A/N: sorry I haven't posted in a second! My mom's had a lot of health issues and they found a few new tumors :/

This chapter isn't beta'd. My lovely Sally deserves a break for her vacation. Hope you enjoy anyway! love you all!

(Hopefully I can get a lot of chapters done tonight! No sleep nation! haha)

21

Stollen kisses existed behind bookshelves and in-between customers. Every moment that we could find to mark as ours, we did with eager lips and wandering hands. Although all of the words I wished so desperately to express were lodged in my throat, I tried my best to convey them through passionate lips and a frenzied heartbeat. Could he feel my clammy hands whenever I encountered him? Did he notice that all of my euphoric nerves were inspired by his touch?

Still so wrapped up in his past, I wondered if he would ever let things move further than this friendly, sexual healing. There were moments that he looked at me and I swore he saw straight into my soul. The darkness of his irises dissolved to show a fraction of light that I somewhat selfishly believed was reserved for me. The seriousness of his expression would soften in my presence too. The hardlines and wrinkles would smooth out, making him look far younger. Sometimes, Edward resembled a man untouched by life. With his carefree smiles, he appeared almost like someone who hadn't been fucked over by reality yet.

Of course, life had already asked for his payment. He had given it and then some. Hell, so had I. Did I also look cold toward the truth? Sometimes, our situations seemed sadly ironic. We were two souls who had suffered so much at the hands of reality that we found ourselves bathing in a pool of fiction.

Two survivors surrounding themselves with fantasy novels and science fiction volumes, that's what we were. It was a strange sort of melancholy—constantly feeling nostalgic over pasts we had never known. I longed to have the backstories of fictional characters. I dreamed of vast landscapes and hobbit holes and journeys to save humanity.

I had always wanted to be something akin to a mythical hero—however, I never wanted to be the hero in my own life or in my own world. Championing myself felt too difficult. After all, what if I failed? Could I continue on after that?

As the last customer of the evening left with their arms filled with books, I abandoned the pile of books I had been working on shelving on the floor to cross the floor to flip our store sign to closed. Edward was posed behind the counter, peering at his computer with his glasses cutely resting on the edge of his nose. He never seemed to notice when I chose to watch him. While completely focused on the email he was reading, he pushed his glasses back into place and bite down on his bottom lip as he typed a quick response before pressing send.

Outside, dark clouds covered the last bit of the day's sunlight with the promise of a thunderstorm. I yearned for the rainwater. Every time it rained, I felt like I was being baptized and would awaken the next day brand-new. Of course, the rain couldn't wash away my sins. Nothing could. But that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy a few moments bathing in nature's showers.

"Worried about the storm?" Edward asked without looking away from his email.

I answered by moving behind the counter and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I shouldn't be doing this—touching my boss so romantically as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Still, I couldn't help it. He had allowed so many things to happen between us—probably more than he should have—and I didn't want our physical relationship to end.

He sighed, relaxing into my touch, before I buried my face against the warm flesh of his neck. Today, he smelled like vanilla and cedar. I smiled against his skin, letting his scent become my comfort. Later tonight, when I was alone again in my motel bed, I'd think of his intoxicating scent and the euphoric way his skin felt against mine. With him in my mind's eye, I never felt alone.

"Does the rain ever scare you, Bella?"

I shook my head against his neck. Why? Do I look afraid?

"Are you afraid of anything?" he said with a chuckle.

I shook my head again. With my past, what more did I have to fear? Every frightening thing had already happened to me. My future should be smooth sailing in comparison.

"My brave girl …"

His girl … How many times would I replay those three words in my mind? My brave girl. I smiled against his skin. I wanted to thank him. Although he didn't realize it, no one had ever believed in me the way he did. With him, I felt strong. In his arms or wrapped around him, I wasn't weak anymore. I no longer felt useless. My purpose was this—being here with him.

Even if that purpose only lasted for a moment, that was enough. I'd take any moment I could get with him. He grabbed my arms and maneuvered me around so that I was facing him. Behind his glasses, his eyes smiled to me. He seemed lustful, proud, and in love all at once.

Of course, the last bit may only be imaginary. I wanted to believe this was love. On my end, every bit of this was love. On his end, I wasn't entirely sure. It hadn't escaped my notice that he never invited me to his bed. Whenever I stayed the night with him, it was always in his guest bedroom. I was certain that if he invited me over tonight, it would be the same story. We'd fuck in the guest bedroom and fall asleep in each other's arms.

He wasn't ready to move on from his past, and I respected that. Still, I wondered if that was the only reason, he was keeping me separated from his world. A guest bedroom with minimal furnishings wasn't exactly personal. Nothing in the room felt like him or hinted at anything from his former life.

Were pain and trauma the only reasons he wanted to separate me from his world? Perhaps there were obvious signs that I was just missing. Was I too enamored with him to see the truth? Did the truth even matter at all?

After all, who was I to judge him? I had ghosts too. In fact, there were too many ghosts to count. One being a man that could be looking for me now … Someone who would kill me as soon as they found me. I need to keep moving, my subconscious screamed at me. If I stay in one place, he'll find me eventually. We're still married, after all. Till death do us part …

God, when I said those words—until death do we part—I never thought I'd be the one doing the dying.

"Bella?" Edward was cradling my face now in a way that was so gentle that I wanted to break down right then and there. "Bella? Honey? Are you all right?"

One tear fell before I could stop it. He wiped it away before pulling me close. I wasn't all right. Honestly, I don't remember the last time I was ever all right. With him holding me so tenderly like this, it felt more intimate than sex. His arms roamed my body to provide comfort rather than pleasure and it made me want to die. Because I knew how rare moments like these were.

Who knew that the one thing we'd want more than anything in life would be being held? We were brought into the world being held by our mothers if we were lucky, and as we grew older, we were physically cared for less in less. Since childhood, so many of the touches I had received had been sexual—never tender. No one ever held me close as I cried. Edward had been the only one who had ever cared enough to do that.

I'd never be able to thank him enough for that. No words would ever suffice because in the future, I knew I'd long for this. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't stay by his side forever. Something would separate us. Be it time or the miles between us. Things this tender couldn't last for a lifetime.

At least, not for me.

"Do you want to stay with me tonight? Would that make you feel better?"

Part of me wanted him to ask why I was crying in the middle of his bookstore. If he asked, I wouldn't lie. I needed him to pry the words out of me. Perhaps that was selfish. I couldn't help but need the push. Please ask me about my past, Edward. I'd tell you everything. Make me tell you. Make me reveal everything.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Edward never pushed passed my limits. I wanted him to, however—I needed it. Don't blame him! my subconscious screamed at me. You're the one at fault. It's your story to tell … so tell it!

Before I could reach for a pencil to begin to write, Edward was shutting down his computer and pulling me toward the door to the staircase leading to the apartments above. My mind was reeling as we made our way up to his place. I thought of texting him the truth or perhaps writing him a long, well thought out letter. So enamored with literature, I figured he'd like the letter more. Perhaps I could leave it behind on my pillow one morning. He could read the letter or ignore it, neither mattered to me. I just wanted these words off of my chest more than anything. Edward deserved to know my truth, too.

By the time we entered his apartment, the rain was coming down quickly outside, slamming against the windows. Edward crossed the room and opened one of the windows halfway and sat down on his perch beside it before pulling out his pack of cigarettes.

He rarely smoked, and whenever he did, I figured he was particularly stressed. He pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit up before turning his gaze toward me to offer me one too. I declined with a shake of my head and moved to sit across from him on the cushion covered perch.

"Sorry," he said between long drags. "It's a nasty habit, I know."

I shrugged, before waving it off as if to say, "it's all right."

He was thoughtful for a moment as he smoked before saying, "Maybe tonight, we can just sleep if that's okay? I'm worn out … and it seems like you are too."

He just wants to sleep … why does that sound so romantic?

"Is that all right?"

I smiled. It was more than all right. Still covered with the bleak residue of the past, a small gesture like this, just sleeping, was everything.