A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.

Broken – Chapter 5

Two hours into my run, I pounded the pavement hard, foot chasing foot, hands mimicking their fellow limb's pace. Sweat ran in rivulets down my forehead and followed a path from nose to mouth to jaw before striking the ground and leaving a trail behind me. The damp shirt clung to my chest and spine. A quick glance at my monitor displayed a heart rate of 155 bpm. My legs ached, muscles beginning to tighten in protest, but I grinned up at the early September morning sun. It was still a potent one at this time of year. And with a series of deep breaths through narrowed lips, I offered up our morning challenge.

"Ready? Let's see who wins today."

Propelling myself forward, I shuffled blindly through my playlist until I found the right accompaniment to the task at hand.

'We come from the land of the ice and snow. From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow…'

Faster, gaining speed, feet higher, faster…muscles loosening…faster…

'On we sweep with thrashing oars. Our only goal will be the western shore!'

I glanced at my monitor – 162 bpm – and at that exact moment, my muscles loosened euphorically, my chest expanded on a brand-new supply of sweet air, and a rush of adrenaline flooded me from limb to limb.

"Oh yeah, there it is."

I grinned broadly and, obeying my legs' command, sprinted forward at full speed.

"Yeah, baby. Yeah. Oh yeah! Woo-hoo!"

Fist-pumping the air while endorphins rushed through me, I pulled off my shirt and ran that way another couple of miles down the East River's deceivingly sparkling waterfront, from the Williamsburg to the Manhattan to the Brooklyn Bridge. When my chest heaved, I threw back my head, looked up at the early September morning sun, and gave her another grin.

"You gave it a good go, but today's my day."

OOOOO

A few minutes later, I rounded the corner to my favorite coffee shop in the neighborhood. Beyond its convenient location a few blocks from my place, the shop also served a great latte - one of my few indulgences. The coffee shop was also full of large, floor-to-ceiling windows and situated in a spot with direct access to sunlight. Here, the sun wasn't blocked by the taller-than-average buildings that had unfortunately begun to pop up downtown. 'The Modernization of Tribeca' they were calling the event as if Tribeca needed modernization.

I pulled out my phone as I approached the shop and made a call.

Emmett greeted me with a loud yawn.

"Fucker, thanks for leaving me hanging this morning," I said, pulling open the shop door, bell ringing above me.

He offered me a remorseless chuckle. "Man, you run until you're ready to pass out."

"Correction: I run until you're ready to pass out, and until I hit my high."

"Fucking show-off," he snickered.

I smirked and stood on the order line. "Maybe if you cut off some of that bush you've grown on your head over the past year, it wouldn't weigh you down."

"Hey, hey, hey," Emmett protested. "Don't talk smack about the man-bun. The ladies like the man-bun. It's my crowning glory."

"That's your crowning glory? With all your career accomplishments, the bird's nest you've got going is what you- Hold on while I order," I said. Meanwhile, Emmett roared with laughter.

At the head of the line, two of the regular, weekday baristas were taking turns ringing up and filling orders. When one of the two workers spotted me, she nudged aside the guy working register and claimed his place.

Bree greeted me with an abundance of enthusiasm. "Edward!"

I offered her a neutral smile. "Hey, Bree."

Emmett stopped laughing, but when he spoke, amusement still infused his voice.

"Uh-oh, it's Bree?"

Bree was a college girl, in her early twenties. She attended Pace University, not too far from here. She was majoring in International Business with a minor in Spanish because she dreamed of moving to Spain. Also, she loved to party, but she knew how to keep herself under control. She didn't have a boyfriend, but she was ready for a serious commitment. All this I'd learned in the past couple of weeks because along with my coffee, Bree offered up a plethora of these tidbits, pushing aside whoever was in her way so she could take and prepare my order as well.

"How are you this morning?"

"I'm good, Bree, thanks. And you?"

"I'm great!" She bounced on her feet, eyes openly raking me over. "Looks like you had a great run this morning. You're all…" she swallowed, "sweaty."

"I did. Thanks."

She stared at me.

"Is she doing the staring thing again?" Emmett asked.

I cleared my throat. "Actually, Bree, there's a line forming behind me and…" I gestured behind me with my thumb.

"Oh!" She blinked. "Oh, yes! Your usual, Edward?"

"Yes, thanks."

Emmett chuckled while I paid from my drink. The other barista, a guy about the same age as Bree, who always appeared much less enthusiastic to see me, peeked at the register and up at me.

"You want skim milk with that, right?"

"No! No, I'll get it," Bree insisted. "I know exactly how he likes it."

Paul sucked his teeth. "Of course you do," he muttered, shuffling away in dejection.

"God, it's like a soap opera up in there," Emmett snickered. "I really should start getting up earlier."

Ignoring his comment, I took a seat on one of the stools by the main counter to wait for my latte.

"So, Em, I need to-"

"Did you run by yourself today, Edward?" Bree asked while she steamed the milk.

"Yeah. Yes, Bree, I did. Em, you've got to-"

"Your friend with the man-bun didn't join you?"

"She's noticed me?" Emmett asked. "I thought she only had eyes for-"

"No. No, he didn't. Not today." I returned my attention to the cell phone. "Emmett, like I was saying-"

"That's a shame, Edward. You shouldn't run alone."

"I don't mind it," I said. "Emmett-"

Bree leaned across the counter, coffee mug in one hand and pot of steamed milk in the other.

"Want to see a cool trick?"

"Uh-oh," Emmett said.

"Not so-"

Bree straightened, and with a series of confusing steps which I'd never recall, proceeded to prepare my latte so that when it was ready, a foam and milk image floated atop the mug.

"Ta-da!"

"What? What'd she do?" Emmett asked.

"That's actually pretty cool," I admitted, though the fact that the image was a heart made me frown.

"What'd she do?"

"I can teach you how to do it if you'd like," she offered. "I'm great at latte art."

"How to do what?" Emmett asked.

Bree placed the ready latte before me and again leaned across the counter, this time offering me an undeniably flirtatious grin.

"You know, Edward, I'm great at lots of things. I'm a great runner too. I can run for miles and miles. I've got loads of stamina."

Emmett howled. "Oh, she's laying out all them cards!"

I nodded and smiled coolly in return. "Thanks for the coffee, Bree."

"If you'd like company on your runs-"

"Bree…" I sighed and shook my head. "No. Thanks. I don't mind running alone."

She held my gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary - or appropriate. When she backed up and straightened once again, the flirtatious grin remained in place.

"Well, if you change your mind, let me know."

All the while, Emmett's laughter boomed.

"Kids just don't take no for an answer nowadays, do they?"

I raked a hand through my hair. "I may have to stop patronizing this establishment, regardless of the great, fucking lattes. And you seriously need to stop eavesdropping on my conversations."

"I'm not eavesdropping when you can't remember to end the call," he countered. "Besides, why don't you just give in and-"

"Even if she wasn't way too young, I'm not interested."

"I was just joking," he snickered. "She is young. But how 'bout giving someone else a second look? How 'bout that new Life Scientist in the office, what's her name…Maria!"

Maria was smart, attractive, had a great accent, and had a habit of saying things about me in Spanish while thinking I didn't understand and simultaneously offering me lessons.

"Seriously, Ed, how long has it been since you've been with a woman?"

I picked up my mug and gazed at the frothy heart.

Emmett whistled through his teeth. "So, it's been that long, huh?"

"I made no reply."

"Which was your reply," he concluded. "We extrapolate, remember? Don't tell me it's been since Kate?"

I narrowed my lips and blew at the froth, watching the stupid heart scatter.

"So, since Kate," Emmett further deduced. "Man, are you waiting for it to shrivel up and fall off?"

I snorted. "Come on, what are we, teenagers?"

"Fine, fine," Emmett snickered, "it won't shrivel or fall off, but it will get sad." He chuckled but then quickly sobered. "Ed, what...or who are you waiting for?"

Emmett was my closest friend, and for a second, I actually considered telling him about the woman who haunted my dreams. I sort of had told him about her back in Costa Rica, when I shared the events of That Day. He'd been almost as indignant on Bella's behalf as I'd been, and he'd felt the wrong done to her almost as deeply as I had - almost.

"What kind of woman are you looking for? You don't like the young ones; you don't like the bouncy ones; you don't like the flirty ones; you don't like the blond ones; you don't like the scientifically-inclined ones…"

'You painted that story perfectly...'

'I'm a story-teller...'

'Take care, stranger...'

'Edward…'

'Edward…I'm frightened…'

'You were so brave…so strong…'

"I like the brave ones...the strong ones."

"What?"

"Emmett, I called you because the director called me this morning and wants a decision from us ASAP. Do we accept the malaria job or not?" I asked, licking the milky froth off the mug's rim.

"Dude, you didn't-"

"Em, focus. Yes or no?"

"Asshole, you're the one who changed the subject. Fine. Ed, come on. Why can't they send in another team? That's romper-room shit they need doing over there. You and I are way above that pay grade."

I chuckled into my mug and carefully pushed it back so as not to scald myself. Despite his protests, I breathed easier. The topic we'd veered into hit too close to those thoughts…to that ghost who still haunted me, even after two weeks home.

"True, but it might be fun. Em…I'm feeling restless."

"Ed, we've been back home for two weeks. How the hell are you already restless? What's more, only you would put 'Malaria' and 'fun' in the same-"

"A tall coffee, please, dark and bitter."

That voice made my grip on the mug slip, which caused me to overcompensate my grip, which caused me to tilt the scalding liquid back too quickly. The next thing I knew, my top lip was on fire.

"Sure, miss. What's the name?"

"Bella."

With a massive thump, my heart completely stopped. In the next second, it resumed at breakneck speed.

"Mug or paper cup?"

"Paper cup."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Bella, we'll call your name when it's ready."

"Thanks."

I remained as still as a statue, coffee mug held in mid-air, unable- no, unwilling to turn because, for the past year, the specter to who that voice belonged possessed me nightly. I'd thought returning home would take care of it, but home, her voice...her ghost had only grown stronger. Just last night, I'd woken from a bewilderingly vivid dream drenched in sweat and drenched in the fantasy of feeling her mouth on mine...her body wrapped around mine.

'Edward…'

'Bella…I'll never let them hurt you…'

'Edward…'

And then, I'd realized my mistake. Of course, now that I was back in the city where it all happened, everyone would sound like her. Until I could finally find a way to exorcize her from my mind, I had to get away. I had to find another job, another assignment to occupy my thoughts. In the meantime, I refused to give in to the madness by turning to doublecheck every time something reminded me of her.

"I mean, Vegas is fun, I'll grant you..."

I vaguely heard Emmett's voice over the phone. Reopening my eyes, I glared at the wall and resisted the overwhelming urge which seeped through my veins like a drug.

"…and then you always insist on PPE, and if the day's long, what? We show up at the casinos in our gear?" Emmett snorted. "Yeah, that'll impress the ladies. Talk about the opposite of-"

"Bella, dark and bitter!" the barista called out.

Again, I squeezed my eyes shut. My breaths came in long and deep. I inhaled and exhaled them through narrowed lips. I'd finished a two-and-a-half hour run a half hour earlier, yet that hadn't left me feeling half as breathless.

"And then there are the showgirls," Emmett continued obliviously. "I mean, yeah, I'd love to see them, but…"

Behind me, the barista sucked his teeth. "Bella! Dark and bitter!" he repeated with much less patience.

No. I wouldn't turn because what was the logistical probability? Why would she be in this coffee shop? What sort of cosmic joke would place the specter, the figment who tormented me nightly in here? Life couldn't be that cruel.

"Remember when I flashed my credentials at the buffet," Emmett said, "and you got all bent out of shape because…"

"Bella!" the barista shouted, then followed it up with a muttered, "Whatever." The word was accompanied by the vague thump of a paper cup being carelessly set down.

"You talked me into it, Ed. Vegas, here we come!"

And with much more care than the barista, as well as with shaking hands, I set my own coffee on the counter and slowly spun my stool around. The coffee shop was crowded at this time of the morning.

"So, when exactly do we leave? Do you think I have time to brush up on my card-counting?"

There were business-attired men and women ready for a day at Wall Street. You could always recognize them by their matching, stressed out frowns. There were more laid-back career individuals who took a moment to smile and greet those around them. There were those self-employed individuals who casually meandered in and out, and then there were those who took a minute to sit, either in groups...or alone.

One of these individuals was by the front of the shop, sitting at the counter. The sun's rays streamed through the large windows and highlighted the woman's long, dark hair, which was up in a haphazard bun. Her profile was attractive, but her eyes were narrowed, and forehead lined by the intensity of her focus on some object outside. She wore jeans and a black-and-white striped shirt, both which looked too big for her frame as if she'd lost weight since…since the last time I saw her – if indeed, it was her. From here, I couldn't be completely sure.

Or maybe...that was my first excuse.

For one long heart-racing moment, I sat and stared at her as she stared out the window.

"Ed?"

"What?" I replied distractedly.

Emmett snorted. "What was the last thing you heard me say?"

"I don't know. Em, I've got to go."

"Wait, wait, wa-" I ended the call and pocketed the phone. Then, I stood and-

"Bella!" the barista called out once again.

The woman displayed absolutely no reaction. She just kept gazing through the window.

Perhaps…perhaps it wasn't her after all. Again, what were the chances? The truth was that I probably would never see Bella again. What's more, the Bella who visited me nightly in my dreams was simply a ghost, a figment of my overworked imagination, and even if this woman here was Bella, she would never be the woman of whom I dreamed.

"Where the heck is Bella!"

"Hey…Paul?" I said, reading the barista's tag, "Calm down, buddy. And can you do me a favor and make that drink over? It's probably cold by now."

Paul frowned darkly. "That's not my fault."

"I never said it was. The truth is that my…friend stepped out and asked me to pick it up for her, and I forgot."

"Fine, whatever," he muttered, chucking the drink in the garbage. "Hold on a sec."

While Paul prepared a new tall, black coffee, dark and bitter, the woman kept…staring out the window.

"Here you go, dude."

I think my phone vibrated in my back pocket as I made my way over to the woman, her coffee in one hand, mine in the other. Closure; that's what I needed. Whether it was her or not, she was not the woman of whom I dreamed. That woman didn't exist, and this would finally prove it so that I could move on. Maybe I would invite Maria out for a cup of coffee, take her up on her offer of Spanish lessons even though I already knew the language.

Yet, even as I took the few steps toward her, my conviction vacillated wildly. What did she see through that window that mesmerized her so? When I glanced outside, I saw nothing beyond a park, a few kids, some strollers. All in all, it was probably for the best if it wasn't her because what would I say? Seriously, what the fuck would I say?

'Hi, Bella. I know I'm the brother of the woman who committed an unimaginably heinous act against you last year, but let's pretend I'm not and that we're just meeting for the first time. How are you? How's your year been? Oh, the nose? Don't worry about it. No biggie.'

What. The fuck. Was the point of this?

If it was her – and I still wasn't convinced that was the case - she'd probably take the coffee from me and chuck it right back in my face or apologize profusely for the nose. I had no idea which option I dreaded more. And then what?

Either way, and then what?

But, it was too late for further speculation.

"Bella?"

I heard the slight hitch of her breath as she blinked away from the window. Dark eyes the color of fossilized amber looked up guiltily as if she'd been caught in the middle of a crime. But then, as she took me in, she frowned.

"Yeah?"

And yes...it was Bella – much more subdued, pensive, and…

And her one-word reply was curt and impatient.

"I think this is yours. I…" I chuckled nervously, glancing away from those piercing, amber eyes before daring to meet them again. "I heard you order it."

Her gaze narrowed in on the coffee cup. She made no attempt to take it. Instead, she scrutinized it, seemingly suspicious of its contents as if it might be poisoned; as if it might explode at any moment. I suppose, in her defense, considering my relationship with Alice, she found either option viable. And while she stared and stared at the cup, reading her name in the barista's short-hand as if she doubted she'd ordered it in the first place, I vowed that as soon as she reached for her coffee, I'd tell her to take care, have a good life, and I'd walk away. I'd walk away the way I should've That Day.

Because this was closure, right? Closure for an incident I shouldn't have been involved in anyway.

"It's been out for a few minutes, and I didn't think you'd want it to get cold or you would've ordered it iced," I joked, trying to dispel the mounting tension because seriously, she just kept staring at the cup.

With no warning, she snatched the cup out of my hand.

"Thanks."

Turning back to the window without another word, she set down her cup in front of her and redirected her wary focus on the outside world.

No coffee to the face. No apology for the nose.

And this was my chance; the Universe's way of telling me to get the fuck out. Here was my opportunity to walk away having exorcized the ghost, the fantasy because this woman was not the woman I met in that lobby last year.

Yet, instead of walking away, I found myself pulling back the stool next to her. Again, I took in the park across the street with the screaming and running children, mothers chasing them, fathers calling out to them. There were the women pushing strollers around the park, bouncing babies on their laps-

Babies.

'That's my baby! She's pregnant with my baby!'

"Fuck," I mouthed silently.

"What exactly are you doing?"

I startled at the question. For a few moments, I couldn't trust myself to look at her.

"I'm trying to figure out what's so fascinating about this view that would make one miss their name being called by the barista five times."

In my periphery, I could see her eyes on me, abruptly as focused as they'd just been on the window…on the babies. When she tilted her head sideways, I could tell her focus was now on my nose. I sighed and smiled softly, realizing I'd accomplished my goal of distracting her from the babies, but dreading what I was sure was a forthcoming apology I didn't want.

"I have a love/hate relationship with windows. On the one hand, there's so much to see through them. On the other hand…what is it about them that makes people feel safe?"

That wasn't what I expected.

"Do you mean physically safe?" I asked, eyes still on the window.

"No. Yes. What I mean is, people seem to think they can do the craziest things as long as there's a window in front of them."

Fucking Alice. And fuck motherfucking Jasper.

"I suppose…there's a false sense of privacy when you're behind a window," I acknowledged quietly.

"Yes. Take for example that man fixing his hair in his reflection and looking right through us as if we're not even here."

I snorted at her effort – and her ability – to keep things light between us.

"Or that kid who's got his ass pressed right up against my face," I offered teasingly in return.

She chuckled, a short quick chuckle, but my heart leaped at the sound.

"Windows tend to distract me and get me into trouble; so I really should end my love/hate relationship with them."

Again, my heart jumped, and simultaneously, my mind took me back to That Day, but a few hours earlier:

'I got distracted with the view from her window…'

"There really isn't much to see anyway, is there?" she continued with a deep sigh. "Just people scurrying back and forth, either completely aware they're on display or totally oblivious to the fact that their every move is being scrutinized."

And there we were, both of us standing on the precipice of that rabbit hole once again. There was no point in avoiding it, was there? We'd both fallen into it. We both knew what had happened. I opened my mouth, ready to acknowledge That Day, the incident, our…mutual involvement.

"So…you don't believe there's anything in between?"

"Nope. People are either complete assholes or complete idiots." Her stool scraped backward, and she stood. "Enjoy your coffee."

Once again, she left me dumbfounded. Before I could say anything else, she rushed out of the coffee shop.

For ten heartbeats, I watched her through the window, dropping her shades over her eyes as she cut a hasty path away from the coffee shop, looking at no one, for all intents and purposes looking as if she were running from her own ghosts.

Perhaps…perhaps I was her ghost.

Yet another reason why I should've remained in that coffee shop. But she'd forgotten her coffee - again. So, I'd give her the coffee – again, and this time, that would be that.

She was at the corner when I caught up.

"So, how have you been, Bella?" I asked from behind her.

Bella stopped short and almost lost her footing. When I reached out to help her, the scowl she shot me had me think twice. In those two extra seconds of consideration, she recovered herself - with a vengeance.

"What the…? What are you doing following me?"

"I'm not following you. You forgot your coffee."

Once again, I offered her the cup, and she blinked in apparent surprise.

"Oh. Thanks. Again."

Without another word, she yanked the cup out of my hand and turned on her proverbial heel. No 'Tell your sister to drop dead,' or 'Tell my ex-husband to kiss my ass,' or 'Look, I'm sorry about your nose, but I never asked you to keep it that way to remember me by.'

And then it hit me. This...was all one-sided.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

She spun around with deliberate languidness, her eyes already narrowed into slits. They raked me up and down...with absolutely no recognition whatsoever.

"Should I remember you beyond the five minutes in the coffee shop?"

She didn't remember me. Bella Hale…Swan didn't remember me. The woman who hadn't left my mind for above a day for the past year hadn't had me cross her mind – at all. How that was possible, I had no idea, but God, if it wasn't so sad it would've almost been comical. I'd spent the past year obsessed with her...and she didn't remember me.

And why the fuck should she remember me? What the fuck had I done to merit being recalled by her? Nothing useful, that was for sure. She'd spent a night in jail. She'd been passed down a sentence of mandatory therapy as if she was the one who'd acted insane That Day.

Again, all things considered, it was likely for the best. Now…now I could truly exorcize her. Because if the woman didn't even remember me-

"No. No, I suppose you shouldn't."

"Good," she smirked. "For a second there, I thought I'd have to add 'Bad Memory' to one of my many issues. Goodbye."

She resumed her quick stride, but the masochistic fucker in me barely let her go a half block before I fell in step with her once again. This time, she threw up her hands as she rounded on me.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I swear, I'm not following you." I pointed toward my block. "I went for my morning run, had my coffee, and now I'm headed home." It was partly true.

When she glowered at me, I offered her an apologetic shrug and dug my hands in my pockets.

"I…was also wondering if you'd mind providing some clarification on that dim philosophy you just shared."

Please don't tell me you're still that deeply affected by what happened. Please don't tell me you hold on as tightly as I do.

"No. I don't think I will."

She turned again. Again, I followed, and when she huffed in annoyance, I enjoyed the color that rose to her face. She'd seemed so pale back at the coffee shop.

"Look, you're starting to aggravate me, and I've been told I don't deal well with aggravation."

Jesus.

"So, get out of my way before I spill this cup of not-quite-steaming coffee on you."

I grinned uncomfortably and raked a hand through my hair. "I just don't think everyone deserves to be classified as either an asshole or an idiot."

Please don't tell me you're still that deeply affected-

"Well, then you'd definitely fall into the latter category. Now, move." She held the coffee cup up between us. "Don't think I won't do it. Trust me; I've been known to do worse."

Oh, baby, I know you would. And I'd fucking deserve that and worse right now.

Nonetheless, the words that erupted from my mouth were far less remorseful.

"That would be pretty ironic, especially since I'm the one who brought the coffee out to you – twice," I smirked.

"My fucking hero."

And that right there was yet another opportunity for me to either come clean…or to leave her the fuck alone. Because I wasn't her hero. God knew I was no help to her. I never had been. So, when she raised the cup higher and quirked an eyebrow, I stepped out of her way. Yet, my mouth apparently didn't know when to quit.

"I'll admit, I'm strangely and probably stupidly intrigued by your behavior."

"I'm not trying to intrigue you."

"Yet, you do."

"Seriously, dude, you're wasting your time and barking up the wrong tree here, not to mention the fact that you're messing with my serenity. I am not interested at all," she emphasized.

"Ohh." I nodded, playing along with her. "Oh, okay."

She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm not a lesbian; though it would've made my life abundantly easier had I earned the privilege."

I took a careful, deliberate step toward her.

"Well, from what I know," I said, thinking of Jamie, "the privilege is more one you're born with rather than earn."

"Yes. That's what my therapist keeps reminding me – court-mandated therapist, by the way."

Yet another reminder of the botched-up job I'd done at keeping my promise to her - a promise she apparently didn't even remember. Nonetheless, the fact that she didn't seem to recall my promise in the hospital didn't absolve me of my failure.

Bella quirked a challenging eyebrow, and I almost smiled at the fiery woman still in there. "Are you sure you want to keep following me?"

"I wasn't following you." I chuckled again, but there was no humor in it. Because what the hell was I doing? Seriously, what the hell? Why was I following this woman? There was nothing, no reason, no way. She didn't even remember me for God's sake. And I knew that if I stopped to examine the full ramifications of that...it would be fucking painful.

"Bella…I'm sorry for…whatever happened that's forced you into court-mandated therapy."

She waved away what she believed a random bit of sympathy. In reality, it was shame...and cowardice.

"Yes, well. I'm about to be late to the said session, and unless I want to find my ass in jail again-"

Jesus, Bella.

"-I need to get going. And if you don't want to find your ass in jail," she snapped in warning, "you'll stop following me."

Bella, I would've traded spots with you in a heartbeat if I could've. In a heartbeat, if I could've protected you.

With feet that felt weighted by lead, a thousand times heavier than they'd been on any run, I forced myself away from Bella. Because no, there was no point in this. Yet...for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her dark eyes, a modicum of disappointment at our increasing distance…a fleeting recognition.

But if there had been anything there, it was gone in the next second. When I blinked, all that remained before me was a beautiful, fiery...and righteously indignant woman. When I spoke again, I infused all my remorse into four short words that I knew weren't enough. Nothing would ever be enough to erase what my sister had done to her...and what I'd allowed done.

"Have a good day, Bella."

Without a reply, she turned and headed for the subway.

"And by the way," I swallowed hard, "there are those of us who fall somewhere in between."

Much like Paul the Barista calling out her name, she displayed no reaction to my words. For a long while, after she disappeared into the subway below, I stared after her. People came and went, erasing her footprints, yet I stared.

Then, I pulled out my phone.

"Emmett? Yeah. Yeah, we leave tomorrow. I…" Sighing, I squeezed my eyes shut and raked a hand through my hair. "I need to get away again."

A/N: Thoughts?

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The song that Edward hit his runner's high to at the beginning of the Chapter:

The Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin.

It's a great song, makes you want to move. It also happens to be the theme to "Thor" (aka yummy Chris Hemsworth – literally one of the hottest guys in the world, if you ask me).

Anyway, lol, I thought it would be a fitting song today, considering Avengers: End Game hit theatres Thursday. I'm literally vibrating in my seat as I wait to see it tonight. AND NO ONE GIVE ME ANY SPOILERS! NOT EVEN OF THE "Oh, it was great! I really enjoyed it," KIND!

"See" you soon. :)