Chapter Song - If I Go, I'm Going by Gregory Alan Isakov

This house,
She's quite the talker.
She creeks and moans.
She keeps me up.

And the photographs,
Know I'm a liar.
They just laugh as I burn her down.

And I will go if you ask me to,
I will stay if you dare.
And if I go I'm goin' on fire,
Let my anger take me there.

The shingles man they're shaking,
Back door's burning through.
This old house she's quite the keeper,
Quite the keeper of you.

I will go if you ask me to,
I will stay if you dare.
And if I go, I'm goin' crazy,
Let my darlin' take me there.


I couldn't sit still.

My leg bounced, my thumb tapping along the console between the front seats as my stomach turned in knots. Tears were threatening their escape as I looked out the window, the dreary day accompanied by a man in a black suit, standing at a grave. I found it difficult to look at him for more than a few seconds, the anxiety swallowing me as I leaned forward, letting out a choking breath, finding it difficult to center myself.

"Bella?" Edward whispered next to me, his hand rubbing up and down my back to soothe me. I sat up, my hair flying around my face as the man in the black suit, and I caught each other's sight as he waited for us patiently.

"No, I can't. I can't do this." I said in one breath, my voice ending with a gasp.

"Bella," Edward said pointedly, his tone supportive but hard.

"I thought I could, and I can't, and I need you to take me home," I looked to him, tears threatening their way out. "Please." I pleaded. He was conflicted, his hand over my jacket, calming me.

"I think you'll regret it if we leave," He said honestly as I shook my head. "You've been prepared for this."

"Charlie didn't even want this." I challenged with a cry.

"This isn't for Charlie. It's for you. You are the one who called the priest," He challenged as I let out another choking breath, dropping my forehead into my palm. "If you really want to go, then you know I will help you. But I don't think you should."

"His body isn't even there," I argued, waving to the scene in front of us.

"It's not about that. Do you remember what you said to me the other night?"

"I was emotional." I fought.

"You said you felt this would help bring you closure."

"But I don't know if I want that, Edward," I admitted, the words leaving me before I had time to even process them. It wasn't true. I wanted closure. Charlie had been dead for a week and each day came with their own complications, their own heartaches. Some days, I would cry, let myself wither in tears and wallow in pity. Other days, I was angry, and I would lash out at Edward who took it like a champion and never held it against me. But most days, I found myself in bed, unemotional, stoic, unwilling to admit that my parents were gone.

I thrived for recovery, begged for it. I wanted to be better and healthier, I wanted to move on.

I thought that a burial would fix that. Help me bring the closure I just didn't have. When I brought up to Edward, I had already called the priest from the church, earning his agreement to meet us here. Charlie didn't want a funeral. He didn't want the flowers, the casket, or the church. He would be content with little fuss. It was what he wanted.

I still needed something.

But the moment we rolled into the cemetery, the moment I saw the priest standing at an unmarked plot just a few yards away, I was brought back to my mother's funeral. I remember the way Gran held onto me, squeezing me to the point of pain. I remember the priest talking about her, highlighting her best qualities as the strangers around the room dabbed at their tears. I remember it being too much, so much, to the point that I had to leave and had a breakdown in the bathroom upstairs.

Anxiety filled every crevice of me. I wanted to let go. I wasn't sure if I was ready.

"You're ready." Edward's voice found me as if he read my mind. I looked at him, his palm caressing my cheek as his thumb wiped at my tears. My pillar. He was my strength, my voice of reason. He was my punching bag and my safety. He was everything I needed him to be, even if I didn't deserve it. He grounded me, held me when I couldn't do anything but cry. He loved me completely, even in the thick of my grief. And not a moment went by, that I wasn't grateful.

I felt his strength, his encouragement filling me. He knew it too. He knew that all it took was his touch to relax me, to bring me back down to earth and level me. I reached up, covering my hand with his that rested against my cheek, my head tilting to give him a nod. He reached over the console, pressing a kiss to the side of my head before stepping out of the car. I let out a few deep breaths, leveling myself, listening to his footsteps until the door click open.

I stayed still for a moment, closing my eyes as my breathing slowed, battling with myself to step out of the car. I knew this moment would come. I knew all of these moments would come. I had tried to prepare myself for my father's death, for his burial, for his absence. Unlike my mother's death, I had a warning with his. I knew it would happen, yet, it didn't seem to matter. No warning could help you. No preparation could make you ready.

Edward held out an umbrella, but he didn't rush me and instead stayed to the side. I spoke to myself, whispering a few words of encouragement before I took in a big breath of air, exhaling from my nose as I stepped one leg out, my heel touching the gravel as I reached for the hand that extended to me. When I met him under the umbrella, he closed the door behind me, his palm pressing to the small of my back as if to urge me, once again giving me his strength.

When we reached his grave, I felt my chest constrict, reading over the temporary grave marker repeatedly. Edward had reached out and shook the hand of the priest who waited for us as I gave him a terse nod as a small thank you, unable to move from my spot.

He began his prayer at the head of the grave as Edward, and I stood to the side, rain pelting down, rolling off the umbrella and around us. I felt seized in this moment, overcome with the same sadness that plagued me for days. I drowned out the noise of the prayer, focusing on the drumming of the rain, comprehending his name on the marker again and again. I was brought back to a memory of the moment I saw him after fourteen years of being apart, the look on his face when he mistook me for my mother, and then the shock of the realization that it was me.

How did we get here?

I replayed moments in my head, both good and bad. Taking care of him, making him dinner, helping him live a normal life. I remembered the whispered comments when he was annoyed as I hid my laughter, not trying to encourage him. I scolded him, yelled at him, made him feel like a horrible father, when, in reality, I had no idea of the truth. I thought back before his interview at the plant, when we stood in the foyer as I helped him get ready. His tie was crooked, and despite him trying to do it on his own, I fixed it for him. We bickered back and forth about what he should wear, but it seemed as if, for the first time in a long time, we were comfortable in each other's presence. We had to compromise on his outfit, but the ends justified the means. It was a brief moment, but I don't think I would ever part with it.

Tears slipped from the corner of my eyes, my right hand reaching for Edward's that rested around my hip. I could feel him turn to look at me, but I stayed still, watching the grave. His hand dropped from my waist, grabbing ahold of my other hand and locking our fingers together as he squeezed, holding me down, keeping me from floating away.

The priest didn't know Charlie well, so he made no attempt to talk about him on a personal level. I was grateful for this, and when he finished, he left us with a small blessing, hoping for peace and comfort. Edward thanked him for both of us, leaving us with the grave. I wasn't sure if the plan had worked, if the priest's words had helped me, to be honest – I wasn't even sure if it was his comfort I was looking for. I was hoping that seeing the grave, body or not, would give me a sense of finality.

We stood in silence, huddled together until I broke away from Edward and the safety of the umbrella. He let go of me, watching as I entered the rain, the coolness a comfort as I reached the unmarked marker. Hesitantly, I leaned down next to the dirt, my hand reaching as my fingers traced his name.

I wish I had done more for him, wish I had known the truth earlier, spent more time together and less time fighting. I wish it had been different. I thought of all the ways it could have been, reuniting with him sooner, helping fight his addiction like I did with my mother, giving him a better life. I was angry at how many times I dismissed him or how I didn't express how I felt when I knew that was what he needed. He lived a life of loneliness, one he didn't deserve.

Warmth appeared under my eyes as I wiped at them, the saltiness mixing with the rain, hoping that wherever he was now, he knew how sorry I was.

"He would have died alone," The rain had abruptly stopped, and I turned to see Edward crouched just behind me. "His liver was going no matter what. But at least, you were there." He said as I looked back to the dirt. His perspective had me lost in thought. Had I not come back, Charlie would have died without me at his side, truly alone. It broke me, tore me, plagued me to see him lifeless, another memory I would never part with. But, I took comfort in knowing he left with me there, knowing I loved him. "I would have tried to be there, but knowing his pride, he probably would have hidden it from me."

"You would have checked on him."

"I would have. But it would have been too late. And it wouldn't have mattered, he would have died without making amends with you. Charlie could be cold, but he wasn't heartless. You gave him the best gift you could. Forgiveness." He finished, reminding me that the small fact of being with him at the end, made every ounce of pain I felt worth it. He lived in solitary for so long, abandoned by the people who were supposed to support and help him. I would always feel guilty for being separated, but the time I had with him was better than none.

My hand reached for the small pile of dirt off to the side, it crunching under my fingers as I held it over the grave, sprinkling it on the top before resting my palm against it. I bowed my head, as if in prayer, and closed my eyes.

I love you.

Thunder rumbled; my eyes opening as fresh new tears rolled down my cheeks, my fingers lifting from his grave, the moment making me feel vulnerable. My throat tightened as I whispered a goodbye, standing with Edward. I felt warmth against my wrist, and I turned to see green eyes watching me, his expression wistful. I went to him, enveloping myself in his arms. As we walked away together, I took once last look over my shoulder.

Edward drove us back to the loft in silence, but I had appreciated it. I wasn't ready to talk, and the feeling of his hand in mine gave me the courage I needed to not break. The rain had lessened, but the clouds stuck around, the town gray and blue to match the day. When we parked and exited the car, Edward slowed in front of Masen's, pausing just at the door that held a sign that read … Closed for Private Event.

I looked at him curiously, watching as he grabbed the handle, opening it up to reveal the same Masen's that I knew, except, it was filled with almost everyone from the town. Music played as Riley served behind the bar, Harry Clearwater sitting in his normal seat sipping a beer. Those who knew Charlie sat at the tables, boys in blue (including Jacob), playing pool with Billy Black in his wheelchair not far off. Jasper and Emmett stood by the bar with Alice and Rosalie, Carlisle and Esme just off to the side. I looked to Edward incredulously, who only smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

"He wanted this," He said, looking back to the guests. "I think his exact words were, I don't want a damn funeral, just give everyone free shots of whiskey on me."

I couldn't help but laugh, the feeling foreign, but it felt good. I covered my mouth, tears pooling in my eyes as I gained the attention of Edward's family, Alice running to us with a cocktail in her hand, wrapping her arms around me, showering me with sympathy. I made my way through all of them, hesitating at Rosalie, who spared me a smile and a hug.

"I'm sorry." She said as if she were apologizing for more than just Charlie. I nodded at her, passing on to Esme, who held me so tight, it reminded me of my mother's hug. I reveled in it, thanking her for coming before moving to Carlisle, who wiped away a stray tear.

"He was so lucky to have you." He told me, causing more streams. I wiped them away, hugging him, thanking him for all the help he gave me and all the help he gave to Charlie, especially in his last days. I moved away from the Cullens, making my rounds to the people who sat at tables, thanking them for coming to celebrate Charlie. It seemed as everyone had a story about him, at least one pleasant memory to share. And even though the majority of the stories involved whiskey, they wouldn't be Charlie without it.

Jacob hugged me, apologizing that he wasn't around enough to support me. I waved him off, noticing moisture in Billy's eyes, the loss of his friend taking a bigger toll on him. I reached down and embraced him, telling him that Charlie was grateful for his companionship. As I talked to a few other townspeople, I made my way to the bar, talking with Harry Clearwater as he told me stories of his times with my father in this bar. The music had suddenly quieted, and someone clearing their throat had caught everyone's attention, my eyes resting on Edward, who stood at the front near the window, a bottle of water in his hands.

"I just wanted to say thank you all for coming, on behalf of Charlie," He began as everyone quieted, "I think you all know I was Charlie's sponsor for the times he wanted to be sober, which wasn't often," His tone was light, the people around the room laughing. "Charlie was a lot of things, but boring was not one of them. He knew how to work the room and on more than one occasion, found himself in a lot of trouble because of it. But it was never a dull moment with him, he made sure of that. He found himself in more trouble than anyone else I knew, but I think he secretly liked the theatrics of it, even if that meant getting punched in the nose by Paul." Edward turned to Paul, Emmett clasping his hand onto his shoulder, the two sharing a boisterous laugh as I shook my head.

"I can admit that he frustrated me more than anyone else I was a sponsor over. He tested my patience and didn't listen when I needed him to and even showed up to meetings drunk off his ass," Edward shook his head as the crowd laughed again, rubbing at his temple. "But, he tried. And I'll always give him credit for that. And, he helped me in more ways than one. Before I was who I am now, he got me out of trouble, took a chance on me when very few others would. And he brought something to me," He paused, his eyes finding mine, which were filled with tears. "Something I will never take for granted. I made promises to him before he died, and I intend to keep them all. Let's begin with the one that promised a free round of whiskey for anyone who wants it."

Laughter and cheers erupted, a few applauses as Riley began pouring shots, people lining up to grab them. Everyone crowded around the bar, Alice at my side as she rubbed my arm, an encouraging smile as Riley slid the last glass in my direction. I studied it, shaking my head with a laugh as I grabbed ahold, everyone turning their attention to Edward, who still held his water bottle.

"To Charlie Short-Cut Swan!" Emmett roared from the bar, kneeling on one of the chairs.

"To Charlie," Edward said.

"To Charlie!" The crowd repeated, heads tilting back as everyone, besides Edward, took their shot. I watched my glass, hesitating, absorbing the moment.

To Charlie.

It burned going down, both physically and emotionally. It seemed counterintuitive, but at the sound of glasses hitting the table ended, conversation picked up once again, and I realized that Charlie would have had it no other way. A bar full of people he enjoyed the most, taking pleasure in his favorite drink, rather than mourning him at the casket. I could feel the emotions bubbling up again, threatening their way out as I stared at the empty shot glass, wishing to hear his voice one last time. I felt Alice squeeze me as if she could feel my confliction, just as the song Free Bird wafted through the speakers. I turned to her with a smile, embracing her, glad to have her friendship as I watched over her shoulder at Edward, who was accompanied by Carlisle, the two embracing.

The rest of the night went on, slowing as the sun set, the crowds disappearing, sharing their condolences as they departed. When Edward's family left, we retired to the loft upstairs. I took a shower, washing myself of the day just before brushing my teeth, making sure I rid of any smell or taste of alcohol before I got into bed. When I left the bedroom in a black tank top and shorts, I noticed Edward making the bed. I met him at the bottom, grabbing the sheet to help him bring it to the top.

"Can I ask you something?" I questioned as he looked at me with a nod, tucking the sheets at the corner of the bed. "You said you promised Charlie things," I paused, watching as he grabbed the pillows and setting them at the headboard. "I saw you guys talking. Before he died."

"Yes," He answered quickly. I knelt onto the bed, searching his eyes as he tugged off his sweater, leaving him in a white T-shirt and dark pants. "He apologized for what happened with your mom. He was sorry he put me in the middle of it," He paused as I nodded, swallowing hard. "We both had things to get off our chest. But, he needed me to help him, tie loose ends. So, I made some promises."

"What else did you promise him?" I asked curiously, watching as he ran his fingers through his crimson hair. His muscles flexed under his tight shirt, his eyes cutting to mine, finding safety in our gaze. Slowly, he reached out, cupping my cheek as his warmth instantly relaxed me.

"He asked me to look after his little girl." He whispered, my lips pressing together as I felt my body seize, imagining Charlie saying those words, a desperate plea as he knew that soon he would no longer be here. I felt a shaky breath leave me, my hand reaching up to grab his hand that still rested against my face. My eyes opened, watching as he studied me, his other hand coming to brush my hair back. "I promised him I always would."

The rawness of the moment, the choke in his voice had told me that he intended to keep that promise, above all else. Once again, the emotions took ahold of me. But this time, it was different. Yes, the sadness was still there. The ache of never seeing either of my parents again would always haunt me.

But there was light.

There was hope.

And it was Edward. It was our past, our present, and our future. I loved him with every ounce I had in me, to the point where it made it difficult to even comprehend.

I reached for him, grabbing the end of his shirt to tug him towards me, indicating my intent. It had been so long. When our lips met, he seemed to match my frenzy, letting go only long enough to help us undress each other, our lips always finding their way back. He moved away, giving him ample time to tug my tank top, finding my breast just underneath it as he kissed at my collarbone, up my neck, across my jawline, and finally back to my lips. When he lifted me from my seated position, I smiled, the two of us falling against the mattress.

The weight of him on top of me was something I had missed desperately. Feeling him so close, being with him like this. How senseless I was to give this up. To give him up. He was away from my face, kissing me all over, removing the last few bits of my clothes, paying close attention to my hips and waist, making me feel so loved and wanted when I had felt nothing but emptiness inside of me for weeks. I missed him more than I could admit. How stupid I was to leave him behind. How thoughtless I was to leave the one constant I needed when everything else around me was chaos.

I had abandoned him.

But he accepted me back, held my hand through Charlie's death, helped lift me but keep me grounded all at the same time. He loved me. He promised Charlie he'd look after me. And when I pulled away to look at him, I saw the heat in his eyes along with the look of true love. I was moved by it, feeling the tears spring to my eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," He whispered as I choked, trying to cover my face, but he restrained me from doing so, cupping my cheeks between his hand. Slowly, we sat up, his fingers working to move my hair behind me, his lips kissing my forehead. "Please don't cry." His voice was pained at the sight of me.

"I'm sorry." I choked, apologizing for crying, apologizing for leaving him, seeing the confusion on his face. He gripped me, his thumb rubbing against my cheek as he pressed a kiss to my lips, holding it there.

"I love you." He whispered against the kiss, his words low and true. The honesty pouring out of him, surrounding me in a comfort I craved.

I allowed my tears to dry as we held onto each other. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, could feel every ounce of love he had for me in this one embrace. Every second with him was never long enough, every touch from him was fire against me, warming me, making me feel like I didn't belong anywhere else but in his arms.

When we resumed, it wasn't frantic. The frenzy of what began melted into an undeniable love. I watched him from on top, his body resting against the bed as I lifted my hips, helping him align before I slowly dropped, feeling him enter me. I had cried enough tears to last a lifetime, but the moment we connected again, it brought on a few more. His hands found my hips, sliding under as he helped move me, guiding me in a perfect rhythm that consumed every fiber of our beings. I opened my eyes to watch him below, the way his jaw went taut, his bottom lip catching between his teeth just before he let out a moan of approval. I reacted, reaching down and gripping at the skin of his abdomen, raking my fingers across.

We spent minutes like this, building up the slow tempo until he wanted control, sitting up, so we were face to face. His arm went around me as he conducted a faster pace. His lips were at my neck, his free hand tangled in my hair as we moved together, my nails digging into his shoulders as I felt the pit in my stomach warming, ready to release. Quickly, he flipped us, so I was on my back, and he was controlling the movements, our lips together, and then apart as we cried out in unison, whispering adorations and promises to each other.

"I missed you," I whispered against his forehead, the two of us naked in the center of the bed, sated and satisfied. My fingers stroked through his hair, holding him close to my chest as the sheets tangled around our bare legs. He hummed his agreeance, pressing an opened mouth kiss to the base of my throat as his fingers slid down my bare side.

"I missed you," He whispered against my warm skin, my lips pressing together to hide my smile. "I wouldn't have survived if you didn't come back."

"I don't believe it."

"It's true." He said matter-of-factly as he continued to press his lips down the slope of my neck.

"You would have found someone else," I began with a quiet tone, but he shook his head, disagreeing. "She would have been blonde. Would have had a one-syllable name. Like Claire. Or Ann. Or Dawn," I laughed as he snorted, adorning my collarbone. "She would be book smart. Like, freakishly smart. Graduated from an Ivy League school, got her master's but would never do anything with it."

"God, what would she be doing with someone like me?"

"You make her laugh. Before she met you, she would have dated office men, straight-edged, boring. You'd be something new to her," I smiled, my nails raking along his jaw. "She'd like to run as a hobby, and volunteer wherever she could. She'd help you with the AA meetings, bring refreshments and snacks."

"Does she want kids?" He asked, playing along.

"Doesn't matter. You'd knock her up by your six-month anniversary," I teased as he choked. "Twins. Little Edward and Dawn."

"Jesus."

"That reminds me, she's very religious. Hope you grew up Catholic because you are going to Mass every Sunday."

"Give me something good; do we at least get out of Forks?" He questioned. I scrunched my nose, watching as he pulled away, his shoulders deflating in defeat. "Damn it."

"You guys stay here, in the loft, with your twins. And your pet cat."

"Cat?"

"She's a cat person, did I not mention that?"

"Nope, that's the deal breaker. It's dogs or nothing." His voice was firm as I threw my head back, laughing hysterically as he smirked in response, once again attacking my neck. We rolled in the bed as I tried to escape his fingers that tickled my side, my hands pushing him away as we rolled back into the middle, entangled in each other's arms. As our laughter subsided, we kissed sweet and quick pecks in between our smiles.

"She's not for me," He whispered, reaching forward to kiss the tip of my nose, his fingers smoothing over the apple of my cheek. "It would have been pointless."

"You would have moved on," I told him, stroking his jawline. He caught my gaze and studied me, his chest moving as he took in air, exhaling through his nose noisily, as if he was unconvinced by my comment.

"Would you have?" He asked as I fell silent, already knowing my answer.

"No," I admitted, reaching up to brush the hair from his face. His emerald eyes watched me as they held so much unbridled emotion, something he made me feel every single day. The thought of being back in a place where he wasn't was foreign to me. Even through my anger when we were separated, he was always on my mind. Trying to rid myself of him would be like trying to rid yourself of your soul. It was impossible. I moved closer, tucking my head under his chin as my arms wrapped around his naked torso. "Thank you for taking care of me. I know I haven't made it easy."

I felt a kiss at the top of my head, fingers lazily running up and down the ridges of my spine as he breathed me, squeezing tighter. "You've made it better." He said, and I couldn't help but laugh, feeling him pull away as he smirked, touching my chin.

"I've been a mess."

"You are grieving."

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without you," I confessed, my tone set. A silence overcame us, his finger hooked as it slid down the profile of my face, stroking gently. I closed my eyes, drinking his touch, his body leaning slightly until I felt his lips on my forehead, a hum leaving my throat as I soaked in the tender moment. "I love you."

He smiled, kissing me again. "I love you. Now, come here." He said, grabbing me I shrieked, feeling lifted from my spot and onto his lap, our laughter soon fading as we consumed one another for the rest of the night.

xx

In the weeks following Charlie's death, I spent time healing in the company of Edward and his family. When Edward had to work, I was with Alice and Esme, even sometimes Rosalie. Where I lacked in family, they made up for in abundance. I was grateful for them all, for keeping me company and distracted me from mourning. There were still times I was weak, letting myself cry when I touched my mother's wedding ring that now adorned my pointer finger, or when I was able to smell whiskey all the way from the bar below. It was little things, phantom reminders, but the ache was all the same.

Edward was supportive of my healing, cheering me up, laughing with me when he could, but then sticking with me through my breakdowns. He never judged; he allowed me to grieve in my own way.

A few days after the burial, we were watching a movie on the couch when someone knocked on the door. Edward left me and went to answer and I curiously peeked over the banister, watching as a man in a post office uniform handed him a brown envelope. He looked up at me from the bottom of the stairs, nodding towards the piece of mail. I met him halfway, grabbing it, and looking over the official envelope. I turned it over, ripping open the seal before pulling out stapled papers, the top in bold printed, Last Will and Testament. I looked up to Edward before turning, climbing the stairs and finding the edge of the couch, reading through the formal letter.

I, Charlie Swan, being of full age and sound mind and memory, do make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking and annulling any and all Last Will and Testaments or Codicils at any time heretofore made by me.

All of the rest and residue of my property, real and personal, of every kind and description and whosesoever situate, which I may own or have the right to dispose of at the time of my death, I give, devise, and bequeath in equal shares to Isabella Marie Swan.

"He's leaving the house to me?" I questioned, setting the papers down in my lap as I looked up to him. "Can he do that when there's still money owed on it?" The loan I had taken out and have slowly been paying back was not nearly enough to pay for the rest of the mortgage, only to cover what was past due. Through the papers, I noticed the deed to the house, a letter from Charlie's mortgage company, confirming that the remaining balance was paid off in full, plus some, a credit being sent back in my name. "How did he…" I paused, knowing full well that Charlie didn't have the means to do this. I looked up to Edward, who watched me hesitantly. "Did you do this?"

"It was the last thing he asked for." He said, my lips pressing together to contain how I felt. "There should be something else in there."

I opened the envelope, finding a small piece of paper folded in half. I pushed everything aside, tentatively opening it to find Charlie's handwriting.

B,

I know you are going to hate this. Just take it for what it is and don't complain (even though I know you want to). And don't get mad at Edward, I told him to do it.

I don't have much to leave behind, but I have the house. I know it's not the best thing to give you, especially the shit we went through in it. But it's all yours. Including everything inside. There are a few things in the attic from your childhood you may want. Other than that, keep the house, sell it, demolish it, it doesn't really matter. Do what you think is right.

I'm sure this is coming to you after I've already gone. And I'm sure you are moping around, wishing you could have done more. I promise you that you did everything that you could. You got too much life left to waste any more on me. Go do something, go be something. Get your ass into gear and get started.

Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself.

Love ya, kid.

Dad

I traced over his words, smiling to myself with tears in my eyes. Slowly, I closed the letter, looking up to Edward, who watched me tentatively, gauging my reaction. "The loan?" I asked.

"I may have paid a little more than what was owed. The extra is being sent back to your bank, enough to cover what was left of the loan." He said simply, shrugging his shoulders. I stood from the couch, pushing the envelope and its content to the side, making my way to him before wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his as a silent thank you. Shocked by my reaction, he settled into our position, wrapping his arms around my waist as he lifted me, holding me tight against him. When the kiss settled, I took the opportunity to smack his side, to which he scrunched his nose in pain.

"Anymore promises I need to be aware of?" I asked as he smirked, shaking his head.

"That was it." He said with a nod and a promise as I wrapped myself back into him, reminding myself that even through the worst of it, I was so lucky to have him.

xx

"Hey, I found some boxes in the attic!" Edward shouted from the stairs as I stood in the kitchen of my old childhood home, grabbing anything that could be donated and setting it into the empty boxes that scattered across the counters. It had been a few weeks since I received the deed to the house, and Edward and I made plans to start packing it up, giving what we could to Goodwill. It took much convincing on Edward's end to get me to this point. For weeks, I avoided it, the emotions too much to be back in the home where I watched my dad die. But Edward reminded me it was mine now, and I couldn't let it sit around collecting dust.

We did baby steps at first, coming over for a visit before we even entertained packing things up. It was a process, but it worked. Slowly, I came around to the idea of starting to let go, parting with things I would never need but held sentimental value. Carlisle encouraged this process, telling me I needed to start purging, removing things that were not of value to me. The sooner I could do it, the sooner I could move on. But everything was easier said than done. I had a meltdown before we even taped the boxes, the reaction making me frustrated with myself. Edward stayed patient, and little by little, we came over and packed at least one box until one box became two and two became three.

That pain was still there, like when I watched the things I grew up with, such as the bottle with the ship in it, or the books from the shelves being boxed away. I wasn't sure if the pain would ever leave me, but at least now it was manageable.

I heard feet on the staircase, Edward appearing with his hat on backward, the sleeves of his sweaters rolled up to his elbows, his arms full as he slid the boxes onto the dining room table. When he dropped it, a cloud of dust appeared, and he coughed, his hand waving away in front of him as he walked away to get a clean breath of air. I laughed at him, reaching for the boxes, wiping the grime from the writing at the top, it labeled Family. Curious, I slowly opened it, coming face to face with items from my childhood. I grabbed hold of my old blanket, worn from age, my fingers feeling the roughness of it, sticking through the holes that were recently new and moth-eaten. I found a few more items, some rattlers, clothes, and toys. At the very bottom was a large book, and when I pulled it out, I realized that it was a baby book.

My eyebrows furrowed as I opened the front page, finding my birth certificate along with a piece of cardstock with my name and footprint and even my mother's hospital bracelet. When I moved to the next page, there were several pictures of me as a baby, lying on my back in my crib, my mother holding me close to her face as she smiled at the camera. I found myself reflecting the same smile, my eyes watering as the revelation of this unknown treasure.

"What's this?" Edward asked, returning to the dining room. I stayed silent, moving to the next page to find a picture of all three of us. My mother was holding me while Charlie was holding the camera, taking a picture in the mirror. He smiled down at us as my mother and I looked to our reflections. "I thought you said they didn't take pictures."

"I didn't think they did," I whispered, leafing through the last few pages, stopping just shy of a picture of Charlie and me. We were in front of the house, and he was kneeling, his arm around my waist as I wore a bright yellow dress with flowers, my hair curled and tucked behind my ears as I had my backpack on. We were both smiling, the memory lost on me with age. I pulled the picture out, turning it around to notice my mother's handwriting … Bella's first day of school.

I felt a swell of emotions, holding in a breath as I placed it back into the protection of the plastic, wiping at the tears that fell. "We'll get them framed. All of them." Edward said to me as I turned to him, pressing down on my bottom lip, trying to hold back a cry. He reached for me, wiping at the tears, placing a kiss against my nose.

He left, leaving me with the boxes as I set the book back into it.

As the day went on, Edward and I finished boxing up what we were donating to Goodwill. We started placing the boxes on the front porch, then carrying them out to the car.

"What are you going to do with it?" He asked me as I looked at him in question, his gaze nodding towards the house. "The house? What are you going to do?"

Looking at it was both bitter and sweet. Contrasting emotions imploding inside of me, leaving me with an unanswered question. I looked back to Edward and shrugged, running my fingers through my hair.

"I don't know. Maybe rent it? I have no use for it." I answered.

"We could fix it up. Make it livable." He suggested as my nose scrunched, shaking my head.

"What?"

"I'm not staying here."

"We don't have to stay. But we can fix it up for the next family, increase the value. Make some profit out of it." He said, pushing the last of the boxes into the trunk of his car. He shut the trunk, wiping his brow with his forearm, removing the sweat. He met me at the edge of the walkway as we stood, examining the house.

"We need to do something since I won't be here to look after it," I said nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not staying in Forks," I told him, watching as he looked at me, a slight panic in his eyes. I could see the fear behind him, the thought of me leaving him behind once again flashing like warning signs. "Didn't you know?" I asked, my tone serious. "I'm going to San Francisco. Isn't that where you're going?"

I could see his body relax, his muscles loosening as he pushed me gently on the shoulder, my head falling back as I giggled, moving back to him as I jumped, feeling his arms grip my legs to hold me at his waist. I kissed him several times, on his cheeks, eyes, forehead, nose, and then lips. He smiled against my lips, one arm snaking up my back to twist in my hair, holding our kiss. When we parted, I stayed in his arms, brushing his crimson hair from his emerald eyes, placing another sweet kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Really?" He asked as if needing validation. I nodded, gracing him with a kiss to confirm my seriousness.

"My firm has an office in Brisbane. My boss is letting me relocate," I told him, already making the call after receiving Charlie's letter. "I'll figure out what to do with the house later. But right now, I'm going to, for once, listen to my father."

Charlie's written words rung in my head, reminding me that life was fleeting. I had no more reason to stay in Forks than Edward did. We had plans to go to San Francisco before, and there was nothing stopping us now.

"I love you." He sighed contently, brushing his lips over my jaw. I smiled, tangling my fingers through his hair.

"I love you. Thank you for waiting for me." I whispered, the sun warming our skin as he reached up, pressing my hair back before placing an open mouth kiss to my lips.

"Always." He dropped me from his waist, bringing my left hand to his lips, absentmindedly placing a kiss right to my ring finger. I wasn't sure if it was intentional, but I took it as another quiet promise. The amount of love I felt for this man was infinite, more than I had felt for anyone. I would follow him anywhere.

We broke apart, finishing the last bit of packing in the house, throwing away anything that wasn't needed anymore. When the sun began to set, we had finished enough to hold us over. I grabbed the keys from the counter just as Edward found my hand, carrying me to the foyer, but I hesitated just as he opened the door.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Can I have a minute?" I whispered, watching as his face softened. His warmness enveloped me as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my temple, leaving me alone. I exhaled a deep breath, my eyes cast upwards to the stairs, my fingers gripping on the banister as I felt the smoothness of the wood. I closed my eyes, imagining the creaking of the wood, revealing the age of the house as Charlie groaned, making his way to his recliner, making a snide comment on his way down. I smiled as I walked from the foyer and to the living room, stopping just shy of the couch, reminiscing of the times I sat here, even as a little girl. The memories were both wholesome and painful as I thought back to the times I spent with my parents, both sober and drunk.

Still, the memories were a part of me, etched into my skin like scars.

I walked from the room, running my fingers along the wood of the dining room table, stopping just shy of the opening into the kitchen. It was nearly empty, nothing but counter space and the same table that had been there since before I was born. The sun leaked from the window, creating a golden hue that shone on Charlie's normal chair, closest to the fridge. I walked towards it, grabbing the back of the other chair, pulling it out as I slowly sat, looking at the empty seat in front of me. I imagined him, his face as he drank his whiskey, a small smirk curling as he said something sarcastic, something that made me yell at him, his eyes rolling at my reaction.

I smiled into the palm of my hand that rested against my cheek, my eyes closing to hear him laugh, the sound as clear as the last time I heard it. I opened my eyes to the empty seat, glancing down at my hands that sat at the top of the table, the keys jingling in my palm. Slowly, I moved them, reaching forward and stopping just shy of the edge, right in front of his normal seat. I felt the tears reach my eyes, and I blinked them away, curling my fingers.

"I know you'd yell at me for crying," I said, reaching one hand away to wipe at my tears. "Enough with your damn tears. I'm not worth it!" I tried and failed miserably to imitate him as I let out an empty laugh, my head tilting as I wiped my eyes against my shoulder. I could see his disapproving expression, the way his mustache twitched when he scolded me. I went quiet again, watching the spot, wishing that he was here, even for another moment. "You were worth it," I whispered with a definitive nod, sniffling.

"I'm getting my ass in gear, I promise," I told him with a clearness that was unmatched. "I just wanted to sit for a minute with you. I hope you don't mind." I finished softly, leaning as the rays of sun on his seat cast a glow, the warmth making it feel as if he were truly there. I reveled in it, absorbing the last few moments with him. I watched as the specks of dust moved under the light until the sun was set enough for them to disappear, the warmth vanishing, leaving me alone. I sat silently, tears dripping from my chin to the wooden table beneath me.

When I was ready, I stood, walking away from the table with one last look, pausing at the front door. I turned again, observing my surroundings, memorizing it, taking in everything it had to offer, all the memories both good and bad. I opened the door, stepping out into the new evening, closing it shut behind me. The sound of it made me wince, my eyes closing as I turned around, reaching with the keys to slide them in, turning until the lock clicked.

I would return, of that I was certain. But when I returned, I would be different. The house would be different. I was ready to let go of the ghosts that held me hostage, ready to rid myself of the pain that kept me from moving on. I looked up at my childhood home, the wear and tear present on the outside, the paint chipped, the gutters brown, and the windows stained as if they hadn't been cleaned in years.

This was where everything started. Where I took my first steps, spoke my first words. It's where I learned how to read and write, how to make pancakes and scrambled eggs. It's where I loved my parents, where they loved me, despite their faults. I cared for them, watched after them even as a child. The unpleasant memories wouldn't leave, the ones of me dragging Charlie in from the porch, or crying in my mother's lap as she laid unconscious on the couch. But it was where they raised, celebrated, and loved me. It was where I returned after my mother died, where I helped Charlie return to a normal life to the best I could before I lost him as well.

I would never be rid of the memories, not even if I could. What happened in this house, the pain and sorrow, the happiness, and love, made me who I am … built and shaped me.

That was the thing about grief; it changed you. My life had been made up of broken pieces of glass, but they were put together to make a beautiful mosaic. Nothing about my childhood was perfect. But it was home.

This was my home.

And it was time for me to let it go.

"Goodbye." I breathed, my fingertips lifting from the wood. I stepped back, drying my eyes before turning, my gaze stumbling onto Edward, who waited for me patiently against his car. I smiled, feeling his love in every look, stepping from the porch as I crossed the yard, meeting him as he took me in his arms.

"You ready?" He asked, watching as I turned back to the house, sparing a quick glance until I turned to him, pressing my lips to his. I nodded, feeling his grip tighten as he led me to the back to the car.

The house was now my past and not part of my future. It was a past that was both joyful and tragic, one I was ready to put behind me, ready to start the next chapter. When he reached his side, he looked at me, as if needing permission to leave. I reached for him, my hand wrapping around his wrist before rubbing his hand, squeezing it in mine. I nodded my head, eager to start my future with him. He shifted his car into reverse, pulling out of the graveled driveway.

The house seemed to watch us, the inky black night casting it in a shadow. There was no one left inside to bring it warmth or light. I watched it back, catching a glance in the rearview mirror as we slowly left.

It seemed odd; no butterflies were giving me pause, no unshed tears were left in my eyes.

I had my closure. Nothing was stopping me now; I couldn't see any more obstacles in front of me.

The End.


AN: A thank you does not even come close to the gratitude I feel for my readers. To the ones who have been with me from the very beginning and the ones who found me along the way. I thank you for favoriting, following and reviewing. Your words of encouragement and love have filled me every time I posted a chapter. I felt so much support, even if this story took over a year to complete. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for always believing in me, in this story and these characters.

The last chapter invoked so much emotion from my readers. I was absolutely floored by the response and humbled that so many of you shared your experience with grief and loss with me. Some of you dealt with it in the past, some of you are currently in the thick of it. From broken relationships to battling addiction in loved ones, every one of you touched me. I am lucky to say that the material in this story is something I have not personally gone through. I spent many hours researching and reading to be able to accurately put it to words. For those who have or are currently dealing with these situations, I hope you find peace. And remember, forgiveness is warm. We must spread and accept it. I am awed and inspired by your strength.

This story would not be what it is without my beta, Fran. She stuck with me through the last year and a half, provided me wisdom and guidance and I am so thankful for her. She was a needed critic but my biggest cheerleader and I am in debt to her. Fran, you are truly amazing. Thank you so much for all that you do for not just me, but the fanfiction community in general. It does not go unnoticed.

The time and energy I put into this story makes it hard to see the end, but I must hit that complete button. Do not worry, an epilogue is coming. Please expect it within the next few weeks.

Again, thank you for everything. I will carry this experience with me forever.

See you next time.

ii