilities."
"I was an alcoholic!" Diane suddenly blurted out, her right hand tugging on her loose ponytail, "Five minutes, Alice!"
Alice froze behind the wheel, unable to shut the door on this revelation. Her eyes narrowing, she slowly turned her head towards her once caretaker, her mind searching wildly for truth in the statement. Had Diane been a drinker? Certainly. But was it at a problematic level at any point Alice could remember?
"Alice," Diane pleaded, "I've already lost my job, my house and my self-respect. Give me five minutes. I don't want to lose you, too."
With a grimace, Alice pressed her palm to her forehead, "Five minutes, Diane. But you're not getting in my car. You can stand right where you are."
Diane shuffled on her feet, biting her lower lip, her eyes unable to meet Alice's. Alice suddenly recalled cleaning up the house, right before she'd released it to the realtor for the next tenant. There were far more bottles of scotch and gin than she'd expected to find under the counter, some of them empty, others half-full. It had seemed an awful lot for one person to possess. But their home had once contained no alcohol at all, not that Alice had been able to find during sneaky midnight raids while Bella slept over... And Diane had been a miserable bitch for years.
"I know I said some terrible things to you, Alice. Things that no mother should ever say to a child. I've been worried sick for you since coming back to Forks – finding the house empty with a rental sign in the window, the neighbours not knowing where you'd gone to... It was a fluke running into you like this. I'd just come to check the community board for apartments, maybe apply for a job."
"Lucky me," Alice muttered.
"Alice... Come on. Things weren't always awful. By the time I left you, I was too drunk to tell a five from a fifty. If I hadn't tried to break into that church -"
Alice shook her head, cutting her off, "I'm sorry – what? Awesome parental example, Diane, especially from such a devout Catholic. Did you rub his rosary beads to avoid jail?"
Diane frowned, her eyes flashing with anger, "There's no need to be so goddamn crass, Alice Marie. He helped me into a program. They ran AA each week in the basement."
Alice sighed, "That's all very well, but why should I give a shit? What do you want, Diane?"
Diane shook her head sadly, "In the program, we're supposed to make amends, apologize for our wrongs to others. And the one person I wronged more than anyone is you. I had a duty to raise you and care for you, and I tossed you aside and ran when things got hard, and got drunk instead. I know it will take time, but I miss you. I wanted you to give me a chance to try again at being a mom. Alice, please..."
Alice winced as Diane slowly lowered herself to her knees beside the car door, her hands clasped as if in desperate prayer. Her chest ached, tears welling up in her eyes as Diane locked her gaze upon her, her words scarcely a whisper.
"Alice, can you forgive me?"
Jacob stacked another box of vinyls on the growing pile in the storage room, contemplating a game of Jenga to ram more boxes into less space (and admittedly, for his own amusement). It was a tedious job, but it beat training Jessica on cash and listening to her wretched music selections (currently, the 'apple bottom jeans and boots with fur' song was playing out front, much to his horror). It also gave him time to mull over the significance of the weekend to his own life.
Bella Swan, mudpie maker extraordinaire and object of his semi-secret affection, would be moving across the country come Sunday, with that slippery Edward Cullen at her side. The thought of Bella being more than a quick drive in the Rabbit away from home was depressing enough, but to think of her living with Edward 'Look at me! I play piano and study medicine and can juggle fifteen balls standing on my head while looking dreamy' Cullen added a splash of lemon juice to the stinging wound in his chest. Bella, of course, would hear nothing negative about the guy, insisting that Jacob keep his snark far from her presence. Jacob's only remaining ally was his friend Quil, and even he was growing tired of Jacob's rants.
The time for hesitation and bitching was through; it was almost too late now. If Jacob were to say anything about his qualms and his love for Bella Swan, it would have to be today, before the partying and last minute packing. Jacob was under no illusion that Bella would be happy with the little speech he'd been practicing for weeks – truth be told, her stubborn pride would likely earn him a slap to his face, which in turn would send him to fetch an ice pack for her hand – but he had to know that she knew there were other guys out there, guys who could make her smile. If she told him to go fuck himself afterwards, he'd respect it. But he had to try.
Jacob glanced at the clock again. Five after four, a mere three minutes since he'd last looked. Bella was due back from lunch nine minutes ago. Cullen probably dragged her to some posh restaurant and force-fed her a four-course gourmet meal, speeding along in his pretty silver Volvo that made all the girls swoon. What could she see in the guy? With a huff, Jacob wound his way back through the storefront, nearly colliding with Bella as he took the sharp turn for the spiralling staircase.
"Bella!"
Bella flushed, gripping the handrail tightly, "Sorry, Jake. I never seem to watch where I'm going."
Jacob smiled, "You know you can't hurt me. I'd break your fall any day."
Bella nodded, "I know that. Still lugging boxes for Captain Carlisle?"
Jacob nodded, "Yeah. I think I'm still doing penance for the gun show."
Bella shrugged, "Hey, he hired you. That's a start, right? I gotta get back to cash, though, so..."
Jacob side-stepped, allowing Bella to amble past him, "Try not to kill Jessica. Oh! Bells?"
Bella spun around, "Hmm?"
Jacob forced himself to keep a casual tone as he spoke, "Walk later, maybe? Last hang out before the big weekend?"
Bella nodded, seeming distracted, "Sure. Dinner time."
Jacob slowly plodded up the stairs, turning back to catch a glimpse of Bella, who slipped behind the counter, cut the dreadful music without any explanation and cued up a catchy indie rock track that played surprisingly cheery considering the gloomy lyrics. Shaking his head, he made his way towards Esme, who hummed as she packed, snagging her latest full box of LPs. Yeah, he definitely had to tell Bella how he felt about her and about Cullen; she wasn't same old happy Bella anymore, the Bella he'd grown up with.
He wanted his Bella back.
Rosalie inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, willing herself to calm down. Between Jessica's inane babble and Emmett's confusing sadness, never mind Bella and Edward's last weekend looming, it was all she could do not to crumple up and cry. Everything that had once been sturdy – their little Velvet family, her circle of friends, her incredibly sweet boyfriend of the last two months – was suddenly crumbling beneath her, and she felt powerless to thwart any of it. Scanning the to-do list Carlisle had left at the front counter, Rosalie turned her attention to the disaster of lost and found items beneath her register, sorting out what was likely to be missed (cell phones, car keys) and what wouldn't be (McDonald's Happy Meal toys, hair accessories) before packing them away for the weekend. A small figurine caught her eye and she held it up, smiling sadly at the familiar chubby panda. Kung Fu Panda was one of Emmett's favourite films; they'd watched it at least a dozen times so far this summer. He was simple that way; a happy ending and a few laughs were all he required. Such a low maintenance man compared to her exes.
So what was she doing wrong? And how could she fix it, before she lost him?
"Hello? Rose?" an impatient female voice chirped.
"Mmhmm?" Rosalie replied absently, eyes fixed on the toy.
"Break? Dinner?"
Rosalie glanced up, forcing a cordial smile, "Sure, Jessica. Take an hour."
"Yay! I have to call Lauren. We have to plan Seattle, whether she likes it or not. Bye!"
Rosalie watched the brunette skip off, barely able to walk in her ridiculous kitten heels and slinky black mini, relieved to have at least one of her troubles remedied. The music had also changed, Rosalie noted; when did that happen? Glancing to her left, she watched as Bella cashed out a guy from their English class, her face blank as she doled out change and bagged his purchases. Must be hard to move away from everything you know, Rosalie mused, making her way over to Bella's till.
"Nice track," Rose commented.
Bella nodded, "Thank the shuffle on the iPod. I've been in a nostalgia mood. The Like were really fun openers that time we all saw them at Tori Amos."
"Oh for sure. Although, I have to admit I'm still bitter we didn't get Imogen Heap."
"Yeah, but we still saw her eventually too. And we will always be cooler than the groupies who only heard her because of the OC."
Rosalie chuckled, mocking the teenyboppers they'd rolled their eyes at, "'I Mega-what? She only had one album, DUH!' Blech. They don't know what they're missing. So what's with the June Gloom?"
Bella shrugged, "Just feel... out of sorts. Hard to explain."
Rose nodded, "I'm the same. This day is dragging by, and Cashier Barbie isn't helping."
Bella gestured to the small panda that Rosalie still held in her hand, "Object to pelt her with?"
Rosalie smiled, "Nah. Sorting the lost and found. It's Emm's favourite. Peace offering."
Bella frowned, "You're in a fight too?"
Rose sighed, leaning on the counter, her gaze tracking two preteens entering the store, skateboards strapped to their backs, "Not a fight, but... Fuck, I don't know. He's upset about me flirting with guys at work. Like that's anything new, you know? It's like a reflex, a game. But he wouldn't talk about it."
"Well, maybe it's because you're dating now? Maybe he's jealous?" Bella offered.
"He's not the jealous type, not really. It's more... I don't think he trusts me. It's like he thinks I'd actually call any of these sad-asses who give me their numbers, or meet with one. I haven't given him any reason not to trust me, Bella."
"Trust is a difficult thing," Bella said quietly, biting her lower lip, "But Emmett's always been so easy-going. You haven't been going out without him at night or something, have you?"
"Maybe once or twice," Rosalie sighed, turning to Bella, fighting again with that inescapable urge to weep, "Look, I know I've got quite the rep of a town slut. I did that to myself, and I own the consequences. But I only have eyes for him, Bella. You see that, don't you?"
Bella nodded, smiling, "It's sweet, the way you two are. You're different around him – in a good way, I mean. You seem relaxed. I wonder why he's so worried."
Rosalie nodded, fidgeting with the tiny panda, "When he leaves the room – just the room, Bella – my chest aches. I miss him. How could I ever hurt him by cheating on him? But somehow I seem to be hurting him by being what I've always been, and then I think... I just thought he accepted me as I am. But the 'as is' seems to be hurting him. I'm so confused."
Bella placed a hand on Rosalie's arm, squeezing gently, "In the immortal words of Alice, you won't know until you talk to him. Make him talk. I'm sure it'll be okay for you two, Rose."
Rosalie sighed, "I know. But what if...? I can't lose him."
"You won't," Bella said softly, "He's too understanding for something like this to drive him away now."
"I hope so...I just think, if we don't have trust, then what chance do we have?"
The skateboarders meandered through the racks clutching several CDs, arguing over who would pay for which, and Rosalie took her cue to return to her sorting. Bella rang through their purchases, humming along, her own eyes miles away. With a small smile, Rose tucked the panda toy into her purse beneath the counter, saving it for Emmett. Maybe it would erase the look in his eyes that had felt like a sucker shot to Rose's stomach. The music shifted to a more rocking beat, and Hayley Williams' voice flooded the store:
"I never wanted to say this
You never wanted to stay
I put my faith in you, so much faith
And then you just threw it away..."
Edward waited nervously on the broad porch outside the tiny house he'd come to know very well, albeit predominantly at night. In the daylight, the wooden planks were worn, the finish missing in several places, scuff marks marring the ornate posts holding up the railing that surrounded the flat. Edward knew that just a mile beyond the backyard littered with burgeoning metal sculptures and tress adorned with birdhouses lay a creek, one where he had spent hours walking three weeks before, finalizing the terms of the arrangement between himself and the redhead who now scurried to the door with a frantic smile. Throwing open the screen door, she planted a kiss firmly on Edward's cheek in greeting.
"Sorry! I had the music up pretty loud in the studio. Come in!"
"I can't stay long, Skye," Edward said quietly, suddenly anxious as he stepped into the madhouse where Skye made her home.
"Really? Surely, you can stay for a drink," Skye laughed, winking as she wove between the eclectic antique furniture in the front room.
"I have to be back to work soon," Edward protested weakly.
"But I won't be seeing you again for so long," Skye protested, pouting playfully, "You can indulge me for just a little while, can't you? We have a lot to talk about."
"One drink," Edward agreed, the thought of liquid courage growing more appealing.
Edward settled in at the two seater dinette set nestled within a sunny corner of the L-shaped kitchen as Skye ducked beneath the counter, plucking a blender from a haphazard array of gadgets stored within it. With a triumphant humming, she set to work on a batch of margaritas, her favourite drink. It had gotten to the point where he could no longer order them around Bella, so strong was the association. The last thing he wanted to think about with the beautiful woman he slept beside almost nightly was this unplanned and erratic arrangement with the artistic woman he'd met with such a short time ago. She had changed his life, utterly and completely, in ways even she could not fathom fully despite her insistence that she 'knew the score from the moment you walked in, handsome'. As much as it had pained him to cut his lunch with Bella short, he was running out of time before their departure to Boston... and Skye had made an offer he couldn't refuse.
A whirring of the blender jolted Edward back to the kitchen, ice shattering and dissolving into a sticky green mess as Skye continued to hum merrily, the faint sounds of Debussy creeping up from the art studio below. This had to be the final meeting, at least for now; Edward had no more time to spare, no matter how generous and engaging Skye could be. There was still so much to do, and contingency plans to make, should Bella not be able to understand...
She won't understand this. This is going to be a disaster.
"Voila!" Skye announced, plunking a near-full martini glass in front of Edward as she sipped her own, "Drink up!"
Edward nodded, taking a large gulp and wincing at the instant ache behind his eye, "Thanks, Skye. This is a lot harder than I expected it would be."
Skye nodded, straddling the chair opposite his, "It's never an easy thing to break to a woman. Take it from someone who's heard this one before herself. But Edward, you and I both know that you can't hide this from her forever. One way or another, the truth comes out."
"I know. It's been hard enough, what with our time here and the phone calls. Which, by the way, you've been wonderful about as of late. I didn't know how many more ways I could pretend the phone wasn't ringing at 2am."
Skye shrugged, "It's not like I'm with you all of the time, Edward. How was I to know that she was sleeping over so often? You usually see me in the early evening."
Edward sighed, sipping his drink carefully, "I know, and I should have made it more clear from the start."
"You told me you didn't live with her yet, so..."
"She's just had such a hard time lately, what with the NA and the nerves about moving. It helps Alice too, having her around."
Skye leaned forward, palms pressed to the sides of her face as she rested on her elbows, "And how is Alice? Still afraid to be alone?"
"At night, yes," Edward replied, running a hand through his messy copper locks, "But she's coping. She's handling her secrets better than I'm handling mine."
"Does she suspect?" Skye asked nervously.
Edward nodded, "She knows I'm hiding something from her. Bella's not stupid, Skye. I don't know how I ever thought I could keep anything from her."
"All the more reason to confess before Boston," Skye declared, her right hand reaching for Edward's, "You'll feel better when you clear the air. And in a month or so, I'll be there to see you."
Edward shook his head, "I still think it's crazy that you're relocating in September."
Skye winked, "It's fate, handsome! Now that I have you liquored up, time for me to have my way with you! Downstairs?"
Edward nodded, swallowing a large mouthful of margarita as he allowed Skye to lead him downstairs, towards his fate, which he understood now that he could not resist. The pull was too strong, his passion too great. He would just have to hope that Bella would forgive him his secrets, and still want to start their new life in Boston. As for September... he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
Carlisle Cullen had found heaven under the shade of a large redwood tree.
Leaning back against the sturdy trunk, his loose jeans a comfortable change from his formerly mandated business casual under the thumb of James, he watched as Esme tidied up the remains of their impromptu picnic lunch, dishes stowed within a wicker basket (she actually brought a basket!) beneath a Thermos of iced tea and a few spare napkins. With a wink, she folded her legs to her side, nestling herself against his side, a small sigh of satisfaction crossing her lips.
"How do you come up with these ideas?" Carlisle asked, wrapping his left arm around her.
"I'm secretly the Brady Bunch mom," Esme deadpanned, "Only no three very lovely girls."
"That's alright," Carlisle said, "I have plenty of kids to go around. Pick a few."
"Pick a few? Why bother? They'll merge soon enough into one large family," Esme murmured, her head tilting upwards to lay a gentle kiss on Carlisle's cheek.
Carlisle smiled, his hand reaching out to pull Esme closer, their lips meeting softly. As dreadful as the man was, Carlisle wanted to send a thank-you note to one Rick Astley for introducing him to the woman he'd searched for his entire life, fumbling through a litany of poor matches and worse luck. Esme loved music, found joy in simple things and, most importantly to him, she embraced Edward as her own adopted son of sorts, showering him with gifts and advice about Boston, a city where she had spent two years working in a museum. She was a natural as a mother; it pained him that doctors had never been able to explain her infertility.
"It's crazy, isn't it?" Esme asked, shifting to lean her back against Carlisle's chest.
"What is?"
"How quickly things can change. How relationships can move forward so very quickly. Sometimes, I pause a moment and truly consider the ramifications to our lives - to the lives of everyone - and I find myself breathless. This has all moved at such a frenetic pace. And yet..."
"And yet what, Esme?" Carlisle asked softly.
She chuckled, a sly smile creeping upon her lips, "It's perfect, and I wouldn't want it any other way."
Carlisle brushed a loose strand of hair from alongside her right cheek, tucking it behind her ear, "Me neither. Life, for all its twists and turns, is pretty damn close to perfect now."
"Not quite," Esme interjected, pulling away slowly.
"Oh?"
With a grin, she threw her left leg over his, straddling his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against the soft cotton tank top she wore, her firm breasts pressed to his chest. Her lips sought his out hungrily, his mouth answering her body's cry as they kissed deeply, their tongues tangling as their limbs and bodies entwined. Animal instinct kicked in, ignorant of their proximity to the store and wandering teen eyes, and Carlisle's hands roved her svelte frame, her hips, her thighs and the swell of her breasts all sought out, each adored through caress as Esme ground herself against the stirring within his jeans, soft moans escaping her throat. She pulled away only when his hand slid up underneath her tank top to cup the lace-adorned breast beneath, a soft giggle as she shook her head playfully.
"Now, now; the children might see."
"Fuck 'em," Carlisle growled.
"Behave, love; night's not so far away," Esme whispered, leaning in to nip at Carlisle's neck.
"You started it!"
Esme winked, "I know. But we have years and years to be naughty, don't we?"
Carlisle smiled widely, "I like the sound of that more and more each day."
"I can't wait to see their faces when they find out about the secret we've been keeping," Esme said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
"Patience; they'll all know soon enough."
"Well, they have to find out sometime. Definitely tonight, right? I can't keep it in any longer."
Carlisle chuckled, his hand caressing her cheek, "That's the deadline we agreed on."
Esme's face brimmed with excitement, "I can hardly wait!"
Pulling Esme close to him, inhaling the soft lilac scent of her neck with a contented sigh, Carlisle's mind drifted to the news that would soon be the talk of Velvet Records and likely beyond the store's reach. As much as he enjoyed keeping a good surprise hidden from others, this was too wonderful not to share. One thing was for sure: it would be a night he would never forget.
Alice felt her hands tightening on the steering wheel, her eyes brimming with tears she willed herself not to shed. I'm not going to cry. I promised myself to never let her make me cry again. Staring straight ahead, she flinched when Diane's hand reached out for her own, her skin dry as it grazed Alice's tiny fingers.
"Alice... Say something."
Alice drew in a deep breath, then slowly turned her head to face the woman who'd raised her for 14 years, "Okay. Don't fucking touch me."
Diane winced, rising to her feet and taking a half-step backwards, "Alice, the booze -"
"Was not around when you used to chastise me and scream at me for the mundane things children do! Kids spill their food, Diane. Kids forget their homework at school, or forget to do their chores once in a while. But you took that as reason to read me the riot act! Diane, the booze may have killed your ability to self-censor altogether, but the rage is all yours."
Diane shook her head, "I raised you when no one else wanted you. I took you into my home, and dressed you, and got you to school and-"
"And when things got rough, you called me psychotic, told me you wished you'd never met me, then robbed me and abandoned me. My God Diane, what do you want, a mother of the year trophy for doing a few months in rehab? That doesn't excuse years of insults and coldness."
Diane stood, silently seething as Alice threw the key into the ignition, gunning the engine of the aging Civic. There was the rage Alice had been waiting for, that familiar face she'd known long before the liquor ran freely at Casa Brandon. Diane might have addiction troubles - and addiction was an illness, worthy of help and compassion - but that did not erase the personality at the core, the one that was never equipped to truly nurture a child. And that was something Alice would not forgive in five minutes. Her fingers drifted to graze the scars beneath her collection of bracelets, remembering how each line had been for something: one for him, one for failing to make Jasper happy, one for losing her friends... and one, the most jagged one, being for Diane and her cruelty.
"I don't know why I expected you to listen," Diane spat at her, "You were always incredibly ungrateful for all I gave you."
Alice steeled herself, taking a deep breath and unleashing everything she had longed to say, "Fuck you, Diane. You have an issue that reaches far beyond drinking too much. You have no self-love and you have a victim complex the size of Texas. You want to know if I can forgive you? I tell you what: you go back to rehab, and get a referral for a therapist. You work out all of your rage and hate, and learn how to treat others with respect. And then you spend five years practicing what you've learned and see how others respond. If that works out, you can write me a letter explaining what you've learned, and maybe I will write one back. Maybe in ten years, I'll even see you again in person. But you are not my mother anymore, foster or otherwise. I am eighteen, and I have someone who does care for me and nurture me the way you should have. I have wonderful friends and a boyfriend who loves me as I am. I don't need your negativity in my life. Now, I'm going to drive away. If you come near me again, I will file a restraining order."
Slamming the car door, Alice checked her rearview mirror calmly, reminding herself that an accident was not what she needed right now and would just be one more way Diane could harm her. Through the window, Alice made out jumbled cursing and protests from the woman standing two feet away, her tall, lean frame shaking, fists curling and releasing. Curiosity got the better of Alice, and she rolled down the window, idling in her parking space.
"I'm your mother, Alice Brandon! You have NO right to speak to me this way!"
"Freedom of speech is in the constitution," Alice replied calmly, "And my mother was mentally ill and a junkie. And despite those facts, I bet she would have raised me with more kindness than you. Goodbye, Diane."
Spinning the wheel sharply, Alice pulled out onto Forks' main drag, cruising down the mostly empty drag, her right hand turning the music up louder. The airy voice of Lily Frost filled the car, bringing a bemused smile to Alice's lips. She'd found this song on the soundtrack of a film she'd rented a month ago, one in which a somewhat messed up girl and a guy from the opposite side of the tracks fall in love, ultimately changing the girl for the better. It had reminded her of Jasper, of how despite all her problems, he'd never once thrown his hands up and walked away from their love. His overprotective nature was driving her nuts, true, but at least he loved her – all of her. Any aggravation his behaviour caused her wasn't worth sacrificing a love so genuine; nothing was worth that. Diane had taught her that, if nothing else. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew her cellphone, surprised to see a waiting text message. How had she missed the vibrate? Pulling to a stop at one of the five lights in Forks, she selected and read the message, and felt her heart melt.
I'm sorry. I can't breathe without you. Please come back.
With a small smile, Alice one-thumbed her reply, making the turn onto Willow Crescent as she clicked send, her reply short and sweet:
Out front.
By the time she'd spun the car into the side lot, she could see Jasper running out the front doors, eyes searching each way before settling on his car, his long legs carrying him to driver's side door as Alice cut the ignition. Throwing open the door, he knelt beside the car, a strange mirror of the scene minutes ago at the supermarket. Alice's chest tightened at the redness in his eyes; she'd made him cry this time, something she had only seen perhaps twice in their entire relationship.
"Alice, please let me try to do better. I'm so sorry for being protective. I just can't live-"
Alice cut him off, leaning forward and pulling him in for a kiss so intense, her head began to spin. Still, she persisted, her mouth craving the feel of his, her hands losing themselves in the messy blonde curls she adored. His arms wrapped about her tiny frame, the feel of them upon the small of her back sending it arching with desire, with sheer want. He was her world, her other half of her soul; everything else was a minor detail, a snag, something to be neatly resolved and set aside for more touch, more love, more of this intensity. Pulling back reluctantly, gasping for air, Alice let the tears she'd held back before trickle loose, suddenly overwhelmed by the intense stare in Jasper's eyes.
"Alice..." Jasper whispered.
"I love you. It's a fever, the way it burns, the way I burn whenever you are near. The world is far too cold without you beside me, Jazz. We may have problems and we may have things that are hard to face, but there is nothing impossible when you are beside me. You only worry about me the way you do because you love me."
Jasper sighed, "But I'm not respecting your needs. I'm forcing my need to know you're okay onto you. It's not right, Alice."
Alice nodded, "Maybe not, but I'd rather know you loved me this much than think you didn't love me at all."
Jasper rose slowly, extending his hand to Alice, "I exist to love you, Alice. There will never be another woman in my heart."
Alice smiled, taking his hand and rising slowly to her feet, "And I am bound to you, always."
Jasper sighed in relief, "You are too kind to a paranoid man. We'll have to set down what's reasonable to you, and when I should bite my tongue and relax, and-"
Alice smiled, "Yeah, yeah, and we'll pencil all my appointments into your planner so you can always find me. Can we skip the resolution for now and make out instead?"
Jasper lifted her suddenly into the air, her legs wrapping about his waist, her hands eagerly toying with his messy hair as he grinned widely, "Yes ma'am."
"Oooh, I love when you let your childhood accent slip out," Alice purred, burying her face in his neck.
"Southern men do it for you, hmm?"
Alice giggled, her tongue flickering across the salty flesh of Jasper's neck, "Most definitely."
With a grin, Jasper carried her towards the back doors, planting soft kisses upon her face and eyes as he walked, "In that case, I'll take you to the roof, and you can let me show you exactly what Southern men can do..."
Bella tapped her pencil nervously against the counter, absently watching the trickle of customer traffic in the store. There was a lot of sorting and packing that she could be doing, but her mind was far away, consumed by Edward and his erratic behaviour, and that small slip of paper she'd tucked into her purse before returning Edward's hoodie an hour ago. His return to the store had been nonchalant, with no explanations save 'some last minute plans for the move'. He'd planted a kiss upon her forehead and hurried off with Emmett to take down the various mounted posters and display around the store, clearing walls for the fresh coat of paint they'd receive the next morning. As desperately as she wanted to drag him off to a private corner and thrust the paper in his face, proof positive of a secret in her hands, she'd found herself tongue-tied and hesitant, terrified that her worst nightmares were indeed true. Edward was more than a boyfriend; he was one of her best friends. If he were cheating on her, it would break more than her heart; it would break apart the family she'd carefully constructed for herself over the years.
And so instead, here she stood, tapping her pencil absently to of all things Ghetto Supastar (Emmett's spin), her stomach in tight knots that threatened to buckle her to her knees. Edward had vanished from the storefront several minutes ago, to places unknown, and Bella's mind was imagining hushed phone calls to a gorgeous blonde with volumptuous breasts and a tight ass who never said no and could also play piano. Spotting Jasper and Alice emerging hand in uber-cute hand from the staff lounge, she waved them over, her anxiety over knowing suddenly overpowered by her thirst for answers.
"Hey Bella! Your last shift is four hours from done!" Alice exclaimed, giggling as Jasper lifted her and sat her on the counter.
"Yeah. End of an era," Bella replied.
Jasper frowned, "What's wrong, little sister?"
Bella shrugged, "I guess the weight of things is sinking in. Maybe I could use some air."
"Take off! We've got this place. Right Jazz?"
Jasper smiled, "Of course. Guess we better start geting used to life without Super Bella."
Bella sighed with relief, "Thanks guys. I won't be too long."
Slipping out from beneath the counter, Bella beelined for the staff lounge, hoping to find Edward in front of the TV with the remains of his aborted lunch. Nervously smoothing her skirt, she pushed through the steel doors, the right one swinging wide and allowing Bella a view of Carlisle's office – where Edward and Jessica were having a heated conversation behind closed doors.
What the...?
Bella ducked her head low, dashing for the storage room situated below and beneath the office. Quietly shutting the door, Bella tilted her neck towards the high heating vent, her face flushed. What the hell are they talking about? Edward hates Jessica; he's said it for years. 'God, she never stops hitting on -' Bella swallowed hard. Oh. OH. But Jessica? It couldn't be. And who was Skye, for crying out loud?
"... I know, Jess, but..."
"I'm not even Bella's friend but even I... tell her."
"Soon! It's just... don't know.... difficult."
"Well if you won't, I will! I can't keep it secret any longer! You just..."
"Don't do something rash Jessica, or I will.... Don't ruin things..."
Bella felt a lump rising in her throat as she pressed her face against the cool walls of the storage room. No. Not her. It can't be. But what else could it be? Why else would there be so many calls? Why would Edward seem so awkward around Jessica at work? Why was Jessica always dressed as if she were off to a night club? And yet... God, could Edward have more than one girl behind her back?
Bella suddenly felt very, very sick.
Slowly turning the knob of the storage room, she pulled the door open slowly, nearly colliding with Jacob, who toted a large box labelled "Blues/Jazz". He beamed as he saw her, Bella backing up to allow him entry into the room.
"Bells! What are you doing here?"
Bella ran a hand through her messy waves nervously, "Um, looking for you. I was going to step outside for some air. Want to come with me?"
Jacob smiled, stacking the box in a far corner, "Absolutely! We don't get to chat alone nearly often enough anymore. Let's go."
Jacob held a hand out towards her, which Bella accepted, struggling to keep her knees from buckling with the knowledge she'd gleaned from the storage room. Edward and Jessica?! How could he? She glanced back quickly as she followed Jacob through the back door, noting Edward and Jessica were still deep in conversation, oblivious to her presence. Let them be, for now. The cool air of the early evening easily seeped through Bella's black peasant blouse, but she suddenly relished the cold. It would keep the fiery anger brimming within her to a simmer. The last thing Jake needed was Bella griping about Edward, or anything else for that matter. He was a good friend of many years, and she owed him a few moments devoted solely to their time together.
Gesturing to the wooded path behind the store, Jacob turned to Bella, who nodded her assent. A good long walk away from it all would let her focus on Jake, let her forget her sorrows if only for a little while. He walked slowly, his hand never leaving hers. It occurred to her that they hadn't held hands this way since grade eight, and a strange feeling crept up her spine. Why is Jake being so friendly? They walked in silence a few minutes, Bella gazing at the wildflowers and towering trees overhead, willing her mind to forget the conversation she'd just heard.
"Bella?" Jacob asked softly, "You okay?"
"Sure. You know, Harvard and moving.... Big stuff. Distracted, I guess."
Jacob nodded, "Sure. And you're moving away from everyone you've known, everyone who cares for you. Everyone who loves you."
"Not everyone," Bella protested weakly.
Bella's mind whirled, weighing that statement carefully. He does still love me. There's no way Edward doesn't love me. He may have a girl or ten on the side, but my God, he must love me. So lost in thought she was, she suddenly jolted as Jacob tapped her arm, chuckling.
"Earth to Bella! Did you hear a word I said?"
Bella frowned, "I'm so sorry, Jake. That was rude. I drifted off for a moment there."
Jacob shrugged, his bright smile almost glowing in the dim light of the woods against his dark skin, "I just said that you know, you're leaving behind the ones who's loved you longest."
"Well, I have to grow up sometime. And Charlie's been the one pushing me to Harvard for years! I'm sure he'll be just fine. And Renee and Phil are always on the move, so..."
Jacob averted his eyes, coming to a halt in the middle of the well-worn dirt path. He scratched the back of his neck, a lifelong nervous habit, and Bella's turning stomach completely bottomed out. What was wrong?
"Jake? You know I'll call, and visit too. We'll still be friends."
Jacob swallowed hard, "But that's just it, Bella. What if... What if things go badly with Edward? Who's going to be there to pick you up, and take you for ice cream? Who will watch cartoons and eat cereal all day with you?"
Bella's forehead wrinkled, confusion creeping over her, "I suppose I'll have to tough it out, take it as it comes. And I can fly home for cartoons."
"All I'm saying is... Bella, you don't look happy lately. Not like you used to."
Bella frowned, stepping backwards, "I'm not strung out on speed."
"It's more than that, Bella," Jake insisted, turning to face her, "I just want you to know... There are options. Cullen is not the only guy out there capable of loving you. You don't have to settle for him."
"I'm not... "
A sickening wave of realization rolled over Bella as the hidden meaning of his words sunk in. Jacob is in love with me. Bella swallowed hard, averting her eyes to her feet, willing her eyes to focus. She'd always known he'd had a crush on her – anyone could see that, really – but the way he was looking at her now was far too close to how Edward gazed at her that night on the roof.
"Oh, Jake. No. You don't-"
Jacob stepped towards her, his hand reaching to graze her cheek, "I do. And you can reject me, and I'll live with it, but I want you to know that I am here, and willing. I always have been, and always will be."
And before Bella could think about it, let alone exhale, Jacob leaned in, his lips pressing softly to her own.