Chapter 14
From the moment Bella stepped out of his car at the funeral, Edward had exactly zero intention of breaking contact with her until she was safely back in it.
As soon as he found a parking spot, he sternly instructed her not to open her door until he could make his way around to open it for her, which he had to do at human speed since the parking lot was full. He offered his hand to help her from the car, his alert eyes scanning the area, then quickly pulled her in against his side so that he could wrap an arm around her waist like an unbreakable steel band.
He'd done his best not to frighten her about the danger of it all, venturing out into a public, crowded place where Albert could assume the identity of anyone he chose, his presence even easier to conceal if the shield was present.
Further complicating matters, while that police sketch of Edward's face on the news had not been completely accurate, it had also not been completely inaccurate. Maybe a slightly older version of him, which made sense, given Lacey's age. But the features were the same. If someone there recognized him in it, the ensuing scene would only increase the risk to Bella.
There were, of course, measures his family was well-practiced in using to slightly alter appearance, hairstyle, make themselves look younger — and he'd used them all that day. But the danger still existed.
He kept as many of those concerns to himself as possible. He didn't want Bella to think he begrudged her this trip in any way. Or, God forbid, get it back into her head that she was a burden to him.
No, he wanted to do this now — if only because it was a chance to finally make a promise to her and then keep it. Those chances had been few and far between lately, ever since Bella shattered his heart soon after his return by asking him not to make promises to her anymore. She didn't trust him to keep them, apparently. And while he hated that idea, he couldn't say he hadn't given her valid reason by abruptly leaving her with no explanation.
So he had no intention of blowing this precious opportunity to prove himself.
But the truth was that it was all very damn risky, and he knew it. So did his family, who had driven in cars ahead of and behind them and were now spreading out to hide in various locations around the exterior of the funeral home and keep watch.
His desire to keep from scaring her notwithstanding, Edward was very plain with his mate, on the drive over, that she was not to try to leave his side for any reason — and also that it was kind of a moot point, because he had no intention of giving her the chance anyway.
He was very clear about exactly how physically assertive and domineering he was prepared to be in ensuring that she didn't stray from the safety of his reach, more blunt than he would usually be with her.
He didn't relish sounding like a tyrant. But given the current dynamics of their relationship and Bella's lingering apprehension around him, he'd just prefer for her to know what to expect from him before it happened. His number one priority was going to be her safety and security, and he was going to be fairly intense about that — but he hated the idea of somehow triggering her in the process.
Her eyes went wide at the uncommon ring of authority in his tone — he both looked and sounded like a vampire at the moment, no doubt — but he was grateful that she didn't argue the point. It must have been very evident that he was serious.
And nervous.
Bella kept slipping, despite her best efforts. Kept forgetting her resolve to not let Edward inside those protective walls she'd built up around herself the past few days, ever since their fight in the cottage.
Too much had happened that day. From the terrifying news that Alice still saw her being attacked by Edward's lookalike, to the body of Lacey Matthews being literally dumped right at her feet, to the suspicions Edward had shouted and growled at her, she had simply been dealt one blow too many. And she had dealt with none of it yet. She couldn't.
She was reeling. Shell-shocked.
She'd been distant with Edward ever since, both emotionally and physically, and she knew it.
But not for the reasons Edward believed.
She knew how horrible he felt about the way he'd raised his voice to her, the thinly veiled accusations he'd thrown at her, even the fact that he'd used what he considered to be 'foul language' with her.
He felt so guilty that he completely stopped pushing her to tell him the rest of what happened, to her great relief. He also apologized constantly, every time he saw her shying away from his invitations to hold her, resisting his presence. He believed his 'ungentlemanly' actions to be the reason for her distance.
He was wrong. She didn't care about any of that...at least not really.
Out of multiple horrifying revelations that day, one had hit her the hardest. All she had heard when he yelled at her — all that really had time to sink in before the arrival of Albert and Victoria — was Edward's intention to leave her again.
That wasn't the way he put it, of course. His exact words had been that if him dying was the only way to stop Albert from abducting her again, then he would find a way to kill himself.
He meant every single terrifying word, she'd realized with horror. There was no doubt of it.
And her world stopped turning.
Edward's original plan had been bad enough, the one where he left her alone for seven months without telling her why.
Now his backup plan was to die.
And just like his previous plan, he hadn't planned on telling her about this one before it happened, either. That much was clear: he was still concealing things from her, in the name of "protecting" her. If his awful intentions hadn't come out in their heated discussion, she would never have found out until too late.
He would have just left her, yet again, with no warning — forever this time.
It was a more devastating blow than Edward probably realized. She had just been starting to trust him with her heart again, after seeing his patient devotion to her every day in the little cottage. She'd been ready to completely give him her heart again, to kiss him, cling to him, make him her safe place.
But with that one sentence, he'd demolished that fledgling trust.
The truth had hit her square in the gut like he'd punched her, knocking all the wind out of her lungs.
Despite every promise he'd made since his return, she couldn't believe a single word he said. He would still leave her, if he thought it the best way to protect her. Whether it was death or taking off to another country, he would just leave her.
And she knew, from personal experience the past seven months, exactly what that would do to her when it happened.
Not if. When.
Because she also knew from personal experience that she wouldn't be given a say in the matter.
It was the only reason she hadn't yet thrown herself at him and begged and pleaded with him to change his mind, to promise her he wouldn't intentionally get himself killed, no matter what.
He wouldn't listen. He would tell her no. He would go on and on about how she was more important than him and that protecting her was his job.
And she'd never, never forgive him for it.
So she retreated from him, instead. Pulled away from him. It was the only way to gain some small modicum of control over the situation...over any situation. She was tired of being powerless, of everything being done to her.
If she was going to lose him either way, it would be easier if she didn't cling to him in the days before it happened. It would be easier if she at least had control over herself, if she didn't allow her heart to rule her head. Certainly, nothing else was under her control anymore, not since the moment Edward left for Brazil — not since the moment he had chosen to 'protect' her by destroying her.
She couldn't quite bring herself to push him completely away. So long as he was willing to stay with her, she needed him there. He still stayed in her bed with her. He was at her side every moment.
But she ruthlessly refused to let herself reach out to him. She was traumatized, spinning out of control, desperate to protect herself. It felt like she was walking underwater.
Despite her determination to keep him at arm's length, it still took every ounce of strength she had to behave so indifferently to him, to resist his sweetness, his protectiveness, his fully undivided focus he kept so unswervingly on her.
She was hurting her own self as much as she was hurting him.
The only way she could keep it up was by intentionally reminding herself, every time she looked at him and saw the mingled hurt and worry in his eyes, of exactly what he had done to her; the hurt he had inflicted by taking away her choice and leaving her the first time.
And, of course, the fact that he saw no problem with doing that to her again — with making his death her fault.
She stoked the anger, the frustration.
She ruthlessly pushed down the desire to throw her arms around him and beg him to stay, beg him not to give his life to "save" her, when he would only be destroying her.
It wasn't like he would listen to her anyway, she told herself bitterly.
That wasn't completely fair to him, and some part of her was even aware of it. But she needed her anger or she would fold instantly.
It had been working, too, right up until his jaw went slack and his eyes went soft when she walked down the stairs after Alice helped her get ready for the funeral. Then her traitorous heart completely flipped over in her chest.
He'd fixed his hair differently, done something she couldn't quite identify to alter his appearance. He looked younger, somehow. Fresh-faced and virile. He wore black slacks and shiny black dress shoes, topped with a white dress shirt, the sleeves temporarily rolled partway up his well-muscled forearms.
He was breathtaking. Just achingly, fiercely beautiful. Was her jaw hanging open? She wasn't entirely sure.
She did know his was. And she knew she liked it, being the cause of that.
Her heart righted itself in her chest, only to promptly skip a beat when one of those strong arms reached out for her to help her down from the stairs. Whatever he had done differently, it was enough difference that her subconscious didn't automatically correlate him with Albert. And it made her heart race at his touch, at the way he looked at her.
Those walls she'd put up around her heart had shuddered and nearly collapsed, especially when he took her hand in his, eyes drinking her in greedily, and told her how beautiful she was.
Until she remembered on the way to the car that he'd never intended to stay with her, and her heart sank all over again.
She wouldn't slip again.
The two of them together made a striking couple, attracting more attention than Edward would have liked as they made their way into the small chapel inside the funeral home. He led Bella to a seat near the back — one strategically located, with equal access to a couple different exits, though he was sure Bella didn't pick up on that fact.
He was used to being the focus of female attention, with his enhanced good looks that came with the territory of being a vampire. He barely noticed it anymore.
But Alice had outdone herself in her bid to make Bella feel pretty and confident that day — probably because Alice desperately wanted to do something to help her too. Perhaps she had overdone it. Bella attracted at least as much attention as he did.
More than one man's eyes ran up and down her approvingly as they entered the chapel. And one of them, Bella caught in the act. She didn't mention it, but Edward felt the way she tensed up against him, recoiling deeper into his side.
The arm he wrapped snugly around her shoulders the moment they sat down had a dual purpose — partly protective, partly possessive.
"It's not him," he leaned down to quietly whisper in her ear. "That guy's human. And he's not getting anywhere near you, regardless."
Under normal circumstances, he'd have been thrilled to feel Bella scoot closer into his side, tugging his arm more snugly around her and threading her fingers tightly through his. He'd have basked in satisfaction that he made her feel safe.
But sitting in that chapel and seeing the way her eyes still kept nervously going back toward the man who had ogled her — the one she had caught, anyway — it just made his venom boil.
If not for the fact he would have to let go of her to rip that man's head off, he would have been seriously considering it.
She slipped again.
She didn't mean to cling to Edward the way she did, during Lacey's memorial service. She had intended to maintain that cold distance she'd established, no matter how much it hurt them both.
But Lacey's funeral had knocked several new holes in her walls.
It started when her heart raced with an unexpected fear when she caught sight of a stranger's eyes raking up and down her body. A sickening dread shot through her, a terror of being hurt again.
She was being ridiculous, she chastised herself. The man was almost certainly harmless. Her brain understood that. But she hadn't been able to get close enough to Edward, to hold onto him tightly enough. It'd been all she could manage not to scramble into his lap where she would be safe.
She'd kept herself at bay by reminding herself, yet again, of his plans and the way he'd lied to her. She let the hurt wrap around her like a blanket, let it fortify her walls.
Then the memorial service started, and she was sucker punched with a dose of cold, hard understanding; coming face to face with the sobering reality of death.
Of what it all really meant, this thing that had made her so very angry with him.
Edward could die. He could die, and he would be gone forever.
She understood with clarity, in that moment, exactly what it would be like to face the rest of her life without him. She had only to look at the crying family on the front row.
And it took her breath away.
Her walls started to collapse. Her tears flowed the entire service, but not for Lacey Matthews. If that made her a horrible person, she didn't care. Every tear that she shed had been for Edward. She grabbed his hand and held onto him with a death grip.
She desperately wanted to be alone with him. She was prepared to beg, to drop down to her knees and plead with him to just stay with her. Even if it meant Albert got her. Even if it meant she was the one to die.
Just please don't leave me.
She would have said those words, without question, if her entire world hadn't been flipped on its head again only moments after the funeral ended.
When the service was over, Edward was far more focused on Bella than he should have been as they exited the chapel into the funeral home's lobby.
He should have been scanning the minds around him, more bodyguard than mate or even boyfriend. But Bella had quietly cried from almost the moment the service began, and it had him distracted.
He hated to see her cry...even when she buried her face into his shoulder to do it, a move that nearly made his heart explode because she was finally turning to him for comfort again, rather than keeping him at arm's length the way she had been doing since he yelled at her in the cottage.
His focus had remained unswervingly on her ever since her first tear fell. As they walked into the lobby afterward, his only thoughts were for the feel of her small, fragile fingers laced tightly through his strong ones as he led her by the hand. He'd have felt safer having an arm all the way around her, but she had grabbed onto his hand during the service and resisted his effort to let go when they stood. She seemed more content being able to hold onto him, too, and he was fixated on the why of it.
Did Bella still question his feelings for her? Was that why she had been pushing him away? Most importantly, what could he do to fix it?
Lost in the worries that had plagued him day and night for days, he was blindsided by the angry woman who seemingly came out of nowhere, glaring at him with livid eyes and pointing an accusing finger in his face.
"You have a lot of nerve showing your face here. And bringing a date," the woman berated him as she approached, turning her disgusted eyes on Bella like something she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
He still had a firm grip on Bella's hand, so Edward stiffened his arm and pushed it backward, pulling her steps up short to keep her back. Smoothly, he took a half step forward at the same time, angling his body so he was between Bella and this aggressive woman.
He recognized her, having scanned every single face and mind present for any sign of danger — or recognition. She had walked in with the family at the beginning of the service, sitting on the very front row, and had not noticed him until now. She had to be family or a very close friend of the deceased. Judging by the pictures he'd seen of Lacey Matthews, she was close to the same age, mid-twenties.
That was all he had. At the moment, her thoughts radiated nothing but undefined hatred for him.
"I'm sorry," he said with cold, intimidating politeness. "Have we met?"
"I'm Lacey's cousin, Karen Matthews," the woman spat. "Or I was her cousin. I know who you are. You're Edward Collins. She told me all about you. Texted me a picture of your first date."
He heard Bella's shocked gasp, and he pried his hand loose to put his arm around her waist and keep a better hold on her while his attention was so divided. He gave her a gentle squeeze, hoping she would take that as a cue to let him do the talking.
"Yes, of course. Do you still have that picture?" he asked, so charmingly that it threw the angry woman off-mission. He smiled warmly, letting his eyes intentionally draw her in — luring his prey, as he would call it. Bella used to refer to it as 'dazzling', so he hoped that she wouldn't object to his using it on another woman, so long as he only did it for Bella's protection. "I would very much like to see that, if you don't mind," he all but purred.
Bella noticed it, all right, especially when the woman became so flustered she could barely fumble her phone out of her purse and pull up the requested picture. He could feel Bella's eyes on his face, her body beginning to insistently pull away from him.
Exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen. He grit his teeth and tightened his hold, grateful he'd at least had the foresight to give her fair warning about this in the car.
Because he wasn't going to be letting go.
"May I see that?" he coaxed, when the woman held the phone up to show him the text message. Still flustered, she thrust the phone into his extended hand, the one he didn't have firmly wrapped around Bella.
He couldn't even imagine what this must be dredging up for his mate, given the doubts she'd already endured about him the night she was abducted. She had told him herself that she had questioned whether he spent those seven months away from her in the arms of another woman.
Her imagination had been vivid enough on its own, he knew already. She didn't really need graphic, pictorial evidence.
The happy, smiling face of Lacey Matthews stared back at him when he tapped on the phone screen to enlarge the picture, but that wasn't what drew his attention — or Bella's, who was craning her neck toward the phone, determined to see.
What drew both of their undivided attention was the man with his arms wrapped around Lacey's waist from behind, his lips planted on her cheek, with his cold, gold-colored eyes turned toward the camera.
Edward's own eyes. His lips. His arms. Him. Or at least an identical copy.
Albert hadn't just raped and killed Lacey Matthews, it was clear now. He'd romanced her first. And he'd done so in Edward's body. With Edward's own face. Using his name, which had thankfully been misheard by Lacey's cousin — Collins, rather than Cullen.
And on top of all that, Albert had left damning evidence against him, evidence Edward held right in the palm of his hand.
He wasn't the only one disturbed by the picture.
"Please...I'm going to be sick," he heard the strangled voice from beside him, as Bella continued desperately pulling against his restraining arm, her hand over her mouth.
Frustration flooded him. He couldn't force her to embarrass herself in front of the entire Matthews family. He just couldn't. Reluctantly, he let her go, eyes tracking her the few steps to the ladies' bathroom they had thankfully been standing near when the woman approached them. He heard no other minds inside the bathroom, so he restrained his urge to immediately follow.
It pissed him off that he had to break his promise not to let go of her. It pissed him off even more that he couldn't be there for her, make some attempt at damage control before she could push him even farther away.
But if he didn't take care of the evidence first, there was a very real danger that his family could end up either having to leave Forks or go into hiding — and for the first time, he couldn't say with certainty that he believed Bella would be willing to go with him.
"Have you forwarded this to anyone, Karen?" he asked, drawing Karen Matthews' attention away from Bella and back to himself. He leaned closer and gave her his best smile, and the woman forgot Bella's seemingly odd behavior instantly. She forgot her own name.
By the time she got herself together enough to answer him, Edward had already deleted the entire text thread and quickly scanned through her photo gallery to ensure she hadn't saved the picture to her phone. And fortunately, she verified — both verbally and mentally — that she hadn't sent it to anyone else, including the police. She had forgotten all about it until she saw him there, too preoccupied with funeral planning after she received news of her cousin's death.
To buy himself a little time before Karen discovered what he had done, Edward covertly powered her phone down before handing it back to her, once again drawing her in with his eyes and enticing her to believe him.
"Thank you for showing me that. I hope you don't mind that I forwarded it to myself. When Lacey broke off contact, I assumed she just didn't want to see me anymore. I never dreamed something had happened to her, until I saw it on the news. I'm so sorry I never got the chance to know her better."
Karen, he was fairly certain, was eating out of his hand by the time he finished expressing his condolences and excused himself.
Her attention immediately turned to her phone, hoping to find this hot guy's number, since he had supposedly forwarded the picture to himself. She wasn't looking at him, too busy trying to figure out why her phone wasn't responding.
Looking around to make sure he wouldn't be noticed by anyone else, either, he quickly slipped into the women's bathroom and locked the door behind him. He was intent on getting Bella out of there fast, even if he had to take her right out the bathroom window to accomplish it.
Bella stared into the mirror in the bathroom, gripping the edges of the counter with white knuckles, trying to get her breathing under control.
The funeral home, in front of the grieving Matthews family, was definitely not the place for a flashback. But just for a moment there, she'd been right back in that cabin with Albert, drowning in suspicions that Edward had left her for Lacey Matthews and then killed her — and that she herself was next.
It was jarring, to say the least, especially with his strong arm wrapped around her like a shackle, preventing her from putting some distance between them. Panic had welled up in her like a living thing.
But he'd warned her ahead of time of his intentions not to release her for any reason, so she was able to fight the fear back, fight to stay grounded. She even managed to retain the presence of mind to convince Edward to let her run for the bathroom — which he relented and did, ever so reluctantly.
She tried not to feel guilty about the fact that she'd lied to him that she was going to be sick. If he hadn't given her some space right then, it could have easily become the truth.
It also reminded her far too much of that night in the cabin, the way she'd lied to Albert that she needed to sleep, just so that she could escape his presence for a while.
Once the bathroom door closed reassuringly behind her, she splashed water on her face at the sink and took deep breaths until the urge to slip out that bathroom door, try to sneak past Edward while he was distracted, and then escape out the back door of the funeral home finally passed.
The desperate desire to just get away and run from all of her problems, including Edward, overwhelmed her. She might have even tried it, despite the entire Cullen family outside keeping watch, if not for Edward's explicit warnings in the car that if she took off on him at the funeral, he'd have no choice but to physically put a stop to it — regardless of her reasons.
The thought made her shudder. She didn't want to do that...to either of them. She was relatively certain she'd done enough damage to them both already.
She'd certainly done enough damage to the Matthews family, she believed — by being the one to live. She'd seen that clearly enough during the funeral.
Maybe if she'd been the one to die, all those people wouldn't be there crying.
Maybe Edward's family wouldn't have to fight an army.
Maybe Edward wouldn't have to die to save her.
Maybe...maybe it wasn't too late.
He found her standing in front of the sink, her hands spread wide on the countertop as she leaned forward with her head down, staring at the cool surface between her hands.
She didn't react in any way to his sudden presence.
Cautiously, he came up behind her, placed his hand on the small of her back. "We need to go, love. Are you all right now?"
He already knew she hadn't been sick. He'd have heard it...and smelled it. Nonetheless, he tried to quell the suspicion that Bella might have lied to escape him. It wasn't like he could put voice to it anyway, not considering the damage he believed he'd already done to their relationship the last time he started spouting suspicions.
Her breath came out in a trembly, exhausted sigh. "No. I'm tired of all this, Edward. I'm so tired of it."
He understood that much very well, or at least he thought he did. "I know," he agreed, his voice gritty with self-loathing. This was all his fault, he berated himself, all of it. "I know you are, and I'm so sorry."
"Sometimes I think..." she trailed off, shaking her head with a bitter scoff..
He had no way of knowing what she was about to say, but alarm bells went off in his head at the way she said it.
They needed to be leaving. But this was more than she had spoken to him at one time since he exploded in their cottage, and something told him it was important.
"You think what?" he encouraged gently. "Talk to me, Bella. Please."
To his surprise, she looked up into the mirror, looking straight at him in it. She shrugged hopelessly. "I think maybe everybody would be better off if it was me he had killed — not her."
Survivor's guilt. He understood that statement for what it was immediately — knew he should probably have seen it coming, especially with the funeral. Albert had known exactly what he was doing, throwing that body down at Bella's feet. He'd wanted her to draw parallels. And of course, she had.
Edward's intellectual understanding of all that didn't lessen his emotional reaction to hearing Bella say such things.
Of its own volition, his free hand came up to close around one of her upper arms, as the hand on her back slid around her waist to her stomach. He needed a hold on her, like he feared she might simply disappear.
"I wouldn't be better off. You're my mate, Bella. That bond is unbreakable. I can't live without you now. I don't even want to. If he had killed you, I wouldn't have been far behind you."
She noticeably flinched, and her eyes filled up with tears. The anger in her voice was what threw him off, confused him.
"Maybe you don't care if you live or die, but what about your family? They're all in danger because of me now, too. I hear you all talking sometimes, at least enough to know you're planning to go up against an army. An army of vampires, Edward. Some of them could be killed. You might die. And for what? For me? I'm not worth it."
"You're worth everything," was his fierce and instant answer, his eyes boring into hers in the mirror. He pulled her backward, more closely against him, until her back was molded to his chest. He released her arm and slipped his other hand around her waist, encircling her in his arms and dropping his chin to her shoulder. He held her gaze in the mirror. "Do you understand how serious I am about this? You are my world, Bella. There's nothing I won't do to protect you."
Holding her as he did, he felt it when her breath hitched — and she shuddered.
"That's what scares me. I don't want to live without you either, but you keep not giving me a choice." She drew a shuddery breath that had his arms tightening around her. "I can't — I just can't do this anymore, Edward."
That last sentence sucked every bit of the air out of his lungs.
She couldn't do what? Cope with what was going on, the danger she faced?
Or be with him?
An icy finger of pure panic wrapped around his heart.
"Bella...if this is about the way I spoke to you in the cottage..."
But she didn't want to go there. She cut him off quickly.
"It's not. Please, don't start apologizing again. It's just...I just..." She gave up and sighed. "It's not that."
He had known since the moment he met her that he couldn't read her thoughts. He still tried again anyway, because he desperately needed to understand what was happening in that moment.
Her mind was as frustratingly silent as ever. His desperation grew.
"It wasn't me in that picture just now," he tried next, remembering that the moment she'd tried to pull away from him in the lobby was when Karen Matthews identified him as the man dating Lacey. "You do know that, don't you? I was in Brazil, just like I told you. Alice could confirm that for you, if you like. And I thought of only you, every single moment I was there."
She sighed hard, equally frustrated, and shrugged out of his embrace to turn and face him. He let her go, helplessly, trying with desperation to read her expression. She didn't quite meet his eyes.
"I don't want to do this right now," she shut him down. "Not here."
She didn't want to do what right now? His mind was blind with terror.
"Lets just go, okay?" she pled. "Let's just go...back."
What probably chilled him as much as anything was the way she paused and searched for that word 'back' to describe returning to his house with him — like she wanted any word other than 'home'.
It was a very long and quiet car ride back to the Cullen house. He looked at her far more than he did the road.
She never once looked back at him, her head laid back against the seat, staring out her window. Away from him.
He carefully took her hand in his and then didn't let go of it. It was all he could do to keep his grip loose enough. She didn't fight him on it. She didn't grip his hand in return, either.
It felt like she was slipping right through his fingers, with very little warning, and he didn't have the first damn clue how to stop it. He wasn't even completely sure on the why.
A fresh wave of terror shot through him. Was he going to lose her because of his angry words, after all? After everything they'd already made it through together, was that one mistake going to be the end?
Did she honestly believe he was even capable of letting her go? Was he?
He certainly wouldn't leave her unprotected, regardless. That went without saying.
But he wanted so much more than that. He needed more than that.
His heart ached to have her love him the way he loved her. To need him as desperately as he needed her.
Had Bella stopped loving him?
That question ate him alive the entire drive.
When he killed the engine inside the garage at his parents' house, his eyes were on her. She immediately reached her free hand toward the door handle, without even glancing at him, her other hand starting to slip from his.
"Tell me what I can do." The quiet words shot out of him in a rush, eyes going to her hand he still held in his, around which he had just tightened his grasp to prevent her exit. "Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it, Bella. I'll make it right. I swear to you I will."
Her head turned in his direction, at least, but her gaze also went to her hand in his, rather than to his face. "No, you won't," she whispered, one bare shoulder bobbing in the slightest shrug. "You've already made up your mind."
He stared at her, letting the brutal sting of her words wash over him, doubling his confusion.
She didn't believe he'd do whatever it took to fix the problem between them? Did she know him at all? He was willing to die for her, for God's sake. What was going on inside his mate's head, and why in the name of everything he held dear could he not just read her thoughts himself?
Things were about to get worse, too.
He hadn't really been paying attention to his family as they also parked their cars, quietly slipping into the house to give him privacy for a conversation they could hear all too painfully well. So he was surprised when Esme approached his window before he could frame a response, her cell phone in her hand, her eyes apologetic.
His guts clenched when he read her thoughts, saw the message she was coming to give them.
Charlie Swan was on the phone. And he wanted his daughter home.
Esme had kept in close contact with Bella's father since she had come to stay with them, continually assuring Charlie that they were delighted to have Bella stay with Alice for the duration of the repairs to his home.
Charlie still had no idea Edward was back in town, although Edward's parents had done everything possible to ease the way for him on that one, too. Carlisle and Esme had visited Charlie shortly after Edward originally left. Carlisle had taken advantage of the common town belief that the Cullen 'children' were all fostered or adopted to vaguely imply that there was some legal or emergency issue with Edward's birth family — that that was the reason for his hasty departure and cutting of ties from Forks. Edward hadn't had a choice, Carlisle claimed. He'd been just vague and apologetic enough to be believable.
Charlie would likely still resent Edward for the pain Bella had gone through in his absence. But he wouldn't outright hate him, Carlisle and Esme had hoped, were he ever able to return.
But Charlie, as Esme was on her way over to tell Bella, had now become nervous after hearing news reports about the murder of a girl who looked so much like Bella, Lacey Matthews, found just outside of Forks. He wanted his daughter home where she'd be "safe". He wanted it enough that he'd pulled a few political strings to get an inspection and certificate of occupancy prematurely issued for the nearly completed repair work.
He wanted her to come home the very next day, after school, when he would be moving back in from Billy's.
Esme tapped lightly on Edward's window, which he reluctantly rolled down. She relayed the message to Bella and then passed her the phone through Edward, so that she could speak to her father as she had been doing at least once every couple days.
Bella pulled her hand out of Edward's to take the phone. The absence of her touch, when he was already so terrified of losing her, was literally painful.
His eyes stayed fixed on the steering wheel as Bella talked to Charlie, agreeing to come home after school the next day. But his fingers hovered by the ignition switch as he fought a fierce battle with his inner monster.
Gritting his teeth, he willed himself not to jerk the phone out of her hand, fling it out the window, and turn that key. The temptation to just take off with his mate and drive, to spirit her away to some secure location and just keep her there, where he knew he could protect her — and maybe even find his opportunity to win back her heart — was overwhelming.
He could take her to Isle Esme, he reasoned. She might even be happy there, once she accepted his reasons for kidnapping her again. Or if not Isle Esme, anywhere else that Albert — and Charlie...and Jacob — would never find her.
His fingers closed around the key with determination.
And then they retreated.
It wasn't so much the kidnapping part that stayed his hand, honestly. That part made perfect sense to his vampire's deep-seated terror of losing its mate. He'd kidnapped her before and would do it again, before he'd allow her to come to harm.
No, that wasn't the part he took issue with. It was more the worry that her safety might not be his only motivation — that he might have selfish reasons for wanting to do so, reasons that centered more around keeping her his at any cost than keeping her safe at any cost.
What was it Bella had said in the restroom at the funeral home? Something about him repeatedly not giving her a choice?
Maybe she had a valid point about that. Maybe that was among his failings he needed to correct.
Bella's trembling hand reached out, handing Esme's phone back to him, and it abruptly pulled him from his musing. Her conversation had been short, as always. Charlie wasn't really much for long phone conversations, and truthfully, neither was Bella. Edward mutely took the phone from her hand and passed it back to Esme.
His mother, having read the room and the tension in it, laid a hand on his shoulder before she quickly left.
"We'll be inside if either of you need us. I'm going to make Bella something to eat. Take your time."
Panic recaptured Edward fully in its grasp, despite his having battled down the initial impulse to take Bella and flee the country.
Charlie's order for her to return home was something he had already dreaded, from the very beginning, but it couldn't happen now — not when Bella would already barely look at him.
How was he going to protect her?
If she went home, she would also have to return to school, a building full of people Albert could easily imitate to try to lure her away if she was out of his sight for even one split second — like when she was in any of her classes that they didn't have together. With the existence of the shield, who had only to get close enough to keep him from hearing what was happening, Edward could be rendered useless if Bella wasn't directly within his reach.
Then there was Jacob Black, who had shown back up at the Cullen house the day after Carlisle got Sam to evict him. He'd wanted to check on Bella. Fortunately, Edward and Bella had been in the cottage when Jacob arrived, and she still didn't know what had happened or that he was ever there.
Jacob had reacted in a hostile fashion to her absence, especially combined with Edward's. That had given Carlisle all the ammunition he needed to make another phone call to Sam, one that hinted at a violation of the treaty. Jacob had therefore been ordered by his alpha not to return to Cullen property for any reason, and that had taken care of that.
Phone calls and even a couple of letters from the mutt had been easy enough for Edward to simply keep Bella unaware of. So Jacob hadn't been an issue since the day he left.
That was going to change the moment Bella returned home, Edward was certain. Sam certainly wouldn't order Jacob not to approach the Swan home, where he was most welcome in Charlie's opinion...and Bella's.
Neither that welcome nor his own newfound realization that Bella wanted a say in things was enough to shake Edward's resolve to keep her away from Jacob Black, regardless of what she thought she wanted. The risk was too great — in a few ways.
He'd hoped their relationship would be on more solid terms before he was forced to take that stand. But he was out of time.
He turned to look at Bella in the seat beside him, needing to say so many different things that he didn't even know where to start. Every bit of it stuck in his throat.
She dropped her gaze immediately, reaching for the door handle, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm, um... going to go start getting my things together."
"You'll still be safe when you go home, Bella," was all that he managed to get out, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll make sure of it."
He thought she was going to stay, when she froze for a moment. He really did.
But then she shuddered, just like she had earlier when he told her he'd do anything to protect her, like those words terrified her — and he didn't know why.
"I know you will," she replied softly. The hurt in her voice nearly broke him.
She got out of his car and walked inside without a backward glance.
Bella talked Carlisle into a sleeping pill that night — her last night staying in the Cullen home, in Edward's room...with Edward.
Only one, Carlisle had emphasized, and it was the last one, since she would no longer be at their house where he could closely monitor her. She accepted his terms and gulped it down gratefully, seeking escape.
It didn't help much. She was still restless late into the night.
At least some of that had to do with the fact that she'd declined Edward's offer to hold her in his arms as she tried to go to sleep that night. Even when she could clearly see how desperately he wanted to do so.
The last thing she saw before she rolled over on her side with her back to him was the hurt and fear in his eyes.
She felt those same things. She just didn't dare risk letting him past the protective walls she'd spent days building around herself to keep him out.
Holding onto him would only make it worse, when he inevitably left her again.
She awoke with a gasp and a cold chill.
The dream she'd been having was simple, not even rising to the level of what one could accurately label a nightmare.
It was terrifying, all the same.
No one had tried to hurt her. No one had even threatened her.
It had just been her, walking through the crowded halls at school, alone. Without Edward.
Walking to her locker. To the cafeteria. To the parking lot. Again without Edward.
Driving home in her truck, making dinner for Charlie, and going to bed alone.
Without Edward.
Exactly what she had done for seven months, when he was gone.
Exactly what she would be doing again, if Edward followed through on his angry promise at the cottage that he was going to die, if all else failed, to prevent Albert from going after her again.
She awoke startled, filled with the overpowering terror of being alone. It pressed down on her, suffocating her, drowning her.
But she wasn't alone. At least not yet.
"Bella? What is it, sweetheart?" came a soft and gentle voice from behind and slightly above her.
She quickly rolled from her side onto her back to find Edward looking down at her with concern. He had been lying on his back close beside her, apparently, but was now propped up on an elbow on his side, looking down at her, his brow wrinkled up with worry.
It was so real, that dream. She'd awoken believing he was already gone. Already dead.
But he was right there beside her.
Watching over her like he'd done every single night since Jacob left. Every single moment.
Despite the way she'd treated him the past few days. Despite the fact that she had shied away from his touch when she went to bed that night, rolling to her side to face away from him and not letting him hold her, when he had clearly needed her as desperately as she needed him.
He was still there.
It wasn't too late. She could still stop him. She would offer him anything he'd ever expressed a desire for: some fancy college, any ridiculous car he wanted to buy her. She'd even stay human, if that's what it took. Marry him in some big lavish wedding. Anything.
But she was paralyzed. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe.
This was why she'd pushed him away, she realized. She had subconsciously been putting this conversation off as long as possible, building up walls to keep him out, but only to keep herself from begging and pleading with him.
Until she did it, until he told her no, she could hold onto some small shred of hope he might actually listen to her. That he would change his mind. But when this was done, it was done. And then she would know her entire future.
"Your heart is racing. Are you okay?" Edward asked tenderly, his expression open and full of nothing but concern and love — no recrimination whatsoever for her distance and coldness. But his hand hovered out in the air near her face, obviously unsure if he had the right to touch her or not, after the way she'd behaved.
The walls she'd built to keep him out shuddered, threatened imminent collapse. She could feel the tears welling up until they broke free from her lashes, the first one tracing a wet trail down her cheek.
It seemed to be more than Edward could take. His hand tentatively closed the distance and cupped her cheek with a touch so light it was barely there — like he was afraid she would turn away his touch.
The agony on his face when his thumb brushed across her cheek with excruciating softness and came away wet from her tear was her undoing.
"Oh, Bella," he whispered brokenly. "What can I do?"
He wanted to help her. Even as much as she'd hurt him, he was only worried about her.
It was more than even her well-fortified protective walls could withstand.
"Please don't," she begged by way of answer, and felt the tears begin to flow freely when his hand instantly retreated, misunderstanding her words. He looked gutted.
She reached out and grabbed that cold hand, putting it back. "No! Just don't do it. Please, please Edward...please don't leave me again. Please don't leave me alone."
He sucked in a sharp breath, his mouth falling softly open. His hand against her face reflexively tightened its hold. "I'm not. Bella, I swear to you I'm not." His eyes searched hers wildly. "Why would you think that? Did you have a nightmare?"
He didn't understand, she realized. He didn't equate giving his life to save her as being the same as abandoning her. He saw it as some noble thing.
"Is that what you've been so afraid of?" he begged, and it was clear he expected an answer. "You think I'm going to abandon you again? Is that why you won't even look at me? Bella, I've been terrified you wanted to leave me."
Her resolve was completely gone. She couldn't push him away anymore. She wanted to pour out her soul, answer all his questions, tell him everything she was afraid of and everything Albert had done to her, everything she'd been hiding — even the way her body had been forced against her will to respond when Albert's fingers were inside her, the thing she'd hidden from everyone, the thing she desperately needed to hear her mate say wasn't her fault.
She could never tell him that. After the way he'd growled his mystifying belief that she'd been in bed with Albert in the cabin, he surely wouldn't forgive her.
But in that moment, she was defenseless. The walls had finally collapsed. It was either tell him everything...everything...or kiss him.
It said more about her mental state than she cared to examine that she chose kiss him.
TO BE CONTINUED...