"Is it private enough here?" Bella asked, looking nervously around the deck, sunglasses protecting her from the dazzling sight of Edward under the broken sunlight—stray rays illuminating him between the moving patchwork of clouds.
"Very," he said. "The property is large, so unless someone's gotten lost, we won't see anyone but a deliberate visitor. And," he tapped his head, "I'd hear them long before they saw me."
Her shoulders uncurled themselves. She was trying her best to appear calm, but the bubbling stew of anxiety hadn't subsided since last night.
"Recovery isn't a straight line," John had warned her earlier in the week.
She'd made a comment about 'two steps forward, one step back,' and he'd shaken his head.
"No," he'd said, "more like a tango with the stray zig-zag thrown in."
She'd swallowed, praying her recovery was more progressively linear.
It didn't feel much like it today.
Hoping the feelings were just temporary, she was holding off on calling him—of letting Edward know just bad it was. There was no fooling him entirely, but she could keep the worst hidden. Try to enjoy their time together.
He nudged the cup towards her. Noisette. Against his better judgement, he'd served it to her. She rarely drank coffee, and he didn't think she needed to be anymore jittery than she was. Her book was vibrating in her hand, and he could hear her heartbeat jumping along with the rest of her.
She took a small sip, setting the cup down and putting her hand over his.
He squeezed it softly, watching the breeze lift her hair and float, and then return it to her neck.
Beautiful.
Alice had wormed her way into Bella's wardrobe in dribs and drabs, and today's outfit was the product of this jointure. Soft suede boots hugged her calves and met the curl of a flared skirt, this blossoming tucked under a cotton ivory sweater. She'd normally avoid Alice's choices, but this particular ensemble allowed for the knives to be worn without notice.
Edward, of course, had heard the straps as she'd slipped them on, perturbed at this regression.
Then he'd chided himself. If they helped her feel safe, then all the better.
"Want to go to the boardwalk later?" he asked, watching her pretend to eat. She normally liked eggs, but she was picking at them today.
"Sure," she said absentmindedly, putting her book down, taking the most miniscule bite of her breakfast.
"'Sure', she says, with the enthusiasm of someone being lead to the gallows." He captured her hand in both of his, bringing to his lips. "Only if you want to. Or we can watch a movie, or you can take a nap. Or do nothing. Whatever you want."
Her smile was wide and genuine. "That obvious, huh?"
"Mm-hmm," he said, putting her hand down, his hand resting under it again.
She sighed. "We've barely talked about school, and it starts in a few weeks. I know I registered for courses, but I can barely remember which ones."
"Do you not want to go for the fall?"
"No, no, I do, I just…" she breathed out loudly again. "I just barely know if I'm coming or going somedays. Not sure I'll be able to focus."
"Nothing more human than going to college and failing a few courses," he joked.
She laughed, a hand to her mouth, "maybe for some," she admitted, "I think I'd prefer to pass."
"You would," he assured her. "But more importantly, I think you'd like college—like the classes, meeting new people who are actually interested in school." High school was no comparison.
"Won't you find it boring?" she asked, "Going through all the same courses again?"
"Not at all," he said, smiling, "I'll be with you, and you're never boring."
"Flatterer," she mumbled, blushing a little.
"Flattery is disingenuous praise. There's nothing artificial about what I'm saying, Bella." He stared at her, listening intently to all the sounds her beautiful self made. The intensity of his gaze was made all the more noticeable by the alarmed transformation that washed over it.
Without asking, he picked her up, carrying her inside at a dizzying speed to their bedroom.
When he set her down, she shook visibly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "but I need you to listen very carefully to me."
She nodded, mute with fear. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Jacob is nearby."
She wanted to be brave. To simply nod. But her throat choked out a cry, her hand flying to her mouth.
"He will not go near you, Bella," Edward said, his hand now wrapping around hers. "I'm going to go and finish this, and then you will never need to worry about him again. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
He pulled his phone out, dialing Carlisle's number, murmuring into the phone, and snapping it shut.
"Bella," he said, again, daring to slip his arms around her, "Stay here. Don't come outside." He remembered the horrific thing she'd done, thinking him in danger. He wouldn't risk her again this way. "Promise me."
"I promise," she whispered, shaking still.
"No matter what you think is happening. Stay inside."
She nodded more quickly. Terrified.
"I love you," he whispered, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
Then he was gone, and she pressed her hand to her palm to her mouth, eyes closing, trying to not imagine all that could go wrong.
Loud, snarling growls travelled from the lower reaches of the property, and she sank to her knees, not even daring to look at the window.
She didn't hear the other footsteps behind her, but she felt the soft hand on her shoulder.
"Are you Bella?"
She jumped, crawling up to a stand, and turning to face the voice.
An unassuming young woman, dark haired and pale skinned, stood in front of her. Her t-shirt and jeans had seen better days, and she looked almost as terrified as Bella felt.
"A friend sent me," she whispered, "to help you. Come with me. I'll get you somewhere safe." She looked in the direction of the noises coming from the windows. The snarls and snaps were louder now.
Bella understood that some of them were trees, freed from their standing places.
"Come on, I don't know what's going on out there, but it doesn't sound good."
"Who sent you?" Bella asked, knowing it wasn't the Cullens.
"Jake did," Amanda said. "Come on!" She was panicked now, the screech of shearing metal reaching their ears.
"Edward!" Bella yelled. She knew what that sound meant.
Amanda was calling other names now, and as Bella moved towards the windows, too terrified by what she imagined to not actually see what was happening, she felt other sets of hands on her.
"No!" she shrieked, trying to dislodge them, kicking as they tackled her to the ground. She made out three bodies in the scramble, Amanda's one of them, as someone pinned her head down, twisting it awkwardly to the side.
"Hold still," a man's voice called. "We're here to help you. Just—"
Bella had freed her fist, and it silenced his next words.
She knew she'd caught a target with her foot when another voice swore.
The hands were predominant again, and all her struggling was fastened into the scratch of the carpet beneath her.
There was a sharp pain jabbed into her arm, and then a creeping blackness that swallowed her whole.