All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer (and the motion picture Savages). No copyright infringement is intended.

*All the mistakes are my own.

AN: This story is getting closer to the end. It may take me five to ten chapters to get there, but it's on the horizon. I hope that it's been a fun ride. Goodness, it's been six years. Wow. Is it just me, or is time zipping on by?

Thanks to Brina and Dee for sticking with me and pre-reading!

Stay safe in these crazy times everyone.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Edward's reaction is no reaction, but he doesn't stick around to let me explain. I want to tell him we're not breaking up, and where I live isn't going to change what we have, but I've let uncertainty seep its way into our bubble. That fear harboring inside Edward since our inception has resurfaced, and any trust between us wiped clean. I've ruined everything. Jasper tries to convince me to stay, but tomorrow he goes back to school for two months. He'll be the only one least affected by this situation. I can see that he's working on Edward's behalf—since Edward took off in his car and wants no part of this conversation. Jasper's a mediator, our well-spoken negotiator, and use to getting his way with people.

"It's already so hard making myself pull away from you guys," I say under my breath as mounds of my clothes get shoved into a Navy duffel bag.

It's Edward's, and I'm selfishly taking it.

"Bean, just stop for a second, okay?" Jasper follows me into the bedroom and paces the small space, although he is conveniently blocking the door. "Don't leave tonight. It's late; we're all tired, and in the morning—"

I interrupt him. "I won't have the courage to go then."

Jasper's pulling at his soft, beautiful hair and not listening to me. "I don't understand why you have to leave at all."

From the great sex to our domestic life together, everything might seem perfect to my boys, but I'm playing house and not being fair to them. I'm mature enough to know that I'm not mature enough to be in this relationship. Someone has to put the brakes on this train and fix the issues before it flies off the tracks. I'm preventing a catastrophic crash that could break this triad up forever.

"When I agreed to move in with you guys, I was upset, emotional, and probably getting back at Charlie."

"Probably?" Jasper sounds beaten down, but like a chicken-shit, I don't dare look at his face.

I shrug and slip into my sandals. "Charlie threatened to send me back to Arizona, and I panicked. Then we went to the Bahamas, and we were all living this fantasy, and things became comfortable, and we all ignored the huge elephant in the room."

"You mean Charlie, right? He's the elephant." Jasper moves from the door and now helps me pack. We're standing arm to arm folding and placing clothes delicately in the bag. "Let's say I understand why you need to work things out with your father, but why move back? You can repair your relationship through lunches and weekly phone calls."

"Because if I stay here with you and Edward, Charlie will never approve of our relationship," I say.

Jasper went to scoff, I see how my dad's opinion means nothing to my boys, but if they want me fully and completely, I need that approval. "And if he does give you his blessings, will you come home?"

I bite my lip and nod.

Jasper smiles and lets out a relieved sigh. "Good."

We fold and pack my clothes in silence; both of us lost in our thoughts. Occasionally, I'll glance at my phone on the bed face-up, but the screen stays dark. I texted Edward an hour ago, and from the last time I checked, he didn't even read the message. If I leave this house without talking with him, I don't know if he'll ever welcome me back into it.

"Don't worry about Edward," Jasper says, his hands dropping their current task and finding my shoulders. "He's upset right now, but after a few days, everything will be okay."

"He's going to hate me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bean. Even when Edward wanted to hate you, he couldn't..." He rests his chin on my head and wraps his arms around me in a tight embrace. "Listen, it's an adjustment in our routine, but it's not forever. He'll understand, just as I do, why this is important to you."

Turning my body to face him, I look up into his tired, blood-shot eyes and know he's been holding back on me. "I'm sorry."

Jasper palms my face and kisses me briefly. "Don't be."

()()—()

It's late into the evening when I call Charlie. He doesn't pick up on the first round of rings, and it takes the second call back for him to answer. My dad sounds groggy and like he just woke up. I'm nervous now and chewing my nails down to the nub. The last talk I had with Charlie didn't end well, and I'm afraid if I ask to move back in, he'll tell me to get bent.

"Bella?" he says more alert. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I'm alone in the room I share with my boys. Jasper left the beach house ten minutes ago to track down Edward. I suspect he needed some space.

"Hey, Charlie, everything's fine. Can you come get me?" I ask.

"Why?" His tone is less concerned but now has a furious edge to it. "What happened? Did they hurt you?"

I roll my eyes. "You know they would never hurt me."

"Okay," he says, finally conceding on something, but grows suspicious. "Why do you need me to pick you up?"

"Because I was hoping to come live with you again," I say. There's dead silence, and I check my phone to make sure the call hadn't dropped. Nope, Charlie's still on the line, and that gives me a rush of panic. "Dad, did you hear me?"

"You're always welcomed here, Bella, you know that, but I need to know what's going on. Last week, you acted like moving back home with me was the end of the world. You even had your boyfriends risk their business over the idea."

I grit my teeth because he knows just what to say to piss me off. "I know, Charlie, but things have changed. Look, we can talk about this later, okay. Will you please just pick me up?"

There's a distortion as he shuffles around with his keys. "I'll be there in a few."

()()—()

I was sitting on the front patio when Charlie pulled into the drive. My message to Jasper instantly met with a reply, but my ones to Edward's stayed delivered and unread. It gave me a sickening feeling in my stomach, and I hated he disappeared without resolving anything. He purposely left our relationship in limbo to hurt me, and it was working. The regrets of keeping feelings to myself, and the doubt for our future, swelled the further I got away from my boys. This hell is a self-induced punishment, a purgatory of sorts, and I kept telling myself: give it three months.

It was a hopeless mantra. There was no way that I would solve all my problems with Charlie in three months. These wounds between us were seventeen years deep and deepening as more information came my way. I'd never understood why he wasn't around when I was growing up. I'd always assumed it was his work as a cop or didn't know how to be a father. Those reasons sucked, but I could live with them. It made sense to my ego. After talking with Madison, I realized it was my fault. Charlie wanted to be a father, just not to me. I was defective and not the perfect Swan baby. He saw nothing but weakness. Then as I grew up and my body got more durable, Charlie didn't gravitate toward my strength but pulled further away. I wasn't what he wanted in many ways: I was fouled mouth, drank and smoke, ditched school, and stole everything within my grasp. Just when he thought we could prepare our fractured relationship, I run off with his drug dealers.

I'm seeping with self-loathing by the time we get back to his house.

We don't say anything to each other as I go to my old room. I set down the duffel bag and collapse on my bed. The comforter and sheets smell like the lavender-scented Tide I purchased a week before moving out. In a way, it feels like I was here yesterday and not three months ago. It's depressing how my time with my boys is rapidly slipping from memory.

I almost quit and go running back, but Charlie drums on my door and clears his throat. "I think we should lay down some ground rules."

"Okay," I say, and sit up, but Charlie doesn't come into the room, only hovers by the door. "What are the rules?"

"If you want to get us square again, you can't see Jasper and Edward anymore."

The hammer drops hard, and I want to yell and refuse those insane, impossible terms, but I have to agree before moving forward.

"Okay," I croak. Damn, man, it's a jagged pill to swallow. "But only until I'm eighteen."

Charlie's face goes a tomato red, and he shakes his head. "No, that's not the deal, Bells—you won't be with them not now, not when you're eighteen, not ever! Those men are not good enough for you."

"Dad," I say and take a deep, calming breath. "I'll give you six months of not seeing them, but I'll be an adult when I turn eighteen, and I will do whatever I want. If that's a deal-breaker for you, then you can drive me back to Edward's."

Charlie's stubbornness is something I've inherited from him, and it's going to make coming to an understanding impossible. He doesn't want to move an inch in either direction, but he sees how I'm willing to rip out my heart for six months to meet him in the middle.

"Okay, kid." He yields and holds out his hand for me to shake. "Six months, no contact with Edward or Jasper, correct?"

I feel that rush of anxiety, sickness, and nausea roll through me again. "I need to let them know."

Charlie wants to tell me no but changes his mind when the heartbreak rolls down my cheek. "Fine, you can call them, or whatever, but after that, no contact for six months. Do we have ourselves a deal?"

I pray that after six months, my boys will still want me.

"Deal."

Then we shake on it.

()()—()

I waited until the next morning to tell Jasper. He would be at the end of Charlie's block waiting for me at six in the morning. I was the pit-stop before Berkeley. My mind is chaotic, last night sleep was non-existent, and I struggled to make it outside on time. Charlie is different from before. He doesn't smoke weed until he passes out on the couch anymore. He's sleeping soundly in his bedroom behind a locked door. It makes sneaking out easy and a non-issue. When I hear Jasper's Bronco rolling up the narrow street, my heart jumps into my throat. I'm afraid to tell him about the deal. I hope he sympathizes, but unlikely—because when my boys made that deal with Rose, I felt betrayed. What I'm doing now is putting our relationship in Charlie's hands. I've willingly bet against us. If both my boys hate me forever, I'll understand and 'take the L.'

The vibration of the engine gets closer, and a memory hits me:

I hear a low rumble in the distance, and then a flash of electric blue catches my eye. An older style lifted Ford Bronco whips around the corner and came barreling down the block. I jump to my feet and stumble back; petrified, this maniac behind the wheel will take me out.

It pulls up to the curb and stops with a loud bark of the tires. The tinted window on the driver's side rolls down and reveals Jasper.

"Morning, Bean." He grins and slides his sunglasses up, slapping me in the face with his striking eyes. They are wide open. No lies, just raw truth there.

I smile at the nickname. "Morning, Jasper."

Man, I can't believe how much my memory sucks. It doesn't matter if I'd stared at the picture of us on my phone all night long—which, I totally did—I will always and forever be awestruck by how beautiful he is.

"You set?" He props open the door and gets out. All six foot one of him, maybe taller, towers over me. He's wearing a black wet suit, but the top half of its hanging down. Where there should be chest and abs is fabric. He's wearing a dingy old t-shirt with the words 'Berkeley' written across the front. It blocks my view.

I try not to outwardly pout.

"Um, yeah." I bend down to pick up my tote, but he's already there, standing real close to me, and grabbing my bag before I can. He throws it in the backseat. "Thanks," I say.

"No problem." He appraises me for a long moment.

I feel bare under his scrutiny, and instinctively, I tug down on my shirt's end. "What?"

"I thought I told you to bring your wet suit."

"I did. It's in my bag. I was just going to change when we get there."

"Change at the beach?"

"Yeah," I say slowly, but then again, I know nothing about California or their laws. "Is that not right?"

"No, it's fine, change wherever," he says, and steps aside so that I can get to the other end of the truck. "I just thought I would have to work harder to see you naked."

The harsh sound of the Bronco door closing brings me back. I glance up from my hands and see a depleted Jasper in front of me. He has dark circles under his eyes, and uncharacteristically disheveled. It appears he didn't sleep, and if he did, Jasper didn't bother changing his clothes. We catch each other's eyes, and both smile weakly. God, he looks like hell—shit, man! I don't want to tell him right now and almost talk myself out of it, but I can't chicken out.

I promised Charlie.

What the fuck am I doing?

"Hey," I say quietly and put my arms around him.

"Hey," Jasper says and holds me tight. He buries his nose in my neck and just breathes.

We hug each other as if we both know this is the last time. I wish Edward were here. It kills me that I won't hold him or kiss him for six months or even talk with him. Jasper has been everything to me since the beginning, but Edward has been my constant for more days than I can count. I need them both so much. They're my air, my true north, and the only fucking thing that made sense.

Why am I so lost now?

I'm crying on Jasper's hoodie, and he has no idea why I'm distraught. Why would he, though? As far he's concerned, this is a blip in our relationship, and in a week, I'll be back home. But that's him. Jasper's the positive type, who no matter what, thinks the world just works out, and everyone gets what they want, but he's wrong. The world is flawed, messy, and in the end, more like how Edward sees it.

When did I become so pessimistic?

"Fuck!" I clutch to the back of his sweater and let out another painful sob. "I made a deal with the devil."

"What?" Jasper lets his hand wander into my hair where he entangles his fingers. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I promised Charlie six months," I say, but refuse to let him go, and thankfully, Jasper allows me to cling on him.

"That's okay, Bean," Jasper says. "It's not like we won't see each other. You'll be at my graduation in June and then…"

I push away because it becomes too much, and the anger for what I've done bursts out of me. "No, I won't be there! Charlie wanted me never to see you or Edward again, but I told him he couldn't stop me once I turned eighteen, so…"

Jasper gulps as the realization hits him. "Six months means no contact at all."

"Baby, I'm so sorry," I say and try to reach out to him, but he doesn't understand and steps out of my grasp. "Jasper…"

He shakes his head and turns his pretty blues away from me. "Why would you agree to that?"

"I had to," I say, but it feels hollow and cowardice.

"No! We were fine." Jasper steps even further away. "This was a decision you made for us, and I respected it because I fucking love you and want you to get straight with your dad, but six months not speaking to you or seeing you? That's not acceptable to me."

"I know, and I didn't want to do it, but…"

Jasper's glare cuts through me. "But what? Did he put a gun to your head?"

"No, nothing like that, it's just…"

I falter because what am I supposed to say that I don't have faith in us anymore. It's not true, but I feel like Madison's talk opened my eyes to the fact that I wasn't ready for the depth of their love. It was heavy, and I'm too young to bear the weight of it. What if I find out it wasn't real for me, just another escape of my shitty upbringing like shoplifting. I needed to know that my feelings were true for them and not some teenage rebellion—they fucking deserved that much.

But Jasper isn't in my head and only responds to what comes out of my mouth.

"Exactly, it's your choice to break up with us!"

"But I'm not breaking up with you," I say, and again, I'm reaching out for him, stumbling over my feet to fucking hold him, but he's making it impossible. He's hurt, feeling betrayed, and I've caused it.

"What do you call six months of no contact?" he fires back. "Do you think we're just going to wait around for you, Bella?"

"Don't call me Bella. I'm your Bean. That hasn't changed."

He scoffs. "Everything has changed."

"Jasper, please don't take it like this, okay? I don't want this to end!" I chase him around the Bronco, but he's inside with the door closed. I'm hanging to the side, and thankfully, he rolled up with the window down, so I can still reach him. He hasn't completely shut me out. "Please, just listen to me."

Jasper's gripping the steering wheel, and his knuckles go white. He stares forward, and I feel him pulling away, distancing himself from the aura of pain surrounding me.

I'm crying, whimpering, and pleading. "Please, don't go right now. Let's talk, okay? I love you so much."

He flinches at my words but refuses to look at me.

"Baby, please." I touch the side of his face and surprise at the dampness of his cheek. "Look at me."

"I'm…" Jasper shakes his head and starts the engine. "Let go of the truck."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, and the statement feels hollow. Jasper finally looks at me. There's a void in his eyes, and as he removes my hand from his face, I know there's nothing I can do to make him stay. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Well," he says and puts on his dark shades, "you did."

Then without another word, he spins his tires and flies out of the neighborhood. I don't move; just stand there in the middle of the road, watching his Bronco get smaller and smaller until it's gone for good.

()—()()

Edward ignores all my calls and doesn't open my text messages. He's disappeared out of my life, and you would think he's making it easier on me, but not speaking with him is worse. I'm not dumb enough to assume that Edward is in the dark about everything. He knows about the deal I've made with Charlie. I want to know how Edward feels about it, but maybe I shouldn't know his feelings. Ignorance is bliss, and without speaking with him, I can imagine that he understands and misses me just as much as I miss him.

In reality, I've fucked up with Edward, and he will never forgive me, but I won't give up. I try one last time to reach him before Charlie comes home with dinner. Edward's phone rings and rings as expected, but this time when his voicemail picks up, I won't end the call. I'm going to leave a message.

Sadly, I do not hear his voice but an automated one.

Taking a deep breath, I wait for the beep and then go right into it. "Hey, it's me. I don't expect you ever to forgive me. I assume you'll hate me forever. What I did by leaving seems sudden, but it's been a long time coming. I was so wrapped up in the love and attention you and Jasper gave me that I lost sight of reality. If I keep ignoring the hurt that eats me up, it's going to fester and rot. In ways that'll ruin us forever—and maybe, I have waited too long, and that's where we are now, irreversibly broken. I agreed to six months to fix things with Charlie. I didn't want to, but if I'm going to be the woman you and Jasper need and deserve, who'll be a strong companion for life, six months isn't that much of a sacrifice. It's a mission, Edward, and with every mission, there are casualties." I laugh because it's absurd to try to appeal to his SEAL side. "I just miss you so much." My voice cracks as tears stream down my face. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

I end the call and toss my phone across the room. The ache in my chest explodes into unbearable agony. Rolling into the fetal position, I hold my knees to my chest and let out a wail. The break of my fragmented heart hurts the more I cry. My pulse quickens, and I'm short of breath, to the point where I feel as though I'm dying. It's the worst feeling in the world. I want to go numb and not experience this loss, but it's my atonement to suffer. What eats me up is the simplicity of yesterday. I could've gone back to my boys and continue our blissful ignorance, but today, I've shattered all hope of going home. Jasper's broken, and after six months of no contact, he'll move on—they both will, and I'll forever be wanting, forever needing their love, adoration, and...

"Bella!" Charlie yells out from the living room. "I'm back! I've got pizza, babe!"

I don't move.

Ten minutes pass, and eventually, my dad gets concerned. There's a tap, tap on my door. "Bells? Kiddo?"

I pull my knees closer to my chest and don't answer.

"Bella?" My dad twists the knob to come in, but I've locked the door. He gets the message. "Okay, hon. I'll keep the pizza in the oven."

And that's that, Charlie walks away and lets me grieve.

()—()()

After a week of my moping, Charlie decides that we can't work through our problems alone. He schedules us to speak with a therapist. I don't reject and go willingly, because the way I figured, the quicker we settle our issues, the quicker I can get back to my boys. Then I'm reminded of the deal sentenced me to six months.

That's a fucking lifetime.

The therapist Charlie schedules us to see every Friday is Dr. Olivia Sinclair. I'm sulking when we arrive, upset that it's been three weeks since I've seen Jasper or even uttered a word to Edward. The reality of how easily they forget their Bean sends me into a downward spiral. I haven't eaten much in ten days, I don't surf anymore, and all I do is sleep.

"So, Charlie," Dr. Sinclair says as she slips on her glasses and puts her pin to the notepad, "I would like to hear from you first. How would you describe your relationship with Isabella?"

Charlie chuckles then groans. "It's not without problems. She's headstrong like me, and that makes it hard to put some sense into her. But all in all, my Bella is lost, and it's my fault for not being there."

"Isabella, do you agree with that?" Dr. Sinclair asks.

I look up from my phone and meet her deep brown eyes. "Am I lost? Of course, I am."

"Tell me the issues you have with your father," she says, and her voice is even, but soothing. I'm sure it's part of her shtick, to have her patients feel comfortable and spill all their secrets.

Well, it works.

"Let's see, since the age of five, he's been in and out of my life, and then finally, when we reconnect years later, he's stoned out of his mind," I say.

Charlie grunts and laughs nervously. "I had a problem, but that's cleared up now."

"And Isabella, how did Charlie's emotional distance affect you?" Dr. Sinclair asks.

I smile tightly and speak through clenched teeth. "Well, I can't process my feelings very well, my relationship with my mom is shit, I'm a certified klepto, and sexually involved with two older men at the same time."

For Charlie's sake, I won't mention they're his drug dealers.

"At seventeen?" Dr. Sinclair's surprised and writes furiously on her notepad.

Unbelievable, a poly-relationship still considered taboo in this state and current year, and I want to laugh my ass off, but I stay collected.

"Yes, and I was living with them until a few weeks ago," I say and jerk my thumb towards Charlie, "but decided if I wanted to marry them and have kids, I needed to fix my relationship with pops first."

"Jesus, Bella," Charlie huffs and buries his face in his hands.

Dr. Sinclair sits back in the chair and surmises everything. "Your defense mechanism is to make everyone in this room uncomfortable."

"Is what I'm saying uncomfortable? It's the truth," I snap back.

"That may be, but there are other ways to express something other than being vulgar and blunt," Dr. Sinclair says.

I glance over at Charlie, and he's regretting bringing me here. "Fine, I guess there's a better way of saying certain things, but it doesn't change reality. I was in a committed, monogamous relationship with two older men. I wanted to marry them and have kids with them." My face scrunches up in confusion. "How is that any different then what I said a minute ago?"

"It's not," Charlie says with a frustrated sigh. "It's just that relationship you had with those men was wrong and inappropriate."

"According to who? You?" I say and angle my body toward him. We're on a small, cramped loveseat, but I want to read every facet of his expression as he tries to justify his reasoning for hating my boys. I already know it's ill-conceived and preposterous. "They've treated me with nothing but respect."

Charlie keeps his eyes on our therapist. "You're young and impressionable, Bella. You don't see how they're taking advantage of your naivety. All they see in you is a beautiful, young, and innocent girl."

Dr. Sinclair speaks up. "Maybe that's how you see her, Charlie."

"Maybe," he concedes.

I throw myself back into the couch like a petulant child. "So, what's the point then? How can we fix this relationship if he's bound and determined to keep me away from," And I pause, not willing to give up Edward and Jasper, "my boyfriends?"

Dr. Sinclair thinks about my question and looks at both Charlie and me. "Well, as I see it, Bella, you're rebelling and testing your father. You want his attention. Even if it's negative."

I feared this outcome. "I don't love them, then?"

"Oh, no, you clearly do love these two men, and that's why Charlie's against it."

I'm relieved that someone believes me, but my dad is shaking his head.

"No, they're wrong for her," he reiterates.

"Charlie, you know that's not true," Dr. Sinclair says and leans towards him. "If you truly believed that, would you allow her to live with them for…" She stops and looks at me.

"Three months," I say.

"For three months, your daughter lived with two men, and you did what?" Dr. Sinclair pressed. Charlie gulped and looked guilty as all hell. "So, tell us the truth, why did you oppose the relationship?"

I like this therapist. She's taking my dad to task. Yes, I'll admit, I was seventeen and dating two boys in their twenties, but they treated me well and loved me deeply. Charlie's reasoning for not liking them was business focused. I was a conflict of interest and complication. He would never admit his dealings in drugs, and so I'm interested in what lie he'll dish out.

"Yes, I made a mistake when I allowed my only daughter to go live with Edward," he says, and my heart squeezes with the mere mention of his name, but I'm pissed at dad for doxing my guy. "I knew it was wrong, but I was messed up, dependent on drugs and not in my right mind, but I am now. My daughter deserves someone—preferably one boy, who is her age. She needs a young man who loves her, and not just using her, and willing to give her everything."

"But, Dad, you know nothing about us," I say. "They love me completely and did give me everything. I came back because of you—you're the only man who's disappointed me."

Dr. Sinclair gets a sick satisfaction in her eyes. "Explore on that more, Isabella."

Charlie huffs. "Look, I know I haven't been in your life much…"

I snort. "Much?"

Dad visited me once a week once a year after he divorced mom.

"But in my line of work, I was on assignment and dealt with a lot of unsavory characters, Bella. You can't keep blaming me for your failures in life."

"Failures?" I jump up from the loveseat fucking heated. "Like what? I've busted my ass to be a perfect daughter for you, a perfect ballerina for mom, and a perfect little debutante for the world. When I stop trying to be what people want me to be, you see that as a failure? What about Madison, daddy?"

His head snaps up, and his eyes go wide. "Let's talk about this later."

I laugh. "Oh, no. This is the scratch I want to itch."

Charlie stands and grabs me up by the arm. "We're ending the session for the day, doctor."

Without much protest, Dr. Sinclair nods and shouts out our next appointment as we exit the office. When dad has me in the car, he calms down, but if he thinks I'm going to drop the issue, oh, he's sorely mistaken. I'm like a dog with a bone now, and I won't let up until he admits defeat.

"They took me down to Mexico, you know. I met Alex and Madison. They had a lot to say," I tell him as he starts the car and pulls out of the medical district.

"Those assholes break every promise." Charlie rubs out the stress creases in his forehead. He's struggling to be honest with me. "I assume you've met their little girl."

"Charley? Yeah, I met the little girl you saved," I say, and my voice cracks. The emotion of what kind of dad my father was to someone he barely knew becomes overwhelming. The feeling of inadequacy intensifies. "I want to know why."

"Why, what?" Charlie takes a quick sideways glance at me. "For fuck's sake, Bella!"

I don't know when it happened, but I'm balling my eyes out. All the doubt, heartbreak, and stress to keep these feelings deep inside is a waterfall now. It's a hard cry too. I'm sobbing, hiccupping, and having trouble taking a breath. Charlie's uncomfortable with this sudden burst of emotion but concerned for me. He pulls off the road and parks in a nearly deserted shopping center.

"Come here." Charlie reaches over and pulls me into a hug. He doesn't let go but just rocks with me. "I don't know how to fix this."

"What's wrong with me?" I cry harder, snot, and tears are ruining his ugly plaid shirt.

"Nothing is wrong with you," he says, giving me a comforting circular rub on my back.

"Then why can you be a dad to Madison but not to me?"

The rub on my back stops mid-circle. "I don't know what you mean."

I push away from him and glare. "Is it my heart? I'm not as strong as a normal girl is. I'm a defective stowaway, right? I don't deserve to be loved by you."

Charlie frowns. "You're my baby girl, Bella. You know I love you."

"But just enough to make sure I get fed and have a roof over my head." I sniff and wipe away the tears from my face. "Well, that's not enough for me, dad."

"I wish I knew how to make things right." He looks defeated, but I don't feel any better, only tired.

"It can't all be fixed today," I say, and turn away from him, my eyes determined to look forward.

()—()()

Weeks pass, and I'm on autopilot. Charlie and I continue to see Dr. Sinclair every Friday, but we're having fewer and fewer breakthroughs. To take my mind off things, I complete some college courses online. I'm an A-plus student, four-point-oh across the board. It's a false celebration, and everything feels void of meaning. I hold out hope that I'll be flying across the Atlantic in September, but my growing depression reminds me that I'm fooling myself.

I don't have much that brings me joy. My heart won't allow me to gaze on the pictures of us three on my phone. The canvas from Christmas sits in a corner, covered in dirty clothes, and entirely neglected. My surfboard is still at Edward's house. I'm grateful not to see the stars and night sky on its glossy deck.

Anything that reminds me of my former life hurts too much.

It's easier to ignore that it ever existed.

Then there's the life before my boys.

Arizona.

My mom is too aloof and self-absorbed to see I'm troubled. The conversations we have our superficial, inconsequential, and a waste of breath. Any meaningful interaction would come from my best friend, Rose, but I haven't spoken to her in months. If she knows anything about the breakup, it would be because of Emmett. She's left me over a hundred messages about how she's sorry, wants to talk to me, but I can't respond. Rose has never understood the bond with Edward and Jasper. If I were to call her and catch a hint of gloating in her voice, I would hate her forever.

I'm not willing to cut off that lifeline.

Maybe once I'm over this hump, I'll reach out and talk to people again.

In the meantime, I stay in bed, watch Netflix, and let my hair grow out. My roots are an inch long, and I'm debating about getting a touch-up. It'll be much easier to become the Bella I was before becoming Edward and Jasper's Bean. The less of her I see in the mirror, the better. Then there's that voice in my head, persistent and urging me to shoplift again. It'll be a stress reliever, I hear it say, but I can't muster up the strength to leave my room.

What kills me is as April ends, is that neither of my boys attempts to contact me. For six fucking weeks, I get not one text, or snail mail, or even a call just to hang up, simply nothing. Charlie said they were unable to keep the promises they made to him, but Edward and Jasper stay true to their word with me. I say 'six months' and they fall in line. It's frustrating, somewhat sweet, but mostly, I hate them for it.

"God!" I shut off the flat screen and roll on to my back.

Even Netflix has lost its distraction quality. I choose to stare at the popcorn ceiling and try to zone out. It's not as good as smoking a bowl, but just another reminder I've tossed aside. It wasn't a choice but forced upon me. I don't do dank, and I have no access to Jasper's chronic.

If I did, though…

"Ugh!" I put a pillow over my head and grumble, "Being sober sucks."

Everything is a loser.

Charlie knocks on my door. "Kiddo, you awake?"

And the good times just keep on coming.

I pull myself out of bed and open the door. "What?"

"I'm letting you know work called," Charlie says, and he looks dressed for the part as a winning, shining detective with a pressed suit and slick hair. "And I'm going to be gone for a day or two."

I shrug. "Okay, have fun."

I'm closing the door when he quickly wedges his foot in the doorway. "We're not done."

"What?" I let out a frustrated groan.

"Listen, are you going to be okay?" Charlie's got that overly concerned fatherly brow thing he's been trying out lately. "If you're not comfortable in the house on your own, you're more than welcome to tag along with me. We'll be driving up to San Francisco. We can eat seafood, walk the Golden Gate Bridge, and take a boat out to Alcatraz. It might be fun." He gives me a playful punch in my shoulder. "What do you say?"

"Hard pass, Charlie," I say and slam the door in his face.

()—()()

All I do is sleep the two days that Charlie's gone. When he comes back Thursday evening, I get up and take a shower to look presentable. If my dad catches a whiff of my depression, he'll drag me into Dr. Sinclair's office and demand that she put me on anti-depressants. It's not that severe. I'm suffering from a breakup, and it's only been thirty-eight days, four hours, twenty-two minutes, and forty-six seconds. In time, I'll heal…ha! Yeah, maybe not, but my point stands: I don't need pills.

Therefore, I'm trying my best to seem better. Charlie buys takeout, and we eat dinner together. The Bella he expects smiles and laughs at all his crappy jokes. Then I sit in the living room with my dad and watch some macho flick with guns and loud explosions. He thinks we've bonded, but I'm pretending. The lie is the best I can offer him. I want to have a better relationship with Charlie, but I can only deal with one pain.

My heart isn't strong enough to juggle both.

Around ten at night, I give dad a side-hug and tell him I'm going to bed. He wishes me goodnight and stays up to watch the late-night shows. It doesn't take long for me to regress into a mess. I'm on my bed, curled into a ball, crying, and watching romantic Christmas movies on Netflix. I'm poking at the scab, keeping it open and letting it bleed. My theory is this: If I'm causing the pain, it's supposed to hurt less.

Dr. Sinclair says we need to face our sadness and challenge it to a fight. I laughed hard, and Charlie told me to take the therapy seriously. But it was a joke. How was I supposed to fight off the sadness I created? It pissed me off. People saw me as a kid with little concept of love. Charlie didn't get it, and Dr. Sinclair never had it. No one understood the turmoil I was going through or saw how I was fighting to keep myself in this house every second of the day.

I felt like an alcoholic who lived a mile from the bar.

No, my addiction was much closer and right under my nose. I smelled the sweet whiskey every day. It would be easy to take a sip and botch my fucking sobriety, but I resisted the temptation. No memories of my boys can evade my thoughts. So far, it's been a success. I was on the path to recovery.

Then gentle rapping on my window brings the whiskey to my mouth and moisten the lips.

I didn't hear the first two thumps on the glass. My attention thoroughly enthralled in The Christmas Prince, and I'm on my sixth cry. It's only when the movie gets quiet that I hear something to my left. I think it's the neighbor's cat, but it has a rhythm to it. Sitting up, I search for the remote hidden in the comforter and push pause. There's nothing. It stopped as suddenly as it started. I listen some more, but I can only make out the faint snores of Charlie in the next room.

Shaking my head, I chuckle. "You're going crazy."

I push play on the movie, and as 'Jingle Bells' comes on, it happens again.

"Okay, what the fuck!" I jump off my bed and go straight to my window.

Tap, tap.

I freeze with my fingers on the curtains. I'm freaking out now. It's not the neighbor's cat. What if it's some psycho-pervert trying to get a peek of a seventeen-year-old girl? Shit! Do I have time to get Charlie before this weirdo breaks my window?

Tap, tap, and tap.

"Bean?"

My heart fucking stops.