"I can't believe you're leaving me."

"It had to happen sooner or later," Emmett says, smiling. "We're just down the street though, so don't think you're completely free of my antics. I've pestered you for twelve years." A look of pride morphs onto his face. "Can't stop, won't stop."

I snort a laugh but push down the emotion that wells in my chest.

"Is that the last of it?" Rose asks, walking out of the house. She's got a small box propped on her hip, shielding her eyes with her other hand. The sun decided to show up today, which I'm grateful for. If it were moody and gray, I don't think I'd be able to cope as well.

Em takes the box from her and heads over to the U-Haul.

"God, it's gonna be so weird without y'all," I mumble, looking between them.

Rose smiles gently. "You move soon, right?"

I nod. "In a week. There's a one-bedroom like, ten minutes from work. It's not much, but there's a washer and dryer in the unit which is honestly a dream. Of course it costs a fucking arm and a leg, but anything in the city does."

"Tell me about it," Rose sighs. "That's wonderful, though. Everyone else in the house is staying put?"

"I'm pretty sure Alice is going to live in the basement forever. And Jasper just moved in a few months ago, so yeah. He's staying, too."

"They're totally boning by the way," Emmett says, grinning as he walks back over.

"Why do you think that?"

"I saw him go down there once, to the basement."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"I swear."

"You always think everyone's boning," I point out.

"Well, I was right, wasn't I? About you and Edward?"

My stomach drops at the casual mention of him. "Yeah. You were."

Rose slaps his stomach. "Okay, we done here?"

"No," he says seriously. "Now that I think about it, I haven't really seen Jasper since he went down there."

"Okay, you're totally just trying to fuck with me," I say flatly.

He laughs a little too hard. "I'm not joking but whatever. Get out while you can."

"I am. In a week."

"We can come back and help," Rose offers.

"That would be great. I don't have much, but I'd appreciate it for sure." Other than what's in my bedroom, everything else is staying.

The three of us linger.

"You wanna come over for pizza?" Rose asks kindly. I think she can tell I'm feeling a little emotional over Em moving out, but she's being nice enough not to call me out on it directly.

I wave her off. "No, no. You two go enjoy your new place. Unpack, get settled."

Em grins. "And by settled she means christen every surface of the place."

Rose and I groan in unison.

"Goodbye," I say pointedly, rolling my eyes. Em pulls me into a hug, which turns into him wrapping his arm around my neck and grinding his knuckles against the top of my head. "God, I'm not gonna miss that," I mutter and push him away, smoothing down my hair.

He grins. "Sure ya will."

Rose and I hug quickly before they head over to the truck. As the U-Haul pulls away from the curb, Em sticks a hand out the window, waving goodbye. I wave back, waiting until the truck is out of view, letting the bittersweet ending of an era sink in.

XXX

I don't particularly enjoy crying in therapy. In fact, I try to avoid it, even though I know that defeats the purpose of trying to be vulnerable.

But there's one day when I can't hold back no matter how hard I try.

Emily says we need to sort through some of my childhood experiences. She tells me to close my eyes, breathe, relax, and when I'm ready, visualize a younger Bella. Any age. I kind of laugh—it's weird, but she urges me to focus.

She asks where I'm visualizing my younger self, and I tell her Charlie's house, the kitchen. I don't know why, it just appears. She asks how I felt at that age and again, I kind of smile, feeling awkward. Emily doesn't scold me, but she says I won't be able to take anything away from this without taking it seriously.

With a deep breath, I recall the moment I'm thinking of—the first time Renee left, or at least, the first time I was able to really comprehend that she wasn't coming back.

Emily asks me what I'm feeling in the moment I'm recalling. It's such a simple question, but it's so fucking difficult to answer. With my eyes still closed, I feel tears form behind my lids. I try to imagine exactly how I would've been feeling, but it's hard to pinpoint. I only remember confusion—an urge to fix the moment, to help Charlie before I helped myself. I don't remember crying. I don't even remember being upset, not in front of him... because I didn't want him to be sad.

Emily continues to guide the conversation, telling me I need to be there for my younger self. That right now, my role here is to keep this version of Bella safe and to reconnect with her, to listen to how she's feeling inside. Because no one was able to do that for me growing up.

That's when I fucking lose it.

I cover my eyes with my hands, sobbing into them, using my shirt to wipe my nose. I can't help it—and I really try to—but the tears don't stop.

Emily quiets for a moment then keeps going. She says that repressing my emotions as an adult affects everything. That I need to be compassionate and nurturing with myself when triggering emotions come up—to lean into them, be curious about why certain feelings arise. The more I dive deeper, the more in tune I'll become with myself.

The tears don't stop, but for once, I'm not crying over losing Edward and not crying over Renee. I'm crying for myself, and it feels more healing than anything else.

XXX

"Can we talk for a minute?"

Ben's standing near my cubicle, timid smile on his face. He's been weird ever since our interaction months ago, a little standoffish. I think my push-back was a wake-up call that he should be more professional and not hit on his fucking staff. It's the very least he can do.

"We can talk," I say, tapping my pen against the desk. "What's up?"

"We're months away from opening the fulfillment center in Santa Barbara," he says, blue eyes focused on my face.

I nod, pulling my eyes from his, shuffling some papers around on my desk. "Right. How's that all going?"

"Good. Are you available to head there next week? I think it'll be good to cover some of the happenings on social media. Visit a few of the farms we'll be partnering with, get a behind-the-scenes look."

"Just me?" What I'm really asking is if he's going.

"No. I'll be there. Paul and Maria, too." He drums his hands on the partition around me. He does that a lot—little anxious movements. Drumming his hands, cracking his knuckles.

"I think that should work. What days will we be gone?" I ask, glancing at my calendar tacked to the wall.

"Wednesday to Sunday. Maybe fly back Monday."

My mind is immediately on Edward and whether or not the opportunity will present itself for me to see him. I hold back from asking Ben if there will be any down time. "Sure, I'll go. Thanks for asking."

"Cool, I'll have Leah book your flight and hotel room. Keep an eye out for the itinerary."

"Will do."

He nods, a timid smile still present before walking away.

When he's gone, my heart beats rapidly. I pull up Google Maps and check how far Santa Barbara is from LA. It's two hours, which could end up being more with traffic, maybe. But it's closer than Seattle. It's definitely doable.

It makes my head spin, potentially seeing Edward next week. If he wants to, that is. But I can't imagine him not wanting to. If his email weeks ago was any indication of how he's still feeling, then I have zero doubt he'll want to see me.

Grabbing my phone, I text him without a second thought.

Gonna be in Santa Barbara next week for work. Think you could find time to meet up? I'd really like to see you.

Edward replies instantly, not waiting an entire week to reply this time.

Absolutely. What days are you there?

I smile at my screen. Wednesday to Sunday, maybe Monday.

Just let me know when and where and we'll make a plan.

I start and stop a reply a few times before landing on a cautious, Okay.

He does the same, bubbles appearing, disappearing, but not actually sending anything.

I'm so fucking excited to see you, I add, because I'm feeling bold and he deserves to know.

I am, too. Can I call you before then? Is that okay?

My stomach flips with anticipation.

Yeah, I'd like that.

Like tonight? he asks.

With a smile still on my face, I type out yes.

XXX

My phone doesn't leave my side for the rest of the day. I keep the volume on loud, checking every now and then to make sure it hasn't turned off or died or some other random instance that has never happened before but would keep me from talking to him tonight.

I busy myself with dinner, showering, and even organizing my closet because I've run out of things to do and I need to distract myself. I'm anxious, excited. By the time he calls around eight, I'm on the couch, pretending to be calm.

I answer on the first ring, not even trying to play it cool.

"Hey," I say, wondering if he can hear the smile in my voice.

"Bella." Hearing him say my name is such a simple pleasure that I hadn't realized I'd missed. "How are you?"

"I'm good. You?"

"Good," he says tiredly. "Mentally exhausted, but good."

"Work been crazy?"

"Yeah," is all he says. "I'm about to start working on a new project soon, and they want me in Chicago."

"Oh. Like… to move there, or—"

"No. Just for a month."

"That could be cool," I offer, unsure what to actually say. "Have you ever been?"

"Nope, but I'm looking forward to it. How's work for you?"

"Really good. I'm still focusing on social media and what not."

"I dunno if you noticed, but I followed the company's Instagram a while ago." I did notice. "I like your posts," he says sweetly. "Especially when you post memes about coffee."

"Oh. Thanks." I smile, twisting some hair around my finger. "If I had it my way, the entire account would be memes."

"If I had it my way, you'd post more content with you in it."

Oof. I wasn't expecting him to be straight-forward like this.

"Well… I'm trying to sell coffee. Not myself," I laugh lightly. "Might be a little weird."

"Guess so." He's quiet. "So what's the deal with this work trip?" he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

"We're opening a second fulfillment center. Two of the farms we're partnering with are in the foothills of Goleta, which is like, just outside of Santa Barbara. We're gonna meet some of the farmers, probably schmooze a little. And then I'll document some shit to post on social media, get people hyped." I pause, laughing at myself for talking-it-up. "I guess people don't really get hyped over a monthly coffee subscription box. Maybe hyped from the coffee, but—" Edward laughs, and it catches me off guard. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"You're cute. Hearing you talk about work and just… yeah."

"Oh."

"I like hearing you get excited. I've missed it."

"You have?" I ask quietly.

"Amongst other things." My cheeks burn, heart bursts. "Am I being too forward? I can… hold back."

"No. No, I like it. You're being honest and it's sweet, so… please don't stop."

"Okay."

"I moved out of the house," I say, changing the subject. "So did Emmett."

"I know."

"He told you about me, too?"

"Well, yeah, but only because I asked."

"Oh."

"I ask about you all the time," he admits quietly, and my stomach flutters. "I think about you all the time, too. Yeah. I think that covers it."

"Edward, I—" His honesty sparks something inside of me, something that makes the idea of opening up to him feel safe. "You're always on my mind, too. You have been since the day you left."

"I was hoping you'd say that." He clears his throat. "What else is going on? How's your new place?"

"It's okay. It's been kinda weird living alone."

"Why?"

"I mean, I've only ever lived with you and Emmett. He and I moved in together at 19, then you joined us at 22." My throat constricts a little. "Y'all were my family. I just miss the dynamic sometimes."

Edward's tone softens. "We're still your family."

"Yeah." I swallow. "I can show you my place, if you want. It's small, but I like it. Can we FaceTime?"

"I don't… know."

I bristle at his words, but recover quickly. I can't expect things to be perfect between us, and I know it's going to take time to get back to where we were, both as friends and romantically.

"That's okay," I say evenly. "It might be too much, too soon, and—"

"Bella, no. It's not that I don't want to," he interrupts, exhaling into the phone. "It's just… I haven't seen you in over three months. I don't want the first time to be over a screen. I want the real thing."

My heart swells at his candor. I love how open he's being right now, leaving zero room for me to question his intentions, how he's feeling.

"Then again," he says, tone suddenly light-hearted and playful. "It's really tempting to take what I can get right now. Maybe we should FaceTime."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's do it."

"Gimme a second. I need to put a shirt on," I tease.

His groan fills my ear. "Seriously, Swan?"

"Sorry, bad joke."

His laugh is breathy, and soon enough I'm staring at his beautiful face. Familiar green eyes, hair a little shorter, lighter, but still a mess. With sun-kissed skin, I stare at his lips, curled into the sweetest smile. He looks so incredibly good, even over fucking FaceTime.

"God, it's good to see you," he breathes out, eyes crinkling around the edges.

"Please tell me that glow is real, and you don't get spray tans now?"

His laugh is genuine, lighting his face up even more. "We have something in LA called sunshine. Ever heard of it?"

"Not in a while, clearly. Pasty AF over here."

He laughs again. "Shut up. You look beautiful." My stomach clenches. "Beautiful AF," he adds, and it's my turn to laugh.

"You shouldn't say that."

"It's true, you are."

"No, I meant you shouldn't say AF. It doesn't suit you, like at all. You sound like an old man trying to be hip."

He grins, exhaling a laugh through his nose. "So I can call you beautiful."

"Sure. I mean… if that's what you think or whatever."

"I do think that. Or whatever," he mimics my tone.

God—this. This is what I missed. The banter, the flirting. His playful tone, creating such a light feeling in my heart, my stomach, my head. Despite all the hurt between us, it's clear we'll always have a soft spot for each other. We'll always be able to pick up right where we left off. This is the easy part, but I know we have a lot of work ahead. For now, I'll gladly accept the ease that lingers between us.

"So… you want a tour?"

"Not anymore," he says, kind of smirking. "I'd rather stare at you."

My cheeks heat, and I feel them burn brighter than before because he can see me this time.

"I still do that to you, huh?" he asks, kind of flirty, kind of sexy. His smile is gone, replaced with something heavier. Something that looks pretty close to lust.

I lick my lips. "Guess so."

"You still affect me, too."

"Good," I say, feeling bold from his admission.

We ease into conversation, both catching each other up on what's been filling our days. He talks about his job, even expressing a little annoyance for one of his co-workers who constantly tries to one-up him. He talks shit about the traffic, but only says good things about the food. He likes his apartment, even though it's still pretty bare—apparently he hasn't been motivated to decorate much. Eventually he admits the first few days in LA were rough, because all he could think about was the time we visited together. I tell him it wasn't any easier over here for me. We both fall quiet after that.

When Santa Barbara gets brought up again, it's Edward's doing. He's hesitant, but he suggests that he drive over from LA and stay in town while I'm there. He can take some time off work, entertain himself while I'm busy, get his own room at the hotel. I think it over, and everything he's saying sounds so fucking wonderful. He looks worried, though, like I'm going to shut down his idea—I can see it in his eyes. When I still haven't answered, he goes on, saying it makes more sense for him to stay in Santa Barbara rather than drive back and forth every evening. It won't give us enough time, he says. And he just wants time.

"Okay," I say after a moment. "If you're okay with that… I'm okay with that."

Relief floods his face. "Really?"

I nod. "I don't like the idea of one of us driving back and forth. And I think it'll be good to give us time to properly talk. Because… we do need to talk."

"I think so, too."

"Like, actually talk. Not the kind of talking we're doing right now. Not fun talking."

"Bella," he says gently, understanding. "I know."

"Okay."

"So… let me know tomorrow what hotel y'all are staying at, and I'll book a room."

My heart feels so full, and having this to look forward to ignites all these feelings that have been stagnant over the last few months. Like desire and excitement and yearning.

"Okay," I say. "I'll let you know."

His face is so fucking sweet, brows raised, eyes hopeful. "Maybe I can call you again tomorrow?"

My stomach flutters. "You could. Maybe around the same time?"

"Maybe." He grins, and I mirror his expression. "Definitely."


Ah, the collective sigh of relief.

Apologies to Hadley for posting before she could read the rest. Mistakes are all mine.

Only three chapters left *cries all the tears* I'm hoping to update Wednesday or Thursday.

Thank you for reading! I love hearing y'all's thoughts.