Chapter 12

Asking For It, Shinedown
Friends, Band of Skulls
What Are You Waiting For? Nickelback
Arms, Christina Perri

*Link to YouTube playlist in chapter one.

***Posting schedule note at the bottom!

*Some last-minute fiddling was had. All mistakes are mine.

*Please join me in welcoming the lovely Driving Edward to my merry band of prereaders! bbmassey88 had to bow out, but I'm so very glad she was able to give her input on this story, as well as Clutch.

September 2011 through February 2012

Bella

My birthday falls on a Tuesday, and the plan is for me to have all my things boxed and ready to go when Masen gets off work. I don't have much, just enough books and pictures to fill a few cardboard boxes. And I have enough clothes to fill a couple of duffel bags. I'm taking the smaller bedroom of the two-bedroom unit we're transferring into. It's not going to be ready for another month because of repairs the landlord needs to make, but I can't stay here another day.

"Did you ask Mac about borrowing his truck so we can get this mattress moved?" I ask Masen, the phone cradled between my cheek and shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm already on my way over."

I pull the phone away to look at the time then bring it back to my ear. "Don't you have another hour left to work?"

"Eh, I can make it up tomorrow."

"Mase, you don't have to—"

"I want to. Look, I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? Just have shit ready to go so we can get it done in one trip."

"Yeah, okay, I will."

I open the last of the empty boxes and start to fill it. My jewelry box—which was my mother's—is the last big thing to pack. I carefully lift the lid, taking a look inside, and like I do every time I open it, I run my fingers over the silver "e" ring nestled in the rolls of velvet. I stopped wearing it long ago, but I can't bear to get rid of it. Edward and I may be over, but the day he gave it to me was one of the best days in my recent past, and it's one I don't want to forget. Shaking off the memories, I close the lid and place it inside the cardboard box. I'm so distracted with packing the odds and ends from my dresser top that I don't hear the front door open and close. It isn't until Charlie yells my name that I realize he's in the house.

"What are you doing?" he asks from the doorway.

I turn to look at him over my shoulder. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

"Don't get smart with me, Bella." He takes a step into my room and puts his hands on his hips. "So, you're moving out. Where the hell are you going? You can't possibly be making enough to support yourself on that ice cream shop job."

"I'm moving in with a friend."

"A friend?"

I leave his question unanswered and turn back to my box.

"What are you taking with you?"

"Just my things." I press the tape over the seam and turn around, stacking the box on top of the others. As soon as my hands are off of it, Charlie snatches it off the stack.

"What's in here?" He rips off the tape, and as I try and grab the box, he pulls it completely out of my reach.

"Stop! That's my stuff."

"I'm just making sure you aren't taking anything that isn't yours."

"So, now I'm a thief?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," he mutters as he opens the flaps of the box.

I stand with my arms crossed over my chest, seething, while he rummages through my things. He picks up my jewelry box, and his inspection makes me nervous. If anyone would take something that doesn't belong to him, it would be Charlie.

He rifles through the other things I've packed, and once he seems satisfied I'm not running off with his twenty-year-old Tupperware, he hands the box back. "Here."

I snatch it and put it back on the pile.

He watches me fold up my blankets and sheet set, and when I put them in their own bag, his brow furrows. "What are you doing with those?"

I tilt my head and speak slowly. "I'm going to need sheets and blankets for my bed."

"Which bed? Because you're not taking this one," he says, pointing to the full-sized mattress I've been sleeping on for the last two years.

"It's my bed, Charlie. Of course, I'm taking it."

"Like hell you are. I bought every damn piece of furniture in this room, and you're not going anywhere with any of it." Charlie rips the bag of linens out of my hands and tosses it on the bare mattress.

I've done my best to keep my interactions with Charlie neutral as much as possible in the last two years. I've tried to keep the peace and stay out of his way, but I can't control the words that tumble from my mouth.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shout, and I regret it instantly.

He takes a step toward me and raises his hand, the back of it making contact with my cheek. "Don't you speak to me like that again. I'm your father. You're supposed to respect me, dammit!"

Stunned, I cradle my cheek in my palm. Angry tears well in my eyes. But instead of letting all the anger I've kept bottled inside me for the last year spill out, I retreat, cowering from him. I'm too close to being away from all of this to bother arguing with him.

"When you walk out that door, we're done. You can't come crawling back here when life gets hard, because it will. Do you understand me?" At my silent nod, he's satisfied I'm sufficiently put in my place and turns to walk from the room. "And don't expect any help from me moving all this shit," he says over his shoulder as he stomps down the stairs.

Absolutely defeated, I sit on the edge of the bed, doing my best to hold myself together. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, concentrating on the fact that today is the only thing standing between me and my independence.

And not two minutes later, the sound of Mac's truck rumbling down the road can be heard. I get up from my bed and look outside, watching it roll to a stop at the curb.

I slide up the window and lean out. "The front door should be unlocked, but the asshole just got home a few minutes ago. Be careful."

Masen nods, a determined expression coming over his face. I hurriedly sling the strap of one of my duffels over my shoulder and stack a couple boxes in my arms. Catching my reflection in the mirror, though, I realize I have another problem.

My right cheek is bright red where Charlie backhanded me. If Masen sees what Charlie did, we'll never get out of here. I pull the elastic band from my hair and let it fall, shielding that side of my face. Satisfied it's as hidden as it's going to be, I head down the stairs and meet Masen on his way up.

"How much do you have?" he asks me, taking the boxes from my arms.

"Not a lot. A couple more bags and a few more boxes."

"You get what you can carry, and I'll be up to get the rest. We should be able to get the mattress in the truck without any trouble."

I shake my head. "No mattress."

"What do you mean?"

"He said I can't take any of the furniture."

He opens his mouth to object, but I cut him off.

"It's fine. I don't need it that badly. I'll just get something else."

"Bella, it's not right. He should—"

"Drop it."

He meets my glare with one of his own. "Fine. Go get another load and we'll get out of here as quick as we can."

"Thank you." I lean forward and kiss his cheek.

He grunts in response, and I know he wants to argue some more, but he turns and goes back down the stairs.

I grab a couple more boxes and get them loaded into the truck. I pass Masen when I go back in, and as I grab the final box and last bag, I take one last look around the room. The only good memories I'll keep from the time I spent time here are the ones I had when Edward was with me ... until that final time. Rubbing at the ache in my chest, I turn to leave the room, closing the door on that part of my life. As I near the bottom of the stairs, I notice Charlie standing in the doorway leading to the living room, a beer in hand and a hard look on his face as he watches me descend.

"So, you're shacking up with the other one?" he asks.

"I'm staying with a friend," I say as I take the final steps to the bottom of the staircase.

"You really are a little whore, aren't you?"

Before I can tell him to shove his opinion of me up his ass, Masen comes through the front door, and the look on his face is murderous.

"The fuck did you just say to her?"

Charlie turns to Masen, sneering. "I said my daughter is a little whore. She couldn't keep her legs closed with one brother, and now she's on to the next one."

Masen takes two long strides toward Charlie, getting in his face.

"Mase, don't!" I drop the boxes I'm holding and try to push my way between them. "Stop. Please," I beg.

With a firm but gentle grasp, he moves me to the side, partially shielding my body with his. He's got a couple of inches on my sperm donor, and he stares straight into Charlie's eyes. "Your days of bullying your daughter are over. You got me? She's not going to be here to take any more of your shit, so you'll have to go find someone else to intimidate."

Masen looks over his shoulder at me, and his eyes narrow when they land on my cheek. I'm sure it's still bright red. He turns back to Charlie, his jaw tense and his hands clenching at his side.

"Did you hit her?" he seethes.

"What I do in my own house is none of your goddamn business." Charlie squares his shoulders and tries to match Masen's stance, but it doesn't have the intended effect.

Mase reaches out and fists Charlie's shirt, pulling him so close there's barely an inch between them. "If you ever come near her again, I won't think twice about kicking your ass," he growls.

"I'd like to see you try."

Masen's chuckle is unlike any I've ever heard come out of him. It's deep and dark and menacing, and for the first time, I see a different side to my friend. "Oh, I will. And if you do come near her, maybe I'll give a tip to the county sheriff. I'm sure he'd love to know what the chief in this tiny ass town is up to down in Nogales."

Charlie's eyes narrow, but he remains silent.

"I may not be patched in, but I hear all kinds of shit around the shop." Masen relaxes his fists, smoothing the fabric of Charlie's shirt before taking a step away, not losing eye contact with him. "Do we understand each other?"

Charlie's lip curls into a sneer. His eyes flash toward his gun holster hanging near the door and then back to Mase. "You think you can come in my home and threaten me, you little punk? You think I'm just gonna let that shit slide?"

"Oh, it's not a threat at all, Chief." He takes a step closer to Charlie. "It's a fucking promise."

They stand like that for too long, and the longer that stay that way, the more anxious I get. Charlie could easily reach for his gun and fire it at either of us. He could claim self-defense since this is all happening inside his front door.

"Mase," I say, my voice brittle and thick, "I'm ready to leave."

"Do you have all your shit?" he asks without looking back at me.

"Yeah. I have the last few boxes."

He takes a step back and turns around, scooping up the last boxes and continuing to shield me from my father. Mase takes a step toward the door, but something inside me holds me in place, rooted to my spot.

There are things I need to say to this man.

"You told me upstairs, after you hit me, that I should respect you," I begin.

"Bella," Masen says from the doorway, "come on. He's not worth it."

I ignore him and take a tentative step toward Charlie, my voice getting stronger with each word. "The problem is, you never earned my respect. You're an asshole. You've always been an asshole." I stand taller and meet his harsh glare. I'm willing to endure anything he dishes out, because as far as I'm concerned, this is the last I'll see of him. "I've hated you since my mother told me about the loser she left when I was a little girl. I've tolerated you for the last two years because I didn't have any other choice. But after today, I'll never have to see you again."

With that, I pick up the final bag and walk through the door, leaving Charlie Swan and every awful memory of him behind me.

"You okay?" Masen places a glass of water on the coffee table and sits beside me on the couch.

I offer him a small smile. "I will be." I scoot closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder. "Thank you for today. I really appreciated someone standing up for me."

"Hey, I already told you. We gotta stick together."

I look around the single room apartment and breathe a heavy sigh. "I guess we should figure out how we're gonna do this now that I don't have my bed. A lot of good those room dividers are gonna do us," I say, pointing toward the hinged panels of wood he made to separate our bedroom areas until the other unit is ready. I look down at the cushion beneath me. "I hope you don't mind seeing a constant pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the room. Looks like it's the couch for me."

"No way. You're taking the bed."

I look up at him. "Mase, I can't—"

"You can and you are."

I open my mouth to tell him all the reasons I shouldn't take his bed, but he stops me.

"No way. You're not sleeping on the couch. And if we're lucky, we can find another bed pretty quick, so it'll be temporary anyway. We can still set up the room dividers so you have some privacy." He smiles down at me. "We'll make it work, roomie."

I lay my head on his shoulder again, wrap my arms around his middle, and squeeze. "Thank you, Mase."

He kisses the top of my head. "You're welcome."

The first night, we get a pizza, and I spend the rest of the evening organizing my crap. Not having anywhere to store it—no dresser or bookshelves—leaves me with very few options. Mase insists I take one of his drawers, at least for my smaller articles of clothing, and he pushes his things aside in the closet, giving me enough space to hang my shirts. The rest is folded and stacked inside my duffel on the floor. It's a temporary fix to a temporary problem.

Walking around the mostly open space in my poor excuses for pajamas is a problem I didn't anticipate. My usual nighttime wardrobe of thin tanks and tiny shorts gets more than a second look from Masen as I get a glass of water before bed. And I can't say it doesn't feel good to get that kind of attention from someone after so long.

But later, when I'm sitting in bed reading a book, he steps from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. This time, I'm the one taking a second look.

"Sorry," he says, his cheeks pink, "I forgot my boxers. I'm not used to taking shit in there with me."

Squeaking an "It's okay," I watch as he rummages through his drawer, briefly imagining him walking through his apartment in nothing.

With his back turned toward me, I try to get my reaction under control. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing away thoughts of a naked Masen. When I open them, he's gone. I shake my head and go back to my book. But as hard as I try, I can't seem to concentrate.

Must be my new surroundings.

To say I have trouble mastering a manual transmission would be putting it mildly. We spend days out on nearly deserted desert roads, and I have more than a few tearful tantrums as I get the hang of it. I make him promise not to tell anyone how many times I've stalled the car. But due to Masen's determination to teach me to drive, I finally get the hang of it, and when I do, I'm pretty sure they can hear me squeal and shout all the way back in town. The end of September finds me a new licensed driver.

The first of October comes with an unexpected surprise. The two-bedroom unit we'd planned to move into isn't available after all.

"Did he say why?" I ask Masen after he comes back from speaking with the landlord.

"Well, for starters, he was pissed at me for not adding you to the lease before I moved you in here. He said I should feel lucky that he didn't evict my ass."

"Oh," I breathe.

"Yeah. He said it's only because of Pop that he isn't. He doesn't want any fallout with the club. Whatever that means." He rolls his eyes. "Anyway, after I gave him your information, he said not to bother applying for a new lease. Since you don't have any credit history, we'd be denied, apparently."

I plop down in the wobbly kitchen chair. "Well, that ... sucks."

He settles into the chair opposite me and reaches across the table, taking my lax hand in his. "Hey, it hasn't been so bad, has it? I think we've made it work."

"I guess," I concede.

"And think of it this way, the two-bedroom unit was another two hundred a month, so we'll be saving even more money."

"Yeah, you're right. It hasn't been so bad. And maybe I can save up enough to get a new bed."

"See? Silver lining. We'll make it work."

"Yeah, we'll make it work."

Jazz and Alice host a Halloween party, and when Alice assures me Edward won't be there—it's his weekend with Seth, and he's staying at his parents' house for the night—I agree to show up. I even manage to talk Masen into dressing up. We scour the racks at the thrift store, and when we find a football jersey and a cheerleader uniform—and especially when our eyes meet over the racks and we simultaneously say "Zombies?"—it feels like fate.

When we show up, I expect him to mingle, to find some girl to distract him for the night, but he hardly leaves my side. And if he's not hovering, he's nearby. He's constantly making sure I'm okay and no one is bothering me. It makes me think maybe Masen feels more for me than just friendship.

And I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"That boy is a mess, Bella." Rosalie's voice pulls me from my daydream. "When are you gonna put him out of his misery?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That kid has got it bad for you, girl."

I find him across the room, and as if he can feel my eyes on him, he turns to meet my gaze, giving me a wide smile. I can't help but return it.

"He's just a good friend, Rose." I turn to look up at her. "He doesn't feel that way." Even saying the words out loud, I'm not sure if I believe them myself.

"Just keep telling yourself that, girlie." She leans in closer and lowers her voice. "But mark my words, that boy has the hots for you."

Thanksgiving is ... weird. Carmen insists Masen come home for the day, and Masen insists I come with him. I'm a nervous wreck for days leading up to it.

"She hates me, Mase, and I don't think she really wants me there."

"Well, if she wants me there, she better get used to it. Like I said, we stick together."

To smooth things over with Carmen, I bring two pies with us: Masen's favorite—pumpkin—and Carmen's—pecan. The pumpkin turns out perfectly, but because our oven is less than reliable, the bottom of the pecan is a little too brown. Carmen isn't impressed.

She tells us about her plans to go to Vegas to see some friends for Christmas, and I'm more than relieved we won't have to spend the next holiday with her.

What I don't expect to come home to the following week is a Christmas tree. It's artificial and an unnatural shade of green, but it's the best thing I've ever seen. I haven't decorated a Christmas tree since I moved here and seeing it in my home brings tears to my eyes.

"You don't like it?" Masen asks, crestfallen.

"No, Mase, I love it." I practically throw myself into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing him. "Thank you," I whisper into his neck.

Masen's twentieth birthday falls on a Tuesday, and I surprise him with one of his favorites—lasagna. I manage to make a huge mess of our tiny ass kitchen, but the smile on his face when he walks through the door that evening is worth every dirty dish.

"Are you not going out with the guys tonight?" I ask over dinner.

"Nah. No one seemed too excited about partying in the middle of the week." He says it nonchalantly, but I can see the hurt and disappointment on his face.

"Did anyone give you a card or anything?"

He shakes his head. "I don't think anyone remembered the day. Pop was on a run for the club, and E was dealing with something with Seth. He's teething or something, and Angela needed a break, so he took off the second he clocked out."

"I'm sorry."

He looks up from his plate, plastering a smile on his face. "I'm not. It's cool. I got to come home to this fuck-awesome meal and your pretty face."

"Well, cooking for you isn't the only thing I did. Hang on." I disappear behind the room divider screen to grab the tall gift bag with the card sticking out of it. When I walk back to the table, Masen's smile is already twice as wide and three times as bright.

"What did you do?"

I shrug. "Not much. Just something for your birthday."

He opens the card and chuckles. "Growing up is optional, huh?"

I shrug a shoulder. "Open your present."

"What did you get me?" he asks, looking every bit a little boy. He first pulls out the biggest thing in the bag—a giant bottle of Jack. "Niiice. But how the hell did you—"

"I asked Rose."

"This is awesome. Thank you, Bella."

I twist my fingers together, nervous about what else is in the bag. "There's something else in the bottom."

"Oh, yeah?" He digs around inside the bag and finds a small gift box, the kind you'd put a pair of earrings or a necklace in. "What's this?" Pulling the top off the box, Masen pauses, his eyes flashing to mine before going back to the small box in his hands.

"I know another rider is supposed to get you one of those," I begin, my voice shaky, "but I also read that someone who cares about you could, too." Suddenly feeling that buying him a guardian bell is the stupidest thing I could have done, I look down at my fidgeting fingers in my lap. I should have just stuck to the whiskey.

"Thank you, Bella." His voice is soft, and I know without looking at him that he's emotional about the gift I've given him. "It means a lot."

"You're welcome."

I nod and stand, walking to the fridge. "There's one more thing," I say as I reach inside the fridge for the cake I baked him. I quickly light the two and zero candles on it and turn around. "Happy birthday, Masen."

I place the cake on the table in front of him, and he stares at the flickering twin flames.

"I think this is when you're supposed to make a wish."

"Yeah?" He looks up at me, and in that one look, the energy in the room changes. "And what should I wish for?" he asks, his voice low.

"I guess it should be for what you want most."

His gaze lingers on me for a long moment, and just when I'm about to ask him what he's going to wish for, he turns his head and closes his eyes, blowing out the candles. When they blink open, he turns to me.

"What did you wish for?"

"You."

"Me?"

Masen swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he sits up a little straighter. "Yeah, Bella, you. I ..." He reaches for my hand, and like it's second nature, I give it to him. His grasp is gentle and soft—a complete juxtaposition to the roughness of his hands.

"You know, I was there the day you walked into school, saw how everyone looked your way." He swallows again, and I can feel the tremble in his hand as he looks down to our intertwined fingers. "I wanted to ask you out so bad, but I knew that when E set his sights on you, I didn't have a chance."

"Mase, I—"

"It's okay." He looks up and smiles. "I get it." He starts to get up, but in a rush of confidence I haven't had in a long time, I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back into his chair.

"You need to let me finish." My own voice trembles, and a million thoughts rush through my head about why this is a bad idea. As I look down into his eyes, the only thing I can think about is how much he means to me ... and I'm scared of losing what we already have.

"I'm worried," I whisper, quietly admitting my fear. "I don't want to lose you as my friend."

"Is that all I am to you, Bella? Am I just your friend?"

The corners of my mouth turn upward. "You've become my best friend." The small smile slips from my face. "And if it doesn't work out, I can't ... I don't want to lose you," I whisper.

He tugs gently on my waist, bringing me close enough to pull me into his lap. "You won't," he promises, wrapping his arms loosely around me. "You and me, we're good together, Bella. But I can't let another day go by and not take a shot at it being something even better. I ... you mean more to me than anyone ever has, and I can't let that pass us by." His eyes search mine, and the intensity of his gaze is overwhelming.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The flicker that's always been there—the connection we've always had—sparks, the energy flowing between us bringing it to life. As he leans in, his questioning eyes look into mine, and with a single nod of my head, he leans closer.

The heat of his breath as he nears sends a shiver up my spine and a tingle across my skin. When his lips touch mine for the first time, they're soft and tentative. But when I begin to kiss him back, they're a little more purposeful, and his tongue tangles with mine.

His hand moves to the back of my neck, gripping me gently but holding me close, and all of my worries seem to disappear. All thoughts of why this is a bad idea float away, and I let the feeling of being in Masen's arms consume me.

A/N: This chapter is one of my favorites—from both stories—for so many reasons. It's another turning point for not only Bella, but Bella and Masen. I'd love to hear what you think.

***RL is kicking us in the tail, my friends. I'm still hard at work, writing, but posting may slow down in the coming weeks as my family preps for the return to school for my boys ... whatever that's going to look like. Just a heads up that you may not see a chapter of this or Clutch every week. But I'll still be around. The best place to stay in touch with me and know what's going on is in my FB group.

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