Tantamount

Chapter 26

Bella's letter fucking wrecks me. She sounds broken; her words, true and from her heart, wound me with each painful declaration.

My chin trembles as I read, and I press my lips together to make it stop, but it's no use. Emotion rises to the surface, and tears streak my cheeks.

Though, through the blur, one thing is clear: the ugliness of Bella living in a world unaccepting of her transition. Not even the perfume I love can make what she's written in this letter pretty. But she sprayed it anyway; I know she did. To mask her pain or to lessen mine. Either way, she's taking all the blame when I know I'm to blame too.

I grip the letter to my chest when I'm finished reading. My tears eventually dry on my face like war paint for the internal battle I'm waging with myself.

Do I text her? Do I acknowledge I even read this?

I'm paralyzed with fear over contacting Bella, but I know I should. If I decide to talk to her, am I gay? My mind goes back to the blog for the millionth time—no, I'm not gay. Will others perceive me as gay? Yes, probably so—at least until Bella has her surgery. I'll be considered a dick lover. Fuck!

I've never wanted Bella to suffer like this, or to feel the pain she's dealing with right now. I don't want it for myself either. I have no idea what she went through before I knew her when she came forward as Bella. All I know is I'm not brave like she is and I fear now for my own salvation in this fucking town. I wonder if she still does too. The only thing I've accomplished so far is I've avoided the one person who actually made my life in Forks better.

Jake must be leaving Bella's because I hear the rumbling of his truck when it starts. My phone is in my hand, fingers ready to type, because I need to know how she is.

Is she okay?

I'm getting ready to leave, and not really.

I think I'm going to text her.

You should. Dude, I'm worried about her.

I need more alcohol, but I don't reach for my flask. I have to be coherent when I talk to Bella—it's the least I can do, for both of us.

My mouth is as dry as cotton, and my hands are slick. That's fucked up, but so is everything else in my world.

I open the last text between the two of us and type.

I read your letter.

Shit, I should say something else. She just poured out her heart to me, but I wait a few seconds. There's no response, so I text again.

Thanks for saying all that.

I wait for what seems like an eternity, and when I'm about to give up, I see the three little dots. Finally, the text I hoped for comes through.

I meant it.

Now's the perfect time to just swallow my pride or whatever the fuck it is that's keeping me from Bella.

Can we talk?

I press send before I'm ready.

In person?

Her text comes quicker this time.

Yes.

My hands get wetter and my mouth drier at the thought of finally being near her again.

Can you meet me at the swings at midnight?

My stomach does somersaults, and I feel like puking.

I can try.

I bolt toward the bathroom and spew my dinner in the toilet, then sit on the edge of the tub with my phone in my hands.

Okay.

What the hell am I doing? I want to back out; I do. But I can't because I have to figure out a way to live in this town, and next door to Bella, and not go insane. I inhale, begging myself to have a little courage. My mouth tastes like shit, so I get up and brush my teeth, and try to figure out what I want to say to her.

*T*

The house is quiet at eleven-thirty when I sneak downstairs. At this point, though, I'm not sure I care if Mom and Carlisle know I'm leaving. Carlisle would understand, but I'd have to explain things to Mom, and I'm not in the mood. I'm not even sure I want her knowing about Bella, yet, if ever. So, I tiptoe out the back door.

Cold air hits me in the face as soon as I'm on the deck and chills me bone-deep. I pull my hoodie over my head and hurry to my truck, second-guessing why I want to meet at the park. I notice Bella's car is still in her driveway and I wonder if she'll really meet me or not. I can't say I'd be surprised if she says fuck it and stays home, but I take my chances and start my truck, then back out of the driveway. I drive slow so I can rehearse what I want to say to Bella, but I get tongue-tied—everything that comes out of my mouth sounds twisted and stupid.

Hitting the steering wheel with my hand, I groan in frustration.

"Get it together, dip shit," I say to myself. My eyes are swollen from crying like a puss when I read the letter. I need to suck it up and pretend I'm okay, so Bella can't see I'm a total wreck.

The park is dark and desolate at this time of night—it looks lonely and sad. Fall has come. It's not like summertime with crazy kids running around and parents on park benches. I cut the engine and let my eyes adjust to the darkness, soaking up the last bit of warmth in the cab before getting out.

I head toward the swing set, but the memories of the two of us swinging stop me. I veer off to a nearby tree instead, taking a seat on the cold, leaf-covered ground and wait. The swings were our happy place, and meeting there doesn't seem appropriate right now.

Digging my phone out of my hoodie, I check the time and if I have any missed messages. That's when I hear Bella's car in the distance. I jump up and hide in the shadow of the tree. After a few minutes, her car door creaks open, and Bella gets out, hesitantly shutting it behind her. I watch as I did at school during lunchtime. She wrings her hands, looking at my truck, then turns to the darkness of the park.

Bella takes a few steps, then stops at the front end of her car. "E-Edward?" she says. "I can't see you..." Her voice trails off.

I clear my throat, which startles her.

Bella yelps and steps backward.

"Over here," I say. I don't want her to change her mind and leave.

She hesitates, then hugs her body and walks slowly toward where I'm standing. Sand crunches under her sneakers with each careful step.

As Bella nears, fear sets in, and I'm frozen. It's the first time I've seen her alone in so long, and I have mixed emotions. Her hoodie is up, and I can't see her face in the dark. I'm sure if I could, though, I'd want to hug her. But I still want to shake her for not coming clean with me.

So, after everything that's fucking gone down, there's no way I can just reach out and do what I really want to.

There's too much hurt.

She's about twenty feet away when I start walking toward her. We both stop at a comfortable distance.

"Hey," I whisper, and rub the back of my neck. "Th-thanks for coming." I look up, and that's when I see her tears.

A/N

Hi! Thank you for reading my story. My goal is to post once a week; however, my trip is right around the corner, so I'm not sure how posting is going to go down.

Please know I'm so freaking committed to this story and several people are asking/suggesting I publish. Hmm. Lol

Anyway, that's up for debate.

Thank you to my team for making my chapters presentable.

Xo

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