Beyond Unreasonable

by Cheriana-1

When Bella is kidnapped and brutally attacked, the face of her attacker is none other than Edward's. But all is not what it seems. Edward said he would protect Bella from anything. But how can he protect her when the face in her nightmares is his own? *trigger warnings inside* New Moon / Eclipse AU. Vampfic.

17. Chapter 17 - Blindsided

Chapter 17

Her first night home in her own room proved to be more challenging than Bella would have expected.

She felt off-balance and out of place, like she was a completely different person than she was the last time she spent a night there.

And she was. When she was last there, Edward Cullen had been missing from her life for seven long months, with her not truly knowing why. And his impostor, Albert Rowe, had yet to touch her.

There were just too many ghosts in that room — the ghosts of her own pain, her own memories. The reminders of those awful months alone were everywhere she looked, haunting her, suffocating her, making her acutely terrified that Edward could simply disappear again at any second.

Like maybe it had all been a dream and he never returned at all.

It brought out emotions and fears that she hadn't even realized she still struggled with — even with Edward right there, his arms wrapped securely around her in her bed when she tried to go to sleep.

Being back in that bed just threw her even more off-balance, to the extent she could barely suppress her reactions. It was all she could do to shove down the panic, keep the flashbacks at bay.

She had just gone through too much there, without him. There had been too many nightmares, too many nights spent gasping awake — alone — in crushing terror. Too many times that she had needed him, desperately, and he hadn't been there.

And most of that, she had yet to deal with.

Since his return, living with him in the Cullen house, the majority of her emotional resources had gone toward processing and coping with what Albert did to her, the terror of him coming after her again. She'd had very little left over to work on healing from the trauma of what Edward had done to her by leaving.

Her fears had been debilitating when he first returned, of course, fears that he really didn't want to be there with her — that he was just waiting for his chance to leave again. But over time, as she and Edward had started working together in the cottage, spending the nights together in his room, the dread of waking up to find him gone had slowly dissipated. She had slowly begun to trust him to be there when she awoke, at the very least.

But now, back in her own bed, ground zero for seven long months of lonely torture, that pain and fear moved to the forefront.

Every time she would nearly fall asleep, she would jerk awake, terrified she would find Edward's return had all been a dream and she was still alone.

His solid arms around her weren't enough. She had to see him to confirm he was really there with her. And by the fourth time she jerked back awake with a gasp, her head coming up off his chest and her panicked eyes flying to his face while her fingers dug into his shirt, her breath shaky, there was no question that Edward knew exactly why.

His visage was tormented, guilty. He looked like if he could, he would probably cry. Instead, he just sighed.

"Do you really want to try to sleep right now?" he finally asked, tentatively. "Or would you be amenable to a change of scenery?"

Her fingers clutched him more tightly. Did he mean their meadow? She hadn't been back since the day she'd gone looking for it alone and came across Albert there, long before she knew who he was or what he would do to her. The idea made her shiver, and she was surprised he'd suggest it in the dark, alone. But it was Edward. He'd keep her safe.

"I don't care where I am as long as you're with me," she told him honestly, and felt his arms grip her more tightly in response. She really hadn't been trying to twist the knife, but apparently she had.

"Come here, Bella," he whispered softly. "I have you." He shifted her so he could sit up, then picked her up and stood to his feet. She clung tightly to his neck.

But he didn't go far. He didn't go out the window with her, as she expected. He sat down right in the chair she'd pulled in front of her window not long after he left, the place she had sat alone for months of silent pain, staring out the window, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of him coming back for her.

The very same chair where her heart had ached for months, feeling dead and empty in her chest. Only this time, she was in her mate's lap — a vast improvement.

She lay her head on his shoulder and snuggled into him, looking out the dark window and seeing little more than their own reflections cast back at them from the low light in the room. His chin rested on top of her head, one arm tight around her waist while the other stroked her back, her hair, slowly and soothingly. Somehow, that visual picture of him holding her was more reassuring than even the feel of it. For so long, it had only been her own dead expression staring back at her.

He seemed equally fixated on that image of them together, staring into their reflections in the glass, quietly cuddling her. Aside from Bella's contented sigh, neither of them said anything for quite a while, long enough for her eyes to grow heavy.

"I did this too, you know," he told her then, breaking the silence almost intentionally — as though he feared her drifting off, only to reawaken in panic that he was gone. His quietly deep voice reverberated through his chest, and she both heard and felt it through her whole body.

"Did what?" she asked, her eyes still closed, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.

"This. I did the same thing when I was in Brazil. Staring out the window for hours on end, trying to get through the next hour without you. The next minute."

She considered that for a moment. "Do you think we were both doing it at the same time?" And she felt his small smile into the top of her head. She also saw, when she opened her eyes just enough to peek at the window's reflection, how his eyes squeezed shut with guilt as his head dipped further into her hair.

"I have no doubt of it," he answered quietly, then he sighed. "You watched for me. My sweet, loyal Bella. I can't tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like that. The worst part is knowing that I had it all wrong, that I put you through all of it for nothing."

"Don't do that," she scolded, burrowing closer, still wary of any topic that could lead into that fight Alice had predicted. "You explained your reasons why, and I forgave you. Why bring it back up now?"

He had an instant answer for that.

"Because you're still terrified I'm going to disappear again, and I don't know how to fix that," he replied bluntly, though quietly. "All day long, I've seen your face through a hundred different memories, all thinking about how badly I hurt you. I saw it in your eyes when I left you in class today, the fear that I might not come back for you. I saw your father's memories tonight, of you waking up screaming, sitting in this chair looking for me, and...and my God, Bella, he's absolutely right to hate me. And you would be too. I can't understand why you don't."

"I just don't," she said simply, because she couldn't deny that she was still terrified, especially now that they'd left the 'safe' bubble of the Cullen home, back to the same life he'd walked out on before — regardless of his reasons.

And that was that for a few quiet moments, as Edward sighed and just pulled her closer.

"What was it like for you?" she broke the silence herself the next time she nearly succumbed to sleep, before she could risk drifting off and hurting him again. And she still felt the way his whole body tensed at the question. "Being apart, I mean. Was it the same for you as for me?"

His hand stilled, resting in the center of her back, and he heaved another huge sigh. "I'm not sure I could even put that into words," he said finally, his lips moving against her hair, loath to put any distance between them.

She focused on the feel of that closeness, let it soothe her. "Will you try? I...I need to know."

When he didn't immediately answer, she sat up straighter in his lap, her arms locking around his neck as she looked at him expectantly. She felt compelled to see his face, suddenly. His ticcing jaw muscle was the only visual indication of his distress, though she could feel the tension in his fingers as they agitatedly tensed and relaxed against her.

"It was...it was the worst kind of torture. The worst misery. Not knowing if I would ever be able to go back to you was — I can't begin to describe it, Bella. The thought of facing even one more hour away from you, much less the rest of your life? The thought of you moving on, making a life without me and one day dying? It was unbearable. I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone."

She found the agony on his face as unbearable as what he described, so she lay her head back on his shoulder, pressed her lips to his neck and kissed him. His light shiver made her do it again.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously. "How did you spend your time?"

He gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I did nothing. I was worse than useless. You at least tried to make an effort. I could barely bring myself to move. I didn't hunt. I did nothing constructive. I just paced. I stared out the window at the streets, imagined I saw your face in the crowd a thousand times over. I called Alice every day and begged her to tell me the vision changed so I could come home to you. It never did, of course. So I just sat there, trapped in my own thoughts."

She hugged him more tightly. "What did you think about?"

His lips pressed a firm kiss to the crown of her head before his decisive answer. "You."

"What about me?"

He tipped his head back then, eyebrows pulling together as he took hold of her chin with one hand and maneuvered her so he could see her eyes. "What's this all about, love? Are you honestly questioning whether or not I missed you? Or is there another reason?"

She fidgeted in his lap, evaded his question because she didn't know the answer herself. Maybe she did need to hear him say he missed her as much as she missed him. Maybe she did.

"My question first," she decided on for her reply.

The way his lips turned up at one corner in response to her sudden bossiness was one of her very favorite smiles of his, one of the ones that always made her heart skip a beat and the air vanish from her lungs. And it didn't fail him this time, either.

"I'm glad to see some things haven't changed, at least," he teased lightly, and she wasn't sure if he meant her demanding approach to conversational give-and-take or her physical response to him. Maybe both.

"So?" she asked raising an eyebrow at him. "Tell me."

His eyes returned to the window, looking at their reflections in the mirror as he let go of her chin and wrapped both arms around her again. His face grew serious as he gave her question honest consideration.

"I thought about how much I missed you, of course. I obsessed over where you were, what you were doing, if you were safe. Alice told me some things, but not everything. In my worst moments, I came up with elaborate plans for how to get back into Forks and find you without my family's interference, even take you out of the country if that was what it took to get you back."

That intrigued her. "I don't understand. Why would you have to do that?"

He hesitated briefly, clearly not sure how well his answer was going to go over. But he made the mistake of glancing into her pleading eyes, then gave in immediately. His gaze was drawn back to their reflection like a magnet as he spoke.

"I had made my family promise not to let me near you if I tried to come back. I had at least some idea how impossible it would be to stay away from you, although the reality far surpassed anything I could have imagined. So when I left, I made Alice promise to hide you if she ever saw me coming back. But that backfired on me. The thought of not being able to find you nearly drove me out of my mind. It was just more than I could take. I had to have a plan in place to get to you, in case I snapped and couldn't take it anymore."

She shivered in his arms, bringing his alarmed eyes back to her face. She'd have explained that her reaction wasn't one of horror, but of delight — Edward had never truly been capable of not coming back for her eventually, whether he'd been willing to admit that to himself or not, and that was something she'd desperately needed to hear — but he didn't give her the chance to explain, intent on reassuring her.

"You have to understand, Bella. I had no intention of carrying that plan out. So long as there was any possibility it was me in the vision, I would have never risked anything that might cause it to come true. I spent far more of my time going back over every moment we had ever spent together, looking for any sign that I could ever harm you like that. I tortured myself with it. The plans to find you were only to keep me from panicking and jumping on a plane immediately, with the worry that something might happen to you and I wouldn't be able to find you. Being unable to protect you myself was at least as impossible as being away from you."

"Because you just can't not protect me," she breathed. "Like Alice said tonight."

His smile was back in his voice again at the certainty in her words, her trust in him, the memory of her instant and vehement defense of him to Charlie. "And vice versa, apparently."

She felt no need to deny the truth. She yawned, sleepiness starting to overwhelm her. And she thought that this time, she might be able to drift off and stay asleep, secure in the knowledge that Edward wouldn't have made it much longer without her, just as she wouldn't have without him.

Just a few more of her wounds had begun to heal that night, shielded in his arms, hearing him tell how hard it had been to be away from her.

She hadn't even realized how much she needed that.

"I'm glad Alice was wrong about us fighting tonight," she said, cuddling into him and getting comfortable. "This is better. Let's just not fight ever."

It had been a long time since she'd felt his happy laugh through her whole body, his arms tightening around her. "I'll certainly not argue with that."

She was vaguely aware of it, some time later, when he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed, wrapping her up safely against his chest — where she slept soundly the rest of the night.

And the next morning, when she opened her eyes in her room for her first morning home?

His face was the first thing she saw.

He made absolutely certain of it.

---

The second day of school was a little easier than the first, knowing what to expect — like the fact that Jessica Stanley was to be avoided at all costs, along with pretty much anyone else who wasn't a Cullen and kept throwing insinuating smirks at the two of them.

She didn't have to be a mindreader to read the looks thrown their way. Edward didn't mention it and did his best to shield her and redirect her attention from it — not entirely so subtly as he thought — but there was little he could do to hide it from her completely. The fact that she had confirmed to Jessica Stanley that she and Edward had "done the deed" had, unsurprisingly, spread throughout the entire school like wildfire.

Their level of closeness did little to contradict that assumption, either.

Edward was right by her side every single second that he could be, either holding her hand or wrapping his arm around her when they walked, sitting as close to her as he could in class, still touching her as much as possible. The rest of the Cullens supported that effort, with Rosalie and Alice escorting her to the bathroom — which was exactly as awkward as it sounded — and all of them surrounding her at lunch.

Then, of course, there were her last two classes of the day, without Edward — the hardest part of her day, although she gave Jessica a wide berth in English this time. Thankfully, there was no group work, so she was able to pull that off.

She'd barely kept the panic attack from sucking her completely under when Jessica interrogated her the day before, especially given the topic:

Sex with Edward.

If anyone had told her seven months before that just thinking about such a thing would freak her out completely, she'd have questioned their sanity. She had daydreamed about it constantly back then, fantasized about it, oftentimes with her hand between her legs when she had time alone.

All of that raw power of him, carefully holding himself above her — herself lying on her back under him, legs spread open with his hard hips between them... looking up into his face and seeing his struggle to keep his strength under control as he slowly slid into her, began to thrust...

Her heart still raced to imagine it. There was still a tingle in her gut that was in no way unpleasant.

But it also scared her to death, squeezed her lungs in a vise imagining him above her now, pressing her down beneath him. All she could think about was the blinding, tearing pain of what Albert did to her. And that had just been his fingers — identical ones to Edward's. Would it feel like that? Would it feel anything like that at all?

Would it be worse?

She would really prefer Edward not know just how deeply Jessica's simple statement had affected her, the little shot of panic that raced through her system when she was quizzed about what sex with Edward was like. Keeping that reaction to herself had been the largest part of her motivation in fighting down her terror, not giving in to a complete meltdown right in the middle of class.

Gym with Emmett was by far the easier of her two classes without Edward. Her self-pronounced big brother ran interference for her with Mike Newton — not even trying to be subtle about it, unlike Edward — but the end result was that she felt as safe as she could possibly feel without Edward by her side.

She was almost surprised when she made it to the end of the second day without anything horrible happening.

So she breathed a sigh of relief when Edward ushered her into the passenger seat of his Volvo and closed the door behind her, reappearing in the driver's seat just a little too quickly to be believable.

The smile on his face was just as relieved as hers.

"Your father said you just have to be home by 6, right?" he confirmed, as he cranked the engine.

She sighed, her good mood fading. At Edward's urging before Charlie came in to make sure she was awake that morning, she'd decided to go along with at least a few of her dad's 'requests', in exchange for him allowing her a few unsupervised hours with Edward each day. Even if she had to give him up by 6, he would be waiting for her in her room when she went to bed anyway, so she could afford to give a little bit to keep the peace.

"Yeah. But I should probably get there a little early so I can start dinner. Why?"

Edward's good mood remained unfazed. His smile grew wider, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye as he pulled out of the school lot. If she didn't know better, she would think he was nervous about something.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to the cottage with me for a little while. I have a surprise for you."

Her heart stuttered, and he heard it, his gaze quickly turning more fully on her.

"What kind of surprise?" she asked. She was the nervous one now. She had never been overly fond of surprises anyway. But apparently, they now threw her even more off-balance — more out of control. The depth of her alarm surprised her as much as it did Edward, who could, of course, hear her every heartbeat.

Which wasn't always for the best.

"Just something I'd like to give you," Edward clarified quickly. "It's really not a big deal. It was already yours. I'd just like to make it official."

He studied her closely as her heart hammered away in her chest. She knew she should say something, but she was trying hard to fight off the impending panic attack that nearly had her in its grasp.

She'd more or less been successful, lately, in keeping those feelings at bay. But since the moment she walked through the doors of the school the day before and her friends immediately rushed her, it was only getting harder to keep control — not easier. She missed the relative peace and solitude of the Cullen house immensely.

"We don't have to," Edward amended after a moment. "We can go to the main house with my family, instead, if you'd prefer. Either way, my family will be close by. We won't be completely alone."

Great. Now he thought she was afraid to be alone with him again.

She took a deep breath, forced a smile.

"No, the cottage sounds great."

And it did. It was just the idea of a surprise waiting for her there that didn't sound so good.

But Edward was obviously now taking the overcautious approach and didn't fully believe her assurances. "Bella..." he trailed off, worried eyes paying far less attention to the road than they should be.

Now he was afraid to take her to the cottage at all. And that was the last thing she wanted.

Tears sprang up in her own eyes, frustrating her to no end. It had been such a good day, for the most part. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just get over this?

"I'm fine, Edward. Just trust me. I want to go to the cottage with you. Okay?"

His fingers tensed around the wheel, but he didn't push the issue further. "Okay," he just answered softly.

A few silent moments passed before he reached one hand out to her, allowing her to put her hand in his — which she did immediately, despite the way that her memory of Albert reaching for her the exact same way still jangled her nerves.

Only after she welcomed his touch did Edward seem to relax. It was still a few minutes before she did.

---

The moment she walked in the door of the cottage, she thought she knew exactly what the surprise was.

She had nearly forgotten all of the things she had ordered for Edward's living room, from his laptop, during those first days they had spent working in the cottage. It had been his way of giving her something to do to keep her out of clumsy destruction, she had suspected. And while she had been mildly uncomfortable spending so much of his money, he had been correct that he would need furnishings and decorations for his house — nice ones, because he was Edward Cullen.

Alice would have likely been far better at such a thing, but Edward had been so vocally supportive of all her choices that Bella had actually enjoyed doing it.

In the days since they had stopped going there to work, many of those purchases had obviously been delivered.

It was the first time she'd seen them. The night they had come there to talk, nothing had looked very different from the last time she'd seen it. The only differences were that the flooring had been finished since they were last there — which was that horrible day that Albert dumped Lacey's body — and there was the addition of the wood barrel beside the fireplace.

But clearly, the 'elder' Cullens had been busy while the rest of them were gone to school that day.

The furniture she had helped Edward pick out was in the living room now, and several pictures she had ordered hung on the walls — along with a very prominent photo of the two of them, enlarged and ornately framed, hanging above the fireplace.

She remembered Alice taking that picture, at some point before Edward had left — what seemed a lifetime ago — but she had never seen the actual photo before. Despite what she considered her own plainness, the picture was breathtaking. They stood close together, both smiling, Edward's arm around her. Neither of them looked at the camera. They had eyes only for each other, both of them looking completely smitten and in love.

"Wow," she exclaimed as she looked around, taking it all in. The living room of the little cottage looked like a home. It was so easy to imagine it as their home. But as she had done many times during the days they worked there, before she could get too carried away, she reminded herself that it was his cottage, not in any way hers.

She walked closer to the fireplace, stood beneath the picture. "Hey, have you seen this before?" she asked, still staring up at the picture, wondering what Edward thought of it hanging above his fireplace.

She almost jumped when he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, but she quickly relaxed into him.

"Of course I have," he murmured close to her ear. "I'm the one who asked Alice to have it framed for me."

Something about that got her right in the heart. Everything else hanging on the walls were things she had picked out, things she had ordered for him online to match the paint colors and furniture. The one thing Edward had personally requested was a picture of her — of them.

She turned in his arms to face him, and it nearly took her breath away when she saw the look on his face as he smiled down at her.

It was the same expression as in the picture, looking at her like there was nothing else he could see.

"Okay, I still don't like surprises," she qualified with a warning in her tone, ignoring the way her heart had just skipped a beat, "but this was a pretty good one. Everything looks really great."

He opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it and closed it. He leaned in and quickly kissed her lips instead, just a brief peck.

"I'm glad you like it. Would you enjoy a tour?" he asked, and she agreed happily.

He gleefully took her hand and led her into the kitchen, showed her all of the new appliances — which she had definitely not picked out. She had the feeling they were extremely high-end — and unnecessary, since vampires don't eat. Still, she supposed she could see the need for keeping up appearances, as Carlisle and Esme did with their own kitchen.

"Esme picked out the table and chairs," he told her, watching her intently as she trailed her fingers across the smooth wood. "Do you like them?" She didn't see why that should matter one way or another, but her approval seemed very important to him. So she truthfully told him they were beautiful — and was dazzled by his happy, relieved smile.

When he took her down the little hallway, past the guest bath, she saw more of the decorations she'd chosen hanging on the walls. She'd only focused on the living room, but apparently, she'd gone a little overboard.

She was very curious about the bedrooms, because she hadn't ordered anything for those. But to her delight, the little guest bedroom, where Edward led her next, had been turned into the bones of what she could see would be a beautiful library, complete with shelving and what looked to be a very comfortable window seat that had been built on.

"I thought a library might be nice," he offered, almost shyly. "I couldn't get here to work on it myself, obviously, but Carlisle built the shelves today, while Esme was setting up everything else. There's still some work to do, some furniture to pick out. But maybe we could work on that together one afternoon after school."

"Definitely," she agreed quickly, loving the idea of more time spent in the little cottage working with Edward. She had missed it terribly since they stopped coming there. "I'd be glad to help you."

Something about that statement amused him. She saw it in his eyes.

"So that's everything," he said abruptly, eyes scanning the room, that smile still pulling at his lips. "Did you want to go up to the main house for a little while? I'm sure Esme would love to see you."

"What about the master bedroom?" she asked curiously. "I haven't seen that yet."

And he hesitated. Noticeably. Dramatically. With his mouth open as he tried to figure out what to say.

She backpedaled immediately, her face pinking and soon flaming. "I mean, I guess it's not really my business."

But Edward looked at her sharply. "Of course it's your business. You know better than that. It's just..."

"What?" she asked nervously.

His eyes pinned her in place. "I have a confession to make."

She swallowed hard, her heart speeding up. "Okay."

"All of this — it wasn't really the surprise. It just kind of...goes along with it, in a way. But the rest of the tour can wait, if you want. I didn't mean to spring anything on you, make you uncomfortable. I'd never want to do that."

She read between the lines, put the pieces together. "So the surprise is in the master bedroom, then."

"Yes. And it can wait," he insisted firmly.

"No, it can't," she decided just as firmly, remembering how excited he'd been about his surprise in the car, before her absurd panic landed on his enthusiasm like a bucket of cold water. "Show me."

He still hesitated, eyeing her warily. "You're sure?"

Honestly? She wasn't.

"Yes."

---

She wasn't sure what she expected when Edward reached around her to open the closed door to the master bedroom so she could enter first.

But whatever she had expected, it certainly wasn't for the room to be... empty.

There was no furniture, no decoration — nothing aside from freshly laid soft carpeting and the freshly painted walls, a color she had personally chosen over Alice's not-so-secret disapproval. The same pale grey, of course, that had ended up so pleasingly smeared all over them both during their paint battle.

She turned quickly to look back at Edward, who was a step behind her, smiling softly, his hands now in his pockets.

"It's empty," she pointed out, feeling foolish. What had she expected? A gigantic bed covered in rose petals?

Based solely on the way her heart was still thudding out of control in her chest, that must have been exactly what she had expected. Was it wrong that she was relieved not to find some ornate bed? Again, she wondered, what was wrong with her?

"Not completely empty," Edward pointed out, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently turning her to face the bare, curtainless window.

And she finally saw it. Sitting on the window sill, there was a shiny gold gift bag, about a foot tall, elaborately and tastefully arranged. She turned back to face him. "What is it?"

He couldn't fully suppress his smile. "Open it and find out."

She walked over and picked up the little bag, but hesitated, her eyes studying his face for some clue. The panic must have been written all over her face because Edward actually rolled his eyes, chuckling a little bit.

"Breathe, love. It's not an engagement ring. I've learned my lesson." He pointedly gestured toward the bag in her hands, affectionate amusement in his eyes. "You're holding proof of my rehabilitation in your hands, in fact. If I could only get you to open it."

She still looked at the bag in her hands like a rattlesnake might pop out of it any moment, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. "I hope you didn't spend a lot of money."

His eyebrow quirked at her newest reservation, one he'd heard in the past. "I didn't. At least, not on this. But you do realize that money is something I have in no short supply? And that spending it on my mate is something I would enjoy immensely?"

She didn't reply, but she did relent. She reached in, fished around, and finally pulled out a small box, far smaller than the gift bag that held it. Jewelry-box sized. And her eyes flew back to his in panic.

"Edward..."

He grinned. "Still not a ring. Just open it, Bella."

She did, her confusion evident on her face when she plucked out a small, plain gold key.

"There's something else in the bag," he told her before she could ask questions, that nervousness back on his face.

She hadn't seen anything. She had to feel along the sides of the bag before she found it, just a sheet of paper that had been standing up against the inside.

She turned it so that she could see what it was. She first noticed Edward's bold, perfect signature at the bottom of the page. It took a moment to read everything, to understand what she held in her hand.

And then her jaw fell open.

Edward had appeared directly in front of her while she read, his eyes just a little worried again.

"I wanted to clear up a misunderstanding from last night. You don't have to marry me to have somewhere to go if you choose to leave home, Bella," he told her softly. "I hope you'll take your maiden name on that deed as evidence of that fact."

Her eyes were frozen on the quitclaim deed in her hand, the one where he'd signed ownership of the cottage over from Edward Anthony Cullen — to Edward Anthony Cullen and Isabella Marie Swan.

Not Isabella Cullen, a wife. Isabella Swan. Just her. Without a ring on her finger.

She was under no illusion about what a huge deal that was for him.

She wasn't responding — couldn't respond — and that seemed to be only increasing his nervousness. He kept his hands to himself, planting them on his hips, as he kept explaining rapidly, anxiously.

"I had Esme print it off and bring it over for me to sign, last night while you were sleeping. I was working under the assumption that it was only matrimony you object to, not sharing your life with me."

Still, she was speechless. She finally tore her gaze away from the paper in her hands, staring up at him, her eyes as round as silver dollars.

"Was I wrong in that assumption?" he asked, a little breathlessly. "This hasn't been filed with the county yet. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can rip it up right here. It's yours to do with as you please. Much like this bedroom."

He saw the question in her eyes, tilted his head to indicate the empty space. "There's a reason this room is untouched. It's so that you can decide what it becomes. Whether you intend it as a space for you alone or a bedroom for the two of us one day, it's still very much yours either way. I just don't want you believing you have nowhere to go, Bella, no matter whether you ever consent to marry me or not. Not ever again."

The worry in his eyes turned to full-fledged alarm when tears welled up in her eyes, quickly spilling down over her cheeks.

"Bella? Please say something, love."

She almost knocked the breath out of herself when she threw herself forward and crashed into his marble-hard chest. And she didn't care. She put her arms around him and squeezed for dear life. The little gold key was clenched tightly in one of her hands, cutting into her palm. The deed to the cottage — their cottage, a home with Edward — she grasped carefully in the other. Both items were precious to her, but the man those hands held tightly to her was worth far more.

"I love you," was what came out of her mouth, and the air was nearly driven from her lungs again when Edward's arms closed tightly around her. "I love you so much."

He sighed into her hair in relief. "You took a few decades off my existence just now. Giving you gifts is not for the faint of heart. It isn't too much, then?"

She shook her head fiercely, pressed her face into his chest. "It's perfect," she mumbled into his shirt. "You're perfect."

The purr in his chest spoke volumes about how happy both her words and her touch made him. "I hope you'll always think so."

She pulled back, looked up at him — and as usual, said the last thing he'd have expected.

"Oh my God. Charlie's going to murder us both if he finds out you gave me a house."

Edward laughed happily at that unexpected reaction — at hearing her finally, for the first time, acknowledging the little cottage as theirs. "Not likely. He'd have to go through me to get to you. Your reaction was the one I was worried about. Alice said it would be all right, but I'll never understand how a house is a perfectly acceptable offering when you still refuse to accept even one piece of jewelry from me."

She was all but drowning in his happy golden eyes. "That's easy. You owned the house already. The real gift is knowing you want me here with you."

His face grew serious, his eyes darkening. She saw his intent as his hands came up to slide into her hair, and her breath caught. She'd seen that look in his eyes before, knew he was about to kiss the sense right out of her.

But he paused millimeters from her lips when her pulse raced beneath his hands at her neck.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, a question he'd rarely if ever stopped to ask. His eyes were unsure, and she didn't know why — until she made the connection that it had to do with the place they stood and what it represented.

Their future bedroom.

He understood exactly the conflicting emotions she felt about that — because he felt them too, she realized for the first time. He knew what had happened to her, knew better than anyone that it had been him she saw when it happened.

This part wasn't easy for him either.

And her heart did a flip-flop in her chest at that realization. At that exact moment, she couldn't imagine not wanting anything he wanted to do with her.

"Yes. Kiss me," she pled, because if he didn't, she might actually not survive.

And he did. With a needy groan in the back of his throat, he took her at her word and his lips came down on hers.

He kissed her with a neediness she'd not felt from him since his return, his hands in her hair pulling her close. He kissed her until she was dizzy, but not from lack of air. Dizzy with want. His tongue swept into her mouth as his hands in her hair angled her head for better access, deepening the kiss and leaving her in danger of her knees buckling. She let the key and the deed fall to the floor, her hands finding their way into his hair and digging in.

They both groaned when a familiar voice rang out from the doorway. A very amused voice.

"Took my advice and got a room. 'Bout time."

Emmett.

Edward broke the kiss, leaning their foreheads together, his hands still burrowed deep in her hair. Bella didn't even glance in Emmett's direction. She was too busy noting with fascination that she wasn't the only one trying to catch her breath. Edward's breathing was equally labored, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Go away, Emmett," her mate rasped in a darkly wry tone, not sounding particularly hopeful of that happening. She suppressed a breathless giggle.

Emmett chuckled, proving the theory that, sadly, he wasn't going anywhere. "Nuh-uh. Looks like you two kids need some supervision. I'd gladly offer my services for a chaperoned stroll around the lake, maybe some nice tea on the front porch. That's your idea of a hot date, right, bro?"

Edward finally opened his eyes, which were still dark but tinged with amusement. His focus never wavered from Bella as he sighed in resignation.

"Are you opposed to my committing murder inside our house, or would you prefer I take it outdoors?"

She was at least 99 percent certain he was kidding. Okay, maybe 95.

"That depends," she hedged. "Do I get to help?" And she enjoyed watching the lips that had just been attached to hers twitch as Edward suppressed his smile.

"I suppose I could leave him alive for now. We can finish him off together after you're changed."

"Deal."

"Hey!" Emmett protested without any real alarm. "That hurts, Bella. Here I was, coming to give you a housewarming gift."

"Does he really have a gift?" Bella asked Edward, yet to tear her eyes away from him. She knew the exact moment he finally cared enough to read Emmett's mind and find the answer to that question. Because he groaned again, a longsuffering sound.

"Unfortunately." He released her, with no small amount of reluctance. "And he made it himself."

---

He was only kidding about murdering his brother. Mostly.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing Emmett had showed up when he did. Because Edward had been very close to getting carried away.

He just couldn't help it.

He and Bella had a home.

It had bothered him more than he let on, that instant assumption Bella made on her porch with Charlie the night before, that if she didn't marry him, Edward didn't want her. He hadn't realized he'd been quite that overbearing about the whole thing.

He understood very well that pressure of any kind wasn't what Bella needed from him. He just hadn't really known how deep her aversion to marriage ran, until it came out of Charlie's mouth too and everything clicked together in his head.

And he was instantly remorseful.

He'd wanted to do something, make some grand gesture to rectify his mistake. As he held her in his arms in her bed that night, soothing her when she became restless and doing his very best to chase away the nightmares that had been brought on by her return home, he'd considered multiple options for how to make his point clear.

When he originally considered putting her name on the deed now, rather than waiting until she bore his last name as he'd originally intended, he'd quickly discarded the idea as being too much. Bella wouldn't even accept small trinkets from him. Gifting her a house would surely freak her out even more than asking her to marry him.

But Alice, who'd still been outside keeping guard with Emmett, was keeping tabs on his decisions and their potential outcomes — mostly because she intended to stop him if he started preparing to shoot himself in the foot again.

When he considered that one, she'd all but squealed.

Yes! Oh, Edward, she's going to love it. Call Esme right now!

And he had.

Putting all of Bella's touches on the house and making it look like a home when he presented her with the deed was Esme's idea. Leaving the master bedroom untouched and giving her the key along with the title was his.

His mother was all too happy to put everything together for him, something he'd normally have done for himself. All he ended up doing personally was signing the deed Esme brought him, which he had enjoyed doing quite a lot. It had put a pleasant tingle of anticipation in his stomach to see their names together on that deed. It felt like taking a proactive step toward the future he wanted.

He would have loved to set up everything in the house himself. But there was no way he was leaving Bella her first night home, regardless of how well-protected. If she were to wake up and not find him there, it would be catastrophic. He didn't need Alice to tell him that.

Despite Alice's assurance that Bella would love his gift, he'd been starting to wonder if she was wrong. There had been a very real few moments there, actually, that he had thought Bella was about to run right out the front door on him.

And then she'd been in his arms, telling him she accepted the house because it meant she got to be with him.

His common sense had gone right out the window. He shouldn't have kissed her quite like that, not in a room he'd just been extremely forward about his desire for it to be their bedroom. Not when her heart started racing at an alarming pace, and he honestly couldn't tell all of the reasons why.

Not when she kissed him back with an enthusiasm that chased the rest of his wits from his skull.

So Emmett's presence there, in reality, was probably a good thing.

That bearskin rug he was bringing Bella for the floor in front of the fireplace — and especially some of its potential uses Emmett hoped to elaborate on — was more problematic.

---

"Oh my God. What is that?" Bella asked, when she finally turned to the doorway of the room to give Emmett her full attention, stopping in her tracks when she saw the giant roll he carried atop his shoulder.

"Your housewarming gift," Emmett grinned. "Follow me." And he disappeared in a blur.

Edward rolled his eyes. Emmett sometimes forgot Bella was still human. She couldn't very well follow him if she couldn't see him.

"He's in the living room," he told Bella with a wry smile. "And I apologize in advance for every single word that's about to come out of his mouth."

That made her giggle, which delighted Edward to no end. He sometimes got a little jealous of Emmett's easy ability to make her laugh, something that didn't come as naturally to him. He felt it even more keenly now, since what happened to her, her smiles and laughs being fewer and farther in between. He coveted every single one of them.

He took her hand and led her out of the bedroom — but he glanced back over his shoulder at the empty room as they left, the tingle of promise running through his body.

This was now their house, officially. That would be their room one day. His and Bella's. Their bedroom.

By the time they reached the living room, Emmett had already rolled the absolutely enormous bearskin rug out onto the floor in front of the fireplace, and Bella gasped when she saw it.

"Wow...Emmett, that's really kinda beautiful."

And it actually was. He'd done a good job, Edward had to admit. That soft rug in front of the fireplace was visually appealing, fitting into the rustic theme of the room better than he might have thought.

Maybe he had pulled the seed of the idea from Emmett's mind. But Edward was the one to run with it. The instant mental image of himself and Bella cuddling on that soft rug, in front of a roaring fire, a blanket wrapped around their naked bodies after he made slow love to her on the floor in their home...well...that was appealing both visually and in other ways.

Emmett beamed proudly. "I fought him myself. The biggest one yet. Tasty, too. He put up a pretty good fight. But I got a hold of his jaw and..."

"Emmett." Edward cut in, with a warning tone. "I don't believe she needs the details."

It was his first intervention in that conversation. It wouldn't be his last. It wouldn't even be his last in the next ten seconds.

"Right. So anyway, Bella. Happy housewarming. You and Edward can figure out what to do with this, right?"

Bella, still a little rattled from both Edward's gift and his kiss, missed an implication she typically wouldn't have. "Do with it?" she walked innocently into Emmett's trap.

"Emmett. Stop talking," Edward pled.

Mischief sparkled in Emmett's eyes. "Well, it's extra soft, for one thing, so no rug burn. And that close to the fire, the cold won't be an issue. You can pre-heat my brother."

Edward's expression was horrified. This was even worse than the first time he brought her home to meet his family. Way worse.

There wasn't much way for Bella to miss Emmett's meaning that time. She turned pink to the top of her hairline. She was also biting her lip to hide a smile, whether at Emmett's quip or the horror on her mate's face, Edward wasn't certain.

"Emmett, so help me God..." Edward started with a sigh, but the door to the cottage swung open before he could finish.

"Idiot." That came from Alice, though affectionately. The entire Cullen family had, of course, been standing guard outside the whole time they were there, as being truly alone in the cottage was still an impossibility so long as Victoria and Albert had a shield at their disposal. They had now decided the time was right to bring in one more gift and rescue Edward from Emmett.

He was grateful. Although since his sister could see the future, he had some questions about their timing.

They couldn't have come in five seconds earlier and spared him that?

Not that Emmett's suggestion wasn't an intriguing one, and possibly even one Edward intended to one day take advantage of — the warmth part, at the very least — but still.

"Another housewarming present," said a smiling Carlisle, carrying in a rocking chair that he set down in the middle of the rug in front of the fireplace. "Alice tells us this will be your favorite seat in the house someday."

Edward shot a warning glare at a grinning Emmett, its meaning clear — don't even think it. His brother just grinned wider, showing his teeth. He'd made Edward think it first, and that counted as an even greater victory.

Or her second favorite, Emmett couldn't resist sending his way anyway, but at least he did it silently.

"You're going to love it," Alice enthused to Bella. "I see you spending hours there reading."

"Reading? I give up. They're hopeless," Emmett whined to Rosalie, who didn't intend to get dragged into his madness. She hit him with a sharp elbow before Edward had to.

"Congratulations, dear," Esme said warmly, coming to hug Bella. "I always intended this place for you both."

Edward moved to her side, picking up on the fact that Bella was starting to look a little overwhelmed again. It wasn't like they were moving in immediately, but his overeager family was certainly making it sound that way. Their intention was simply to show Bella their full approval of her sharing ownership of the little cottage with Edward, but they were overdoing it.

He slipped his arm around Bella's waist for support and answered Esme himself. "Thank you for all the work you did on it today. It will be more comfortable for Bella now, whenever we drop by after school to work on it."

Esme beamed, but she also caught his hint, saw what he was doing. "My part was easy. Bella did a wonderful job picking everything out. It's going to be a lovely home for you both, one day. It will be here when you're both ready."

And as Bella relaxed into his side and thanked Esme herself, growing more animated by the moment as Esme and Alice drew her into a conversation about the decor, Edward agreed with that sentiment wholeheartedly.

A place of his own, with Bella at his side. Even the presence of his family surrounding them, full of love and well wishes...

It was everything he'd ever wanted — with the possible exception of making Bella his wife first.

And it was all within his reach. He just had to stop the monsters who wanted to take it all away from him.

All of the monsters. Wolves included.

---

Edward had nearly let himself begin to believe that he could simply delay their impending fight over Jacob Black forever.

Deep down, he knew that wasn't likely.

He still wasn't prepared for it when it came. Not the way it came.

He'd taken Bella home after a pleasant afternoon spent with his family, all working together in the little house. A mostly pleasant afternoon, once he'd surreptitiously slapped Emmett in the back of the head and threatened his life if he mentioned that rug even one more time.

It wasn't the same, not being alone together there. But it was a compromise, and a necessary one at that. Bella was obviously happier at the cottage than anywhere else — and so his whole family was willing to help her be there, by being there to protect them.

He dropped Bella off at her door on the dot of 6 o'clock, delivering her to a scowling Charlie, who couldn't be bothered to disappear even long enough for Edward to give his mate a quick 'goodbye' kiss. So Edward just quickly moved his car out of sight and went in Bella's window to wait for her there. Rosalie and Carlisle were already stationed outside, he noted with satisfaction.

The very first thing he noticed when Charlie opened the front door was that the house reeked of wolf, although thankfully Bella's bedroom did not. Billy and Jacob Black had been by to visit Charlie earlier, it appeared, so Edward was now dreading listening in on dinner. He fully expected Charlie to push the Jacob issue again, reiterate his request for Bella to call Jacob. And putting a stop to that, when Charlie had no idea he was in the house, would be problematic at best.

To his relief, Charlie didn't. He thought about it briefly. But her father had been surprised that Bella agreed so readily that morning to his restrictions on her time with Edward. He wasn't going to push his luck that night. He'd table the issue for a few more days, at least, since Jacob surprisingly hadn't said a word about it when he and Billy dropped by earlier.

Edward believed he'd gotten lucky. Everything seemed great, in fact, until Bella went for her shower.

He heard nothing strange. She might have spent a little more time there than usual, but he didn't hear her crying or anything else that alarmed him.

But when she came out and they went to bed, she was just...quiet. More so than usual. Like something was on her mind.

She still snuggled up against him in her bed. She was receptive to his kiss...very receptive, causing him to have to slow things down more quickly than he really wanted, the moment he started feeling the urge to pull her body underneath him and start running his lips down that creamy throat.

But something was just off. He couldn't put his finger on it.

It continued the next morning on the way to school, too. Something was bothering her, something that had her distracted.

And this time, he didn't intend to let it go on for much longer without finding out what. He'd give her a reasonable amount of time to volunteer it, but he still meant what he had said about not letting her run from him anymore.

But in their first class, where they shared a two-person table, Bella blindsided him. Just a few minutes into class, she pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolded and flattened it in her lap beneath the table, and then slid it underneath his hand on the table surface.

He caught a hint of wolf odor the moment she started unfolding it. So he had a pretty good idea already of what had happened.

Jacob must have hidden a note for Bella to find in her bathroom, when he and Billy came by to see Charlie. He'd been smart enough not to go in her bedroom, knowing Edward would have found the note first if he left it there. And, of course, he knew that it would never occur to Edward to question the presence of a guest's scent in common areas of the house — like the bathroom.

He quickly scanned the paper. The passive-aggressive manipulativeness of it pissed him off as much as the actual content.

Hey, Bells.

So I guess you really don't need me anymore, just like your bloodsucker said when I came to the school to try to see you. So I guess this is goodbye or something.

I thought we were best friends. So I thought maybe you'd at least call and let me know you're okay. I tried to call you at least a hundred times after your pet leeches tattled to Sam and made me leave. You know that's what they did, right? They had me forbidden to set foot on their property. Did you even notice?

I've been worried about you, even if you never thought of me again. I called their house over and over. I sent letters. He didn't tell you about any of that, did he?

You still could have called me.

He's got his hooks in you again, Bella, and I hate it. He's going to hurt you, just like last time. He's just going to leave you again, or he's going to hurt you some other way. I'll be here when you need me again. I just wish it wasn't so easy for you to forget all the time we spent together and go back to him like I never existed. But whatever. It won't last forever.

Jake

Edward read it three times, trying to get his temper under control before he glanced down at Bella at his side. She was peeking up at him too, and the question in her eyes was clear.

Equally clear was her reason for waiting to bring it up until they were in school, where they couldn't actually talk. Bella wanted to confront him. She also was still scared to death of getting into a conflict with him, after what Alice had implied about them fighting. Jacob's cruel predictions of Edward inevitably leaving her again probably didn't help, either.

He'd seen Bella's face every single time she woke up in a panic in her room her first night home, terrified he would be missing, so it wasn't too much of a leap to figure out what she was afraid would happen.

She feared he might leave her again if they ever argued.

And that wasn't going to work. If Bella was afraid to tell him when something he did bothered her, that scared him. On a few levels.

Edward pocketed Jacob's note, because he'd be damned if Bella was absorbing any more of those poisonous words into her system, then detached a sheet of paper from his own notebook and quickly scrawled his own note.

I'm sorry he spoke to you that way. We'll talk about this after school. I promise.

Bella exhaled with audible frustration and pulled the paper in front of her to write on it.

No, we'll talk about it now. Did you do what he said?

Edward sighed, stretched his arm over to her side and quickly wrote his reply.

This isn't talking, love. But yes, I did.

Bella sat and stared at him in shock, noticeably enough that the teacher was starting to notice it, eying them with suspicion. So Edward nudged her knee with his, gluing his eyes on the chalkboard. Bella got it, relaxing her posture and pretending to pay attention.

Why? she wrote after a few minutes, sliding the paper back toward him.

I have my reasons. I'll be glad to discuss them with you later. But not like this.

Her shoulders dropped visibly, defeat filling her frame. She pulled the paper back, quickly wrote something on it, then shoved it back under his hand and fixed her eyes on the teacher like the conversation was over.

And apparently, it was.

Never mind. Just forget it. I don't want to fight.

Edward's guts clenched. This was not healthy, Bella being so afraid of doing anything that could possibly make him leave her that she would just give in to avoid conflict. He didn't want to fight either, but he liked this even less.

What if she did the same thing in other contexts? Like if she became uncomfortable with his touch when he was kissing her in her bed — like the night before, when he'd only narrowly remembered it might not be a good idea to pull her body beneath his — and she didn't want to tell him for fear of upsetting him? The thought chilled his already icy bones.

One thing was for certain: they were not taking any more steps forward in their physical relationship until this problem was fixed, and he didn't mean Jacob Black. He was slowing that way down, until he knew Bella would be honest with him.

We're not going to fight, he wrote back. We're going to talk. And it's going to be okay.

She probably didn't even realize she'd done it, but Bella angled her body facing slightly away from his, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. He could smell the salt of the frustrated tears starting to well up in her eyes.

Being the cause of her tears affected him much like it always did — like a hard kick to the teeth. On the other hand, he wasn't prepared to back down on his position regarding Jacob. But he couldn't let her sit there and cry without saying something.

He debated with himself for only a few moments before scrawling one last thing on the bottom of the page. And he meant it.

I should have just been honest with you from the beginning. For that much, I am sorry. I'll explain the rest to you tonight.

That at least earned him a flick of her eyes in his direction. And finally, a small nod of acceptance.

---

If he was of a mind to, he actually could have put it off forever.

Bella certainly wasn't ever going to bring it up again. That much was clear. He gave her every chance to do so.

He'd hoped she might broach the subject in the car that afternoon, or maybe when he took her to the cottage for a little while after school to work in the library, helping arrange his considerable collection of books and music onto half of the shelves — the other half being reserved for Bella, whose own collection didn't yet require so much space but gave him some great ideas for easing her into gift-receiving. Maybe she would take books from him, and they could work up to jewelry later. Some nice first editions of her favorites, maybe...

Even when he drove her home at 6 o'clock, he gave her every opportunity in the car to bring up the topic of Jacob herself.

It would have made him feel a little better if she confronted him face-to-face on her own. He desperately wanted to know she felt comfortable enough with him to bring up issues without being pushed. He was a little afraid to even touch her until he knew that.

But she never said a word about it.

She was still a little upset with him, though. That was clear too, no matter how much she tried not to make it obvious.

He also knew her well enough to know that while she might have backed down from discussing it, she wouldn't let it go entirely. More likely, she'd just go behind his back to contact Jacob the very first chance she got, and he couldn't have that either.

They definitely needed to talk. If he had to force the issue, so be it.

So when she came into her room after her shower that night, he wasn't in his customary place, leaning against her headboard and waiting for her to slip into his arms and go to sleep. He was sitting in her desk chair, turned to face the door, hands folded in his lap, waiting to address the issue between them.

No more chances for her to start the conversation. He was taking this into his own hands.

And she must have known that the moment she saw him, because she instantly stopped in her tracks. She eyed him, licking her lips nervously.

And his expression softened. He hated the fear in her eyes. Hated that he knew he had caused it by leaving her the first time. Hated that some part of her was still waiting for him to do it again.

"Come here, love," he said gently, standing to his feet and holding out his hand. "Please don't look at me like that. It's going to be okay."

But it wasn't. Not at that exact moment, anyway. Because for the second time since he'd been home, he watched as her eyes went wide, fixating on his outstretched hand, reaching for her.

And this time, he saw it coming a split second before her gaze went glassy and unfocused.

His hand. He had been reaching out for her to take his hand the same way, that first time Bella experienced a flashback with him, pushing her into an uncomfortable conversation that time as well, but he hadn't made the connection before. He hadn't had time to figure out the trigger that day or even just straight-out ask her about it before everything went sideways, leading into the worst fight they'd ever had.

But this time he had a pretty good idea what he'd done wrong. Just a few seconds too late.

---

Bella's hands came up over her face, her breath coming in pants and gasps as she tried desperately to hold on, not to give in to the roiling waves of terror and disorientation that threatened to break over her, drag her under, take her to another place and time where she desperately didn't want to be.

She had fought it down successfully so many times in the last two days.

But this one was different.

It hadn't happened quite like this since the first time, in their cottage, when Edward had reached for her while pushing her to open up, to talk to him about things she was terrified to tell him.

And all she had seen was Albert standing in her back yard, reaching for her.

Give me your hand, Bella, the monster had said. Just come with me, and I'll explain everything.

All the times since — like in the funeral home bathroom, or the school hallway when her friends rushed her, even being interrogated by Jessica in English class — she had been able to hold on. She'd been able to keep her head above the surface, above the waves as they broke around her.

It's not real, she had learned to tell herself over and over in her mind. It's not real. It's not real.

But this time certainly felt real.

It was him in front of her, her terror screamed in her ear. Albert. It was him. Standing in front of her, reaching for her, disguised as Edward.

Run.

He was going to hurt her.

But he wasn't, she reminded herself firmly. Not really.

Because it was Edward. The real Edward. And Edward would never, ever hurt her.

Some part of her understood that, and she could fight for that part. She still wasn't as deep as she'd been the first time.

She took a deep breath. Then another. And another. She thought about that look on Edward's face in the picture above his fireplace. No one who looked at her that way would hurt her.

Slowly, the image of Albert's outstretched hand started to fade.

It's not real. It's not real.

She didn't even realize she'd said those words out loud until Edward's voice broke through, like it came from underwater, slowly coming into focus. And he was replying to her statement.

"You're right. It's not. It's only me, Bella. You're safe. Try to tell me what you're seeing right now."

---

Edward moved toward her slowly, working on keeping his tone even. Pushing her any farther scared him, but so did not knowing with certainty what he'd done to cause this. He had to know for sure what she was seeing when he reached for her. Maybe he could help her get past it. At the very least, he could just never, never make that mistake again.

Bella shook her head back and forth, her face still covered. "I can't. I — I can't breathe."

His relief that she was at least somewhat responsive to him this time was tremendous. She was breathing, whether she felt like she was or not — he was pretty intently attuned to her respiration and knew that for a fact — and the fact that he got any answer at all meant that he was getting through already. That was better than last time this happened.

"It's my hand, isn't it?" he asked softly. "When I reached for you? He did that too, didn't he?"

This time she nodded, but her breathing was slowing down and deepening. She was fighting it and fighting it hard. A surge of pride welled up in him at her strength.

"You're doing fine, Bella. Just keep breathing. Try to tell me about it. When did that happen?"

She took several deep breaths. "Outside," she told him through her fingers. "Here. When he first took me. He wanted me to give him my hand."

Edward breathed in deep. So he was right. That was it — his outstretched hand, beckoning her to him, just too reminiscent of how Albert had lured her to him, convincing her to hand herself over to him.

That part of the story he had been witness to, in terrifying detail. And Bella likely didn't know that.

"I was still on the phone for some of that," he told her, his voice full of gravel at the awful memory. "It haunts me too. I was listening to you get closer and closer to him, knowing you believed it was me. It scared me worse than I can describe to you, sweetheart. You can't imagine how terrified I was for you."

He had her full attention now. Her hands dropped down just slightly, enough to uncover her eyes, which peeked out at him. Her focus had shifted from her own terror to his. He hadn't done that intentionally, but it worked anyway.

"You were there with me?" she whispered hopefully.

And his heart felt like it shattered. He'd give anything if that were true. Anything. Because if he was really there, he would have put a stop to it. He'd have ripped Albert limb from limb before he ever got close enough to touch her — if he had really been there.

They saw this issue very differently. He saw only the greatest failure of his existence, the moment he'd let his mate down in the worst possible way. But he understood her viewpoint too. He understood why, in some small way, it comforted her to know he had been as present as he possibly could.

And this was about her, not him.

"I was there, Bella." And goddamn if that wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever had to say in his life. "I talked to you, but you didn't hear me. I begged you to stop going toward him. I tried desperately to tell you it wasn't me, but you never heard me. I knew he could, though. I told him you belonged to me, that I was coming after you. I threatened him — promised to hunt him down if he hurt you. And then the line just...went dead."

He couldn't fully convey the horror he'd felt at that point in words, but Bella suddenly closed the distance and put her arms around him in sympathy, her own terror forgotten. His arms closed around her, oh so carefully.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, squeezing him tightly. She was trying to comfort him now, and it made his heart ache. "He took the phone away from me. I didn't know you were on it, Edward. I was so confused. I really thought he was you. I thought he had lied on the phone about being in Brazil, that you just hadn't meant for me to see you out there."

That mixture of he, him, and you — all mixed up again like she didn't know the difference — tied his guts up in knots almost as much as the flashback. She was making progress, undoubtedly. But there was still a lot of healing left to do.

For both of them.

He carefully began running his fingers through her hair, soothingly. "I never lied to you. It was me on the phone. I was in Brazil the entire time," he assured her, trying to keep the focus on himself, instead of her.

"I was on a chartered jet within an hour after that, going out of my mind while my family looked for you. It took 15 hours just to get to Seattle, with refueling. You have no idea, Bella. No idea how completely out of control I was all those hours, not being able to do anything. If he had killed you...God, I don't know what I might have done; what I would be capable of. All I wanted was to get to you, to find you."

She whimpered, pressing tighter to him. "Don't think about it anymore."

"I don't know how not to," he confessed hoarsely. Reliving those hours...it was as close as he could probably get to a flashback himself.

She pulled back, looked up at him, her hands caressing his back. "Just hold me? Please. I don't want to fight about Jacob tonight."

He hesitated. All he wanted was the same thing — just to have her close right then. And she seemed exhausted.

"You'll agree to talk to me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow morning," she promised strongly. "Before school. Wake me up early."

The purr had already started in his chest, so he was pretty sure she already knew she had won. "I'm going to hold you to that, Bella," he informed her as firmly as he could manage right then — which wasn't very.

And then he reached down and scooped her up into his arms. Bypassing the bed, he took her straight back to that chair by the window. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite places. She'd been there so long, alone, wanting him back. Being there with her felt like, in some small way, he could begin to make those hours up to her.

He only intended to hold her, cuddle her. But Bella quickly found his lips, her hands soft on his cheeks. She gave him one long, searching kiss, pulled back to look into his eyes when he was hesitant.

"I'm okay now," she promised him, reading him like a book, stroking his face between her hands. Her eyes dropped down to his lips. "I promise, Edward. I'm really okay."

He responded by pulling her to him again, kissing her slowly, as deeply as he could without putting her in danger from his teeth.

It didn't heat up any farther than that. Neither of them tried to make it do so. He just kept kissing her for quite a long time after that — deep, slow, healing kisses, full of tenderness and love — until he reluctantly reminded her she had to get up early in the morning and pronounced it to be bedtime.

---

There were more kisses in the morning, when he woke her up and she smiled contentedly up into his face. She'd been lying on her back, and he was propped up on his side beside her, stroking her cheek to awaken her.

It was the very first time since she'd returned to her home that she hadn't opened her eyes in a frantic search for him, not relaxing until she found him. And it made his morning.

"Hi," she whispered sleepily, like he hadn't just been there all night, breathing her in with every one of his senses and thanking every deity he could think of that she was right there safely beside him. He couldn't help his chuckle.

"Hi." That word didn't quite cover what he was feeling.

But it was the last word either of them said for a while. Bella reached up with her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her lips, absolutely dazzling him with the love in her eyes. He very carefully kept his weight off of her, all too aware of the way he hovered partially above her. Her heart raced and she arched her torso up against him, but he didn't allow himself to be pulled any farther on top of her. He stayed to her side.

His plans for getting her up early enough to have that talk were on their way right out the window. Bella seemed quite happy to have him right where he was, and she was fairly insistent about it. He wasn't really feeling the urge to call her on it, even if it was a stall tactic.

But to his utter delight, after she eventually remembered that she preferred to have a human moment before kissing him in the morning and abruptly pushed him away, clamping her hand over her mouth — as though he even remotely cared about something so trivial as morning breath — she came back into the room from brushing her teeth with a determined look on her face.

She sat down cross-legged in the middle of her bed, looked him straight in the eye. "Okay. I promised. Talk."

Good enough. He sat down the same way, facing her, and reached out to take her hand in his — without holding his own hand out in offering, as he'd done the night before. He took a deep breath, hoping she'd still want to kiss him when this conversation was done.

"First of all, I want to make one thing clear. Jacob was way out of line in what he said to you in that letter. I'm never going to leave you again, Bella. Not now, not ever. Not even when we fight."

She dropped her eyes, her expression remorseful as she nodded. "I know that."

He cupped her cheek firmly with his free hand, brought her focus back up to his face. "Do you? I'm not so convinced. Yesterday, you seemed terrified to talk to me about this, and that concerns me, love. At the very least, I need to know you'll tell me if I do something you don't like. Especially when I touch you."

Her hand came up to grip his wrist, holding his hand against her face. "I will. It's not that. I just hated the idea of fighting with you. Going back to school, coming home...it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. I — I just need you too much right now. I can't stand the thought of being mad at you. I can't stand the thought of you being mad at me."

His lips turned up in a soft smile, some of his fear easing. "So you're willing to admit you're mad at me?"

She sighed, turned pink, and he lowered his hand from the very distracting warmth suffusing her cheek. "Yes. I mean, I think so. You haven't told me why you did it. Jacob's my friend. Why would you go behind my back to keep him away?"

He grew serious. This was the heart of the matter, the part about which he had no intentions of backing down.

"Because being around him puts you in danger. He knows that himself. It's why he cut off contact with you after the first time he phased. Young werewolves have very little control over their transformations, especially under stress. He knows very well what could happen if he changed into wolf form with you close by."

Bella shook her head vehemently. "No. I don't believe that. Jacob wouldn't hurt me, Edward. He just wouldn't."

Edward sighed. He'd hoped not to have to go this route. "He could and he would, no matter how much he cares about you. Have you ever met Sam Uley's fiancée? Emily?"

Bella looked confused. "No. Have you?"

"No. But I've seen the thoughts of the entire pack, including Sam's. While Jacob was staying with us, he would go outside sometimes to run, to link up with the pack."

"Link up?"

"Telepathically, so to speak. The wolves can hear each other's thoughts, much like I do, but with a far greater range. When Jacob was within my range in wolf form, I could hear them. All of them. There's very little about them I don't know now."

Bella was trying to keep up. "What does Sam's fiancée have to do with any of this?"

"Everything. The wolves have something similar to the mating bond we share. Imprinting. Emily isn't just Sam's fiancée. She's his imprint. She's absolutely everything to him, his sole reason for existing — something far less but not incomparable to the depth of my feelings for you."

"I still don't understand."

Edward didn't even blink. "Despite all of that, Sam lost control and shredded his beloved's face with his claws. Emily will be horribly scarred, disfigured for the rest of her life. And yet she's lucky, because he could have very easily killed her. He could yet, despite how very much he loves her. It would take one instant, one brief moment of him losing control and phasing when she's too close."

Bella blanched, her lips parting. "Oh my God. That's awful."

"It is. And I'm not going to let it happen to you. The wolves pose a risk, Bella. A threat to your safety. And I believe we've already established that I'm unable to simply ignore anything that puts you in danger."

She nodded slowly, processing, and for just a moment he thought she was going to see things his way.

He really, really should have known better.

"But I can't just turn my back on him, Edward," she argued. "I won't just stop being his friend. I've known him since we were little kids. His dad and my dad are best friends. He's become my best friend. He was there for me when..."

And she hesitated.

"When I wasn't?" The sharpness of his own tone surprised him, the bitter jealousy in it. Hearing her defend Jacob so passionately was an extremely unwelcome surprise.

Bella licked her lips. "When you were gone," she finished carefully. "And besides, how is it any different than..."

And then she seemed to realize what she had been about to say, and her mouth clamped shut. Her gaze shifted away, her hand squeezing his tighter as she shifted uncomfortably. "Never mind."

It wasn't like the thought hadn't already occurred to him. He'd have to be a complete hypocrite not to have thought about it even as the words were coming out of his mouth — all of his judgmental words about loss of control and the threat of grave physical injury or death.

It still hurt that Bella would even come that close to throwing it in his face, in defense of Jacob Black.

"I suppose it's really not any different," he said quietly. "Yes, I could kill you just as easily as he could, with one slip of my strength. I'm all too aware of that, Bella. At least I finally know you are too."

"Okay, stop it," Bella protested, her eyes narrowing. "That's not fair. My point is that neither one of you would hurt me. I know you both could. But you wouldn't."

"And my point is that I've had nearly a century to learn to control my strength, coupled with the fact that you're my mate. That's a far more powerful bond than imprinting. Even the thought of harming you is terrifying enough to keep me in check. Plus, from a purely selfish perspective, I've lived through seven months without you. I know I wouldn't survive that again. Jacob doesn't have any of those advantages. He's only been a wolf for weeks."

But Bella didn't back down.

"No. I don't buy it. He couldn't transform over the phone or through a letter. You didn't even let me communicate with him that way. So don't tell me it's just about my safety. What's this really about, Edward?"

He clamped down on the surge of frustration that flooded him. It wasn't directed at Bella — at least not fully.

"Fine. Are you aware that he's in love with you?"

To tell the truth, he'd truly believed Bella was oblivious to that fact. That had been his ace up his sleeve, the revelation that was supposed to turn the conversation his way. Surely his mate would never expect him — an extremely possessive vampire — to allow her to spend time with another man who had feelings for her.

But Bella bit her lip, her gaze falling to study their linked hands, her expression one of complete guilt.

And Edward's stomach dropped like a stone.

"You are aware of it," he heard himself say in shock, as he tried to maintain his grip on the possessive monster rattling its cage door.

"Yes," she admitted quietly, then grew defensive. "We went to a movie, right before he stopped talking to me. And...and he hinted at how he felt that night. But I made it clear I don't see him that way. He knows I just want to be friends."

Edward's eyes flashed with anger. "He hinted. What does that mean, exactly? Did he touch you?"

She hesitated. "He just wanted to hold my hand. I didn't let him."

Edward made a concerted effort to take the bite out of his tone before Bella could misconstrue his anger. His anger toward Jacob.

"Then you understand yet another of my reasons why I don't want you near him."

Bella looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Wait. Are you actually jealous?"

There was really no point in denying it. "Of course I am. You read his note, Bella. He was fairly clear about the fact that he wants to take you away from me."

Her expression softened, her thumb rubbing over his hand. "He can't, you know. Nobody can. You're my mate too, remember?"

His eyes bored into her, his demeanor more intense than he would have liked. "I never forget that for an instant. Nor can I forget that you're mine. So I would have to be certifiably insane to encourage you spending time with my rival for your affection."

She studied him for a few seconds, and he would have given a lot to know what she was thinking. He was surprised at her clear, direct response.

"I'm not asking you to encourage it. I'm asking you not to undermine it. He's my friend. That's all."

It was a valid argument. Some rational, human part of him got that. Alice's earlier caution to rein in his possessive urges rang in his ears — She's still not a vampire, Edward. She's not going to completely understand how you feel about this.

His vampire side, on the other hand, having recently been given free rein to handle things, dug in its heels and took its stand.

"I can't do that. He's a danger to you, Bella. I don't want you around him or any of the other wolves, for that matter. I've explained my reasons why, and I hope you'll agree willingly not to see him. But if I have to, I'll forbid it."

Going full dominant vampire with his mate had worked once before. It became pretty immediately clear that it wasn't going to this time. Leave it to Bella to respond like a vampire only in some areas and not others.

Her jaw dropped open, her hand jerking out of his. "You'll forbid it?" she repeated incredulously. "You can't do that!"

He didn't even flinch. "I think you'll find that I can and will."

Bella's face filled with anger. "I'm going to see him, Edward. I'm going to talk to my friend. I'll find a way, whether you forbid it or not."

Edward nodded sadly. He'd been afraid all along that it might come to this. "And I'll find a way to stop you."

She jumped up off the bed, started angrily yanking clothes out of her closet for school, so furious she wouldn't even look at him. "This conversation is over."

---

The ride to school was a frosty one, to say the least.

Bella was still busy trying to wrap her mind around the completely crazy thing Edward had said about not allowing her to talk to Jacob.

She was absolutely seething over it.

And things didn't get any better when the school day started.

It didn't help that it was completely necessary for Edward to still be practically attached to her side. He didn't go out of his way to touch her constantly, like normal, but he still kept a protective arm around her waist whenever they were in transition from one place to another, his carefully stoic eyes still watchful.

Lunchtime was probably the most uncomfortable part of her day, up to that point. There was little doubt that all of the Cullens knew exactly what was going on. Two of them would have been stationed outside her window during the fight, and she knew that. She didn't know which two, and she didn't want to. It was mortifying enough.

She couldn't help wondering whose side they were all on. Not one of them said a single word to either her or Edward, and it was getting awkward.

She was doing only a slightly better job of actually eating anything than the Cullens, as they all pushed food around their plates. The only difference was that she actually took occasional nibbles of hers. Her stomach felt like it was full of rocks ever since what happened that morning.

But all of a sudden, she forgot all of it when her mate's body snapped upright, his eyes locking on Alice — just as Alice went into trance mode.

Edward's protective arm, the one that usually would have been clamped around Bella's waist the entire time they were in the cafeteria anyway, suddenly made a reappearance. It locked down around her almost painfully tight.

She barely noticed that part.

Alice's eyes were as wide as Bella had ever seen them.

A sharp growl came out of Edward, one she briefly feared was audible to the surrounding tables. She was too terrified to dwell on it.

Emmett, on her other side, moved closer, his muscles subtly coiling. He didn't know what was happening either. His huge arm hovered behind her back, not quite touching her, his eyes roving the area. Jasper was focused only on Alice, and Rosalie sniffed the air, looking just as ready for a fight as Emmett.

"What is it?" Bella managed to squeak. One hand clawed at Edward's leg beside her. "Edward? How bad is it?" She dug the fingernails of her other hand into his wrist that was pressed deep into her side, and he seemed to remember himself. The intensity of his grip slackened.

But his eyes, when they turned on her, were practically blazing. He looked...terrifying. Like he was getting ready to tear something apart, and he was going to enjoy it.

"Not bad," he grated. "Good. She slipped up, Bella. We know where she's going to be. I'm taking out Victoria. Tonight."

TO BE CONTINUED...