Sorry for the super delay guys. I know you hate me, but I have reasons! Like moving, hurricanes, college, work, and all the associated mess. Whoo.
Intox 55
She knew all my triggers without trying. It had only been a week, but she knew how to push my buttons, to set me off with a word... a phrase... a look.
For the next two days there was a lull in the fighting as I simply enjoyed her presence and ignored my building tension headache. I touched her without fear, wondering that she didn't break as I brushed my thumb along the smile my caress induced in her. Bella wasn't made of porcelain. It would have been better to compare her to wood, strong and flexible in the worst storms.
By Thursday evening I'd come to my senses enough to realize that making myself scarce wasn't going to garner her dad's trust. If anything, it would make him want to hurt me more. My mind conjured up images of target practice – with me as the target. Or he'd push me out of a boat and hold me under with one of the oars. Charlie didn't seem a medieval torture device kind of guy.
My resolve choked on a little thing called cowardice. Bella coaxed me onto her porch like I was a stray that had been chased off one time too many. Each step weighed my feet, dragging me to a stop before she prodded me forward with her gentle palms pressed into the small of my back as if she was my shadow. Her proximity set my blood aflame, but I resisted the temptation, too fearful of the consequences if I touched back. I was a black-and-white, cause-and-effect kind of guy.
Our presentation in Biology had finally come due on Tuesday. The work had come together nicely – no thanks to me – and just needed to be put into slideshow format. I understood the concept, not the content, but had offered to do the work one day when I was feeling generous. Luckily, I had a mastermind to help. Bella promised to help me navigate the PowerPoint program once she was done whipping up dinner. I sat at the kitchen table, opened the laptop and her organized notebook, tucked my feet beneath me and began transcribing her meticulous notes. It wasn't as neat once I put myself to work, though. My fingers were clumsy on the cursor pad, and all the material was a jumble. By the time the slides were ready for formatting I knew I was doomed.
Bella had championed the project from the start. She picked the subject, drove all the way to Port Angeles to get resources, found the Seattle exhibit and written the outline. All I did was take mediocre pictures, make wiseass comments and produce a slideshow that she would redo once I was gone.
I glanced up at my girlfriend. She was stirring a pot at the stove, her hips sashaying slowly as if she had Dean Martin running through her brain. Was she trying to seduce me? I bit my hand and turned away. My foot tapped. My imagination played tricks on me. More and more I caught myself stealing glances while she wasn't looking. I was reprimanding myself less and less for it, too, more enraptured than angered by the visions she put in my head. Whatever she was doing, it was working.
I flexed my hands gingerly and shifted in place. This bullshit was taking too long, and I didn't have the attention span it called for. Even worse, my legs were uncomfortable, too. I stretched and let them drop to the floor without quite feeling it; they'd spent too much time contorted in the pretzel position.
When I could stand properly, I moseyed over to the stove. Bella slapped me away before I could dip a finger into the bubbling mixture, and I whirled her around to face me. She grinned up at me and did her best to look ornery, though she tripped over her feet and fell against the stove. The effect was the same, however. Her crinkled nose was the most endearing thing I'd ever seen. And the dorkiest.
I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close before I knew my own intentions. She responded, her palms resting lightly against my chest as we stared into each other's eyes. The weight of her touch swayed my resolve. My gaze wavered south to her soft hands and then lower to my calloused fingers as they skimmed her pale skin beneath the hem of her shirt. I wanted the shirt gone, I thought with a mere moment separating the rash thought from the guilt.
She isn't an object, I reminded myself as I looked into her brown eyes. They were so innocent. She trusted me. She shouldn't.
My kiss pressed her against the stove, but in truth it was more her pulling me in. Her body pressed tight to mine, we stumbled over each other. Neither of us was graceful. The saucepan bubbled, forgotten, on the stove as my fingers caught in her hair and held her to me. Her breasts pressed against me, and I had to wonder what I was getting myself into. Again.
Her mouth opened to me and my moment of reflection vanished. We became a tug-of-war, Bella's arms over my shoulders, my hands cupping her ass as I held supported her, her legs wrapped around my hips. Power. Hunger. Give. Take. Struggle. More. It had to end, I knew, before I let myself feel like a monster again.
I broke away with a murmur neither of us understood and caught my breath. Bella was sitting on the counter's edge, her body flushed. I couldn't tell whether the heat was between us or the stove, and I didn't care to analyze. Her lips were swollen, a beautiful sight. I could never be gentle. She kissed me again, softer this time as if sensing my distance, and grazed her teeth along my bottom lip. Her kiss threatened to drown me. I put a hand out to steady myself.
The hot burner seared my fingers and jolted me from my dream. I hissed loudly, flinching backward with a curse.
"Burner again?" Bella joked.
"Bit more literal this time." I grimaced. Her eyes widened; she took my hand in hers and inspected it closely. A layer of skin smoked on the burner, the pink skin remaining was shiny and swollen. Blisters would follow quickly.
"First-aid kit. Bathroom," she ordered, her face suddenly business. She turned me about and pushed me toward the stairs. I would've thought her a little mother except she planted a kiss between my shoulder blades that sent a shiver rippling up my spine.
I sat on the edge of the tub while she doctored me up. She ran cool water over a washcloth and wrapped it around my hand. Pain throbbed through my hand, but my grimace turned into a grin when I stole another glance at Bella digging through her supply of bandages, ointments, and allergy pills.
"This shit always happens." I chuckled.
Bella turned to me armed with a dressing and a tube of burn gel. She didn't speak, but I caught her rolling her eyes as she knelt and removed the washcloth. She was smirking still. My fingers had a burn across them in the shape of the heating coils. I kissed her forehead. Fucking burners.
The aloe salve cooled the burn and relieved some of the discomfort. When she tried to bandage me up, I shook my head and stole another kiss instead. In the distance, a car door shut. Bella hesitated, and I knew she'd heard it, too.
"If that's your dad, he'll kill me," I whispered, my forehead resting on her shoulder.
"Impossible." A shudder ran through her as my breath tickled her neck.
She kissed me, but I couldn't let it go. I leaned away. "Castrate me?"
She snorted softly, holding back a laugh, and placed a soft kiss on my jaw that set my heart racing. "Improbable."
"Arrest me?" I choked out as she bit my lip.
"Maybe," she conceded. She leaned back, giving me enough room so I wouldn't fall backwards into the tub. I took the interlude to shoo her from the room, shutting the door behind her.
It wasn't until her footsteps hit the stairs that I released the groan I'd been holding in. My dick officially hated me. Every morning I convinced myself that I could hold the oath I'd made, but then Bella showed up and my conviction failed me. Bella made me weak; it was painful, like prying your tongue loose once the frost caught it. It had been years since that hospital bed promise. I was hopelessly confused and frustrated in more ways than one. It made me ache from head to heart to groin.
I stood and watched the mirror abstractly. My reflection was filling in nicely; it might actually weigh more than my sister now. The cuts and bruises had faded. His face looked almost healthy, and his hair was tied back into a loose knot to keep out the tangles. He looked like he might smile every now and then.
I opened the medicine cabinet and poured a couple of Charlie's pills into my palm. The long nights must've been taking a toll on him; he needed to refill his prescription. I replaced the bottle, knocked back the pills and studied the apparition in the glass. His eyes were a confusing shade of blue-green, and his lips curved upward as I watched. He could smile. That had to mean something, right?
I padded downstairs silently and found Bella alone in the kitchen waving a towel wildly to clear the smoky air. A quick glance at the stove told me dinner had burnt up with the sauce. I took the towel from her and hung it over the fire alarm, just out of her reach. It was a bit of a stretch, but at least I didn't have to use the kitchen chair still.
"That really works?" Bell looked dubious.
I feigned affront – she should know by now that I was a master of false fixes – and surprised myself by telling her how I came about that handyman's tidbit when Ray nearly burnt down the kitchen after falling asleep with food still on the stove. Mom taught Rose and me how to keep the fire alarm silent and how to use the stove; we even had a nice dinner that night. Without him. It wasn't a story many people knew because I never talked about home without good prodding. Not even Alice knew it.
I waited for her to comment on my story or praise me for "opening up" like people always seemed to. She didn't. Instead, she told me about her first kitchen disaster when her Renee had taught her how not to bake biscuits; somewhere between dough on the ceiling, broken appliances and smoke alarms, I started laughing. We traded food riddles and Mrs. Doubtfire jokes while I scraped out the crusted saucepan for her.
That's how her dad found us, which put him in a much better mood than I thought possible. I didn't know what he expected to walk in on and was too busy laughing to care. The colors were soft and my head didn't hurt; Bella's humor had recharged me. And I could laugh. That had to count for something, right?
My medicine caught up with me over dinner. I yawned. Charlie grumbled at me for falling asleep at the table, and Bella elbowed him before assuring me that he was joking. Truth be told, I didn't even notice. I fell asleep on the couch after dinner with the TV on and her dad sitting in the arm chair.
I woke up at home on Friday morning with a foul mood and a crippling migraine. My mind drew a blank as to how I got home the night before, and I made a note to ask once I could talk without my brain hurting. My pants were dirty and I couldn't think through my wardrobe to pick a shirt. After staggering about my room drunkenly for ten minutes trying to get dressed, I stumbled downstairs in dirty pants and an undershirt.
The television was silent when I went to talk to my brother. Curious. I padded through the dining room to the kitchen, but no one was there. Curiouser. The tea kettle rattled on the range; I'd had enough of burners to toy with that one, though. I sat in the nook and rested my forehead on the table while I waited for someone to show up and give me pills.
Alice was the first one downstairs. I heard her flats scuffing down the hall and opened my eyes when she turned the corner. She gave me a smile, poured herself a mug of tea and sat down across the table. I sat up.
"Good morning." Her voice was like silver chimes.
"I hurt," I groused, resting my head in my hands. I looked at her through my fingers.
She smiled again and adjusted the collar of her lilac t-shirt. "We talked for about five minutes when you got home last night before I realized you were sleeping."
I frowned. "That makes no sense."
She shrugged. "Your head hit the pillow before I could get a word in edgewise." She stared into her mug as she drank.
I took that to mean she wasn't telling me something. It could be anything: something I'd said, done, hinted at – or it could be nothing. I really didn't like that. "My head hurts," I complained.
"Edward's going to be down in a minute."
I straightened, immediately suspicious. "He slept in?"
"Ed trading sleep patterns with you?" Alice scoffed. "I didn't see pigs flying when I looked outside."
"Shut up." I got up and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I didn't see milk when I checked the refrigerator so I opted for a douse of water to moisten the flakes instead. I topped the mound of half-sodden cereal with honey and sat back down at the table. Alice tried not to make a face and nearly succeeded.
It took Edward twelve and a half minutes to pour himself coffee and hand out my pills. He glared at me when I asked for Tylenol, but it wasn't like I wanted him to abuse prescriptions or forge signatures. I had myself for that. I washed my pills down with a glass of orange juice, my eyes meeting his with a cool stare.
"Mom told me to drop you off at your appointment after school." Edward watched me choke on my juice. Carlisle always drove me. Always. His absence meant could only mean that he hadn't come home from the ER last night.
Whenever Carlisle pulled a long night he slept in his office, which wasn't saying much. The few hours of sleep he got were ruined by a cot with a mattress so uncomfortable he might as well have been sleeping on the wires. Esme brought him a change of clothes, and they shared breakfast at the hospital. Neither would be home soon, but Esme would have thought of me anyway.
I rolled my eyes at Edward. "Gee, thanks."
"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered to his toast as I stalked from the room.
I came up with an easy way to piss off Andalano that afternoon. I came in with my original questionnaire filled in with all the astute observances he'd made about me. I thought it was a great way to change the subject.
"Now you're just being difficult." He gave me a pointed look, clearly not amused at how well I could hold a grudge.
"I believe the term is 'contrary,'" I said with an innocent smile.
He didn't buy into it for a second. "You have to understand that it's not hypocrisy to say one thing and unintentionally do another. I told my wife that I'd stop by the store on my way home yesterday. I forgot. It's human nature, not a failure on your part."
His logic made sense, but the problem was that I had a hard time believing in logic these days. I wasn't even sure whether I could trust my own. What good did logic do if you couldn't follow it? I picked at the armrest, frowning as I reasoned it through. No, I thought, broken promises are still broken – even if you didn't mean for it.
Dr. Andalano leaned forward until his elbows rested on the large desk. He rubbed his palms together and took a deep breath. "We're not talking abstracts here." It wasn't a question.
I nodded, watching the realization cross his face. I was well-practiced in the art of avoiding uncomfortable conversations with those I needed to have them with the most. Having stumbled upon this, he should have gloated. He didn't.
"Bella Swan," he said, folding his hands. "I don't even know where to begin with this one. Do you want to start?"
"You're the doctor."
"You brought it up," he retorted.
I sighed and began talking. It was a long story. My eyes focused on the grain of his desk while I mumbled. Halfway through, he actually leaned forward to hear because my voice was inaudible. I twisted my fingers as I explained the situation.
The thing about heroin was that it acted as a depressant. Because it slows your heart rate and respiration, certain things become less important. Like sex. Sex wasn't very important to me – back then. I spent most of my time with Maria fading in and out of semi-conscious state, too fucked up to really give a shit. There was something intangibly glorious about it, but sex came a distant second to the heroin rush.
Maria always bought the purest heroin available. She refused to settle for something that had to be injected. She called it dirty. We still ended up half-naked on the floor Pete's apartment, though, and there were worse things than black tar heroin beneath the furniture. The floor was gritty, the couches smelled like mildew and the windows were streaked. In retrospect, there wasn't much to do that could make that experience seem dirtier.
I didn't learn what happened to Rose until two days later. When I finally staggered into the waiting room, sweaty and out of breath from my sprint across town, no one noticed me. Alice had a small arm around Emmett's shoulders; his head was buried in his hands, a mountain of a man reduced to rubble. Edward stared at the white tile floor, one hand resting absently on Esme's knee as she cried silently.
The door bumped me when Carlisle entered. I turned, my stomach clenching when I saw his lab coat. My first thought was he's a surgeon; he shouldn't be here. The ER, not here. Carlisle looked just as surprised to see me. I hadn't been home much for weeks; only Rosalie and Alice suspected where I stayed when I disappeared like that, but neither knew for sure. His surprise hurt as much as my guilt.
"Rosie?" I said, remembering how the doctors had frowned just like that at my hospital bed after the car crash that killed my mother.
He started to speak, but I swayed on my feet before he could say anything. He grabbed my elbow and helped me to a seat. Everyone was looking now. I couldn't breathe. The words came out disorganized, my brain still reeling, still confused, and I dissolved into gasping sobs, my fists clutching his lab coat as he knelt in front of me.
Not Rose, too, I remember thinking, sure she was dead. Not my sister.
Carlisle told me when I could listen. She had been leaving work when it happened, he said, and He followed her. I shook my head, begging him to stop; I remembered the man, had kept an eye on him for weeks and even spat in his coffee as he lurked in the back booth of the diner. He was the reason I walked my sister home. He was the reason I had promised to be there.
I knew where I had been instead. I felt it when I moved, in the soft pucker of fresh burns Maria had put on my chest and the taut skin around my scabs. I felt it in the trembling muscles, cold fever and dreamlike state of heroin, and the knowledge ate at me.
"I promised her," I told Andalano. "I promised myself. Over and over, I promised, until I saw her eyes open in that hospital bed, that it would never happen again."
My eyes burned. I was surprised to be crying. Two months ago, I would have exploded in rage if anyone mentioned this. Now, tears leaked down my cheeks. I sniffed them back and, when that failed, wiped them away hastily. My breath was unsteady, so I stopped breathing and stiffened.
"Jasper," he said, his voice cutting through the ghastly silence that followed, "it's not your fault."
I could have screamed. A hundred people had told me that already. I knew Emmett never blamed me and that Esme had just wanted to keep me from tracking the bastard down. Not even Rose held it against me. But the blame was there every time I looked in the mirror.
No one could make me change my mind. I had free will; I could have ignored Maria when she appeared that night, but I had been too worried about the consequences. I was afraid of saying no, of being alone. And I was still afraid. How laughable.
"Jasper, look at me."
I couldn't meet his eyes, but I stared at the knot of his tie. Somewhere in the back of my mind the fog was screaming. Here in the real world there was only silence. My jaw trembled.
"I'm not saying this to make you feel better. I'm not," he said. "I'm stating fact. This is not your fault."
I nodded silently and looked at my watch. Our hour had run long since run over. I shifted and glanced at the door. Edward had dropped me off but wouldn't have stayed. He didn't have a history of waiting for me. "I should go. It's late."
Andalano offered to drive me home, but I shook him off and escaped. I wanted solitude so I could understand the truth. I was a habitual liar when it served me, and the lies had been working just fine until I met Bella. Everything was all fucked up now, and I didn't understand.
The wind blew down from the mountains, cool and earthy, as I walked across the parking lot and headed home. The forest was calling; I wanted to get lost in it and forget the way out. I wanted to be trustworthy and to keep my promises. I wanted Tylenol for my headache. But, more than anything, I wanted Bella.
This rare solitude was a relief after months of smothering attention. Though it was a sure sign I was still welcome in the home, the overprotective fawning lost its appeal. I walked, kicking at gravel on the roadside, but did not go home immediately. Instead, I ambled through town… into this store, across that street, through the elementary school playground. Bella expected me to call; Edward expected me to be with her. For the first time since I returned from Port Angeles, I was truly free.
It was enough time for a head start to Olympia or Port Angeles. I still had connections – none that would work with my wallet at home, but I was charismatic, a walking customer rewards card. The yellow lines in the middle of the road were open-ended questions. It was absurd how badly I wanted to answer them.
I veered off and scrambled down an embankment along the road instead, making for the forest. The weather had been nice and the trees thirsty, so the ground was firm beneath a dense layer of ferns and moss. The aroma of earth rose thick and rich, enveloping me. Leaves and dirt and humidity swarmed my senses. I took a lusty breath and savored the exhale. How could I leave this?
There was no pathway, but the roots spidered out too far for the trunks to grow close. Above, the upper branches tangled and dripped with hanging moss. I took my time, but the terrain was unreliable and tall bunches of fern grew from every open surface. I stumbled. I fell, and the dirt gathered beneath my fingernails. I slipped while scaling a fallen tree and dropped, laughing, from its mammoth back.
The sun had been low in the sky when I left town, but by the time I walked through the front door it was night. I shut the door and kicked off my shoes in the foyer, but it wasn't done quiet enough. Alice and Edward were on me before I'd gotten halfway to my room. With his questions and her nagging, they were louder than a jet engine taking off next door; my headache returned with a screaming vengeance.
"Where were you?" he demanded.
I brushed passed them, and they followed on my heels as expected. "I took a walk, Ed. Fucking hell!" Carlisle's quiet method of inquiry was unsettling sometimes, but it never pissed me off as much as this. I was sure of it.
"You said you were going to Bella's," he countered, crossing the threshold into my room. Alice was already worrying about my ruined pants.
"You should be more careful," she murmured, fussing over the stains and rip. "These were good cargos."
"I'll buy another pair then." I jerked away and turned on my brother. "What's the big fuckin' deal with a walk, Ed? It's a walk. People go on them."
"Bella said you weren't answering your phone," Alice said quietly from behind me. "We were worried."
Her name took the fight out of me. I patted my back pocket. Empty. "I lost my phone," I admitted.
Alice bowled into me and pulled me into a hug despite the dirt. I wrapped my arms around her tiny shoulders with a forced chuckle, feeling guilty for my selfishness. She must've been holding herself back since I walked through the door.
"I really didn't think it was a big deal."
Somewhere, disappearing out the door, Edward mumbled, "I'll just go remind your girlfriend of that."
I rolled my eyes and dropped into a beanbag chair, but Alice watched me. Her eyes were as wide as an owl's and completely disarming. She would want an answer, but she knew better than to demand one.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alice's approach took the pressure off; sometimes it was the only thing that could.
"I'm sick of everyone babysitting me like I'm some psychotic criminal." I clenched my fists. "I should be able to go on a walk without you calling the cops."
Alice sat but didn't join me on the floor. I wished she would. Tucked into my desk chair, her tiny frame curled around itself, she wore a frown. Sometimes she looked so sad that it physically hurt, and I wished I couldn't read her emotions so easily. I wished she couldn't read mine, either.
"I'm just bitching," I grumbled to fill the silence.
Her lips twitched. "I don't mind."
Of course not. She never minded. Alice was always there for me – even when I told her not to be. She always listened.
I blinked deliberately. "Keep me company. I don't want to be alone anymore." I hopped to my feet and headed downstairs without waiting for her answer. I knew it would be yes.
Alice lounged nearby reading Vogue while I practiced. Her silence was warmer than an empty room and a guitar, though I was doing more thinking than playing anyway. The music wasn't making me feel any better. I gave up after finger-picking through a number of songs for two hours.
I rested my guitar on my lap and ran my thumb across the strings with a sigh. "I can't do this."
Alice looked up from her magazine, saw my face, and sat up. "What's wrong?"
Nothing. Everything. I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm tired."
She got the hint that I wasn't just sleepy but nodded sagely and suggested I go to bed anyway. Her answer made me happy. Alice couldn't solve my problems for me; I had no idea what to do about Bella, and we both knew that cookies and milk couldn't solve my dilemma. Sleep sounded like the best option. Alice always knew my best option, so I took her advice and slept.
Every volcano needs time to recharge. Inactivity doesn't mean dormancy. Volcanoes can be triggered by earthquakes and other cataclysmic events – or me. We were an eruption with periods of inactivity in between. It was my fault; I started every fight.
My skull was splitting when I woke the next morning, and I let the headache win, refusing to get out of bed even when Esme came to fetch me for breakfast. At worst, my brain might explode. At best, I'd be a foul-mouthed prick. I accepted the tea she gave me, though, and I took a sip so she would leave me alone with my book.
I was sprawled face down on my bed with a pillow over my head when Bella thumped upstairs. She opened my door timidly, saw me lying on my bedspread and tip-toed to the edge of the bed. I watched her inspect the paperback I'd abandoned on my bedside table so I could rest, my watching eyes hidden by my pillow. She turned the thin pages of the novel, dog-eared my place and replaced the book, now closed, her face reverent.
"I saw that," I mumbled, extending a hand to her.
She squeaked at my sudden movement but accepted my hand. "You were creasing the spine," she said as I pulled her down next to me.
I kissed the back of her neck through a soft layer of brown waves. Her scent stirred me. "I've done worse. Trust me."
She shuddered at the tickle of my breath and rolled to face me. "I missed you yesterday, you know."
Her eyes were impossible to deny. I swallowed hard and shifted away. "I know," I managed to say.
Frowning, Bella propped her head against her elbow and stared me down. "Are you avoiding me?"
Yes. "Why would you even think that?"
"Because it's what you do." Her voice rang of defeat. "What did I do wrong?"
You seduced me. I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Nothing. You did nothing wrong, okay? I feel like shit, I have a headache, and I want a fucking pill to make it go away."
She sat up, rifled through her bag and tossed me a small bottle of Ibuprofen. It wasn't what I'd had in mind, but I twisted off the cap and poured myself a fistful. Bella's eyes widened when I knocked them back with cold tea. She rattled the bottle as she tucked it back into her bag, glancing at me when she heard the hollow tick-tack of her supply.
"That's a lot of pills," she said as I swung my feet over the bed's edge. "Geez."
"I don't need you to be my mother today, okay?" I exhaled heavily. "Let's just finish the project before they knock me out."
"I already tweaked the slideshow," Bella said. "It looks pretty good."
I'd known this would happen since I offered to organize and format the project, but knowing and experiencing were two different types of frying oil. The work I put into the project was useless. She didn't think I knew what I was doing, and I didn't, but damnit I wanted to try and that should count for something! I was offended.
"Jesus, Bella, what the fuck am I going to do now, tell the teacher you did all the work while I was jerking off?"
Bella's eyes were wide. Still sitting on the edge of my bed, she clutched the comforter and laughed nervously. "I – I didn't think you would mind. It's not a big deal."
"I'm failing the goddamn class, Bella," I shouted, loud enough to drive a spike of pain through my skull. My vision blurred. My ears rang. I pressed my hands against my temples, trying to focus away the pain.
Bella's eyes were damp, but that was meaningless; I could never tell whether she was angry or upset when she cried. She waited until I could see again before speaking, and she picked her words carefully. "I didn't want you to worry about it." Her tone was defensive.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.
She rubbed her forehead wearily. "Nothing," she muttered. "It means nothing."
"Bella-" I took a step forward, half-ready to apologize.
"Just forget about it, okay?" she said sharply.
I stopped short. My jaw was clenched painfully tight. I could feel the blood pulsing in my neck. "God forbid I make a point." I made the effort of rolling my eyes.
Her ringtone interrupted us. Bella reached for it quickly and flipped it open. She read the screen and slid the phone into her pocket without meeting my eyes.
"I think you've made your point," she said, standing. "When you're ready to tell me what's really going on, I'm listening."
"I'll shut up then," I promised.
We bickered all the way to the front door anyway. I couldn't keep my mouth shut to anything she said. By the time she'd bumped me aside and opened the door for Jacob, I knew she wanted to hit me. I was relieved. Anger was an emotion I understood.
They hugged before he stepped forward and shook my hand. As usual, his toothy grin creased his face with laugh lines. As he thanked me earnestly, I wondered what made him so chipper. I wanted to destroy it.
"Come over any time," I said with a little shrug, "it makes up for all the times I'm an ass."
Bella snorted. "Hardly."
Jake looked between us with a raised eyebrow. I forced a smile. "C'mon, I'll show you the grease pit." I clapped a hand on his shoulder and whisked him into the garage before Bella could take another potshot at me.
The workshop Rose had set up for herself spanned a third of our total garage despite her efforts to be conservative. Plastic wheel ramps hung on the wall she claimed for herself next to her collection of oil pans, car jacks and power cords. Her tool chests surrounding the carnage of the car she'd never finished were stocked with sparkplugs, gaskets and gizmos. I pointed it all out to Jake; he seemed to know what it meant.
He opened a few drawers of tools and surveyed the contents. A photograph of Rosalie and Emmett was taped to one of the lids Jake flipped open. The couple beamed at me from beneath a large beach towel, their wet hair plastered across their faces.
If Jake noticed, he said nothing. I questioned him about motorcycles while he scavenged through the tools. He knew his business as well as my sister and answered every inquiry. When I asked whether he'd help me fix one up, he just laughed and asked me where it was.
Bella sat on a tool chest while we talked. Her legs dangled but never touched ground. Her brown eyes watched me closely, as if studying me for answers. I didn't have any, so I ignored her.
Jake took an interest in Rose's work, so I showed him what I knew about it. He leaned into the engine carriage and investigated the progress. After a minute of tinkering he emerged and wiped his hands on his shirt. "It's only half done," he said, "but it's good."
"I know," I said smugly. My sister had a gift.
Jake smiled at my arrogance. "He's modest, Bella." Jake laughed. I smiled and leaned against one of the tool boxes. "You've got a good one."
"Oh, don't I know it," she replied. Without looking, I knew she'd rolled her eyes.
I sighed. "She's pissed at me, if you can't tell."
"Believe me, I can tell," he assured me, still smiling.
"It's nothing he doesn't deserve," Bella retorted.
"Which we'll talk about later," I finished, giving her a pointed look. If she wanted answers, she was going to get them.
Her eyes were wary. "Are you serious?"
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Babe, of course I'm fucking serious. Look, if I'm lying you get to hit me." I grinned. "I know you want to."
She smirked. I shuffled over, doing my best to look abashed, and gave her a peck on the lips. Her hand slapped me lightly on the cheek, a reminder of my promise. My shoulders shook with laughter. I pulled her into a hug and felt her smile against my neck. I'd won the fight.
Jake didn't understand, but then again no one understood how we could go from 0 - 60 and back in under a minute. It gave them whiplash.
Though I kept Jake around as long as possible, he eventually got excited to use the tools I'd lent him and excused himself. I packed it for him down to the last gasket head and the calibrator. I wasn't sure how much of it he needed, but Rose didn't come home often; she wouldn't need this any time soon.
Bella held an umbrella for him as he heaved the duffel bag into his car. They said goodbye while I smoked under the eaves, well out of the misting rain. Jake waved at me as he slid into his driver's seat. I raised a hand in salute as his car turned the corner. He wouldn't be a problem anymore.
Bella sat down against the wall beside me and watched the overflow falling from our gutters. "So are we going to talk, or am I leaving?"
I exhaled slowly so I wouldn't instinctively ask her to leave. She was angry, and her car keys were hooked on her belt loop. I didn't know whether she would bother coming back once she left. It was not wise to test her. I tapped my fingers against my lips and thought.
Bella waited until my cigarette had burnt into the filter before taking it from my hand. She slid her fingers between mine and squeezed my hand. It was still shaking. My face couldn't pick an expression, but seeing her smile relieved me.
She hugged me, her face pressed against my chest. "Whatever is so bad, I can take it. I promise."
My heart pounded furiously. I felt lightheaded, and I couldn't tell whether it was her or Maria disrupting my nervous system. I wanted to find a way to avoid the situation. Bella might be able to deal in truths, but I wasn't so sure about myself. I lived in lies. The truth could kill me.
She followed my gaze when I didn't speak. "Is this you being upset?" she asked as if stumbling on the Ark of the Covenant at the local supermarket. "If you're upset, Jasper, I can do upset. But this I can't deal with."
I didn't know what to say to that. How was I supposed to react? Anyone else would know how to act, but nothing I did came out right. I couldn't even think of an excuse that Edward would have used. I didn't need all this stress.
Bella let out a frustrated breath and stood. I tugged on her pant leg before she gained a step, my eyes shifting from the heavy clouds in the sky to her. "Don't leave," I said, almost absently. "Please?"
E/N: As proof that I'm super busy, I haven't been updating my personal blog as much, either. BUT there are some non-FF things posted if you're interested. You can find links to it on FB/HannahScribbles (my page). This way you know I'm not dead. =)
