20

It felt like someone had punched me in the boob as hundreds of heads turned from the reporter and fixed their attention onto me. Tears flooded my eyes as I turned to flee with Tyler still in my arms, but I'd barely gotten a few steps away when I felt Michael's hand grab hold onto my arm. I looked down at him, seeing fear and tears swimming in his baby blues.

"Mommy," he whimpered.

Hoisting Tyler with one arm, I reached my other hand down to him. He took it and together, the three of us left a congregation full of people thinking the same thing: I was responsible for my mother's death, just as I was my father's.

Just as I pushed the door to the small room we'd waited in open, the front doors to the church opened and two police officers rushed in. They looked from me to the sanctuary and took off at once. I ushered Michael into the room and kicked the door closed. I dropped into the closest chair I could find, wrapping my arms around the boys and crying. Just crying over everything that had happened over the last six months.

I'd lost my mother, been attacked by my classmates, the entire town of Forks had turned its back on me, been sexually assaulted twice, and lost a man who thought of me as his daughter. I was tired of being strong, of trying to keep myself from falling apart. Except for Michael, Tyler, and Carlisle, I was done caring what people thought of me, too. They were all I needed. They were my family, my people.

The door to the room opened and I peeked over Tyler's head as Carlisle came rushing into the room. His facial expression told me that he wasn't convinced that I would be there, that I wouldn't have taken our children and run away. The thought had occurred to me, of course, but I couldn't keep running. I needed him and he needed me, and somehow, we had to find our way out of the darkness.

"Come on," he said, placing his hand on Michael's shoulder. The small boy turned toward his father, who immediately swept him into his arms.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I stood up, hoping he intended on taking me with him.

"I don't know."

While keeping Michael up with one hand, Carlisle reached for me and Tyler. He wrapped his arm around us and led us out of the building, through the crowd of reporters that swarmed around us the second we were outside.

So much for barricades, I thought bitterly.

Carlisle yanked the back door to the limo opened and nearly pushed us inside before climbing in behind us. He leaned forward and told the drivers where to take us, but I didn't hear the address. Not that I cared. I just wanted to get out of here, to forget the accusation that reported had made against the man who'd made my life hell over the last several months, but I couldn't. There was too much truth to what he said.

"He's right, isn't he?" I asked, shifting my eyes to Carlisle, who was watching me with great intensity. "What he said about the fire, he was right."

Carlisle inhaled a sharp breath. "I don't know anything official, but I've wondered ever since you told us about Charlie."

I nodded, trying to keep the tears from falling down my face. "How long had he been watching me? Waiting for me to be vulnerable?"

"Too long."

"Yeah."

We drove for hours. The boys drifted off to sleep, laying their heads on our laps. Carlisle didn't talk again, but we never stopped staring at each other, either. Almost trying to say without words all the things we needed to tell each other. Maybe, in some ways, we were healing our broken hearts. It didn't matter, not right then at least. All that mattered were the boys, keeping them safe, and trying to keep our marriage from falling apart.

Carlisle didn't look away until the slight jerk of the limo drew his attention. The boys woke with a start, both of them sitting up, but neither of them saying anything as their father climbed out of the limo. He reached his hand inside, waiting for one of us to accept it. Michael was first, then Tyler, and finally me.

I wasn't expecting to be standing in front of a small, beach cottage, but that's where we were. Carlisle walked up to the limo driver, leaning in to talk to him. After a couple minutes, he shook the man's hand and stepped away. The limo roared to life and we stepped away just moments before it pulled away and left us stranded.

"Where are we?" I asked, shifting my attention to Carlisle.

"Somewhere nobody will be able to find us," he told me, placing his hand on the small of my back as he lead me and the boys toward the house. "My mom loved beach cottages, log cabins, and bungalows. When she passed, I got the bungalow in San Francisco, Garrett got a nice cabin in the Utah Mountains, and Marcus got this place. She wanted us to each have someplace that meant a lot to us."

"It's incredible, but I still don't understand why you brought us here."

Carlisle sighed and turned so that he was facing me. Bringing his hands up to my face, he said. "Because Marcus offered and I accepted. We need to fix our family and then we can go back to the city and deal with everyone else, with the press, with the police. But right now, I need my family to be okay, and we're not."

Tears filled my eyes as I nodded and sniffed back the urge to weep. "Do you still love me?"

"Yes," he said, immediately. "Do you still love me?"

"Yes."

"We get it!" Tyler whined, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the house. "You love each other. Can we go inside now? I'm hungry!"

Carlisle and I laughed, but followed him and Michael into the small cottage.

—TW—

There wasn't much food in the house, but we managed to make the boys some plain pasta noodles with butter and Parmesan cheese. While they settled at the table, I went to explore the cottage. There were three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large back porch that faced the ocean. Sighing, I settled in one of the chairs and pulled my knees up in front of me. It was almost perfect — almost, but not quite.

"We'll need to run into town and get some food," Carlisle said, drawing my attention away from the ocean. "Some clothes, too. Didn't think this plan out very well."

"We weren't anticipating your father's funeral being crashed like that," I murmured. "I'm sorry about that. I will never understand why people think it's acceptable to intrude onto people's personal lives like that."

"They're assholes." Carlisle moved so that he was seated in the chair next to mine. "I wasn't ready to lay him to rest, anyway. I . . . I just got my father back."

"I know," I whimpered, causing him to look at me. "He loved you."

"He did," Carlisle murmured. "Losing my mom changed him. Made him mean, made him bitter. Meeting you made him smile again. Think he might have had a little crush."

"No, he didn't," I disagreed. "While you were packing the house in Forks, Peter and I had a lot of time to talk. The boys would be in bed and I'd find myself unable to sleep, so I'd wonder through his house. I always found him in the kitchen with a glass of milk and chocolate chip cookies."

"His favorite," Carlisle laughed, thickly.

"We'd sit for hours, Carlisle, while he'd tell me storied about Siobhan, about you, about your brothers. He loved his family so much. Pushing you away nearly killed him, but he was too proud to admit that he had handled things wrong. He told me that I gave him the courage to keep trying. Said if . . ." Sobbing, I shook my head, trying to keep myself together. "Said if a young girl like me could love with so much passion, he could stop being an idiot."

"The wedding was his idea."

"Our wedding?" I asked, thinking about how Carlisle had surprised me with a wedding on the beach.

Carlisle nodded. "Called me after you'd been with him a few days, said you had enough stress on your shoulders with school, the boys, Gabriel Varner, you didn't need more by having to plan a wedding. Asked if he could do it. I wasn't sure that was a good idea, but he insisted. Said he'd make it a day neither of would ever forget."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because he asked me not. Said it didn't matter if he planned the wedding or if I did, all that mattered was that we were happy, that the two of us and the boys are a family."

The door to the porch opened as Michael and Tyler stumbled out. Tyler rushed over and climbed onto my lap, while Michael lingered in the doorway, almost like he was unsure what to do. Sighing inwardly, I stretched my hand out to him. His chin wobbled as he ran across the porch, molding his body around me and Tyler.

"Don't leave me again, Mommy," Michael cried.

"I won't," I whimpered, unable to keep my tears from falling.

—TW—

"Are you sure?" Carlisle asked.

"No," I confessed. "But let's do it anyway."

He smiled and grabbed my hands as he led me into the water. The morning after we arrived at the cottage, Carlisle, the boys, and I had headed into Monterey and spent a ridiculous amount of money on food and clothes, including new swim suits for all of us. Now that we were back at the cottage and all the food had been put away, Carlisle was starting his second attempt at teaching me to swim. I wasn't sure I was ready, but figured if I could face this fear, maybe I could face the rest of mine. Maybe — at least.

"It's easy, Mommy!" Michael boasted, swimming past me. "Just remember to kick your legs."

"Yeah, and move your arms like this," Tyler added, swimming his arms like a madman in the water, causing it to splash me.

"Okay, I'll try," I told them taking a deep breath as the water hit my waist. The surf wasn't as bad here as it was in San Francisco, but I still found myself tensing every time the water crashed into my body.

"Let's try floating again," Carlisle said, giving me a smile. "You already know how to do that, right?"

"In theory," I muttered under my breath, but whether he heard me or not, I couldn't be sure. I blew out a deep breath and leaned back on the water, trying to relax, which wasn't easy, but somehow, I managed not to sink. "Am I doing it?"

"Yes, baby, you are," he laughed, placing his hand on my stomach. I shivered as I always did at his touch and lobbed my head in his direction. He smirked as his fingers toyed with the top of my bikini bottoms. "You ready for more?"

Biting my lip, I nodded. "If you are."

The double meaning behind our words were clear, but seeing as the boys were only a couple feet from us, neither of us could push for more. Not then anyway.

"Okay," Carlisle grabbed my waist and flipped me through the water so that I was on my stomach. "Remember to cup the water with your hands, push it downwards while kicking your legs at the same time."

I tried. You can't fault me for trying, but after attempting to swim for the better part of two hours, I gave up and headed back up to the cottage, leaving Carlisle in the water with the boys. They needed some time to reconnect. So, I went into the house and checked on the chicken spaghetti I had in the crock pot before walking through the cottage to the bedroom Carlisle and I were using and into the bathroom.

Filling the oversized tub with hot water, I added some lavender bath oil that Carlisle insisted I needed and stripped off the yellow and black bikini I'd picked out that morning. Laying them over one of the towel rods so they could dry, I slipped into the water, sighing as the warmth wrapped around me. For a moment, everything felt perfect, normal, and right.

But then, I remembered the way Aro Volturi looked at me, the way his hands felt on my body, the smell of his breath. The vile words that tumbled out of his mouth and the total disregard for human lives hit me like a ton of bricks. He killed anyone who got in his way: the real Gabriel Varner and his family, a couple in Arizona, my father, Peter, my mother, and who knows how many others.

"Isabella," Carlisle called, knocking on the door to the bathroom.

I tried to respond, but couldn't get the words out clearly. A moment later, the door to the bathroom burst open and Carlisle rushed in, his face crumbling in pain as he looked down at me.

"Baby." Carlisle knelt next to the tub, placing his hand on the side of my face and wiping away the tears. "Tell me how to make everything better."

"I don't know." I hiccupped as I tried to stop crying. "That's the problem. I'm so angry and scared still. Logically, I know he's dead and he can't hurt us again, but inside my head, he's still there, still trying to make me his. He hurt so many people, Carlisle. Why? Why kill my mother?"

Carlisle shifted so that he was sitting next to the tub. "Because she hurt you."

"Huh?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"Gabriel, or Aro, or whoever he was, saw you as his. I think he was biding his time until you'd graduated before he planned on taking you for himself. Maybe a part of him believed that he could make you love him. Hell if I know. When you mother attacked you for being with me, I think it set him off, gave him an excuse to go after her. Inside his head, after all, you were his."

"I just don't understand why he wanted me so badly. For four years, I barely spoke to the man, never encouraged him in any way, never . . . hinted that I wanted more from him. Not like I did with you."

"You did?" Carlisle asked. "I didn't think you wanted me, Isabella."

"Oh, please, I damn near through myself at you."

"When?"

"Oh, how about every time I babysat?" I laughed. "A girl can only bat her lashes at you so many times before it becomes obvious, Dr. Cullen."

Carlisle groaned. "God, I love when you call me that."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Carlisle leaned up on his knees, bending over the tub as he slipped his hand into the water, finding my pussy immediately. "Brings about a lot of fantasies that I'm still itching to play out."

"Like what?" I gasped when his fingers penetrated my trembling flesh. "Jesus fuck, Dr. Cullen."

"You like that, baby?"

My chest heaved as I nodded; the feeling of his fingers inside me was amazing. "Better than my own."

"Good," he growled, curving his fingers upwards. I had to bit my lip to keep from crying out. "The only fingers that should be inside of you are mine. And do you know why, Isabella?"

I shook my head, struggling to keep from screaming as he manipulated my body.

"Because you're mine. My wife, my lover, just mine. Nobody gets to take you from me again. DO you understand?"

"Y. . .ye . . .yes," I stammered. "I'm close, baby."

Before my climax could completely take over, Carlisle pulled his hand out of the water, stood up, and walked out of the bathroom. That motherfucker left me wanting him, left me needing him. I was going to make him pay for that, I thought to myself.