Rosalie stretches her arms above her head, trying to get the circulation flowing back into her body after the four-hour car ride. She reflexively yawns from the motion.
Their little rented cabin in the woods isn't so little. It's a two-story, rustic-looking building with big iron-framed windows and a deck overlooking sloping, snow-covered hills.
"Alright, let's get inside. I think some lunch would do us well about now," Carlisle says, popping open the trunk. He hands out luggage to the group before leading them up the front stairs to their weekend getaway.
Rosalie starts to pull her rolling luggage behind her up the stone steps, but Emmett grabs the suitcase by the handle, hauling it up for her.
"I got it," he says with a wide grin.
"Thanks."
Bella and Edward lag behind everyone else. It seems Bella lacks coordination and is having trouble navigating the snowy terrain. If Rosalie didn't know better, she'd think she was attempting to navigate the surface of the moon.
Inside, the cabin is undeniably cozy with its exposed wooden beams and A-frame design. There are plenty of plush carpets covering the wooden floors, and an abundance of throw pillows and blankets are draped across chairs and sofas.
She feels like she's in a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie. All she needs is a cup of cocoa, some snowflakes, and a corny D-list pop soundtrack playing in the background.
"There are two rooms upstairs and two downstairs if everyone wants to figure out where they'll be sleeping," Esme suggests.
Alice is somehow already upstairs, doing exactly that. She apparently already knows exactly which room she wants. Annoying.
Rosalie looks at Emmett, still carrying their things, before heading upstairs too. She doesn't want to risk being room neighbors with Edward.
There's another dilemma she's facing, though. Emmett hasn't slept over more than the one time. Since they had started dating, she's only seen him once at the football game he invited her to, which she left promptly after with the excuse that she had to get up early for work.
"One of Esme's friends owns a few different cabins out here. I haven't stayed here specifically before, but it's not bad," Emmett tells her as they ascend the stairs.
Rosalie nods distractedly. "Yeah, I like it."
She's unsure how things will go spending a long weekend together. Will he be expecting sex again? She doesn't think she's ready to jump back in so soon.
Emmett sets their stuff down by the door while Rosalie pulls open the curtains on the bedroom window.
Outside there's nothing but white for miles. Frost-covered trees dot the landscape. She suppresses a shiver from looking at the wintery scene, still feeling chilled despite her new down-filled jacket.
"We're not planning on going skiing-slash-snowboarding until tomorrow morning, so today's kind of a free day. I was thinking we could do the falls on Saturday," Emmett says. "Did you want to go into town or anything?"
She doesn't want to get back in a car again just to go into the city. She's had enough of that today. "No, let's hang out here for now."
"That's cool with me." He kisses her jaw and rests his hands on her waist. "Staying in is nice. Especially with you."
Her stomach flips. She doesn't feel like being touched, nor does she feel like having another breakdown with everyone else around to witness it this time.
She pushes him away gently. "Not right now."
Emmett seems confused but doesn't question it. She, however, feels inexplicably bad the moment the words leave her mouth.
"M'kay. Um, wanna go outside and walk around in the snow or something?" he suggests.
"Let me get something hot to drink first." Something to calm her. She wants to just sit for a moment.
Downstairs she gravitates towards the shiny red Keurig and drops a peppermint mocha pod in the machine.
Esme's sitting with a bedraggled Bella on the sofa in the living room, asking her about her plans for the holidays. It sounds like she's going to drive home to some middle-of-nowhere town out west.
Rosalie checks her lipstick in the reflection of the glossy microwave door. It still looks as good as when she applied it. Perfect.
"What are you doing for Christmas?" she asks Emmett who's in the process of rummaging through the pantry. He comes back with a box of peanut butter sandwich crackers.
"Esme's going to cook dinner and Carlisle will make us watch A Christmas Carol for the billionth time, I'm sure." He shrugs. "Are you going home?"
"Probably not."
"Then you should come!" he exclaims. "Hey, let's build a snowman!"
He points to Alice and Jasper out the back window. The pair's in the process of rolling a large snowball. It crumbles before they can finish it, prompting Alice to cry out mournfully and Jasper to laugh.
"The last time I tried to build a snowman I was in grade school," she replies.
"So you're horribly under quota! We have to make at least ten to make up for it. Lucky for you, I'm way better at snow sculpting than whatever it is those two amateurs are doing out there."
Rosalie looks out the window again to see the lopsided snow sculpture her brother and Alice are working with and laughs. "I'll hold you to it."
...
Thwack!
An icy snowball hits Jasper's back as he ducks for cover around a tree. He sees Emmett in his bright orange puffer jacket ready with another, poised to throw the second he steps out of hiding.
Smack!
"Hey, no fair! You said you weren't playing!" Emmett shouts as Alice hits him square in the head.
"I changed my mind!" She laughs, packing another ball of snow. She tosses it at Rosalie, who ducks out of the way with a shriek, her white coat blending in with their surroundings.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Jasper pelts Emmett back with snow, hitting him in the arm.
The sun is starting to set despite it not even being dinner time yet, and the string lights along the roof come on. There's even less daylight up north in Whistler than there is in Seattle.
They built a few sorry-looking snowmen, one of which is shaped like a cross between a mouse and a teddy bear.
Everyone laughing and having fun together in the snow is a welcome change of pace from Jasper's usual late-night haunts downtown. He hasn't seen his sister in such a good mood since she came to Seattle. Or ever.
By the time they're finished, Jasper's hair is frosty and wet, and his clothes are dusted in rapidly melting snow. Emmett's even worse for wear, having been overzealous and fallen down in the snowball battle.
"You should put your stuff upstairs," Alice says as she shakes out her plaid scarf on the deck, little flakes of white ice crystals falling off the beige fabric. Her nose is pink from the cold.
His head is starting to hurt. He rolls his shoulders, trying to ease the tension.
"I can sleep on the couch."
"Why would you do that?"
He doesn't have an answer to give her. She makes him feel silly for even suggesting it.
He's still more accustomed to being kicked out of a bed than being asked to stay and sleep in one. If that's what she wants, though, he's more than happy to.
Though he was horribly drunk at the time, his sleeping over on Halloween was relatively pleasant. Being in her proximity is undoubtedly soothing.
"Do you like cold or hot weather more?" Alice asks, grabbing his hand and leading him inside.
"Somewhere in the middle, maybe. I like the rain."
"That would explain why you always seem to be out in it without the proper attire."
He picks up his duffle bag from the floor and follows her up into the room she claimed earlier. "I got a rain jacket a little while ago."
"I noticed!" she chimes. "I'm sad. You didn't even take me with you. I love looking at clothes."
"Next time, then," he promises.
Alice opens the door and throws her arms out as if she's presenting for a game show. "Ta-da! See? Plenty of space for you to sleep. I don't take up much room."
The room is decorated cozily, with olive and wood-toned accents. There's a small balcony with a sliding door on one wall, and a closet and bathroom on the other.
"Do you have a preferred side?" Alice asks, hanging up her black jacket on the coat rack beside the door.
He sets his things down while she darts around the room. "Of what?"
She disappears into the bathroom and returns with a towel. "The bed."
"No, do you?"
"Yeah, the middle." She giggles. "I suppose it doesn't matter which side you like then, does it?"
She grabs his hand again and pulls him with her as she walks. Stepping up onto the edge of the bed, she drapes the towel over his head and dries his hair with it.
"So this is what it's like all the way up here," she says, standing just above his eye level.
He laughs. Her smile's contagious. "What are you doing?"
"You're going to catch a cold if you always walk around with wet hair. It's not summer anymore," she teases.
The considerate and unnecessary gesture makes him feel unexpectedly warm and fuzzy. He wants to make her feel the same way, but her baseline mood is already so cheerful. He doesn't know that he could do anything to improve it when she's already overflowing with positivity and happiness.
Deciding his hair is dry enough, she stops. She rests her arms on his shoulders, tilting her head as she watches him with big brown eyes.
He wants to kiss her. He hesitates, though, enjoying the moment far too much as is.
She smiles wider.
"Hey, Alice?" Esme's voice calls from downstairs.
"Be right there!" Alice shouts back, her expression amused.
Jasper's disappointment at the untimely interruption is immense.
"Next time," she says to him before hopping down to the floor.
...
After a walk around in the snow, dinner, another walk around in the snow, a shower, and a five-minute-long session of teeth-brushing and flossing Edward is faced with the same dilemma he has been for weeks.
Temptation.
Bella sits off to the side of the turned-down, king-sized bed in her pajamas, reading Sense and Sensibility with a concentrated look. She pauses, dog-earing her place when she sees him.
"You didn't have to stay up for me," he says apologetically.
"I wanted to. I feel like you've been running me around all day, and we barely got any time alone together."
The same intelligence that makes Bella irresistibly attractive is now biting him in the ass.
"We only have so much time here. I just want to make the most of it," he says. He sits down on the bed beside her and kisses her forehead. "Since you've never been on a big vacation out of the country."
"I think I'll live to see another day if I miss out on some snowflakes and a sleigh ride." She rolls her eyes. "My drive back to Forks takes almost the same amount of time as the drive here did."
"Maybe we should go overseas next? Is there someplace you've been wanting to go?"
She smiles. "I've always wanted to see Europe. There's so much history."
"We can go this spring," he suggests.
"What? Oh, I might go home to see Charlie and I'll be working..."
"I'm sure we can find time where you'll be free," he assures her. "Are you ready to go to sleep?"
"No, we're still talking." She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close. She kisses him, nibbling his lower lip.
He groans. She has to know what she's doing to him. Really. "Bella."
"Hm? Is something the matter?" Her hands trace circles on the back of his neck.
"You're making this really difficult for me."
"Maybe I can make it easier, then." She starts to pull her sleep shirt up over her head.
Edward grabs the material and yanks it back down quickly. "Bella, no. Bella—"
"What?" She's still trying to weasel her way out of the shirt, seemingly unfazed by his stressed tone.
"Stop trying to take off your clothes, please."
"Would you prefer to take them off instead?" she asks, her voice low.
"No, not now. Not tonight." He shakes his head, sitting back and untangling their limbs. "We've already discussed this."
Bella chews her lip, contemplating. About what, he's not sure. "You said it was because you didn't want me doing it just for you, right? Well, I'm not. I want to because I want to."
"It can hurt for girls. You might bleed or you could—"
"Maybe if you don't know what you're doing," she says, cutting him off and raising a brow.
"And I don't! I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't want to hurt you."
She seems unbothered. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I mean, the human race wouldn't be here if it was that bad."
"I don't know what to tell you, Bella," Edward pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "It's just not something I'm comfortable with. I wish you would understand that I'm doing this for both of our benefits. What if you get pregnant? Or we...break up a month from now? Are you prepared for that? You're giving a part of yourself away that you can't take back."
And what if he isn't any good? What if she doesn't want him anymore after that?
He just knows he deserves hell for how he can't stop picturing her undressed and underneath him.
"Then oh well?" She shrugs. "That's life?"
"I don't want this to be a decision made on a whim. I want it to be special. You're worth more than you know, Bella," he reaffirms. "I want us to wait."
She rolls her eyes. "And you should lighten up. Fine. No sex, no touching. Until later."
"Because I love you," he adds, turning off the light and getting back into bed. "Now let's go to sleep."
"Yeah. I love you, too," she echoes back.
...
Jasper rummages through the kitchen cabinets and fridge, trying to find something to calm the building jittery mess seeping through his body.
He's anxious. Feverish. His head is killing him.
It's well past midnight and he's a few dozen miles away from the nearest bar or liquor store.
He feels sick. He is sick.
Pushing his hair out of his face, he stares at the pantry. Pancake mix, chips, pasta, a few cases of sparkling water, some cartons of oat milk...
How is there no alcohol in the entire cabin? How is it possible that eight young adults are on a vacation and not a single one of them thought to bring beer or wine or something?
He should have known this would happen. It's not new information that he wouldn't be able to quit cold turkey. He's been dependent on his bad habits for too long.
He doesn't hear Alice follow him downstairs. It startles him when her voice is suddenly behind him.
"Jasper," she whispers. "What are you doing?"
"I have a headache. It's fine, I'm just looking for something," he reassures, trying his best to sound relaxed.
It feels even worse than a hangover. He would do anything for the smallest sip of a drink.
He hates having her see him like this.
"Do you need ibuprofen?" she asks.
"No, I don't think that's going to help."
Alice pads into the kitchen in sock-covered feet, her footsteps light and soundless.
"You don't look so good. You're shivering," she says, reaching up and putting the back of her hand against his cheek to test the temperature. Her skin feels icy against his. "Did you catch a cold?"
He shakes his head. "I just need a drink."
"A drink?"
He rubs his head irritably, fingers combing through his mussed hair. "I'm out of meds and I can't get them filled for another week. I'll feel better if I have something to drink."
"If you don't think about it and wait it out maybe it'll go away..." she suggests.
"It doesn't work like that. I've tried," he grumbles. His voice comes out more irritated than intended.
Her eyes widen and she pulls her hand back. "Carlisle might be able to help. He's a really great doctor. Do you think if I go get him, you could talk to him about it?"
She's asking if she should wake up the house doctor to ask for late-night advice on his alcohol and pill dependency? Not exactly a good way to start off a vacation.
He can't. "No, it's fine. Really. I'll...figure something out."
"Jazz," she says in a somber tone. "Please? He might have ideas on how to get better."
How to get better. Can he get better? He doesn't even want to try. It would be too depressing when he fails. He can't imagine a scenario where he finds peace with this side of himself.
She seems so hopeful and optimistic about it, though, that he can't bring himself to tell her no. "He's sleeping," he says uncertainly.
"I can wake him up."
"Alice, I—"
"I don't like it when we argue." She pushes her bottom lip out in a pout.
She has him wrapped around her little finger. Her mind's already been made up, and he isn't in any position to deny relief from the agonizing state he's in.
"If you think it'll help," he relents.
She gives him a satisfied smile. "Don't move. One moment, please."
Alice breezes down the hall in her satiny, blue, button-down pajamas. He hears her knocking softly on one of the doors.
He sits in the living room and rests his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and trying to ease the throbbing in his skull.
A few minutes later, she returns with Carlisle in tow.
The doctor appears to be in a content mood, though he hardly seems awake. He's wearing the kind of flannel pajamas that you see in department store catalogs advertising gifts for the whole family.
"Alice said you're feeling poorly," Carlisle says sleepily.
Jasper looks between the two, wondering if this is a good idea. He's unsure of how the information will affect things from here on out. He doesn't want to be cast out and deemed a bad seed.
"Yeah," he answers, trying not to fidget too much from how on edge he's feeling.
Carlisle doesn't look at all inconvenienced with the sudden request for his medical expertise. He must truly love what he does for a living. That or he's very good at hiding his annoyance. "What seems to be the problem?"
Jasper sighs. He wonders if finding a way out of the hole he dug himself into over the course of his teenage years is as simple as asking for help.
