22

I felt nauseous as I climbed out of bed and made my way through our house and into the kitchen. We'd arrived back late the night before and headed straight to bed, exhausted after a long day of traveling. Because Carlisle had paid to have the limo driver take us to the cottage in Monterey, we had to rent a car to make our return to San Francisco. The boys loved it, of course, but they were loud and we'd had to stop more than we had planned.

Walking into the kitchen, I flicked on the light and opened the fridge. The boys were going back to school today, Carlisle was heading into work, and I had class, though I wasn't sure I was ready to go back. My face had been all over the papers, the news, everyone knew me as the woman who'd been kidnapped, the woman whose family was slaughtered by a madman, who caused the death of the great Peter Cullen.

"You're being ridiculous," I muttered to myself and closed the fridge door.

"Talking to yourself?" Carlisle laughed, drawing my attention to where he stood in the doorway. "And for the record you've never been ridiculous."

"To you," I quipped, turning away from him. Biting my lip, I grabbed the coffee pot so I could start his coffee, but when he placed his hands on my hips, I groaned. "Don't."

"Don't what?" he asked, pressing his body against mine.

"Don't tease me again," I whined, pushing my ass against him. "You're being cruel."

"Am I?" he murmured, his lips grazing my neck as he kissed his way up to my ear. "Do you want me to take you right now, Isabella?"

"Yes," I breathed heavily.

"I could," he whispered, his fingers toying with the front of my sleep shorts. "I could be inside of you before you knew what happened."

"Then why aren't you?" I groused, desperate for more.

"Because you're not ready yet." Carlisle released his hold on my hips, laughing when I turned and glared at him. "Patience, baby."

"Whatever," I snarled, only half-angry at him.

Carlisle laughed, but didn't say anything else as he started making breakfast for the boys.

Ten minutes later, we were seated around the table with eggs, toast, and bacon in front of us. The boys were excited about going back to school, while I was less than excited for them to be out of my sight. Logically, I knew that Gabriel Varner was dead and wouldn't be able to hurt us again, but that didn't mean I still wasn't afraid. There would always be men like Gabriel Varner/Aro Volturi who felt they could take whoever they wanted.

"Isabella," Carlisle said, drawing my attention to him, but when I looked at him, he tilted his head toward Michael.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," I muttered. "What'd you say?"

He opened his mouth, but promptly closed it as he climbed down from the table. "It wasn't important."

"I still want to know," I insisted, but he didn't tell me as he placed his plate in the sink and walked out of the kitchen. Sighing, I shifted my attention to Carlisle, who gave me a weak smile. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he lied. It wasn't okay. My son had been trying to tell me something that was important to him, but instead of listening, I found myself stuck in my own, selfish world. "You'd better get a move on, or you're going to be late."

Tensing, I nodded and pushed my chair from the table. I didn't like the fact that I wouldn't be able to take the boys to school with Carlisle, but my academic advisor had requested that I come talk to her before my first class, which mean I had to be on campus by half past eight. I could only imagine what she had to say to me.

—TW—

Half an hour later, I was pulling my car into a parking spot outside of the admissions building. I grabbed my backpack from the backseat and adjusted the baseball cap that I'd put on in hopes of keeping the attention of me. It didn't work, of course. As students rushed to their classes, I saw the way they paused in mid-stride. It wasn't anything new. My new normal so to speak.

As I entered the advising office, I bit my lip as I looked around for my advisor. I had never met her directly. When I got greenlighted to register for my classes, they'd been so overwhelmed that one of her student workers was able to push me through.

A tall, thin woman with long, silky dark brown hair walked out of one of the offices in the back with a coffee cup in her hands. She saw me next to the door and smiled. "Hi. Are you Isabella Cullen?"

Nodding, I said, "I prefer Bella, though."

"Duly noted. I'm Kebi Malek. I spoke to you on the phone a couple days ago."

Once more I nodded, unsure of what to say. The dozen or so people seated at cubical around us were watching with interest, and I tried to keep from lashing out. I was tired of people watching me.

"Come on. We can talk in my office." Kebi led me into a small office on the other side of the room. She closed the door behind us and gestured for me to have a seat on one of the two chairs in front of her desk, which I did. Once she was settled, she placed her coffee cup on her desk and leaned back in her chair. "How are you doing, Bella?"

"I'm . . ." The urge to lie and tell her I was fine was strong, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. "Have you ever gotten to the point where life is just exhausting?"

"Yes."

"That's where I am. I'm just tired."

"Adulting can be difficult. Then you add on the . . . trauma you went through recently. I can't imagine that tired is a strong enough word for how you feel at the moment."

"No, I suppose it's not," I confessed. "Why'd you want to see me today?"

Kebi smiled and leaned forward, placing her arm on top of her desk. "Because I'm worried about you, and so are your professors."

"They are?" I asked.

She nodded. "I spoke to them before I contacted you. You've missed almost two weeks' worth of classes. That's a lot of work to make up. They were . . . are concerned that you aren't fully invested in your classes this semester."

"I see." I said, quietly. "So what does that mean? Are they kicking me out?"

"No," she was quick to reassure. "Of course not. They're just concerned. They're willing to work with you, to help you catch up, but they understand that, given what you've been through, that you might need more time."

"I appreciate that, but I'd rather not get any special treatment." And when Kebi started to argue with me, I put my hand up and stopped her. "This is going to sound much harsher than I mean it to, but the last thing I need right now is special treatment. I just want to move on from all of it and the only way I know how to do that is focus on my family and on my studies. They're all I have right now, so thank you, but I'll be fine."

"Okay, if you're sure." Kebi smiled and though I could tell she wasn't still concerned, she didn't fight me anymore. "Just know that if you need anything, my door is always open, Bella."

"Thank you," I whispered, thickly before grabbing my bag and leaving her office.

My heart raced and I could feel a panic attack brewing beneath the surface, but I was determined not to let my emotions get the best of me. I was tired of being the weak, pathetic damsel in distress.

I'd just reached the science building when I saw Alice sitting on a bench outside of the two main doors. She had her phone pressed against her ear and she was laughing, smiling, happy. She hadn't spoken to me since I returned to Forks. She along with Esme, Emmett, and Rose had made it clear that they blamed for me Peter's death, for not being strong enough to fight Gabriel Varner off.

Alice laughed again and looked toward me, her eyes widening as she quickly ended her call and stood up.

"Hey," she said, curtly. "What are you doing here?"

"I have class, which I'm late for, so . . ." I let my words hang in the air as I hurried past her and up to the doors. I'd just put wrapped my fingers around the handles, when I heard her speak.

"I miss you."

My breath shook as I dropped my hand and looked back at her.

"I miss you so much, Bella," she said, softly.

"I miss you, too," I whimpered. "In a non-girl-on-girl kind of way."

Alice laughed. "Whatever, Swan. You know you want my body."

"You haven't called me Swan in a long time. Not since you told me you liked girls."

"Haven't been this nervous since then," she admitted.

"Why are you nervous?" I asked.

"Because I'm still mad at you and I don't like it."

Her words cut through me. "Yeah, well, join the club."

I turned back to the door, but stopped when she called out, "Bella, stop!"

"What do you want from me, Alice?" I begged, facing her again. "You want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness? You want me to scream at the top of my lungs that I'm sorry, that I was wrong, that I'm fucked in the head?"

"I want to understand why you choose to run every time shit gets hard," she said. "It's been your M.O. ever since your dad died."

I tensed. "My father was murdered, Alice, by a man who thought, in some twisted, fucked-up kind of way, that I was his. He killed my father because Charlie Swan didn't like the way he was looking at me. My father didn't just die; he was stolen away from me."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I loved him, too."

I shook my head and shuffled down the steps so that I was just a few feet away from her. "I left that night because I knew Gabriel Varner wasn't going to stop until he got his hands on me. He would have killed Carlisle, the boys, you, and I couldn't . . . I can't lose the only family I have left," I wept. "And I know you can't forgive me for not being strong enough, but that's all on you. I'm not as brave as you wanted me to be, I guess, but you aren't the friend I thought you were."

Turning, I left Alice standing there with tears falling and rushed into the building, trying to keep my broken heart from shattering. Alice had been my best friend my entire life, my person, and not having her support gutted me. But I was done letting her guilt me, letting any of them guilt me for not being strong enough. None of them understood how much pain I carried inside of me.

—TW—

By the time I arrive back home, it was after six and I was exhausted. I'd managed to talk to all of my professors, who once again offered extensions on all the work I'd missed. I thanked them, but declined, promising to have it all finished by my next class. It was silly, but I didn't want special favors. I wanted normalcy and this was the only way I knew to get it.

Carlisle was laying across the couch while the boys played with their Legos on the floor when I walked in. Tyler scrambled to his feet and rushed into my arms, while Michael stayed back, still working on the anger that filled his small heart. I opened my arm to him and he came rushing over to me.

"How'd my boys do at school today?" I asked, hoisting Tyler higher as I led them to the couch and sat next to Carlisle, who placed his hand on the small of my back.

"It was boring," Tyler whined, but Michael actually smiled.

"Mr. O'Malley is having an art festival and we each get to enter a drawing. He said the winner gets a special prize!"

"Oh, that sounds like fun. What are you thinking about entering?" I asked, knowing that Carlisle had been teaching him how to paint.

"I don't know deadline is not for another few weeks, but I want to do something special."

"I'm sure we can come up with something," Carlisle said, dragging Michael onto his lap. "Maybe this weekend we can go to the art store and buy some supplies."

"Promise?" Michael asked, his eyes widening.

"As long as nothing comes up, I promise." He laughed. "Now, clean this mess up while Mom and I go start dinner."

Michael and Tyler were less excited about picking up their toys, but did so while Carlisle and I headed into the kitchen. The minute we were alone, he had me in his arms, his lips were pressed against mine, and his hands were roaming over my body.

"I fucking missed you so much today," he growled, sliding his lips along my neck.

"I missed you, too." I gasped when he bit down on my earlobe. "Carlisle, stop!"

"Don't want to," he murmured, but stepped away from me, his eyes filled with lust. "How was class?"

"It was fine," I lied.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Well, class was fine, but I saw Alice."

Carlisle tensed. "And what did she have to say?"

"Oh, you know." I waved my hand in the air and turned to the fridge to pull out the chicken I'd had marinating for dinner.

"No, I don't, so why don't you tell me?"

Closing the fridge, I placed the chicken on the counter and looked back at him. "She said she misses me, but she still can't forgive me for running. It's whatever. I'm over it."

"Clearly," he scoffed, and pulled a baking dish from the cabinet and set it on the counter. "I'm sorry you had to deal with her today."

"It's . . . I don't even know what it is. I can't apologize for being scared. I know I didn't handle everything right, but I'm tired of trying to make everyone happy all the time."

"Good, because you can't." Carlisle placed his hand on either side of my face. "You have to fix yourself before you can work on them. You and Me and the boys, we have to be first in each other's lives, or . . ."

"Or we'll never survive," I murmured.

"I talked to Liam today," Carlisle said, dropping his hands to his sides. "He said he can see us Thursday after hours."

Feeling my shoulders tense, I tried to keep my voice even as I said, "What about the boys?"

"Edward said he and Jasper can keep them." Carlisle frowned and took my hands in his. "I know you're scared, Isabella. I am, too, but we need to fix our relationship. We owe it to the boys."

"You're right," I lied and smiled the best I could. "We'll make everything okay."

And I hoped and prayed that I wouldn't fail. Losing Carlisle and the boys would be the end of my life.