Chapter 4

Songs:

Try by P!nk
She Don't Want the World, 3 Doors Down
Everything Changes, Staind
Breathe Me, Sia
Pendulum, Pearl Jam

*Link to YouTube playlist is in chapter 1!

Bella

"Here you go," I say with a smile as I hand Mrs. Cope her receipt and change. "Have a good day."

"You too, dear." She smiles and ambles toward the door.

One glance at my watch tells me I have another hour until we close, and it won't be a minute too soon. My manager, Mike Newton, is lurking nearby, and being here with him at closing time always makes my hackles rise. He sometimes gets too close, too in my personal space. He's also an absolute prick. He rides around town on his neon green Kawasaki Ninja 300 thinking he's hot shit, only making him more pathetic. And the fact that he looks down on the club, calling them criminals and losers, makes me angry.

He has no idea what they do for this town.

Time passes slowly, as it always does at work, but finally, I'm counting my drawer and clocking out. I pop my head into Mike's broom closet of an office to let him know I'm leaving. He's sitting with his feet crossed at the ankle and propped on his tiny desk, doing God only knows what on his phone.

"Oh, yeah, I'm coming." He sits up so abruptly, his chair snaps forward, nearly knocking him off balance.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. I turn and walk toward the front of the store as Mike sets the alarm and turns off lights before he meets me at the door. We walk outside and he locks up.

Standing like the obedient part-time employee I am, I hold my messenger bag open for his official inspection. He always makes a spectacle of this part, his gaze lingering just a little too long on the shit in my bag.

"Looks good, Bella." His haughty stance, his stiff posture and slimy smile do anything but make me feel an ounce of respect for him.

I hoist the strap of my bag over my shoulder and turn toward the street, waiting for my ride.

"Are you having car trouble again?" he asks, looking around the lot like he gives a shit.

I turn toward him and watch as he suits up in his ridiculous bright green riding suit. I wonder to myself if it's fire retardant, too. "Uh, yeah," I say, shaking the errant thoughts out of my head. "Starter went out this morning. Mase was supposed to work on it today. Hopefully, it's fixed when I get home."

Mike opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I hear the rumble of Masen's bike. The sight of him makes my heart skip a beat. It always has. Contrary to what a lot of people think, I've always loved him. He might not have been the only Cullen brother I fell in love with, but he's the one who chose me.

"Hey," he says with a chin jerk as he pulls up beside me, killing the engine and balancing the bike with both feet on the ground.

"Hey."

He turns sideways and unhooks the bungee holding my helmet to the rear seat. He hands it to me and turns his attention to Mike, watching as he pulls his bright green jacket over his black polo shirt. "He ever say anything about the extra hours?" Masen's eyes meet mine.

Slipping on my jacket, I shake my head. "No, and every time I bring it up, he gets all ... managerial."

"Managerial?" he asks with a grin.

"Yes," I say, shoving his shoulder. "Shut up. You know what I mean. He's just an ass who likes to feel important. I think he likes lording his superiority over his employees." Once I strap on my helmet, I walk to the side of the bike and throw my leg over the seat, scooting close to my husband and wrapping my arms around him.

He starts the engine, but we sit still for a moment. It's the most intimate position we've been in for days, since he said he'd try to fix things between us, and I think we both feel the weight of the moment. He places his left hand over my laced fingers and leaves it there. I lay my head down, my cheek against his back, and close my eyes.

I would give almost anything to get back to where we used to be.

He lifts his left foot and kicks down into first gear before slowly engaging the clutch. We roll out of the lot and onto the road. The streets are nearly empty on this Sunday evening. A sudden urge strikes to take a moment for just us, and as we pull up to the stoplight, I ask if we have to go straight home.

"No. Why?" he asks loudly over the rumble of the engine.

"We haven't been out in a while, that's all."

"Yeah?" He turns and looks over his shoulder.

I smile at the hope in his voice. "Yeah."

He turns back to the road. "Okay then."

When the light turns green, he eases into first, but takes off like a shot when we clear the center of town. I hold tightly to him, breathing in the moment—the wind rushing toward my face as we race down the road, the feel of the muscles of his back flexing as he controls the bike, and the warmth of our bodies as I cling to him. There are no words, no arguments, no bills to pay, no nagging woman in my kitchen telling me I'm doing a shitty job raising my son. It's just us and the wind.

Main Street morphs into a state route leading into the outlying desert, and as we get farther away from town, the landscape changes. The setting sun paints the sky orange and purple, and as the sun slips away, the air changes. Gone is the heat, replaced with cooler, dry air. We fly down the darkening road, and a peace I haven't felt in a long time fills me. When the stars begin to shine brighter the farther away from town we get, I know it's almost time to turn around. The trip can't last forever, and all too soon, responsibilities call us back home.

The trailer is dark and quiet when we pull into the driveway. Carmen sits outside on the small patio, her ever-present cigarette hanging from her lips.

"Took you two long enough," she mumbles.

Masen shrugs as we walk up the path to the door. "Wanted to go for a ride."

"I had to put the kid to bed. You know I don't like doing that shit. He's your kid." Her eyes move between Masen and me, judgment clear in her gaze.

"And you know as well as anyone Bella and I could use a fucking minute to just be."

She snuffs out her smoke and stands with a huff. She walks toward the door, but before she goes inside, she turns to speak over her shoulder. "I had to use that machine tonight."

"His nebulizer?" My feet are already moving me toward the house, anxious to see Sammy if he's had an asthma attack tonight.

"He's fine now." She turns and fully faces me. "I took care of it."

When the door slams closed, Masen pulls me into his arms. "Hey, she said he's okay. Take a minute to calm down first." He pulls away and looks into my eyes. "If you go in there now, you two are going to go at it."

"She makes me so mad, Mase!" My hands are clenched into fists, and he's right; I'm ready for a fight.

"I know." He kisses my forehead, and the ice that's been caging my heart for so long melts just a little. The last couple of weeks have been good. He's been calmer, more attentive to not only Sammy, but me, too.

When we see Carmen's bedroom light switch on, I know she's in there for the night, and we walk inside. There are toys strewn around the main room, dishes in the sink, and Sammy's backpack is open and half empty, so I already know Carmen didn't help him get his things ready for school tomorrow.

I tiptoe down the hall and peek into Sammy's room. He's curled up in his bed, holding on to the stuffed bear he's had since he was a toddler. The sound of his clear, even breaths is reassuring. I bend down and brush his hair from his face, kissing him on the forehead.

"He okay?" Masen whispers form the doorway.

"Yeah," I reply, turning to look over my shoulder.

With another kiss and a tuck of his blankets, I leave his room, closing the door behind me. Facing the mess Carmen left, I set to work cleaning up the day while Masen goes back outside to tinker with his grandfather's bike.

That bike has been a source of great tension between the two of us. The 1956 Panhead was buried in Carmen's storage shed when Grandpa Denali died twenty years ago. No one knew it was there until I got pregnant with Sam. Masen went searching for any baby things that might have been packed away. He pulled the tarp off of it and has been sinking money we don't have into it ever since. He says it'll be something to pass down to Sammy one day, a piece of his family's history. I have my doubts.

When everything is sufficiently clean, I step outside and take my usual spot on top of an overturned milk crate. With his smoke dangling from his lips, Masen is sitting on his shop stool, focused on his work.

"Did you get the starter replaced in the Honda?"

He turns and meets my eyes. "Yeah."

"How much was it?"

"Just over ninety bucks."

I close my eyes and exhale slowly. "Shit."

"Yeah. I'm gonna ask Pop for more hours at the shop. See if we can get ahead a little."

With the days passing and my time to tell him about the baby running out, I decide now is as good a time as any. "I'm pregnant," I say softly.

He hangs his head and pulls the cigarette form his mouth, rubbing a hand over his face. "Are you sure?" He turns to me.

"I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I'm late, and I had a positive home test."

"What the hell are we gonna do, Bella?"

"I don't know," I say with tears in my eyes.

"We're barely holding our head above water as it is."

"I know," I whisper.

"Jesus," he says, shaking his head. "We were together once—one time—in the last, what, two months? And I manage to get you pregnant."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the tears I've been holding back finally spilling onto my cheeks.

He rolls his stool over to me and wraps his arms around me. "No, baby. This isn't your fault." He pulls back enough to look into my eyes. "I'm pretty sure this one is on both of us." He holds my head to his chest as I cry. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

He holds me until the tears stop, then he releases me to go back in the house. When he finally makes his way inside, I'm half hidden behind the corner at the hallway of the living room, waiting for him. I watch as he slips his boots off his feet and scrubs a hand over his face.

"You look tired."

My voice startles him. "I guess I am." He looks from me to the pile of blankets on the sofa, where he's been sleeping for the last couple of weeks. "I haven't been sleeping all that well lately."

I pause, uncertain about what I'm about to offer, but the hope in his eyes is my undoing. "Why don't you come to bed?" I ask softly with a tilt of my head toward our room.

He looks skeptical, and I can't blame him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

He follows me down the hall, and as I change into cotton shorts and a tank top, he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. He takes off his jeans and slides into bed beside me. Like he has for so many years, he opens his arms to me, and I easily fall into them. With my head lying against his chest, I trace the letters of my name and Sammy's inked there, wishing we could get back to the way we were when things were simpler. His heartbeat thrums in my ear, and the longer we lie this way, the more relaxed we both become.

And as if by instinct, I scoot closer to him, suddenly desperate for the contact. He must sense it, because he shifts us until we're face to face. He tilts my chin up and brings his mouth to mine. His lips are feather-light, cautious, like he's waiting for me to put a stop to what he's doing. But I don't. Instead, I grasp the chain around his neck and pull him closer. Pressed against his chest, I can feel his heart pounding just beneath the surface of his skin as his tongue invades my mouth.

His hands drift, dancing over my sensitive skin and sliding into my shorts, cupping my ass and pulling me impossibly closer. My legs open as he rolls us, and he's suddenly above me, my aching pussy rubbing against his boxer-clad, rock-hard cock. His mouth moves to my neck and I tangle my fingers in his blond hair, holding him to me and praying nothing in me screams to stop this.

He rocks against me, slow and careful but with purpose, and sparks of want ignite a fire low in my belly. My breaths quicken, and sighs of pleasure escape my lips. He slips off my shorts and pulls my tank over my head, leaving me bare beneath him. His fingers find my center, swirling and probing, and his lips and tongue wrap around my nipple until I'm writhing beneath him. His mouth moves up, licking a path toward my ear.

"Please," he murmurs against the skin of my neck. "Please, baby."

I push his head back, gripping his hands as they cradle my face and meeting his steel blue gaze. "Please don't hurt me," I whisper.

His eyes fill with an emotion I'm so tired of seeing—regret. "I'm so—"

I press my lips against his and wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him to me. He holds back for just a moment, though, reaching for the drawer in the bedside table. I close my eyes, accepting the harsh reality of where we've been—where he's been—and wait for him to sheath himself in a layer of latex meant to protect me. His eyes meet mine, and with a small kiss from me granting him permission to take this step, he pushes forward. Before I can take another breath, he's inside me.

Tears fill my eyes, not from any physical pain, but from the overwhelming emotions coursing through me. Sadness, regret, hope—they all battle for the biggest place in my heart. But even with as many problems as we've had over the years, this is one thing we've never had a problem with. It's always been simple, easy, and it's almost a relief to have it back.

My eyes hardly leave his as he moves over me, inside me, only momentarily breaking the connection when our mouths crash together. Quiet reassurances leave his lips, and tears escape my eyes and trail into my hair. He kisses them away as a wave of pleasure crashes over me. Then with his face buried in my neck, he whispers promises that he'll never hurt me again and groans his release into my skin. I hold him tightly, hoping he can keep them.

Sweating and panting, we stay tangled together. His weight is heavy on top of me, but I have no intention of moving. We lie like that, no words spoken, merely breathing each other in as our heart rates slow and our breaths even out. But all too soon, he pulls away, rolling over and removing the condom before tossing it in the wastebasket beside the bed. For a moment I'm afraid he'll roll over and fall asleep, but when he settles into his pillow, he pulls me back into his arms.

"I love you," he says, kissing the top of my head as I lay it on his chest.

"Love you, too."

No more words are spoken, and I easily drift to sleep, hopeful we're on the way back to us.

Days pass, and both of us are hyper aware of the other. It's not perfect, but it's better. We have breakfast together as a family well before Carmen emerges from her room, so it's peaceful. I drop Sam at school, Masen goes to the shop or the clubhouse, and I work the morning shift three days a week and close on the weekends.

Mike is still being a prick about giving me more hours, telling me corporate won't allow it, all while Jessica Stanley—who I know for a fact is fucking him—is working a forty-hour week with full benefits. He's insinuated that I could get more hours if I did him a few favors. With the leering expression he wore when he said it, I have no doubt what kinds of favors he wants.

I've thought about telling Masen, but I'm not willing to risk his freedom. I'm fairly certain that if my husband and his temper got to Mike, he wouldn't walk away from it in one piece. And Mike would definitely press charges for assault. The price Masen would pay isn't worth it.

So, in the meantime, we do our best to cut corners. I've hitched a ride to work when I can, and we've had a lot of pasta nights and PB&J sandwiches.

I still haven't gone to the doctor, but it can wait. I'm not getting any less pregnant. We just can't afford it right now. But I'm doing what I remember from being pregnant with Sammy; I'm taking my vitamins, eating as well as I can on our budget, and trying to get enough rest. The fact that Masen and I aren't fighting is better for me, too. The stress and tension that have been around for so long have finally let up, and I almost feel like I can breathe again.

"Have a good day, baby," I yell to Sam as he jumps out of the car.

"You too, Mommy!" His smile is bright as he runs inside the school.

I giggle at his excitement and shift the car into drive. I don't make it even a mile down the road before the gauges on the dash go haywire. The engine finally dies, leaving me stranded in the road.

I close my eyes and bang my forehead on the steering wheel. "What now?" I groan. Flopping back in my seat, I hit the back of my head against the headrest. I stare at the headliner, seeing the food splatters from Sammy, the burn marks from Masen's cigarettes, and the sagging spots. They all show the age of this heap, but as much as we need a new car, we just can't afford it. We just keep patching this one, hoping things will eventually get better.

I grab my phone and call the shop, sure I need a tow.

"Cullen and Sons Automotive. This is Mac."

"Hey, Mac."

"Hey, Bella. What can I do for ya? I'm pretty sure Mase is over at the clubhouse."

"I don't need him. I actually need a tow."

"What are we looking at?"

"Well, the gauges went sideways, so I'm thinking alternator."

"Yeah, sounds like it. Are you in a safe spot?"

"Kind of. I'm in the right lane on Mesquite, near the post office. I'll wait on the sidewalk."

"Okay, give me about twenty minutes and I'll have someone there. Sit tight."

"I'm not going anywhere. Thanks, Mac"

"You got it, Bella."

Tracker shows up twenty-five minutes later, and in another twenty, we're pulling into the lot of Cullen Automotive. The yard isn't as busy as I thought it would be on a Friday morning, but I don't feel like making small talk with any of the guys. I quickly slip out of the tow truck's cab and head for the office, intending to wait for Masen to finish whatever he's doing at the clubhouse.

Esme is busy on the phone, so I make myself scarce and sit in the waiting area, watching the guys push the Honda into a bay.

"Hey, Bella." Edward is smiling as he walks over to me. "Heard the beast was back in here." He laughs at his own bad joke.

"Yeah, laugh it up." I smile but shake my head. "Masen is going to be pissed at me for bringing it here instead of home, though."

"Nah. It made sense to bring it here. It was closer than home, and we can get it done in like an hour. He'll be fine. And if he's not, I'll talk some sense into him."

"Thanks."

He hesitates, but as usual, he can't keep his thoughts to himself. "You two doin' okay?"

I nod, fidgeting with my shirt hem. "We are, actually." I meet his eyes. "It's been bumpy, but I think we're back on track."

"That's ... good." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and for a brief moment, anger flashes in my chest at his hesitation. He lost the right to be concerned about me a very long time ago. But before I can address his reply, his attention is drawn to the window that looks out across the lot.

"What the fuck?" he says quietly.

"What?"

I glance outside, too, confused about what we're looking at until I spot my husband walking purposefully toward a scantily clad brunette. I'm not sure why Edward seems to be so upset until I see the woman practically throw herself at my husband.

I guess some things never change.

A/N: Remember, you can come chat with (yell at ;p) me in my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics. I also share teasers and chapter pics there every week. You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220, and on my blog sited in chapter 1. Thanks so much for reading!

Lots of love

~Sunshine