AN: thanks to my amazing pre-readers for putting up with the many drafts of this chapter: May, Ciara, Heather, Jo, Marie and Maria. And also to Monica who betas this baby. Love you all. ❤

I have a short story called Flip that's almost finished posting, not sure whether I've mentioned it here, but I like them a whole lot.

Everyone knows Edward Cullen in this neighborhood. The kids call him crazy. I call him Love.

Until next time xx

Chapter 27

The corridor is dark as I walk down it, away from the noise of the foyer. It's cooler the farther I go, but inside I'm burning hot. Finger-tips ghost along walls, uneven breaths dragged through my mouth.

I'm gonna marry her one day.

My ankle protests, pain sharp and shooting. Edward's voice echoes behind me—my name—but no matter how quick my feet try to be, it's not enough.

He catches up with me, falling into step.

One step.

Two.

His hand reaches out to take mine.

"Don't." My voice is feeble, my attempt to snatch my hand back half-hearted.

"Bella."

This time when his hand covers mine, I let him.

He guides us over to a door and pushes it open.

The classroom is dark, ghostly rows of tables and chairs, rain splattering against the window in thick heavy drops as he shuts it behind us.

Leaning against a desk, my fingers grip the edge of it, my legs weak.

He doesn't speak and neither do I. It's just us and the rain beating against the window.

"I didn't know," he says, his voice low.

I avoid his gaze, scuffing my feet on the floor.

"I didn't know that Embry had all of that on film. I didn't know you'd be here."

He's saying it like he thinks I'm upset.

"He invited me." My voice catches as I try to hold back tears. "I'm not upset, I—"

"You look pretty fucking upset." His hand moves toward me, but he stops himself, jamming it down into a dark pocket.

"How can I be upset, when we looked so happy?" I try smiling, but instead I'm left swiping at my face as a tear escapes, wetness smeared on the back of my hand. "We were happy, right?"

I'm not sure why I'm asking when I know. When it was there in front of everyone to see.

"Yeah," he says, slowly. "I thought so."

The silence stretches, his hand in his hair. And there's so much distance between us now. It's strange and harsh, the contrast between then and now. Two people who used to be in love. And now? Now, we're like strangers.

"How much do you remember?" he asks.

My voice is so small when I speak. Afraid, almost, of admitting it to him. But this is the time to do this. To be honest, no matter how painful it is.

"All of it. I think. Up until a few days before the accident."

My eyes meet his but he looks away, leaning against the teacher's desk, his shoulders hunching.

"I don't know whether that makes it better or worse," he tells me with a humorless laugh.

"Worse," I admit, the next words barely audible. Tearful. "I miss you. All the time." Three confessions. I hold back, but the tears don't. They escape fast now, wetting my cheeks.

"Then why?" he asks finally and repeats it like he can't figure it out. "I've tried to understand it. I tried to understand, and I fucking—I don't."

My mouth opens and shuts. Is this closure for him? I'd owe him that, after everything, but explaining… It's much harder to put into words how I felt. How I feel. Why I did what I did and said what I said.

I can't do this.

"It's hard," I breathe.

"You blanked me like none of it mattered. Like we never happened," he says, voice gritted and accusing.

"It did matter," I tell him. "It did matter. How can you think that it didn't?"

His face screws up, furious. The wrong thing to say.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he explodes. "You pushed me away! You didn't speak to me! Let me see you! You cut me out of your life completely. What the fuck was I supposed to think? That you cared?" He laughs bitterly before his voice lowers. "I'd have been there."

"I know," I whisper, wiping at my face.

"I was there every day at the hospital. I'd have done anything."

"I know! I know that! Okay?" I cry, eyes squeezing shut again.

"Then why didn't you let me?" he shouts. "Why the fuck didn't you let me?!"

I look skyward, heaving in a deep breath, blinking wetly.

"I didn't want to hold you back," I sniff.

"Hold me back from what? Nothing else mattered but you."

"You don't understand! It did matter!" I'm the one raising my voice now, heat rising in my cheeks. "Other things mattered, Edward. You mattered, too."

He shakes his head, fists clenched. A vein in his forehead pushed out by grim faced anger.

"Explain it to me," he says, hand flying out into the air. "Because I'm obviously not getting it. I'm obviously being fucking stupid."

My teeth find my bottom lip as I skim a thumb under my right eye and then my left, seeking some kind of composure. All that's left is a well of deep-rooted insecurities. My fingernails curl into clammy palms, my eyes on the worn toes of my boots.

"Fucking explain it!"

I jump at his tone, and now I'm crying hard.

"Please," he adds, desperately, his voice hoarse. "It's fucking… it's tearing me up inside."

Six beats of my heart before I look at him directly, eyes lingering on the yellowing bruise around his right eye, to lips I've smiled into countless times. The flush of his cheeks, the heaving of his chest. The anger that simmers there. Caused by me. My decisions. My choices.

"You had college," I start, sniffing, my voice thick. "And skating. It's your whole life. It wouldn't have been fair to take you away from that—from something that you love doing." I swallow, trembling legs and lips and teeth. "I didn't know whether I was going to lose my foot. I didn't know whether I was going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, or have a prosthetic. I didn't want you to resent me. I didn't want to be a burden." My face crumples, again a sob escaping. "I didn't want you to not want me anymore."

"Is that what you think?" he says, hotly, incredulous. "That I wouldn't want you? That's bullshit. That's fucking stupid. That's the fucking stupidest shit I've ever heard!" He actually laughs, in front of me now, his hands moving in frustration. "You almost died! No foot—fucking six of them—it wouldn't have made one fucking bit of difference to me, Bella."

"You say that, but it would," I protest.

"When your heart stopped…" He starts before his voice breaks. He brings a hand up to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. A tear tracks down his cheek.

"When you literally fucking died in front of me—" He shakes his head again, sniffing. "And then after all that—" He suddenly kicks out at a chair, sending it flying across the room. "You might as well have."

My answer is immediate, reflective.

"Sometimes it feels like I did!" I tell him. "Sometimes I wish it was me who died and not Jasper. I feel so guilty. All the time. Every day."

He reels back, looking like I've slapped him.

"Don't say that," he says. "Don't say shit like that."

"Why not? It's true. I look in the mirror and I—I don't know who I am anymore. I'm like—like a stranger in my own life. I'm not Bella. I'm not the person you were with last summer."

He looks at me like he doesn't believe me. But it's true, and I can't pretend otherwise. Closer now. So close I can feel the heat of his body. My eyes close, and I swallow hard.

"I wanted to be there. We could've worked through everything together. You could've talked to me." He ducks his head down so we're eye to eye. "That out there. That's how I felt," he tells me resolutely, stubbornness on his face and in the set of his jaw. "That's how I feel."

My arguments die on my lips, my eyes blurring. My chin drops to my chest as my shoulders shake, my cries louder.

I'm gonna marry her one day.

And then he's there. Arms wrapping tightly around me. He squeezes tighter the harder I cry, cradling my head to his chest. His lips moving against the top of my hair.

"Don't cry," he begs. "Don't cry."

And when I don't stop it's my name he's breathing, pained.

I'm not sure how long we stay like this, but just when I think Edward is about to pull away, my fingers twist into his t-shirt tighter, keeping him there.

He doesn't let go, instead his fingers stroke the side of my face and brush away the wetness under my eyes.

When the door swings open, without warning, we both flinch; a beam of a flashlight making me squint.

"What the hell are you two doing in here?" says a wide, bald man with a walkie talkie in his hand.

I wipe furiously at my face, the skin underneath my eyes sore.

He tilts his head when neither of us answer. "Nevermind. You can take whatever this is elsewhere."

"Now," he adds when we don't move.

I push off the table, wobbling for a second until Edward's hand reaches out and steadies me.

We follow the security guard back the way we came, his shoes squeaking loudly with every footfall, cutting through tension until I'm stifling a laugh behind my fist. It shouldn't be funny, but it is, and when I hear Edward's mirroring laugh to my right, it's a temporary reprieve from the heaviness between us.

There's a rush of noise as we come back into the atrium, the security guard giving us a pointed look as he stalks off.

"Come with me," Edward urges, eyes red rimmed, his face pale and anxious.

I look around at the crowds of people, considering the implications of letting myself have this with him. My heart is heavy in my chest. It knows, and I know, we need this. When I tell him "okay" he looks relieved.

"Okay."

We don't make it very far from the building when we spot a figure leaning against the wall outside, smoking. Her eyes are red, her nose pink, face blotchy and tear stained. My stomach curls into a cringe.

"Of course," Alice says coldly, flicking ash to the ground. "Of course you'd find her. Not, you know, your actual girlfriend."

I recoil, Edward's eyes on me as I take a step further away from him.

"Wait here," he says to me. "Please."

Alice throws her cigarette on the ground, stomping a foot on it before stalking towards us.

"Um. You should… l—" There's a sickness in my stomach, and I'm already slipping away. Reality in front of me. He's moved on. The proof is right there. "No. She's right. You should... go, she's upset." I swallow, not bringing myself to look at him, or her.

Rose and Heidi appear on the steps.

"You okay? We've been looking all over for you," Rose says, her arms folded, concerned eyes darting between me and Edward.

I don't have an answer for her. Instead, I take one awkward step down.

"Hope you're pleased with yourself," Alice calls out. "Ruining someone's life."

Rose hisses in disbelief. Edward's furious voice lashing out, telling her to shut the fuck up.

A scoff of indignation and then her hand lands loudly on his face.

"Fuck you!" she shrieks, shoving him in the chest. "Fuck you! You did this."

She pushes at him again, and again, but he doesn't budge. He stands and takes it.

"You—you won't even try. You won't even fucking try!"

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, no real feeling behind it.

Alice's clenched fists slam into his chest, full of hurt, until he's holding her by her wrists to stop her. He walks her back a couple of steps, words indeterminable, until she raises her voice again.

"After everything I did for you! After everything we went through—"

Her shouts bounce around the lot, off parked cars. Blistering, cutting; raging at him relentlessly.

"I gave you everything and you're just throwing it back in my fucking face! Like it means nothing! I love you," she screams in his face.

He looks even paler.

"Bella," Rose says, in my ear, "C'mon."

Alice dissolves into a hunched figure, tearing her arms away from Edward, her hand coming to her face to hide it. People around us are staring. I'm staring.

"But—"

"This is between them," she insists, blue eyes in front of my face.

I try to look around her at them, her head moving until I've got no choice but to focus on her.

"Let him deal with the mess he's made. Reach out later if that's what you want to do."

"Okay. I just—" My bottom lip trembles, tears filling my eyes.

This was about us.

And now it's about her.

"I know," Heidi says, at my other side, hand on my arm. "We know."

Down the steps into the lot, but Alice's voice reaches us even here.

"And you!" she shouts, starting towards me. "You have no idea what you did to him! No idea at all! You selfish fucking cu—"

Edward catches her around her waist and hauls her away. She struggles against him, kicking out, clawing at his arms, shrieking.

But her words.

Those words.

They stay.

What I did to him.

…

A silent car ride. Hours that crawl by. Up and down the same length of my room. Rose and Heidi watch me, as I sit down every now and then and check my cell for the hundredth time. No calls, no texts.

I thought maybe…

But maybe not.

I'm restless and listless, a yearning in my chest. Replaying the heated argument over in my head, between us. Between him and Alice, in all its ugliness.

I don't know what I'm expecting. Maybe he wants to work things out with Alice. Or maybe he needs space now too, but… I feel like that's at odds with what he was saying.

"He wanted me to go with him." He wasn't concerned with her.

"Sure he did. Just give him some time," Heidi tells me. "Gotta tame the kraken."

Thirty minutes later, I've had enough.

"I can't wait any longer. We shouldn't have left. Now I'm just—"

"Alright," Rose sighs. "Alright. Let me put the feelers out."

Her feelers don't seem to go far enough. I lay facing the ceiling, unable to sleep as Heidi and Rose doze beside me, sprawled out on top of my bedsheets. Rose has her arm draped over Heidi's hip, her nose nuzzled into her neck.

I sigh deeply, checking my phone again.

"Go to sleep," Heidi murmurs beside me.

I turn my face to see her looking at me.

"He loves you," she whispers. "Let him come to you when he's ready."

My reply is quiet, seeded with doubt. "How can you love someone you don't know? I don't even know me anymore. I don't love me. We're strangers."

Heidi moves, rustling the pillow, her hand finding mine.

"You don't believe that," she chides. "I know you think you've changed immeasurably, Bella. But you are still you, even though you're moody and angry and wrapped up in your own head a lot of the time. There's still a lot of shades of the Bella we know and love, you're not lost."

I swallow thickly.

"It doesn't feel like it."

...

It's dark and quiet as I cross the park. The only light comes from the headlights of Rose's car, streaming over grass, and the skatepark in the distance. Oz is by my side, waiting every now and then for me to catch up with him.

The whole day was spent waiting around. There was one text from Edward. Just one. A kiss. And nothing else. I mean, what did that even mean?

Taking matters into my own hands felt like the right thing to do, at this point.

I stop in the shadow of a half-pipe, the sound of laughter, boards scraping and clattering on concrete. Floodlights bright overhead, my eyes jump from guy to guy, until I find him. The deepest frown on his face as he flips the board onto a rail and back off it again.

I watch in silence for a while, until he's worked up a sweat, his hair wet around his ears and on the back of his neck, while I work up the nerve to…

I'm not sure what I'm doing.

In the end, it doesn't matter. Oz barks loudly, circling around my legs, drawing attention to us. Some of the guys look over. Self-consciousness making me take a step back.

"Bella?"

The cuff of my sweater twists into my fist as Edward stops. He looks surprised. Pushing over to me, abandoning his board when he's close enough to jog. His chest heaves, he wipes at sweat and his eyes with the back of his hand.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was... I just wanted to see you. See whether you were okay." I bite my lip and look away, feeling stupid. Vulnerable. It seems silly, really.

His hand rubs the back of his neck, his eyes following another skater, then to groups of guys clumped together, sitting down on wet concrete, the familiar smell of weed hanging in the air, the tinny sound of a speaker playing Beastie Boys.

"I'm okay," he says, pushing hair off his face.

"Really?"

He smiles. "No. But I will be."

He bends down to pet Oz but I can't stand any longer. My teeth grit and I walk with a limp to the nearest bench, the cold stinging the back of my legs when I sit.

Edward follows closely. Sitting down beside me, elbows on splayed knees that touch mine, his board now at his feet, his hand scratching into Oz's head.

"You okay?" he asks, as I slowly flex and rotate my ankle.

"Walked too far this week. For me. It hurts."

My eyes close. Everything hurts when it comes to him too.

"You should've stayed home," he tells me. "I was going to text or call tomorrow."

Heat in my cheeks. He's right, and I feel lame. But...

"I don't feel like… I don't feel like I explained myself to you properly yesterday, and I feel like I need to do that."

He rubs at his eyes.

"And you want to do this now? I don't know how much more I can take," his laugh is hollow. He feels around in his pockets until he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"I broke up with Alice."

"Oh." It's not really a surprise. "Sorry."

He laughs and then so do I.

"I'm… not," he says, a wry smile. "I'd have done it before yesterday, but I was in Chicago until the afternoon. Felt like I should do it in person, not be a dick."

He opens the pack, film crinkling into his fist.

"Smoke?"

"Sure."

He takes out two, leaving his hanging from his mouth as he leans in and lights mine.

"My flight was delayed yesterday…" he shakes his head, cupping his hand around the flame to light his. "Embry… better be laying low."

"Don't be too hard on him. If his film wasn't about us… it's really great. He's got talent. You can't be mad."

He glances sideways at me. "I'm not mad. Like you weren't upset. He did it on purpose, you know that, right?"

I inhale deeply, tapping ash onto the floor.

"It was… unexpected."

"Unexpected," he agrees.

"I read that magazine article."

He shuffles his feet, the corners of his sneakers worn to the point the fabric is fraying. His head hangs, defeated. And I don't want him to clam up on me, so I wait.

"It's not true," he says eventually, blowing gray smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "Most of it, anyway."

I give him a look.

He licks pink lips, taking another deep inhale down.

"I got in a few fights. My skating's gone to shit, but I'm not on drugs if that's what you're thinking. Not on what they think, anyway."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

He swipes his tongue on his lower lip, his leg bouncing nervously.

"Zoloft," he says, not looking my way. "Spaces me out. Fucks with my head."

What I did to him.

God.

My heart sinks fast.

"Is that what she meant? Alice?"

"It's… not you."

He's lying.

"But—"

"It's not you," he repeats fiercely. "It's me. How I react to stuff. Losing Jasper… you. Never been good at dealing with stuff like that, never will be, probably. Just fucking… sensitive like that." He sniffs, hand rubbing at stubble on his face, dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I… I didn't know. God, my head is just… such a fucking messed up place. Back then, and now. I couldn't deal, so why would anyone else be able to, or even want to, you know?"

"I wanted to."

"And after months of the same? Coming back to someone who couldn't even feed themselves, or go to the bathroom on their own? Dealing with my seizures? Setback after setback. It would've been hard on anyone, Edward. You say you wanted to, but the reality has been… really fucking hard. My parents have basically been my carers, and even they're sick of me. I'm only just able to walk and do normal things, rather than just… survive. That's all this year has been. Surviving."

His frown is back, and for a minute he doesn't say anything. He shakes his head, dubiously.

"Guess we'll never know."

We finish the rest of our cigarettes in silence, until I'm shivering and he's offering his hand to help me up.

He doesn't let go, a pang shooting through me as his thumb brushes over the back of my hand in a circular movement, his touch warm. And when he looks at me, I feel it all over.

"I'm glad you're here," he tells me with a small smile.

I return it, shyly.

"Me too."