Chapter 19

BPOV

The click of the door closing sends a shiver down my spine. Edward is gone. He is gone — just as the light in his eyes and his smile — gone.

The tears flow freely from my eyes now as devastation consumes me. I can still feel the heat from our kiss on my lips... as well as in other parts of my body, and my heart aches with what I never had and already lost. It doesn't make any sense, yet again, it still hurts.

He's been there all this time...

The day he voiced his concerns about the way Emmett treated me, he was there.

When he drove Emmett to my graduation because otherwise, he would have never made it — it was all him.

Through the hundreds of times Emmett insisted on inviting him out with us when Edward felt clearly uncomfortable being the third wheel.

Since the first day we've met, Edward has always been there.

My brain is flooded with the many encounters that, at the time, seemed friendly but now seem to mean so much more. Has he felt something for me since the first time we met?

I drop on the couch and hug my knees to my chest, trying to hold my pieces together.

I try to think of the time I started to feel different about him. I mean, I've always thought he was attractive, from day one; he's kind of hard to miss in that way. I've always cared for him as a person too. How could I not? He's the best friend anyone could ask for. He's thoughtful, kind, respectful, selfless...

Hours pass and I am unable to come up with an answer. I don't know when I started to feel for him, but the truth of the matter is, I do.

I so do.

I have feelings for Edward Cullen.

I've always have. They've been there, my feelings, quiet and in the background, just like him.

None of that matters, though. We can't be together.

It would hurt too much. It would be too awkward. It's too soon.

We just can't.

I drag my feet to bed and just slump there, still in my clothes. My eyelids are heavy but my brain is going a thousand miles per minute. It's three in the morning when I look at my phone. My fingers pull up his number from the recent calls, and I just stare at his digits for a while, wishing there was something I could say.

He looked so dejected when he left... so... broken.

Deciding I would just make things worse by texting him, I drop the phone and cover my head with the pillow, willing sleep to come and take me.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

I've had three coffees by the time I get to work, hoping it would help me stay alert. It does, but I am miserable, and the fact that I only got four hours of sleep last night has very little to do with it.

I can't stop thinking about him.

I feel dead inside. The guilt of knowing that I hurt him crushes my chest. He opened himself to me, for the first time ever, and I shut him down.

He looked so hurt.

I hurt him.

The worst part is, I can't even do anything about it, because how do I try to make it better without giving in to what I want — him: his arms around me, his face in my hair, his lips on mine…

And then I end up hurting someone else too... no matter what I do.

When my phone rings during my lunch break, my heart speeds up in my chest. The hope that it's Edward calling dies when I look at the screen on my phone and the very close close-up of Emmett's face, mouth open, tongue out — the picture he made his caller ID as soon as I got this phone.

"Hey, Bella!" I can recognize at once that he has me on speaker, and judging by the background noise, he's driving.

"Hey," I say awkwardly, he sounds in very high spirits. Still, I don't know what to expect from this call.

"Just out of training," he says. "I need your advice on something."

"Oh, sure..."

"Sky Sports wants to interview me for tomorrow's game."

"Oh..." Once I know what the call is about, I relax, shifting smoothly into friend-mode.

"They want me to talk about Jacob though." He can't hide the anger in his voice as he mentions his name.

"Hmmm... you don't have to, Em."

"I know... but I want to."

"You do?" I ask in confirmation. He has never been too eager to address the press.

"Yes... but let me tell you, I won't sugar coat anything. I'm going to give it to them straight."

"Emmett-" I start to object, but in pure Emmett fashion, he stops me before I can get a proper word in.

"No. People need to know... what really happened."

"They don't, really."

"Did you know that he's receiving treatment for his injury with the Bayern staff?! He is sooo gone, Bella. I really hope he doesn't play with us anymore. I don't care how good he is." He almost spits his words out.

"He could make a difference in the game, you know?"

"He won't. Oh! And get a hold of this, he is suing some rappers for some song they wrote about him." He laughs humorlessly. "Please, get over yourself, bro!"

I smile. Emmett will get over the whole issue with Jacob. He's hurting still, but once he's come to terms with it, he'll be okay.

I get lost in thought until he speaks again. "So, what do you think?"

"Well, you're entitled to voice your thoughts. Just don't say anything too harsh… or something you might regret..."

"Okay..." He laughs again. "Hey, Bella..." His tone changes, and my stomach flutters with anticipation.

"Yeah?" My hand freezes. The fork I was using to push around the lettuce in my salad slightly trembles over the bowl.

"Do you know who else is in Munich?" he asks casually although the weight of his words is nothing but.

My throat closes. I can't breathe. I can't speak.

"Have you seen him yet?" He digs in deeper. "Actually, wait, don't answer that."

I couldn't answer even if I wanted to.

"Bella?" He sighs.

I close my eyes tightly, forcing myself to snap out of it. "Emmett..." I breathe out. "Nothing's happened," I say before I realize that's a lie.

God, I'm already lying to him.

"Bella..." He takes a deep breath. "I... I... listen, just..." This seems as hard for him to say as it is for me to listen. "He's in love with you, you know that, right?"

"Em-"

"I know it's all kinds of weird and fucked up, and I really don't know if I can be this rational every day, but... I love you, Bella. Just don't... ugh." He stalls again. "You've sacrificed so much for me in the past four years... I can't... I want you to be happy, okay?"

"Emmett, I can't-"

"Don't worry about me, okay?" He takes a deep breath, the music and the background noise coming to a stop. "Anything you decide to do will be okay... just do it for you."

I try breathing through my sobs to no avail.

"I need to get ready for the interview, Bella. Everything's okay, I promise. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah..." I whisper as soon as I can.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later."

"Bye," I manage to choke and he hangs up.

It takes me a couple minutes to calm down, but I end up throwing away my salad and asking for the rest of my day off.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

EPOV

The hotel bed is cold when I flop on it after returning from Isabella's place. I am nowhere near tired enough for sleep, but with the day I am sure to have tomorrow, I should try my best to get some rest.

If I am to convince both Dr. Braun and the specialist that I can delay this surgery three more weeks, I need to be at the top of my game tomorrow. I can't lie about the X-rays or the MRIs, but I can play down every diagnostic test they might do, show them I can do it.

That was the plan anyway. I will not let anything keep me from that game, but I needed her... And she offered it to me, her support. She said she'd back me up on this... that was, of course, before I ruined everything.

I can't believe I was so careless. I've always been able to keep my composure around her, but tonight... it all felt so intimate, so... right, just perfect. It was exactly what I needed in so many ways, and I ruined it — I moved in too soon. She was evidently not ready, and frankly I don't know if she ever will be.

There's too much history between them, and it would obviously hurt too much. I should have given her more time to get over Emmett.

How could I be so selfish?!

She kissed me back though... she did.

My hands cover my face as I reminisce our moment.

I've thought about kissing her, probably more than I'd ever be comfortable admitting, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine her taking the initiative that way. I was working so hard, trying so hard, to be gentle, to rein myself in, but when she pulled me to her, she tore me in two.

I can't say I didn't expect her to stop me. I knew it was coming; it still didn't make it any easier to bear.

I turn in my bed with a groan, pulling my phone from my pocket and staring at the black screen.

I don't know how I will be able to act around her anymore — to pretend that she doesn't completely own me, that I won't hurt from not having her.

The hours pass and the phone becomes heavier in my hand, dense with the possibility of talking to her — of clearing things up — or maybe just forgetting the whole thing happened.

I will never forget that kiss, though. I couldn't even if I wanted to.

So I wait — even when I know it's completely unreasonable that she'd be up this late, or that if she was, she'd text me — It doesn't matter, I still wait.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

My room's been bright with the sunshine coming through the window for a couple of hours now, when my phone vibrates with a text from Dr. Braun asking me to be ready in an hour. I'm flat on my bed, phone in hand, still in last night's clothes.

Isabella never called.

Most of the talk during my appointment goes on between Dr. Braun and the surgeon, Dr. Albach. They look at my scans and x-rays from the past few months, and Braun recounts the evolution of my injury.

I sit quietly on the examining table, mentally preparing myself for what is sure to come — the physical tests. I've done them all before, I know when it's supposed to hurt, and it helps me to prepare.

However, when I'm lying on that table and he's twisting my leg up and down while pressing here and there, it fucking hurts. I hold it in as much as I can, trying to breathe through it, but I am still quite disappointed at myself when he's done.

I wish Isabella had been here.

"Edward," Albach starts as I sit up. "I'll admit, your range of motion is impressive for the amount of damage the scan shows... Still, I am very sorry to tell you, you shouldn't be playing like this."

"We already knew that, Doc." My tone comes out rough in annoyance. I'm usually never this rude, and I am very sorry, but I am exhausted. The tests he performed have left me in pain, pain I can't show… pain I refuse to show — the worst kind of pain. Well, second worst, actually. "I know I shouldn't play. The question is can I, and you both know I can."

"You need to fully grasp the risks of the choice you're making," Braun starts.

"I can have you ready for that surgery tomorrow," Albach chips in.

"No-" I try, but he keeps going.

"Best case scenario, everything goes well, and you are out for about three months. That puts you back in training beginning of the next season."

I shake my head, and Braun speaks up. "The longer you continue to play like this, the more damage will be done, and the longer rehab will take."

"We're talking you possibly missing the whole first half of next season," Albach adds.

At this my eyes peek up and shift from Braun to Albach and back.

When I think about being out that long... God, I need to get out of here before they talk me out of the final.

I shake my head in denial and start buttoning my shirt.

Braun leaves the room, and Dr. Albach comes closer to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "You've done everything you could, Edward, but delaying this surgery any further is very risky. You've proven to us that you can do it, but it won't come without severe consequences."

I block his words out.

No, no, no, no.

Braun comes back in, cell phone in hand. "Coach Banner," he announces, handing me the phone.

I can't have Coach trying to convince me too! If he asks me not to play, how do I reason with him? He wouldn't ask me though, would he?

"Coach-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Cullen, I can't ask you to do this," is what he says.

I can sense it in his tone, he's worried about me. But he knows... he knows what this means to me.

I am nowhere near the "star" of the team, nor do I want to be, but my job on the right flank is important, and we have no one that can cover that position on the bench, not against Franck Ribéry.

How can I leave them now when we are so close?

"Coach, you don't have to."

If I have this surgery now, miss the final, and they don't make it. How can I live with that?

I can't, I'm taking the risk. I have to.

I'll deal with the consequences the best I can afterward.

"Are you sure?" Coach asks.

"Positive," I say at once.

"Okay, put Braun back on."

I hand the phone back to Braun with a smug, I-told-you-so nod. Not much is said after that.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There is at least an hour before I have to leave for my flight when I make it back to my hotel room. I flop on the bed, completely spent, as my body begs me for at least a few minutes of rest. As soon as I close my eyes, though, my phone rings.

The screen reveals Isabella's name.

I groan, burying the phone under one of the pillows and covering my face with the other one.

I can't do this right now. I'm not strong enough to face her, to tell her I'm fine, to say goodbye to her. I've already had to pretend for the doctors today. There's no way I have anything left in me to pretend for her too.

Please, please, please...

When the ringing stops, I exhale in relief, only to groan again as the ringing recommences.

"Hello?"

"I need to talk to you before you leave," she says, straight to the point.

"Isabella, it's fine. Please, forget it happened."

"I'm coming over," she states decidedly. It doesn't sound like she'll take no for an answer.

"I'm leaving soon." I still try.

"I don't care. I'm almost there, okay?" She sounds a bit out of breath, is she running all the way over here?

"Isabella-"

"I'm almost there, Edward, please?" her tone is desperate and it undoes me completely.

I sigh in defeat; I'm being an asshole to her when this mess is nothing but my fault.

"Just wait for me, okay? Five minutes," she pleads.

"Okay," I say and she hangs up after a quick thank you.

I sit up on the edge of the bed, my hands on my face. I have no idea what Isabella is on her way over here to say or do. All I know is that I need to get myself together to say goodbye to her for good.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~