Edward stares at me blankly.

I've just relayed everything to him.

"Is she still over there?" he asks, looking over my shoulder towards the window and my house.

I shrug. I don't know.

He side-eyes me carefully, gauging, hesitant.

"What?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest. My hands are still shaking.

Hand in his hair, he dips his head a little but looks my way. "Are you planning on hearing her out?"

I scoff, disgusted at the thought. "No." He raises his eyebrows. "I've got nothing to say to her," I continue. "And I don't care what she's got to say. She left! She didn't even look back as she ran." I'm pacing now, frustrated and angry.

He sighs. "I get that, but …"

Why does he sound like he's on her side?

"But what?" I ask, stopping my frantic feet, turning to face him, my back teeth aching under the strain of my jaw, my throat tight.

"Don't you think … you should maybe … listen to her? Give her a chance to explain?"

"Who's side are you on?" I can't hide my confusion, my hurt. His face is sympathetic as he takes a step closer to me.

"Yours. Always yours," he assures me, kissing my forehead, pulling me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me.

"Doesn't feel like it," I mumble into his chest, instantly placated by his touch.

He holds me, running his hand up and down my back in soothing strokes. "It's just …" he starts after a while, making my body instantly rigid. "I think you should give her a chance to explain … get her side of the story. You never know what you'll find out."

I push away from him, furrowing my brows, shaking my head. "She left! She abandoned me without a second glance!"

"I know."

"So what?" I can't hide the anguish any more. "I should let her straight back in? Go and sit in the diner and listen to what she has to say? Catch up like nothing happened?"

He sighs. "That's not what I'm saying but—"

"But what?" I scoff, cutting him off, my tone scathing. He clearly doesn't appreciate my anger, but I can't hide it any longer.

"She sought you out, she wants to explain. Surely that means something?"

"It means nothing! Nothing she can say will take away from what she did or change the way I feel!" My chest heaving, we stare at each other, neither one of us willing to move, clearly not willing to stand down. I can't understand where his compassion for my mother is coming from. He watches me carefully.

The silence stretches thick between us, a barrier of stubbornness.

"You should be grateful," he states calmly. Too calmly.

"Are you high?" I laugh humorlessly, throwing my hands in the air, exasperated.

"No, Bella," he warns. "Although it would probably make your mindless rambling easier to stomach."

I flinch like he's slapped me, unable to look at him now, hurt above all else.

The instant shift in his demeanour and tone makes me feel as though the 'old' Edward has come out to play —to destroy. The change is swift, but I see it. His bones turning to ice, making his body rigid and defensive; his eyes swirling, a dark storm taking hold; his jaw tenses and flexes, ticking below his cheekbones; his fists curling into balls.

For the second time today, I want to run and hide. But this time, I have no safety to run to; my solitude has become my aggressor.

Taking a step back, my vision blurs. Overcome by the need to escape.

Just as I turn, his voice cuts through the suffocating, heavy atmosphere.

"Do you know what I'd give to have my mom turn up on the doorstep unannounced?"

I freeze, hand held outwards in mid-air, grasping at nothing.

"Huh?" His voice is full of scorn, urging me to turn and face him. I'm not sure I can.

"You've never told me about your mom." I speak to the door, hesitant to turn.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, his voice void of emotion —flat. "That she couldn't do anything to stop my dad abusing me and my sister? That she was too weak? That … when faced with me four years after my dad killed my sister, she couldn't even look at me, wanted nothing to do with me?"

Turning finally, I take a step closer to him, but he takes one back shaking his head.

"You want to know how I'd give anything to have her turn up, offering an explanation? Give me some fucking closure …"

"I'm sorry," I whimper, which makes him screw his face up in disgust.

"No you're not," he spits, taking me by surprise. I open my mouth to argue, but he continues. "You're so wrapped up in the fact that your mom left, that you don't even want to know why. You can't look past your own hurt, your own humiliation when in actual fact, you have no fucking idea how lucky you are to get that!"

I'm stunned. My breath hitching with every staggered inhale. "I can't just … forgive her, Edward. It's my mom, not yours, and I'm sorry about that, but your feelings aren't any more valid than mine."

"That's not the point I'm trying to make and you know it! You're deflecting."

Shaking my head, I choke out a sob, my heart constricting with every breath I struggle to take. "We both are! This isn't about you or your mom. The circumstances are different."

It's too much, I can't think straight, I can't think clearly. Neither can he; he's blinded by his own emotion. I need to process and he's … not allowing me to. He's throwing his own hurt in my face, turning it around on me and it's not helping.

"So, what?" he asks. "You're just gonna hang out here until she disappears again? You don't care? You don't want answers, not even for your own piece of mind?"

"I don't." My voice is just as cold as his now. "I'm better off not knowing. Nothing she says will make anything she did okay!"

"Fine." he snaps.

"Fine. We'll just agree to disagree."

"Good luck with that."

Before I can argue, he storms past me, throwing the door open. I reach out to grab his arm but he quickly pulls out of my grasp.

"Fuck off," he growls, verbally pushing me away, just like he used to do. I can see the struggle in his eyes, the hurt, the longing for his own mother who didn't want him. I want to hug him and listen to him but he's too far gone.

"Where are you going?" I ask, silently pleading with him to stay.

"To cool off, far away from you."

I swallow hard, willing myself not to cry. "I'm sorry. Please … just stay. Stop running from me!"

A/N

I have a feeling that wen't differently to how most of you thought it would ...

Thanks for reading!