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To my pre-readers, Pamela Lorraine and Gabby1017, my beta SunflowerFran, and my gatekeeper, Sunshine1220 - You ladies are AMAZING! I couldn't do this without you. I'm so grateful to each one of you for your input, support, correction, and friendship.

To my readers who have been so kind to leave reviews and supportive words over the last month - I can't begin to tell you what you have meant to me! I am so blessed to be part of a community that loves and supports the way you do. Thank you! (Hopefully life is slowing down enough now that I can respond to reviews.)

Okay, I'll let you get to it ...

A soft thump and a slightly louder expletive pulled me from slumber. I felt as though I'd been beaten; my eyes were full of sand, and my nose was stuffy and sore, but it took less than three seconds for my mind to recall the most important information.

Edward had shown up on my doorstep on Christmas Eve and while I'd been a mess, he offered his shoulder to cry on–literally–and held me as I wept. He'd been gentle and kind–a far cry from the angry man who'd stormed out earlier in the week–and he was currently kneeling in front of my fireplace. I watched as he added a log, using the poker to adjust its position before setting it aside and pushing himself up from the floor. He reached for a stack of blankets, spreading one and then another on the floor in front of the fire.

I sat up, taking in the fact that I was stretched out on the couch beneath what appeared to be the quilt from my bed. The movement caught Edward's attention and he stopped what he was doing to focus on me.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Umm… okay, I think. You built a fire?" The obvious answer was yes, but the haze of sleep was still lingering.

"Yeah. Power went out a couple of hours ago. The house is getting colder, so I brought out any blankets I could find." He tossed a couple of pillows, also from my bed, onto the blankets and then turned to face me. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's fine. Thank you."

Edward nodded and looked back at the fire, clearly uncomfortable. I was sure he was frustrated at finding himself here, dealing with an emotional ex-girlfriend when he could have been in surrounded by his family.

I offered him an out. "I really appreciate you coming to check on me and getting the fire started. You know you don't have to stay if you're ready to head back home."

Edward's jaw tensed, and his eyes closed for a moment before opening and focusing on me again. "I'm right where I want to be, Bella. Come here." He held out his hand, waiting as I rose and crossed the short distance to him. As soon as I laid my hand in his, he pulled me to him, pressing a kiss to the top of my head and holding me tightly. "We've let this go on for far too long, and neither of us is whole without the other. It's almost two o'clock in the morning, so we're going to get some sleep, and when we wake, we're going to work through this and then spend the rest of Christmas day with our family."

There were alarm bells going off in my head warning me that this could be bad, but the warmth of the fire and my drowsy mind wouldn't let me panic at his words. Instead, I relaxed into his arms and allowed myself a moment's comfort that I had avoided far too long.

After a few minutes, Edward released me and picked up another blanket. He covered me with it, and then another as I settled on the makeshift bed he'd constructed. He stepped back, his hands going to the button on his jeans as he lifted his brows in question. I offered a small nod and then turned to face the fire, unable to watch him undress, even if it was just his pants. He left the long-sleeved t-shirt on and laid down behind me, urging me to scoot forward as he did. His arms wrapped around me, tugging me into his chest as I pulled the blanket up around us.

His words rolled around in my head as we lay pressed together. I knew he was right, that conversation should have taken place years ago, and we'd only made things more uncomfortable by avoiding it. More than anything, I wanted to know if he meant it … did he really feel incomplete without me? My mind reeled with the possibility that after we talked, he might still walk away and I would be left with a gaping, Edward-shaped hole for the rest of my life. Was there really a chance he felt the same?

Eventually, the emotional exhaustion took its toll and sleep found me.

When my eyes opened again, I was still wrapped in Edward's arms, my cheek against his chest as his fingers pulled gently through my hair.

"Are you awake?" he whispered. I nodded and he chuckled softly. "Good, I need to get some more wood on the fire, but it's too cold to do it without my shirt."

His words confused me for a second or two, just until my brain registered the death grip I had on him. Both hands were fisted in his t-shirt so tightly that my knuckles were white and aching. I released him instantly.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't –"

"Don't," he whispered as he grasped my hands, holding them against his chest over his wrinkled shirt. His gaze was so tender it brought a lump to my throat. "I'm still yours."

Edward pressed a kiss to my forehead and then rose, pulling on his jeans, shoes and coat as I tried to drag air into my lungs after his declaration.

I'm still yours.

There were several possible things he could have meant with those words, but only one that really meant anything, and I knew Edward well enough to know he wouldn't throw those words out lightly.

"Hey," he called, drawing my attention back to him. "Do you still have that French press?" I nodded, watching him button his coat. "Good. Bring a pot of water and set it by the fire. I'll heat it up while you get the press ready. I have a feeling we're going to need the caffeine today."

He was out the door before I could respond, and I was grateful to have a task to focus on, knowing that my nerves were raw and wound tightly. I did as he asked, filling a pot with water and carrying it back to the fireplace. The French press was easy to set up, and while I liked to grind coffee fresh each morning, I always ground a little extra in the winter, just in case. I suppose it was handy on icy mornings without power, especially when you'd be having an intense discussion with the man you loved but had no contact with for years until the week prior.

Then again, the caffeine and my frayed nerves might prove to be a problematic combination.

I could hear Edward tending the fire, so I gathered up some cups and sugar, placing them on a tray with the press. There were some gingerbread and apple spice muffins in a plastic container that were among the items Esme brought when she visited so I added those to the tray as well. Edward stepped into the kitchen as I opened the door of the refrigerator, glad that the items inside were still chilled and hoping the power came back on before they spoiled.

Setting the cream on the tray, Edward lifted it and followed me into the living room where we settled on the makeshift bed once again. He poured the hot water into the press as I opened the containers, all the while we were both quiet. I was contemplating every possible way this conversation might go and wondering if he was thinking the same.

"Stop thinking so hard."

"What?" I looked up to find Edward's hand outstretched, holding a cup of coffee, prepared, I was sure, exactly the way I liked it.

"I can practically hear the gears squeaking in your head, Bella. Stop overthinking, and let's just talk. It used to be easy for us, and I'm betting we can find that again, but you have to breathe, okay?"

"Okay." I sipped my coffee while Edward leaned forward, pulling a blanket around my shoulders and tucking it across the front, leaving my arms mobile. He did the same for himself and for a few minutes, we drank our coffee while the fire hissed and popped and the wind whistled outside.

"Warm enough?" Edward asked. At my answering nod, he tipped up his cup, draining the rest of his coffee and set it aside, focusing his attention entirely on me. "I'm not the same man I was three years ago. In my line of work, I must analyze the information I'm given, determine the risk and make decisions. Sometimes, there are miscalculations or missing information, and I must answer for those as well." He took a deep breath and reached for my hand, weaving our fingers together. "What I'm trying to say is I'm not interested in dancing around this, Bella. I'm not some teenage boy worrying about admitting my feelings before knowing whether they're reciprocated. I intend to speak plainly, telling you exactly how I feel and what I need." He squeezed my hand, "Breathe, Bella."

I sucked in a trembling breath, letting it out slowly. My mind was racing with possible outcomes for this discussion, but one phrase kept coming back to me.

I'm still yours.

"Yesterday, Dad challenged me to decide which was more important: living with our past or living without you. There was no question for me. I meant what I said in the middle of the night; we are two halves of the same whole, and neither of us is complete without the other. I haven't been whole for three years."

I felt the sting of tears but willed them not to fall, and I couldn't stop the trembling no matter how many deep breaths I took. Edward must have mistaken the tremors for cold and pulled the blanket more snugly around me. He tried to tuck the hand he was holding into the blanket, but I tightened my grip, refusing to give up the contact.

A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth for a moment, and then he frowned, dropping his eyes to our clasped hands.

"That isn't to say I'm not pissed off. I'm angry as hell that you pushed me away. That was the missing information, Bella. I miscalculated everything … us … because I didn't have all the pieces. I walked away when you needed me the most because I believed you that day, and that makes me even more angry at myself for not having more faith in us than injured pride at being rejected." He heaved a sigh. "I'm … I'm not saying this right."

He was silent and unmoving for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. I was able to calm my breathing but didn't dare say a word, waiting for him to say exactly what he came here to say. It was selfish of me, and I realized how much braver he was in that moment, ready to brandish his heart on his sleeve no matter the consequences. I'd stopped being brave a long time ago. It was easier to put a wall around my emotions and exist day to day without having to worry about anyone else's expectations.

The problem was it was a miserable way to live. And apparently, I'd made Edward miserable too.

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I'm so sorry I pushed you away and failed us. I failed my mom and the farm and my family." The words seemed to spill from my mouth faster than my thoughts could keep up. "I don't know what comes next, and I'm afraid. I think I'm more scared about that than I was about losing Mom and being alone but at least I had her to focus on. I had her first, then the farm, and now the move but I don't know what happens after that. And most of all, I'm scared of you."

So much for that wall around my emotions.

Edward stared at me, eyes wide, blinking twice before a sorrowful grimace marred his face. He squeezed my fingers gently and then scooted closer, his gaze intense. "You were not the only one at fault, Bella. I failed you as well." When I shook my head and opened my mouth to contradict him, Edward leaned closer and kept speaking, not allowing me to negate his words.

"You didn't feel safe enough to tell me the truth about your mother, and I understand that was at her request. But I didn't stay and offer you that chance. I took my anger and hurt and left town, leaving you to deal with all of it alone. That's my failure, Bella, and I'm sorrier than you can know." He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting my eyes once again. "As for your mom, there was nothing you could have done. From what Dad told me, you were wonderful with her and made her last weeks as comfortable as possible. I have no doubt she felt loved and peaceful at the end."

He sat quietly, allowing me a few moments to collect myself as I fought to keep my tears at bay. I didn't want to spiral into an emotional mess with him again and I was grateful for his discernment. His thumb moved in feather-light strokes across the top of my hand but otherwise, he was still and patient. When he finally did speak, his voice was low and gentle.

"As for the rest of it, you haven't failed. You made choices based on what you needed and your circumstances. You had no way of knowing what would happen in the future–no one can know that–but you did what needed to be done."

Edward waited until I looked up. His face was open and earnest, imploring me to believe the words he spoke. "It kills me that you're afraid of me. If I'm honest, I'm a little scared of you, too. I told you that I would be direct and tell you exactly what I want." He blew out a breath and released my hand. Before I could protest, he lifted both arms from beneath his blanket, cupping my face and holding my gaze.

"I love you, Isabella Swan, and I want you. I want to build a life with you. Three years, three days or three hours, it doesn't matter how much time has passed. Time doesn't exist when I'm with you, and yet there will never be enough of it, either. There's a lot to work through, but I know all the possibilities the future holds, and I don't care what comes next as long as I know there is hope for us."