AN: Hey. Sorry for the delay in posting. Made a few edits and then had to re-edit the edits. If you write anything, you'll know the tinkering never stops 😂

Lots of backlash after that past few chapters. That's cool, I get this might not be where you wanted the story to go but it's where I want it to go. It's why I was debating having it switching between past and present rather than how it is. Would it work better? I don't know. Answers on a postcard.

Happy weekend!

Chapter 22

Standing in the foyer of the independent theater a week later, my eyes pick out Ben waiting patiently in line to get our tickets and drinks.

He's taken me out a couple of times since last week, and it's not been nearly as awkward as I thought it might be, considering we hung out with completely different crowds in school. He's genuinely funny, and his easy-going personality lessens my nerves.

It makes me feel normal, for once.

It's nice.

He's nice.

So when he leaned in to kiss me at the end of our first date, I let him. And with that, I couldn't help but compare it with how things were with Edward. The vivid imprint of feelings he left all over my heart before we'd even kissed.

And it paled. It pales.

But he's moved on.

So, when he asked me out again I said yes.

A girl jostles me as she moves past with a giggling group of friends. She utters a breathless apology, an 'oh shit' dropping from her mouth as she realizes I'm on crutches. She apologizes again, as one of her friends tells her loudly that I shouldn't even be standing there, anyway.

Maybe I shouldn't. But I am. I sigh, moving slowly over to the wall, away from the crowds. It's stuffy in here, and the sticky heat reminds me of the hospital.

I look down at my bare legs, black boot resting on the floor, bearing almost all my weight now, comfortably. A deep scar on my upper right leg, still red and shiny from where they inserted metal plates and screws. It's kind of funny how much of me is held together by metal.

"Bella?"

My name.

His voice.

My head whips upward, eyes focusing on Edward a yard away, looking unsure of himself.

"Um. Hi," I say, awkwardly.

My heart hammers hard in my chest as he takes another step closer, and then hesitates, a look back over his shoulder.

"How are you?" I ask.

He takes another step toward me. "I'm… okay." He pauses, searching my face. "Y'know, friends text each other."

There's a sad ghost of a smile on his face. My stomach lurching, rolling with something.

"Sorry. I've just been…" I blow out a breath. "Just dealing with a lot right now. It's not just you."

He looks away and then back at me.

"Rose said. Are you here with her?"

He glances around again, as if he's half expecting to see her in the crowd. Instead, Ben appears at my side, juggling popcorn and drinks, tickets in between his teeth.

Rightly or wrongly, I feel a stab of guilt. Like I'm betraying him, or something.

"Fuckin' mad," Ben says. He shoves a bottle in the back pocket of worn blue jeans. "Sorry, they didn't have any Coke left, so I got Sprite and Pepsi; hope that's okay?"

"Sure," I tell him softly.

My eyes flit to Edward; shoulders tense, jaw jutted out. His eyes bounce between us, and just for a fleeting second he looks like he wants to punch something. Ben.

"Um, Edward, this is Ben. I think you met at the restaurant the other week, maybe? Ben, this is Edward. He's Jasper's cousin."

Uncomfortable and tense, Edward stares at me hard.

"That's me," he says slowly, a bitter edge to his voice. "Jasper's cousin."

"Oh right, yeah, of course." Ben says. "Nice to meet you properly, man."

He offers his hand, because Ben's that type, and he's oblivious to everything. Edward tears his eyes away from me, hesitating before taking Ben's hand.

"I was sorry to hear about Jasper, he was a good guy."

Edward clears his throat. "He was."

"The best," I echo. Our eyes meet briefly, and his face looks as tight as my chest feels.

The tightness gets worse when Alice shows up next, looking pretty. She's added a nose ring to her collection of piercings, more tattoos on her arms. I didn't really take notice of them on Jasper's birthday, but now that she's close, I do.

"Hey. Are you ready? We should get our seats," she says to Edward, ignoring us like she just hasn't seen us.

Maybe she hasn't.

Edward doesn't move.

She glances at me and does a double take. "Hi," she says, as her eyes slide between me and Ben, slightly narrowed, calculating. She relaxes after a split second, maybe the realization that Ben and I are here together quelling any hostility. "This is a surprise. I'm Alice, Edward's girlfriend," she says to Ben. "I don't think I got to introduce myself last week with Bella's funny turn." Then to me, "Hope you're feeling better?"

She looks at me in a way that makes me want to cry and rage all at the same time. The sincerity so thick it has to be false. I want it to be false, because having her being genuine might be worse. Because I want to hate her right now.

"Okay. Thanks for asking," I say, swallowing.

"My great-uncle has seizures too. Loses control of his bowels every time. I feel so sorry for you, that must be awful."

She gives me a sympathetic smile as my mouth opens and snaps shut again, heat of embarrassment sticking my mouth closed and crawling up my neck and across my cheeks.

"Right," my mouth says, mechanically. My eyes find my feet again as I shrink away, closer to Ben. His arm comes around the tops of my shoulders. When I look up at him he's staring at Alice with an odd look on his face.

"Are you?" Ben gestures at the corridor that leads to the screen. "Movie's gonna start."

"In a minute," I hear Edward respond, as he catches Alice's hand when she turns to head that way, his expression unreadable.

I adjust my crutches in my hands, taking a step and another, just wanting to get away. Ben stays close, helping me up the three steps to where the clerk is standing tearing tickets. I don't look back.

"Listen," Ben says, once we've found our seats, voice low and close in my ear, "I don't want you to worry about any of that stuff with me. You know. Seizures. You can't help it. I looked up what to do if you have one. After you had one in the restaurant. I mean, I know first aid anyway, but they went into more detail on the internet."

I chew my lip. A sharp intake of breath.

"Thank you. That's... really sweet." And it is. That he took the time to do that. He didn't have to, but he did.

He looks across at me and smiles, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. I lean in and kiss him, before settling back into my seat, trying to get comfy.

Alice and Edward don't come into the screen room at all. And I know because I watch everyone else file in, and when the lights dim and the curtains draw back ready for the movie to start, they're nowhere to be seen.

I spend the rest of the movie trying to lose myself in it, but fail miserably. Replaying the conversation, over and over. Maybe Alice didn't mean it in a nasty way, but it didn't feel like that. It felt mortifying. Having someone point out that you can… soil yourself. Having it happen is embarrassing enough without someone pointing that out in front of people. My fingers scratch at the ridges of cord fabric, insecurities flaring up.

Ben moves his arm around me, trailing fingers up and down my arm, and I lean into him, settling with my head on his shoulder. It's comforting and unnerving all at the same time. And I'm not sure I'm doing it because I feel like that, or whether it's because I feel like it's what I should be doing.

I'm not sure whether at this point I know the difference.

By the time we file out two-and-a-half hours later, I'm drained, head starting to pulse with tiredness. I decline Ben's offer to take me out for food, and I can sense his disappointment.

"I did have fun," I reassure him. "It's not you. It's—I get tired really quickly. Some days more than others. I think it's one of those days. But thank you, for taking me out again."

"It's okay. As long as you had fun. I thought it was pretty shitty compared with the others though."

I laugh.

"If we're going for honesty, I don't think I've even seen Oceans 11," I confess.

"Oh, noooooo. We gotta rectify that, Swan. ASAP. You and me. Deal?"

I smile.

"Deal."

…

I'm woken in the middle of the night by tapping on glass. It gets steadily louder and by the time I've blinked sleep out of groggy eyes, Oz is already off the bed and over to the window, growling low.

More tapping, louder now, and Oz is back over to me, nudging me to deal with it.

"Some guard dog you'd make," I mutter.

And my heart is suddenly in my throat.

Because what if it's a burglar? Someone trying to break in?

Those thoughts quickly subside. Burglars wouldn't knock for a start. They're not that polite.

Slowly I loop my arm through my crutches and move over to the window, pulling up the blind with my leg resting on the sill from my knee. I'm met with a shadowy figure, baseball cap twisted back on his head.

Edward.

My surprised eyes meet his pale face.

"Let me in," he says, gesturing at the window.

I unlock the catch on the window, struggling to lift it up. As soon as he can get his fingers through, he does it himself.

"What are you doing?" I hiss as I step back and he climbs through, bringing in a rush of cold night air and the smell of smoke.

He doesn't answer. He turns and closes the window behind him carefully.

I sit back on my bed, dumping my crutches and switching on my light, squinting as it stings my eyes. Self-conscious. Confused. It's 3 am. I stretch my leg out, watching Oz jump up at Edward.

He sits on my desk chair and swings himself to and fro, hand coming to scratch Oz in his favorite spot behind his ear. I look toward the door, wondering whether Mom's going to get woken up by the noise.

"Are you drunk?" I ask, watching him carefully.

"Define drunk?" There's definitely a slur to his words. He laughs and then sobers, looking at me and then away, and back again, like he can't stop himself.

"Why are you here?" I ask, eventually.

"I'm sorry," he says. "About Alice earlier. She doesn't think before she speaks."

I frown and shake my head. Him apologizing for Alice means… nothing. It's irritating, actually.

"You keep telling yourself that," I bite. "Does she even know you're here?"

"Friends can hang out," he says, but he doesn't sound convinced. Of either us being friends or her being okay with it.

"I'm sure that'll go down so well with her." My voice drips with sarcasm. This wouldn't go down well with Alice at all. I know it and he knows it.

"I don't care," Edward says, resolute, a scowl on his face.

"Well, you should care. Don't be a dick. She's your girlfriend."

His tongue creeps out. Swiping at his lip ring before his teeth bite down on it. He shakes his head.

"We'd still be together if it were up to me." His voice is softer as he looks at me, defeated. Annoyed, maybe.

"You're drunk. You don't even know what you're saying," I snap, trying to ignore the cold feeling washing over me.

"I'm not that drunk. I'm leaving tomorrow. Today," he waves a hand. "Europe for a couple of weeks." He sighs heavily, looking at me with tired, sad eyes. "I just… I wanted you to know I still think about you. I still care. And I miss you. I know I'm not—not what you wanted, but—" he stops.

I'm quiet. Guys with girlfriends shouldn't be saying stuff like this to other girls. Not at 3 am after sneaking into their bedrooms.

"I should go," he mutters as I remain silent.

Because I can't have this conversation with him. Not right now. There's just too much…. It's all too much.

His journey back to my window isn't smooth. He stumbles slightly, unsteady on his feet.

"Did you drive?"

He turns and looks at me guilty, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah."

Anger swells. "You drove drunk?"

I pick up the nearest thing—a book—and fling it at him hard. His hands fly up, as it hits his chest before thumping to the floor.

"You stupid, irresponsible—" I shake my head wordlessly and when I next speak my voice shakes with fury. "You could've killed someone. You could've hurt someone. You could've been hurt. What the fuck? Did you not learn anything from what happened?"

He rubs at his chest. I'm breathing hard, panic, worry, anger coursing through me.

"I'm not that drunk. I've been parked outside for a while, drank more when I got here."

My heart squeezes.

"That doesn't make it any better! You're not going anywhere. Just… stay here and sleep it off; otherwise, I'll have to get Dad to arrest you."

"You wouldn't."

"Don't try me right now, Ned," I glare.

"Okay," he says, hands held up, resigned.

He stands there for a second before looking between my bed and the floor. I toss him a pillow, Oz looking at him bewildered as he collapses onto the rug.

I shift so I'm lying down and we lapse into silence.

"You're an idiot," I say after a minute, up toward my ceiling, still seething, a tear rolling down the side of my face. I wipe it away, glad he can't see.

"I know."

"I'm so fucking mad at you right now," my voice wavers.

"I know."

My heart thuds hard against my chest.

Minutes pass, Edward tossing and turning restlessly on the floor, his every movement keeping me wide awake.

I'm reaching down before I can stop myself until I'm yanking his cap off his head, meeting his surprised eyes.

"Stop moving."

"Your floor is fucking uncomfortable," he mutters. "I can sleep in my truck instead."

"Just…" I bite my bottom lip, wavering, hesitant. "Just sleep up here, then, but… stop moving."

He looks surprised, his movements slow as he sits up like he's expecting me to change my mind. He's watching me as I move over so my back's close to the wall. He slowly stands, before he toes off his sneakers, pausing before he gets on the bed, weight dipping it. He settles, before turning so we're face to face, instinctive. We're so close now that I can smell the beer on him, the familiar scent of his detergent, the aftershave he uses… And I'm hardly breathing, my whole body tense.

"You're the only one I like calling me that," he says.

"An idiot?"

"No," he laughs. "Ned."

I close my eyes, breathing out long and slow before opening them again. "Night, Ned."

His hand comes up to stroke my face, and then he takes my hand and laces it with his, a shaky exhale between us.

"Night, Turtle."

When I wake in the morning, he's gone. Just a note on my pillow.

Text me.

...

Apprehension rolls around my stomach. Austin's looking expectant, Rose gripping her camera tightly in her hand, Mom and Dad standing at her shoulder.

My boot came off last week, but I've still been dependent on crutches. Today though… today I'm going to try to walk. No crutches. Nothing but me and my legs and my man-made talus keeping my foot attached to my leg with screws and metal.

I use my crutches to get up from my seat, but I can see in my peripheral vision eyes widen when I shrug them off, one by one, and hand them to Austin.

We decided to surprise them today.

He leans them against the chair, his hand at my elbow, ready to catch me if I manage to fall.

"You got this," he tells me, exuding confidence as my head spins.

I try to relax my shoulders and remember that it's just one foot in front of the other. My arms feel weird, not having anything to hold on to—to lean on. It's weird just standing unaided, period. And all of a sudden the space seems bigger, and more daunting than ever.

"Whenever you're ready."

Another deep breath, in through my nose, out through my mouth.

I can do this.

And then, with one very shaky step forward on my left foot, I move my right one.

Tiny steps, my body swaying, more side to side than forward. But walking. I take a deep breath, trying not to cry. Walking.

More steps, Mom, Dad, and Rose in front of me. A glance upward at my cheerleaders, hands clasped with excitement and… tears. Mom's crying. I look down at my feet. One step, two steps.

My hand covers my mouth.

Walking.

I smile. I smile so big.

Eleven months; two weeks in ICU, eight weeks in hospital, seven surgeries, months of waiting; of wheelchairs and endless appointments and finally… finally, FINALLY.

Walking.

It hits me.

And I'm crying too. A tear rolls down my cheek, and then another, a sob tearing out my throat. Happy and sad and just fucking overwhelmed.

I make it the short distance until I'm in Mom and Dad's arms, and I'm not sure who's crying harder. Mom, or me, or Rose.

"So proud of you," Dad says gruffly, his eyes red rimmed and his moustache twitching.

And for once:

"I'm proud of me too."

It's like all the worry and tension, fear and relief is draining out at the same time because there have been so many dark days in the past year. Too many to count. And now… I'm seeing a little glimmer of it being fine, just like everyone's been telling me for months.

...

Heidi and Rose are sitting beside me on loungers in the backyard. They invited themselves over and I'm trying to temper down the urge to ask them to leave. I'm not having a good week and them being here is putting me on edge.

Heidi presses a kiss to Rose's cheek as she swings her legs around to look at me.

I still find it strange they're together, together. I always thought they were just experimenting, with the occasional drunken kisses but Rose said she realized after the accident that life was too short to put off what she'd been feeling and trying to hide for a long time.

"So you're seeing Ben again tonight?" Heidi asks.

"A movie," I tell her. "At his house. Ocean's 11." Nerves niggle, but not because of him. Two seizures this week already, and I'm anxious that I'll have another one. Dr. Snow says to give the meds more time, but I just want them to stop already.

"This video is getting so many comments," Rose announces, looking up from her laptop. "You're making people cry."

I pull a face. I'm still unsure whether letting her post it on Facebook was a good idea. I don't even have Facebook.

"Edward left a comment."

My mouth is dry. I still haven't texted him, but he's in Europe so… I don't know. The whole of that night feels like a dream. Like it didn't happen, even though the note he left is proof enough that it did. And it's not like I don't think about what he said all the time.

"Don't you want to know what he said?"

I'm not sure. I shrug, covering my fists with the sleeves of my sweater.

She huffs, and tells me anyway.

"He said that?"

She turns the laptop round to let me look, and I see it for myself, there in black and white. My eyes dart from his comment to his profile picture and there's some relief in finding it's just him in it.

"Tell him I said thanks?"

Rose rolls her eyes, but taps away on her keyboard anyway. She's quiet for a few minutes and then her fingers are flying again, a hint of annoyance in her face.

"Done."

She glances up at me and looks guilty. I should know better, honestly.

"What did you say?" I probe, feeling stressed.

"That he should tell you himself."

A few minutes later, my cell goes off. I fish it out of my pocket, cupping my hand to see the screen in the bright sunlight.

I think you're fucking amazing x

And for the first time today, I smile.