The bus ride home is awful.

I draft multiple texts to Edward, all accusing and angry. I don't send any of them though because I need to hear him out in person. I need to approach this calmly and get all of the details before I react. Part of me still hopes this is just Kate stirring up shit or twisting the truth like she's done in the past. But this time feels different, and I don't know why.

Maybe it's because I've been expecting things to go sideways with Edward, for the other shoe to drop. When things go right for me, that typically means something is about to go wrong. Maybe I've been waiting for him to fuck me over. I know it's not fair, to have these assumptions tied to him because of my upbringing, my past. But my association of love with conflict and disappointment is wired into my nervous system, and this is what I know. This is what I've grown accustomed to—the lies, the secrecy, the abandonment. And it fucking sucks.

In the scheme of things, a kiss isn't the worst thing that could happen. It's the potential lying that gets under my skin. It's the possible deceit of him deliberately seeking her out and asking her not to tell me that hurts the most.

And if they didn't kiss? Then my friendship with Kate, or whatever was left anyway, is over. Scratch that—whether they did or didn't— she's out of my life regardless. It's been a long time coming.

I'm so distracted with all the what-ifs, I miss my stop and have to get off at the next one. I appreciate the the ten minute walk back to the house, though. I have extra time to get my thoughts in order; extra time to breathe.

When I walk in, Edward's sitting on the couch with Emmett playing Xbox. I hate the way his face lights up when he sees me. For a moment, it lessens my anger.

His eyes bounce between me and the TV before he pauses the game.

"You're back early. How'd—"

"Did you kiss her?" I blurt, watching the color drain from his face.

"Uh, should I go?" Emmett asks awkwardly.

"Yes," Edward and I say simultaneously.

I wait until Em's gone to speak.

"Well?" I prompt, looking at Edward. Seconds pass, and he hasn't said anything yet. But he doesn't have to because his eyes, his mouth, his face says it all. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask, emotion rising in my voice.

He stands from the couch, carefully moving closer, but still keeping his distance.

"It's not what it sounds like, Bella. I promise."

I shake my head. "Tell me everything."

"Okay. Will you please sit down?"

"No."

He hesitates but stays standing as well. "It was a few months ago, when I was out for my classmate's birthday." I think back to that evening, remembering how he'd been out late, but he was texting me throughout the night. "I ran into her, but it was by coincidence. We weren't actually hanging out, regardless of whatever she said."

"Uh huh."

"We weren't," he counters. "I hung out with my friends the entire time, but then she found me at the end of the night. And she was wasted." My brain runs wild with different scenarios, but I force myself to stop and hear him out. "I told her she should probably get an Uber, but again, she wasn't that coherent and said she couldn't find her phone. So I used mine to order her a car."

Angry, jealous tears trickle down my cheeks. "Did you go home with her?"

"No," he says, and relief fills my chest. Until he adds, "I rode with her, though."

"Why do you even care about her?"

"I don't. I just didn't feel comfortable sending her home alone in a random Uber when she was that out of it."

"Who gives a shit?"

"I wouldn't feel comfortable if someone let you ride alone in that state," he stresses.

My heart sinks at the thought of him being chivalrous to her. "Go on. Get to the part where you kiss her."

"I didn't kiss her. She kissed me. It was like a split second, and I pulled away. She was kinda upset, but then she got out of the car and went inside her house. That was it."

This is what I needed—to hear him explain it all. And even if he's being honest, that she initiated everything, it doesn't hurt any less when I imagine her lips on his in the backseat. It doesn't mean he didn't put himself in a compromising position.

"Please say something," he murmurs, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"So you're telling me you're the only guy in the world who, while being drunk, can turn down a woman who's coming onto them?"

"Sure, I guess. I don't like her—I like you. I love you."

"You love me so much that you begged her not to tell me about it?" I angrily wipe at my eyes and wish I weren't crying. "That's what she said, that you showed up at her work and you begged her."

He hesitates, like he didn't realize I knew that part too. It makes the crack in my chest widen because it's clear he was going to keep that part to himself.

"Bullshit," he breathes out, nostrils flaring. "I didn't beg her, and I don't even know where she works. But… I did ask her not to tell you," he admits, guilt plastered on his face.

I shake my head, so confused with the half-truths and half-lies. "Why would she say you showed up at her work?"

"I don't know."

"So when did you ask her to fucking lie to me?"

"She was near campus, I don't know why. We ran into each other and she seemed apologetic about... everything. So I asked her not to tell you because I knew how you'd react." He frowns, eyes casting downward. "I'm so sorry."

"I can't believe you," I whisper harshly, wiping my nose with my sleeve. "You should've told me."

"You're right. There were so many times I wanted to, but I just... I was scared of losing you. You have to understand that, at least."

"Understand?" I echo. "Zero part of me understands this."

He hesitates, like he's choosing his words carefully. "Things haven't been easy," he says softly. "I know how you get—"

"All the more reason to be honest with me."

"Baby, I know. But it meant nothing. Less than nothing."

"It means something to me!" I exclaim. "Don't you see that? It's a big deal to me. You lied! You're the one person who was supposed to be honest with me, and you lied."

He falls quiet, remorse clear in his eyes. "I fucked up—I'm sorry."

I swallow thickly then clench my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. It's like I can feel the walls that were once dissolved starting to build themselves up again. Like I need to protect myself from this feeling, from getting hurt.

"I don't think what's happening here is good for us—for me."

He searches my face. "What are you saying?"

"That I need some space, I think."

"Space from me," he states.

"Space from us."

His voice is low, desperate. "Please don't do this."

I sniffle, looking away from his face. "Why not? What's the point of us being together anyway? You're moving soon."

"I don't give a shit that I'm moving. I want to be with you."

"Why? Like you said, it hasn't been easy, and the move will only make this harder." I pause, and now that my tears have stopped, my sadness has been replaced with anger. "I honestly think it's better if we just end this now before shit gets more complicated. Before you have another opportunity to hurt me."

"Stop." He stands closer than before. Being near him both comforts and angers me. "Don't do this because you're upset with me."

I step back, staring up at him. His eyes are bloodshot, and his mouth is pulled into a frown. "How am I supposed to trust you in LA after this?"

"Bella, come on. You know me."

"I thought I did. But you lied."

"Are you not listening to me?" he asks rhetorically. "I only did that because I was scared you'd react this way."

"Why wouldn't you lie to me again, then?" I ask, chin trembling, wanting so badly to believe him.

"Because I won't. I'm giving you my word."

"It's not good enough. You'll be in LA, and I'll be here, wondering what you're not telling me."

"Then come with me," he pleads, reaching for my hand. "Move with me."

My heart stops and I stare at him. It's the first time he's mentioned that I should come with him, but it doesn't feel right. It feels forced, like he's trying to keep something together that's clearly falling apart.

"There's nothing for me in LA," I whisper.

"I'll be there," he says sadly. When I don't respond right away, he gives me a pained look. I have to glance away because seeing tears in his eyes feels like a punch to my gut. "Are you serious, Bella? You're really gonna break up with me over this?"

My eyes find his again, and we stare at one another as adrenaline and hurt courses through me. And I can almost see the exact moment in his eyes when it all clicks for him.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he asks, calling me out.

"What?"

"You've been waiting for something to happen, for me to fuck up, so you could find an out."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." But I'm not even sure if it's untrue. In fact, he might be so spot-on that after he says it, emotion wells deep, and the tears fall faster than before. "I fucking love you. Why would I want that?"

He searches my face, trying to figure it out on his own. He must come up empty because all he says is, "I don't know."

My hand falls out of his, but I can't tell whether he let go or if I did.

"Don't try to make me feel guilty for having some self-respect," I mutter.

"Self-respect? That's not what this is," he blurts, somewhat angry. "This is self-sabotage. Don't fucking do it, Bella. Don't. Don't be like your mom."

"Fuck that," I whisper harshly, glaring his way. "I am not like her. If anything, you are, with your fucking lies." I exhale sharply. "Actually, you're worse. At least I know I can't count on her… I expect her to let me down. You, on the other hand, fooled me. You really did."

"Bella." Edward grabs my shoulders, looking me square in the eyes, forcing me to stare back. My tears blur his face, but I can still see it's full of pain. "You gotta trust me, baby. I swear nothing like this will ever happen again."

"I know," I agree and tug out of his grip, feeling my walls grow higher. "I'll make sure of that."

He falls quiet, searching my eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

I jut my chin out a bit, shrugging. "Self-preservation, I guess."

With an angry exhale, he shakes his head—he doesn't believe me. "Okay. Well, have fun being alone with your self-preservation," he mumbles, hurt and defeat clear on his face. "I'll be here waiting for you when you realize how ridiculous this is."

His words make my heart swell with emotion, but anger flares in me again, overshadowing it. This entire thing isn't ridiculous. It's a big deal to be lied to. It's a big deal to feel like I was purposely left in the dark. Who knows how I would've reacted months ago if he had come clean. Maybe I would've brushed it off. Maybe I would've been pissed. But one thing is for sure—he took away that choice from me when he decided to lie.

I'M SORRY OKAY.

(Hadley is da best.)