A/N: For those of you wondering (or accusing me of not really being a language arts teacher, lol), yes I will be going back after this story is completed and editing. My apologies if the occasional type, subject verb agreement error throws you off. I simply am not the type of person who can wait and edit. I assure you my credentials are quite real and once I pound out the remaining chapters, I will fix my boo-boos. That's just my style, so you can either deal with the typos or wait until I'm done editing and can mark this as complete.

Thanks for all the support and wonderful reviews that have been happening. Not to mention all the hotness on the thread  And no, there's not really a cliffy this time.

"The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it."

~Flannery O'Connor

Chapter 26: A Good Man is Hard to Find

My hands were shaking.

It made it practically impossible to unbutton a shirt.

His hands did the work instead; with smooth, long fingers and squared fingernails, he carefully undid the off-white buttons on his orange plaid shirt, revealing lightly freckled collar bones and a shallow line from the space between his collarbones to his bellybutton, and the dark line of hair that started there, trailing to the opened top of his jeans.

He set my hands on the button-up fly of his artfully faded and soft jeans.

And with the thicker, sturdier material, I managed to work with those, despite the shaking.

His nimble, smooth hands made quick work of my t-shirt and sports bra, 'tsking' slightly when he saw my feeble attempt at keeping this as not sexy as possible.

It didn't seem to deter him, if the bulge in front of me was any indication.

We hadn't said anything.

No words.

It made it seem dirty.

Jackson was full of words.

It was worse when he was quiet.

His hand squeezed the flesh he had just freed, pinching one of my nipples until I squeaked in surprise, bringing me out of my panic-induced thoughts.

"Your tits," He smirked and squeezed again, "are completely fuckable."

Uh, thanks?

Maybe the quiet was better.

"Here." He pushed me off his lap on the couch in the living room of the apartment-like place he shared with three others guys, placing me on the floor between his feet. His knees spread as he lifted his hips and shoved his jeans and underwear to the floor, kicking the material off and settling into the overstuffed black leather.

Oh.

Okay then.

I have officially seen one penis to many.

Too, too many penises.

Peni? Penises?

Penises. Whatever. I was one penis over the limit.

Even so, this one was…nice.

Appealing.

Swollen to a pinkish-purple color and pointing straight up as he stroked it a few times, smirking as I watched with big eyes.

Everything about this man was carefully cultivated to appeal and attract.

My mouth was dry.

I licked my lips and heard him groan.

His fingers caught me under my chin again, forcing my head and eyes up to him.

"Do it again."

I swallowed roughly and licked my bottom then my top lips, rubbing them together.

He pulled me forward by the chin and closer to his lap until I was millimeters away from his erection.

He released me. "Just like that," he whispered, and slouched further into the cushions.

I leaned forward and took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush.

Jax shivered and bit out a strangled curse as I took the head into my mouth.

Carefully balancing my hands on his thighs, feeling the muscles there tighten and released under my fingers, I experimentally sucked on the head, bringing a little more of him into my mouth, feeling how big he really felt.

He let me go for a few minutes as I adjusted and tried to guess a rhythm that he would like, not giving me any indication except with the hand that was rubbing strands of my hair between his fingers. Then his left hand pressed into my scalp, guiding me down further on him, setting a pace that was too quick for me.

"Take it…yeah, take it all." Jax's hips shifted slightly, seeking a more pleasing position, trying to find more warmth, more friction. He nudged the back of my throat and I abruptly pulled back.

"Tease." He smiled at me, his eyes half-lidded and still searing me with simmering caramel and chocolate, hand guiding back onto him.

I hmm'ed in protest and his hips bucked sharply in surprise, sending him even further down my throat than before. I lost all my air supply and coughed, choked.

Pulled away and turned my head away, eyes watering. The hand in my hair was still tangled in the mixture of dark blue and black and didn't let me get too far.

"Slowly, angel-face," he whispered, the words warm and amused. My pride was aching.

I re-engulfed him, feeling the press of his fingers against the curve of my skull, tighter and firmer than before.

"Eyes up."

I lifted my eyes, and through my damp lashes, which were sticking together due to the mascara I had stupidly put on that morning, I watched him as I ran my tongue on the underside of him, finishing by swirling it around the head, seeing the corresponding flickering in his body and the way his head rolled from side to side luxuriously, as he fought to stay still. My fingers were digging into his thighs to prevent a repeat of what had happened before, but if I was hurting him, it was a good hurt.

A great hurt, if the expression on his face was any indication.

And we established a pattern, if not a rhythm. He would rock his hips into my mouth and when he receded I would dip my head as deep as I was comfortable going. I kept my eyes open and on him at his insistence, as his free hand trailed over the lines of my cheekbones, even more noticeable when I hollowed my cheeks around him, generating a rumble of appreciation from his chest. A single finger traveled the line of my nose, around the uneven line of my hair, across my brows.

And just as our pace was becoming too much for my aching jaw, Jax pulled me away and up his body, rolling me onto my back as he followed me down, over me. He didn't hold any of his weight off of me; let himself fall heavy on me, with his wet cock trapped between us, pressing heavily against my jeans.

"I want more…let me….I want more sweetheart."

His stubble was scraping my shoulder. His voice was barely recognizable it was so hoarse and cloudy, hardly more than a whisper. A plea muffled by skin and need. His thumb toyed with my nipple, the heat of his arousal searing me even through denim fabric. My body responded and I tried to ignore it, as I had been ignoring it while I watched him.

"Please, Alice." He rasped quietly and I met his brown eyes for only a moment.

I knew what he was asking for, what he wanted.

And for a moment I considered throwing myself off that ledge, crossing that Rubicon, kicking my line in the sand into oblivion, because a very small, very ashamed part of me wanted to give him everything he wanted.

But my line in the sand stood firm and I turned my head away, my hand reaching down to stroke him firmly, to run my thumb all the way up and down and then swirl it around the sensitive skin at the top, until his hips rocked forward harshly and his breathing stuttered and exploded in a loud whoosh of air, and he spilled onto my stomach.

He came gripping my hip and breast, head buried in my shoulder, shuddering and quietly losing all control in my grasp.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I used his shower, slipping out from under him silently, still on the couch.

It really did have five settings.

I pretended that the droplets of water on my face were tears, because even though I wanted them, the actual tears would not come.

I stood under the spray and stared blankly at the white tiles.

I don't remember turning off the faucet of replacing my clothes onto my body.

I emerged to find him still naked on the sofa, on his back, staring at the ceiling. His head turned to watch me go to the door and shove my feet into my shoes, laces be damned.

I tried to ignore him. Tried to ignore the prick running across my skin like tiny needles as he watched.

I failed.

As my hand found the doorknob and I was seconds away from being free, I turned back.

He was still naked.

Still watching.

"A secret." I repeated the words that had been running on loop through my weary, mixed-up head.

Jax rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand. He was already half-hard again.

"Our secret." He confirmed, eyes roving over me that was now one hundred times more intuitive and knowing than it had been before.

I slipped out the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When I got to the dorm, I slipped inside, aware that Rosalie was already asleep in her room.

Two missed texts.

I turned off my phone without reading them.

I didn't even bother to lie down and pretend to sleep. There was no point.

In the morning I skipped detention for the first time.

I spent the rest of the week faking sick and not going to classes.

I refused to let Emmett or Rosalie baby me or even be in the same room as me.

Rosalie, sharp eyes missing very little, seemed to understand my sudden need for solitude, and brought missing work for me to do while I paced in my room during the days.

When she couldn't help but be in the room with me, we spent our time silently; each brooding over our own issues. The line between our rooms became the dividing line between our problems.

She asked me once what was wrong, and then didn't, as I didn't answer the first time. She kept Emmett out of our room and gave me as much space as possible while sharing a room with me.

I didn't want to see anyone at the moment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On Monday afternoon I was forced to return to class, as it was the last week of classes before finals. I sat in my lit class and stared blankly at the teacher while she practically frothed at the mouth over our final papers, due in less than one week.

I rolled my eyes and let my brain wander.

In my time last week I had used homework to avoiding thinking about other things. My paper was finished, barring a final editing.

"…about Rosalie Hale." A hushed, awed voice spoke the name with a faint tone of reverence, the other half with gleeful hate.

"I can't believe it! Are you sure?" The returning whisper was almost rabid in its excitement.

I tensed, and fought the compulsion to turn around and listen in on the whispered conversation happening behind me.

"She's already got Jasper Whitlock panting over her…what does she need him for?"

"I know, right? But she swears it true. And she is in his class…"

"No way. No way!"

"I swear. Rosalie's sleeping with Professor Cullen."

My pen went hurling to the floor, ink leaking all over my hand the dripping onto the scuffed tiles.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the next morning, the rumors weren't just whispers anymore.

They were shouts.

Exclamations.

Vicious ponderings.

They were loud enough to send the teachers into a grim, thin-lipped silence. Even more irritable than ever, assignments became labors of silence unless a class wished to add on even more work. Tests became almost unreadable in their difficulty, and detentions were handed out if anyone so much as wandered off task during any talking that was allowed during the class period.

The teachers were hearing the rumors as well.

And if the teachers were hearing it, it was only a matter of time before the administration began smelling the smoke, imaginary or not.

All because one playboy senior couldn't keep his end of a bargain.

And if the sparks ignited into a fire, and Rosalie was burnt because of it, I was personally going to strap Jackson Whitlock onto a spit and roast him like a stuck pig.

In fourth period Tuesday morning, now the only class Rosalie and I shared, Rosalie's seat was empty.

Halfway through the period I asked to the go to the bathroom and texted Emmett, who had third period science with her.

The reply took a couple of minutes and I could imagine Emmett thinking that I had been avoiding talking to him, avoiding his texts, avoiding his calls, only to text him about Rosalie Hale, of all people.

Called to office during 3rd.

I snapped my phone shut, fought the urge to throw it.

Thought about Rosalie's habit of throwing things when she was angry.

I hadn't really ever understood the compulsion. Screaming into a pillow, yes. Writing down everything and then shredding the pieces, on occasion. Pillowing your fist into someone's balls, only once.

But throwing things, things of value that would only hurt yourself? I didn't see the point until that very minute.

I wanted to throw my phone, my shoes, my books, anything, at the wall, if just to pretend for a moment that it was Jax's face. Jax and his stupid, ugly, evilly gorgeous, smug-ass face. His lean body. His stupid bobbing cock, dripping with pre-come.

I wanted to smash him into little pieces and then stomp on the remains until he was nothing but dust under my feet, dust I could blow away and forget about with a good breeze.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My face was flushed; mottled with anger and embarrassment and shame.

Let's be honest Alice.

This wasn't about Rosalie.

It hadn't been about Rosalie since that night at Helmsley.

This was about Jax.

Jax and his goddamn charm, and the hint of the guy you were attracted to that didn't exist.

There was no good side to that ass.

No hidden layers that actually wanted anything from me but sex.

Thinking otherwise was a fucking stupid thing to think.

Only a hick wouldn't understand that basic concept.

A hick who was now pretending to be upset because he had broken his end of the bargain. Of course he had. I knew he would. Was there anything in him that had ever even suggested he was trustworthy? Honest? Decent?

I angrily wiped away the tears.

I screwed up.

I wanted Jax and I thought I'd find a good man underneath the bravado.

Instead I found a jackass. The same jackass that had been on the surface the entire time. And I had stupidly thought that maybe, if I caved and gave him what he wanted, he would find a way to prove to me he was a good man.

I was a fucking moron.

I already have a good man; which made me the biggest, most ignorant cow on the planet.

But even worse, I have a good man, and I wasn't planning on telling him.

No, that wasn't true.

I don't know if I could make myself say the words, even if I wanted to tell him. I literally don't think my mouth would move. From the moment I decided this was the way I was going to do things; from the moment I pretended like Tanya Denali had done something that was worth punishing, from the power I still held over my viper-tongued ex-roommate, from the knowledge that I could easily drop on Rosalie that Edward was stupidly in love with her, to the power of sex I had with Edward, Emmet, and now Jax, I had grown to like the upper hand; I enjoyed manipulating the outcome to fall in my favor.

I thought I could be my own, better version of Rosalie Hale. Flirted with the idea of having some control for once, and found it quite addicting. Began to view everyone as someone to either protect or separate myself from.

Rosalie had needed my protection. I had been viewing her as helpless, and for good reason. I had found her on a piano for Christ's sake. I fought and worried everyday over how to save her, how to keep her away from drugs and people who had broken her. I told off Edward for her, because I didn't think she could handle the news that he had feelings for her.

I had gone so far as to not say anything about her relationship with a goddamn teacher!

I had done anything I possible could for her, because without Rosalie, who did I have?

Edward, who I had screwed up with by having sex with him, changing the dynamics of our friendship, further complicating things by being best friends with the person who he was in love with. Who didn't love him back. Edward had disappeared weeks ago, for various reasons. He didn't want to intrude on Emmett's claim. He didn't want to have to suffer around Rosalie.

Esme, who was years older than me and finished with school. Esme whose brother's feelings I had stomped all over in the name of protecting Rosalie. Esme who know knew that Rosalie was sleeping with her ex-boyfriend and who knew I knew that bit of information as well.

Emmett.

Emmett, who didn't bat an eye when I ranted and raved, and who hated Rosalie but endured countless hours in her company for me. Emmett who always spent time looking me up and down no matter what I was wearing because he admittedly like looking at me, and who liked the grab the flesh at the back of my thighs best, just because.

Emmett, who was strong and broad, and who took it upon himself to try and shield me, even when I shrieked like a banshee at him for it.

Emmett, who has a thing for damsels.

Emmett, who I thought of as too strong to need saving, much less from someone like me.

But there it was, the big gaping error in all my careful thinking. The thought that had eluded me for the better part of a week.

The truth was, Emmett needed to be saved by me, from me.

I was causing him pain, and I had just steeled myself to accept that the dishing out and taking of pain was a part of life. He would either forgive me, or he would not.

Except that I never got to the "or he would not" part because I wasn't planning on telling him.

Because I was willing to do whatever it took to get what I wanted.

Just like I thought everyone else had been doing all along.

But Emmett hadn't been doing that.

Emmett had been trying to look out for me and not himself.

And he deserved to hear how self-centered and awful I was for not recognizing that sooner.

But before I did that, before I threw away the one relationship that I had made at this school that required very little of me, I had some getting even to do.

Because as much as this was my fault, I was still going to massacre Jackson Whitlock for being such an enormous pig, and pretend that I could pin all of my problems on that stupid, overly smug grin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Unfortunately, the first place I saw Jax was in the cafeteria.

He was in the middle of a long table, full of influential seniors who were riding high on their last couple of weeks of school. His arm was around some nondescript hottie, and the table was loudly erupting in hoots of laughter and ridicule.

I set my tray down on a random table, already occupied by people who were giving me odd looks, and marched right over, standing as tall as I could as he sat, facing away from me.

The table quieted as I stood there.

Jax expectantly turned around, a cocky smile on his face.

"Should I have brought my nut cup for this little conversation, sweetheart?"

And then I ceased to be Alice.

Ceased to be anything but pumped full of every vitriolic feeling on the face of the plant. Ceased to give a shit that the entire student body, including several teachers who were assigned to monitor us, was watching.

Ceased to care that this was my fault.

He was going to die, and I was going to take immense pleasure in ripping out every single strand of hair in that pretty boy scalp of his.

"How could you? You promised you asshole!" I screeched, fully aware and not giving a flying fuck how cliché and shrill I sounded.

I was literally going to scratch out his fucking eyeballs, followed immediately thereafter by his big, thick dick.

My hand never got a chance to go up before there was a strong arm wrapping itself around my upper chest, effectively pinioning my arms to my sides and pinching me with his hand.

The crowd of seniors chuckled, and I felt Emmett shift his weight away from me, holding me to his side while he dealt with me trying to squirm out of his iron hold.

"Alice…Alice! What the fuck is the matter?" He actually sounded a bit panicked; his usual cool gone in the place of my obvious meltdown.

In response, I kicked Emmett's shin. He grunted a swear word and tried to turn me so he could look at me, but I only increased my struggles.

"Let me go!"

I couldn't look at him.

God, I couldn't look at him.

"Let me the fuck go Emmett!"

I was tempted to lean over and bite him, but I settled for struggling pitifully. I twisted and tried to move him, but his grip only got stronger.

Fucking caveman.

My mantra of "let me the fuck go" was getting more panicked as I fought back hyperventilation and the urge to dissolve in a puddle of fury.

Emmett was still quietly trying to plead with me to calm down.

I closed my ears and let my chants get louder.

But that honey-laced tone just has a way of seeping through, and subsequently setting the entire world on fire with a bit of good humor and enough smugness to suffocate a grizzly bear.

"Wow McCarty, loud one, isn't she? I personally preferred her on her knees, not so much to say then, was there angel-face?"

And then abruptly I was released from Emmett's arms. I put down one hand as I just about toppled, catching myself and trying to upright myself while watching Emmett.

The first blow would no doubt leave an identical shiner to the one Jax had been sporting roughly four months ago. Jax had barely even gotten up from his chair before Emmett has sent him stumbling into the chair and table, jarring the trays and splattering milk cartons with the force of his punch. The trophy girl that Jax had been sitting next to jumped up and upended her entire tray in the process, as the other residents at the table also got up, yelling, some trying to restrain Emmett.

Emmett did not want to be touched. He shrugged off the hands and arms and got right up in Jax's already swelling face. He was slightly bent over, one eyes squeezed shut as he gingerly felt the bruised area around his eye.

"What the fuck did you say to me?"

Jax ignored him, turning slightly and swearing like a sailor at Emmett. I elbowed my way past the crowd and touched Emmett's elbow. He glanced over his shoulder, but I don't think he actually saw me.

His eyes were almost black and he was flushed red, and there was a slight tick at the corner of his jaw as he also shrugged me off and took another step toward Jax, shoving him around to face him.

"What the fuck did you say Whitlock?"

Jax looked up through his one good eye, an ugly smile on his already marred face.

"I said your girlfriend is a whore McCarty. She loved sucking my dick, almost as much as she likes being on her back for me."

"No!" I screamed, but I was too late.

I didn't hear the sounds of the trays hitting the floor, or the sickening sounds of bone hitting flesh, or the grunts and insults thrown. I'm not even sure I said the word out loud, or if I just mouthed it.

Jax got a hit in, but he was no match for a much larger, much angrier Emmett.

I watched in open-mouthed horror as the next punch literally sent Jax into and then over the entire table.

My hearing kicked in just in time to hear his agonized yell of pain as he rolled and tumbled before going still in a heap of limbs on the black and white floor.

I turned to Emmett, who looked to be choking on his rage, he was so angry. His eyes met mine and I put out a hand, but he was already past me, steps heavy and stride long as he stormed away.

Left the cafeteria, left the remains of sloppy Joes and French fries with ketchup all over the floor.

Left all six hundred students staring.

Left me standing there, heart pounding, riddled with guilt.

I turned and found myself staring at three sets of eyes on me.

Rosalie, in shock.

Edward, in disbelief and just the tiniest hint of morbid amusement.

And Jasper, accusing me with a too familiar pair of brown eyes.

I turned away, turned my back on them all, including the asshole on the floor, with students and teachers crowding around him now.

My feet started moving.

I ran after Emmett.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~

He wasn't in his room. I even used my master key to make sure.

He wasn't in the weight room.

He wasn't on the running path around the lake.

Which meant he was waiting for me. And as I slowly walked up the five flights of stairs, wanting the time it would take to reach my room, I tried to think.

Tried to imagine what I could possibly say.

I ran out of time before a single sentence popped into my head.

Emmett was sitting in front of my door, head in his hands, knees bent as he rested against the paneled door.

I stopped in front of him and he pulled his head up to look at me.

His eyes were bloodshot and red.

He looked like hell.

I leaned over his frame and unlocked the door, letting it swing open.

Emmett, with the kind of grace only a truly large man can have, rose to his feet without using his hands.

He walked in and I followed.

He didn't sit down. Emmett stood in the middle of my converted bedroom and turned slowly, not looking at me.

"You did it."

There was a lump in my throat. Tears were already threatening, but I pushed them back. I was not the victim, why the hell was I crying?

Because of the guilt.

The guilt that was sitting in the back of my throat, choking me, taking away my ability to say anything.

I was a coward.

"I think you did." Emmett said quietly, still staring at his hands. "I've seen..I've seen the way you looked at him before. And I know Jax pretty well. He's a bullshitter, and a bit of an ass, but as far as I know, he's not so stupid that he would keep spewing lies when it means he'd have a broken face for graduation day."

Simple logic. Such simple freaking logic.

I wiped at the invisible tears on my cheeks, feeling them itch as if the tears were actually there. I stared at the wall on the far side of the room, where my desk was sitting, cluttered.

"So you're going to have to say the words Alice, because you did this and I will be goddamned if I move a single foot without hearing why you decided to fuck up everything for me."

I heard the anger, bitten off, in his voice, no matter how calm he was trying to remain. Could feel the remnants of the fury from lunch still sitting on his shoulders, in the stark lines of his body.

"He promised not to say anything about Rosalie and Professor Cullen if I…I didn't have sex with him."

Emmett snorted. "I suppose you went over there to play checkers. Do each other's hair."

I let out a small sob and felt horrible as I tried to rein it in. Shit, I was so weak. I was the cheater, the betrayer, the Judas. Man up Alice. This is your mess. Take some fucking responsibility for your actions.

"I thought I could save Rosalie."

I squeezed my eyes shut and let the traitorous tears slide down, wrapping my arms around myself. Honestly Emmett, can't you see that? Can't you see that I just wanted to save my friend? Please?

But the words were feeble and they would go unvoiced.

Emmett's hands wrapped around my upper arms and I started, eyes opening as I stared into his face, twisted and angry and just…distasteful. Like I was distasteful to even look at.

"You're so fucking stupid Alice. So fucking…that's bullshit. Bullshit, do you hear me? Bullshit! Don't give me that crap. Don't pin this on Rose. You've been eye fucking Whitlock since school started and…and I don't even know."

He shook me and I snapped.

"Get your hands off me." I shoved at him and he released me, retreating back a few feet. "Get the fuck off of me you Neanderthal. I don't give a fuck what you think I did with Jax or why I did it. That's the only thing I decided, the only thing.

I sat here for hours, thinking about you and about Rosalie and what would happen if Jax ran his mouth. And all of it doesn't matter one tiny bit because he did it anyway and now my only friend is going to have to leave this hell-ridden place.

I didn't have anything to fight back with! I have NEVER had anything to fight back with, until Rosalie came along. I wouldn't have made it past the first semester before I gave up and went back to Biloxi, Mississippi and settled for living in a trailer park and going to community college. So yes, I got on my knees and I sucked Jackson Whitlock's dick, maybe because I wanted to, maybe because I was worried about Rosalie, but mostly because I was worried about me.

And let's be honest, what are the odds that you and I are going to be together six months from now anyway? For a year? I mean, really, what the goddamn odds that you find the person you're going to marry and have babies with at sixteen?

Boyfriends…boyfriends are boyfriends. That's the only way I can describe it. I want you in my life Emmett. But if it comes down to you or Rosalie, well, the odds are more likely that Rosalie and I will be friends long after you and I have broken up or found other boyfriends and girlfriends or whatever. It may not be the thing people say out loud, but that's the thing they think in their heads. So I'm gonna say it out loud. If I left myself vulnerable, if I left myself without someone who is looking out for me from the vulture, what are the fucking odds that I would survive?"

Emmett stared at me, eyes dully red and glassy. He sat down on the loveseat and put his face in his hands.

"How can you…how can—how can you see things like that? How can you believe that Rosalie is your lifeline at Olaf's? How can you stand here in front of me and tell me that if she leaves, there won't be anyone left to be your friend?"

One of the pillows went flying into the wall. I jumped, even though there was hardly a thud.

"You can't promise we'll be together. It doesn't work like that. If we break up…it'll be ugly. And you'll move on and leave me behind."

"I'm not breaking up with you! As far I am fucking concerned, you're leaving me no other option except to break up with you and stop speaking with you! You did this. I have done nothing—NOTHING—except try and hang on to you while you dig yourself a deeper and deeper hole."

I stayed silent, feeling like I was going to be sick, feeling like I had the world's worst headache, feeling like I was about to need the Heimlich if I couldn't find a way to breathe soon.

Emmett sat up and looked at me. There was wetness around his eyes, and he was red, and his hair was sticking up everywhere.

"How can you see everything else so clearly? Why can you give Rosalie Hale every benefit of the doubt, every second chance? Why did you have to just go and assume I would be the one who was going to leave you? You are so invested in this charade of building this wall around you, of setting yourself apart so you won't be swallowed up by them. That's fine, I get it. Everyone on the face of the planet has that. But for fuck's sake Alice, how could you think that I would be one of those people you needed to keep out? How the hell do you not see that I am so miserably fucking in love with you that the only way we'd ever break up is if you fucked up. And you did." Emmett's voice cracked. "You fucked up. And now you want me to break up with you? God, I could actually hurt you right now. What the hell did you do to me Alice? How could you? Take some fucking responsibility and say the words. Tell me that this is entirely your fault and that you fucked up because you're done with me."

I took a step toward him, feeling my stomach hit the floor and the sobs come harder. Emmett stood and jerked away, only to turn back and grab me, too hard, too tight.

"You're done with me." He spit the words out, sent them running through my veins and into my heart, which wrenched at the look on his face. "Tell me!"

My head shook and I tensed, not able to look at him any longer.

Emmett shoved me away from him and I stumbled, biting my lip to keep from pleading for him to stay.

He was right. I didn't get to play the victim. Not this time.

Emmett jerked open the door and stopped long enough to push Rosalie out of the way before he walked away from me.

Through the wall of tears that were in my eyes, I saw Rosalie staring at me and I wondered how long she had been eavesdropping at the door.

Probably through the entire thing, if I knew Rosalie.

"Alice…"

"Leave me alone."

I turned my back on her and faced the wall, furiously wiping away the tears.

"No."

And even though I didn't want there to be, even though I didn't deserve it, there were arms around me that were comforting and forgiving and kind. And baby that I was, I gladly collapsed into them and sobbed my pathetic little feelings out, though I deserved to have no release.

Emmett wouldn't have a pair of arms around him.

He wouldn't feel better.

Because of me.

"He loves me." I whispered between hiccups, feeling Rosalie stiffen for the barest of moments before tightening her arms around me more firmly.

"I know." She said simply.