I do not own Twilight.

Second half of the last chapter. This takes place during their senior year, by the way.

Enjoy!


I watch the clock to the side of me, staring at the little hand as it counts down the seconds.

I don't know why I'm here, but there's a part of me that is glad I'm here because I don't trust Edward to be here for himself.

Patty, the guidance counselor, as she's told everyone to call her, sits across from us, watching us behind her thick, purple glasses. There's a purse on her painted lips; I can tell without even looking because it's the look everyone in the office gave us as we walked through.

I don't even know where Tyler went or what happened to him. Honestly, I hope he's writhing in pain somewhere.

Edward sits beside me, but he's slouched with his legs spread out. The perfect image of nonchalance, of indifference. The opposite image of me.

"Bella."

My name as the first thing that comes from Patty's mouth surprises me and my head whips around, my eyes finding hers. I wonder what she sees in mine; probably confusion.

"Why do you think you are here?" she asks me and I know it's one of those rhetorical questions that she already has an answer to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward sit up a little higher, protective in his stance.

I only shrug and look down at my tangled fingers.

I hadn't planned on attending this meeting, but Patty requested my presence while Edward protested.

"I told you," he says and I can tell he's gritting his teeth, "this has nothing to do with her."

The guidance counselor flattens her hands against the desk and turns her sharp eyes to Edward. "On the contrary," she says, "I think this may have everything to do with her."

Despite the typical truth behind her assumption, this fight actually didn't have anything to do with me but I don't want to agree with Edward because I don't want him to think I'm abandoning him here.

"Bella," Patty restates, turning to me again and I lick my lips out of anxiety. "Do you agree with Edward's tactics of resolution? Do you think he should turn to physical violence?"

"No, but—" I start, but Edward shakes his head at me, nearly imperceptible, but because Patty is trained in the art of psychology and fine-tuned observation, she notices.

"She's allowed to say whatever she feels, Edward," she chastises and I can already tell she's forming a different opinion of our relationship; one that goes further than just overprotection. What she doesn't understand is that he stopped me for fear I'll say something to admonish his father. It's what he's always afraid of—getting his dad in trouble.

It's why he never lets me talk to Charlie about it.

Edward leans back in his chair again and stares at me, but I know I'm not going to say anything to call out his dad.

"I think he was justified this time," I say.

"And why is that?"

It's my turn to stare at Edward this time because I know he hasn't told anyone what Tyler said and I know for a fact Tyler would never willingly give up that information.

He turns his head, his chin tipped up in that overly defensive, overly arrogant way. His jade eyes meet mine and I can see the pleading quality to them. My brow furrows the longer he stares.

"If you don't tell her, I will," I threaten and he lets out a breath before forcing his gaze from mine to Patty.

She waits with a patience I am surprised she can muster as he stares at the ground. Finally, he lifts his head, raking a hand through his copper hair. "He said I'm the reason my mom left," he says and the dull tone to his voice makes my eyes tear.

"Did that upset you?" she asks.

"Yes," he answers softly, honestly. I bite my lip to keep from crying but a tear slips out.

"And it upset you, as well," Patty says, turning her gaze to me.

I only nod once.

"Why did it upset you so much?" she asks.

"Because it isn't true," I manage to say after swallowing back the lump in my throat. I can feel Edward's eyes on me and I know he's hurting because I am hurting.

"You seem more upset than Edward," Patty muses and it's just that—a musing, a thought; but it's completely true. Edward's used to this kind of disappointment—I'm not.

I nod once again and Edward's hand slips under mine. I tangle our fingers tightly and watch Patty's eyes dart to the movement.

"Do you ever think," she asks, "that perhaps his reactions are in response to your reactions?"

I feel like my world has slipped out from under me because of course I've wondered this before, but it's completely different to have someone else, a third-party bystander, point this out to you.

Edward's vehement in his answer that this fight, all fights, have nothing to do with me, but we both know he's lying. We all know he's lying. Most fights are about me; his need to defend and protect and preserve me gives him some strange need to contest anyone who seems to have an ulterior motive.

Edward's the first to stand, dismissing Patty's words out right. I follow as I always have.

In the parking lot, he pulls on his baseball cap, so low that I'm not even sure he can see from beneath the brim. His eyes are on the ground as we walk to his car, the corner of his jaw ticking in annoyance and fury. He doesn't say anything until we are in the car and I've buckled, turning to stare back at the brick building.

"Bella," he says quietly and I look over at him out of sheer surprise that he doesn't sound as angry as he had appeared to be. Green eyes smolder with a hundred emotions, most of which ground grief with desolation and pleading and I can't help as the tears come streaming with an unchallenged force.

I don't even realize when he unclasps my seatbelt and pulls me against him.