Chapter Seventeen
She doesn't hear my approach.
The wind is picking up but everything about her seems so still, as if she's frozen in place. I catch sight of Harry in my periphery and I'm surprised by how little I feel about his presence. I expected to feel something but I feel nothing. I might have wanted to place some blame on him but I can't bring myself to do it.
I also can't bring myself to feel all the negative feelings I should about the girl in front of me. I wish I could because I realise that this makes me so weak and pathetic, but I'm just so relieved that she's here; that she actually came.
I manage to get quite close without her noticing me, but the wind changes direction and she must smell me or something because she turns sharply, her eyes wide with what I believe must be shock.
I'm a little shocked too. I don't mean to be rude - I mean, I'm pretty much still in love with her - but she looks horrible. Like, worse than I feel, and that's saying a lot because I just buried my mom. She has dark bags under her bloodshot eyes and her skin is sickly pale. I can't help thinking that she looks haunted.
Oh, Bella.
"You're here," I say stupidly. Of course she's here. She's standing right in front of me. For a second, I consider the possibility that she's an apparition but then I remember that Jasper also saw her. I'm not going crazy.
Yet.
"I'm sorry," she says automatically. It's weird. Those are the last words she said to me, and now they're the first. "I waited until everyone left before I came up here. I just wanted to say goodbye and I didn't want to intrude when - and the - "
I automatically smile. I can't help it.
She blinks in surprise. "Why are you smiling?"
Fuck if I know, really. She's here right now and the great big world just doesn't exist or even matter anymore.
"Edward?"
I wait only a beat more before I move towards her and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight enough to hurt. I register her gasp of surprise, but she hugs me back just as fiercely after a moment of hesitation. I can't even describe the wave of relief that washing over me that she's here.
Wait.
She's here.
But she waited for everyone to leave, which means that she thought I'd left. She didn't want to be seen, which means only one thing.
She's here for my mom.
It's a thought that hits me square in the chest and I immediately tense. She's here for my mom, and not for me.
Of course. I mean, I can't begrudge her that, can I? She didn't want to be seen. She didn't want to make this day about her. She didn't want to ruin the mood. I mean, it isn't as if I didn't notice the looks I received. My mom just died and my celebrity girlfriend didn't even bother to show up. Wait until people get a hold of that.
But she's here anyway. After. She came after all, and I guess the relief at that tempers the sting. I have to remind myself that she made herself very clear that she didn't want me. I don't want to believe her but I might have to, if I'm ever going to get over - through - this.
I release her quite suddenly and take a step back. Jesus, I'm ruined. I'm so fucking ruined. I should hate her for it, but I can't bring myself to feel the emotion. I'm already feeling too much right now.
I'll hate her tomorrow.
"I'm glad you're here," I say quietly, my hands dropping to my sides. "She would have wanted you here."
She nods automatically, her eyes shining.
"But I certainly don't."
And then I turn and walk away.
I can't do this today. Maybe she realizes that because she doesn't call after me. I try not to think of how I feel about it. There's a war going on inside of me and today isn't the day for it. If I can help it, no day will be the day.
Jasper doesn't ask me about the exchange when I get to the car. In fact, he doesn't even mention it. Maybe he can sense the tension in my body or the shiftiness of my eyes, but we decidedly ignore the fact that I saw Bella today.
Bella.
It's silent in the car. There's no music and Jasper isn't saying anything. Riley is asleep in the backseat and I'm content enough to watch the world out of the window as it flashes by. The green of the trees seems dull and the light of the day seems grey. This part hurts. This part, when I come to realise that this is so not how I expected my year to go. I had high hopes. We all did.
I guess now they're going to be pinned on Riley.
The street is full of cars by the time we get to the house but space was clearly left for us in the driveway. I climb out to shift the bright orange cone out of the way so Jasper can park. Then I get back in the car and don't move.
Jasper says nothing.
When Riley starts to stir, the two of them go into the house, leaving me with my thoughts and my pain. Fuck, it hurts. All of it. It just hurts.
I barely look up when people pass by the car on their way towards the front door of the house. They leave me be, which I appreciate. I mean, I was sure I was ready to face this day. I was so sure I would be able to handle everything it would throw at me, but then Bella. It just adds and it just takes away. Somehow, I have to get through this part, and then I can fall apart.
I have it scheduled, you see.
I smile to myself at the thought, and eventually muster up whatever is needed to open the door and get out. I straighten out my suit and prepare myself for the endless clichés I'm about to be handed. I'm here for you. It gets better. She's in a better place.
Just repeats of what I heard not too long ago when we were here for my dad. It feels like no time has passed, really. I don't feel like there was enough life between the two deaths; barely enough time before we officially became orphans.
The house is noisy but not too noisy. There are people standing around, chatting. Some are crying but most are smiling. I hope they're telling stories of my mom. The good ones; the happy ones. I'd hate for their memories to be tainted by the sad moments.
When people notice me, I get polite nods and murmured words. When Tori finds me, she hands me a plate of snacks that she knows I won't eat.
"Try anyway," she says when I pull my face downward.
I just about manage a smile, and then watch her walk away. Sighing heavily, I make my way to the kitchen and put the plate in the fridge. I want a drink but I'll wait. I want to run but I'll - I guess I'll wait. I get a Red Bull instead and try not to think about Bella. It's much harder to do because she's in everything.
I down the can, chuck it, and then do the rounds. It's what is expected of me and I'm all about upholding expectations. I greet people, accepting condolences where they're given and trying my best not to lose it completely.
At a certain point, I decide that I need to get some air. It's too much and I need a breather.
I've just sat down on the front steps of the house when I feel a presence occupy the space to my left. When I look, I'm surprised to find Makenna sitting next to me, a glass of red wine held between her hands.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey," I say, taking in the familiar blue eyes and perfect, blonde hair of the girl I once loved with everything I had. "I didn't think you'd come."
"I didn't either," she admits. "I'm not a fan of funerals."
"I don't know anyone who is," I tell her, shrugging slightly. "But thank you for coming. She really liked you."
She laughs lightly. "Uh, no she didn't," she says. "She tolerated me at best."
I can't help my own laugh. It sounds foreign coming from me but I'm going to take what I can.
"At least she didn't hate me," she adds a moment later. "Not the way she hated Karen."
"Oh gosh," I say. "She nearly fell out of her chair when I first introduced them."
"It was all the piercings."
"And that neck tattoo," I say; "which was wicked cool, by the way."
"It was," she agrees.
We fall into silence and I can't help feeling a sense of comfort settle over me. She isn't saying anything but her presence feels familiar. After this whirlwind of a day, I need familiar; I need calm and drama-free.
"I'm so sorry, Edward," she says after a long while. "This was - it just - I'm just sorry. Truly."
I glance at her. "I feel like every time I see you, someone's just died."
Her eyes widen as if she's been scandalized, before her shoulders sag. "Edward Masen," she says, shaking her head. "Too strong for your own good."
I frown. "What does that mean?"
She sighs, absently sipping from her glass. "This is what you do, isn't it? Hide yourself behind misplaced humor and unexpected darkness. You always seem to shield people from your pain." Her nostrils flare. "I just, I thought maybe the past few years would have changed you."
"And why would you think that?"
Her hand slips onto my shoulder, which forces me to look at her again. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
I don't respond. We've been here before. Our breakup consisted of words like these; feelings like these.
"I see someone who is broken, Edward," she says. "Someone who doesn't look at all interested in trying not to be."
"My mom just died," I snap. "What the fuck do you expect?"
Her eyes narrow. "Like hell this is about your mom," she counters. "I'm not an idiot. I might be considered a heartless bitch, but I know you, Edward."
I frown. "Wait. Who called you a heartless bitch?"
She sputters. "Uh."
"Mak?"
"Well, Tori did," she finally confesses. "In her defense, we did just break up," she added; "just after your dad died."
I sigh. "Sorry," I say. "I didn't even - "
"It's okay," she says. "Really, it was years ago, and my ego has been successfully replenished, thank you."
"I'm still sorry," I tell her. "I probably didn't explain everything properly when - "
She squeezes my shoulder. "When we broke up, just after your dad died."
I breathe out. "Exactly."
"Did I ever apologize?"
"Mak."
She sighs heavily. We've also been here before and I really don't want to hash it out again. I forgave her a long time ago, and I just wish she would believe it. She did what was right for her. Did it suck? Yes it did. But life went on and we both moved on.
Sort of.
"I thought your girlfriend would be here," she says after a moment.
"Hmm?"
"I actually can't believe that you're dating the First Daughter," she adds. "Like, who would have guessed?"
I swallow audibly. "Well, she was here," I say, which is the truth. "And we're not dating anymore."
"Oh."
"Oh," I echo. "It's amazing what a parent dying can do for my relationships."
She flinches and I immediately regret my words.
"Sorry," I murmur. "Though, in her defense, my mom wasn't yet dead when we broke up. Dodged a bullet, didn't she?"
She flinches again, and I feel it in my very bones.
"Jesus, I'm sorry," I say, running a hand through my hair and tugging until it hurts. "You're right, aren't you?"
"I'm always right," she says, somewhat proudly. "How could you forget that?"
I smile crookedly. "You'll have to forgive me. My memory's a little foggy these days."
"Getting old, Masen," she comments, her hand slipping from my shoulder so she can nudge me with her elbow.
"I feel old," I say, which just reminds me that I have a birthday coming up soon. My first one without my mom; my first one as an orphan.
"You look old," she says.
"Did you come out here to insult me?" I ask, rolling my eyes.
"No," she says. "I came out here to tell you the truth."
"Then give it to me straight, Mak," I say, my eyes meeting hers. "What am I doing that's so fucking wrong?"
"You're not doing anything wrong," she says.
"Just not right then?"
She sighs, visibly deflating. "I did the same thing when my mom passed," she tells me. We've only spoken about her mother a handful of times and all of those times have been when she's been inebriated in some form. I absently wonder how much wine she's actually had to drink today of all days. "I shut people out and tried to hold on for dear life."
I want to argue with her. I'm not shutting anyone out.
"You've never allowed yourself to feel it, have you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"All of it, Edward," she says. "Your mom's diagnosis, your dad's spiral, his death, everything to do with your mom. Right now. You're just holding it in, letting it fester inside until it eats you alive." She sets her glass of wine down and takes my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. "You have to feel it, Edward. You have to let yourself feel it all before you can even think about moving on."
"Mak?"
"The more you keep it in; the worse it's going to get."
I feel her wipe my cheeks with the pads of her thumbs, stealing the tears I didn't even know were there.
"I have seen you at your best, and I have loved you then," she says, her voice strong and steady. "What makes you think that nobody would love you at your worst? Show it to us, Edward. Feel it, and let it out. Please. You have to forgive your dad. Forgive your mom. But, especially, you have to forgive yourself for not saving them. Forgive yourself, Edward; you have to."
I let out a sob that catches us both by surprise and she quickly wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight enough to hurt. I clutch at her just as fiercely, like I am holding on for dear life. Everything is so familiar: her smell, her touch, just the feel of her. I don't want to let go.
She makes sure I don't.
I don't know for how long we stay in that position but my sobs eventually grow quiet and the tension in my body releases to a manageable level. It's all the indication I need to know it's time to extricate myself from her arms.
One look at her face is all I need to see that she's been crying too.
"You look terrible," I say.
She lets out a laugh. "So do you."
I wipe my face with my hands, scrubbing away the evidence of my tears. "I'm sorry," I say.
"I'm sorry too," she echoes.
I reach for one of her hands. "Thank you," I whisper.
She lifts my hand, kisses my knuckles and doesn't say anything for the longest time. When she does eventually speak, her tone is low and somber. "You take care of yourself, Edward Masen," she says and it's the sincerity in her voice that makes my heart stutter. "I think I'm going to head back inside now."
I don't say anything.
She kisses my cheek, breathes out and then stands up.
I watch her turn to go.
"Hey, Edward," she says, looking at me over her shoulder.
"Hmm?"
"If we do actually see each other only when someone's just died, then I hope that I never see you again," she says, her voice barely audible.
"Does that mean we can't text?" I ask.
She lets out a small laugh. "Of course," she says. "Don't be a stranger, Masen."
"Back at you, Murphy."
I make the decision to return to Chicago early Monday morning. I didn't get much sleep, and I'm a little weary but I believe going back is the right choice. I have to finish my year, and then only can I consider what happens next. One thing at a time.
I'm convinced that my mom held on as long as she did because she didn't want to disrupt our schooling. With me involved in a grueling third year and Tori almost at graduation; she tried desperately to stay with us until the summer.
She failed.
It seems that I'm not the only one who's made decisions because the house is already up and running by the time I head downstairs. With my friends already back in Chicago and the extended family elsewhere; the house is just filled with immediate family. Jasper asked me if he should stay but I assured him it was okay to go. He had things to get back to, namely Alice and baseball.
Tori is seated at the kitchen table, simultaneously eating a bowl of cereal and paging through a school file. Charlotte is bustling about, packing lunches for various members of the house. Apparently, life is supposed to resume as normal this morning. I find that I'm actually relieved by that silent, mutual consensus.
I find myself imagining that my mom is just asleep upstairs and we're just going about our day as if nothing has changed.
It makes me stop cold.
"So," Charlotte says, her eyes on me as if she can tell I need a distraction from my dangerous thoughts; "what are your plans today?"
I move towards Tori and kiss the top of her head, before I pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "I have to catch up on some work," I say, sipping at my coffee. "It's probably all I'll do until - "
Charlotte blinks, picking up the thread. She's a God-send, this woman is. "The will reading."
I nod. "Also, I'm probably going to head back to Chicago tomorrow."
Tori's head snaps up to look at me. "Tomorrow?"
I swallow. "If I can get a ticket, yes."
"But," she starts, and then stops. "Never mind."
Charlotte and I exchange a look. Just from the significant tilt of her head to the side, I know that I'm going to have to sit down and have a talk with my sister before I leave.
Tomorrow.
"Maybe Wednesday," I add after a moment. "We'll see." I look at Tori. "I'm definitely going to go back though."
Tori just nods. She understands that much at least. We'll still talk though.
Tomorrow.
Despite my intention to get some work done, I spend most of the day with Riley, soaking up his positivity and basking in the light that is Riley Evan Masen. He tells me tales about school and stories about his friends from the hospital. If I wasn't desperately trying to hold onto my own sanity; I would probably crumble at the thought that he has friends from the hospital.
In the afternoon, Riley goes next door for a few hours and the rest of the family - including Carlisle - attend the reading of my mom's will. I'm stupidly nervous, which is ridiculous because we already know what it's going to say. I've never been more relieved that there aren't any surprises.
Goodness knows my mom has been surprising me.
We all know where the money is going and where the house is staying. I get her car, which was something I didn't know until I was told. Hmm. But that's about all the surprises - I don't think my heart could handle any more than that anyway.
In the evening, Tori, Riley and I help Charlotte make dinner. Peter's working late but Riley's happiness is infectious and it eases the two - three - empty chairs in our house. Charlotte mentions to me that I should visit Carlisle before I leave. I already planned to but she wants me to make sure I say something very specific to him.
He's still welcome here. He will always be welcome here.
Visiting Carlisle is the only thing I have planned for Tuesday, save for making sure I talk to Tori. I make a call to his office, pack a cooler and then head out in my mom's car - which is now mine, apparently. I don't know why it is but I feel more calm in her car than anywhere else. Okay, I do know why.
It's my mom.
It's always going to be about my mom.
Finding parking is easy enough. People know us in this hospital. Whether because of Carlisle or because of my mom, I can't tell. Like the last time I was here, I receive condolences and well wishes. I accept them all because it's what good and proper sons do.
Carlisle's office door is open when I get to it, absently greeting his assistant on my way.
"Hey," Carlisle says, standing up at the sound of my soft knock. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I called the front," I say. "Said you didn't have any plans for lunch. Charlotte sent me with something decent to eat."
He smiles in relief. "She worries too much, doesn't she?" he asks as he sits back down and gestures for me to do the same opposite him.
I shuffle into the room and drop down into an armchair. I set the food on the table in front of him and sit back, trying to find the words to say what I've really come here to say. He probably senses my unease because he gratefully takes the food and starts to eat, giving me that bit more time.
The silence drags on, my mind spinning and Carlisle making appreciative sounds with every bite he takes of the vegetable lasagna that Tori requested. It's good. Like, really good. I'm going to miss Charlotte's cooking when I go back.
Because I'm going back.
It's where I end up starting when I finally open my mouth.
"I'm going back," I say after a moment.
He doesn't look surprised. Just curious. "When?" he asks.
"I bought my ticket for Thursday," I say. "I figure that I can get all the work I've missed on Friday and spend the weekend catching up to be ready for Monday."
He nods thoughtfully. "There isn't long to go now," he comments, which is the truth. "Exams should be starting soon... what then?"
I drop my gaze. "I haven't thought that far ahead," I admit quietly. "I kind of want to get through one thing at a time; keep my focus on a single thing whenever I can. It stops me from thinking about everything else." It's a truth I wasn't sure I was going to confess to him, but Carlisle would understand.
He always seems to understand. It's a bit unnerving sometimes.
"I made decisions," I tell him.
"About?"
"What we talked about."
"What we talked about," he echoes. "What did we talk about?"
"The loan," I say.
"The loan," he echoes. Then: "Would you be more comfortable if I drew up a contract?"
I blink in surprise, because this man is not human. "I would," I agree.
"I'll get it to you before you leave."
"Thank you."
He smiles gently. "Thank you, Edward."
Somehow, I manage to return his smile.
"Is there anything else?"
I wait a beat, lean forward and take out my phone. "Actually... there is."
Tori is in her room when I go looking for her. It's late; well after dinner and I'm borderline exhausted. Even though I can't recount doing anything particularly taxing today, I can feel the exhaustion in my very bones. Life is tiring.
I knock once, twice, and then open the door to find my kid sister lying on her stomach on her bed, scribbling something in one of her school notebooks. She's a Masen; school is important to us.
"Hey," I say softly. "Got a minute?"
She waits a beat before she scrambles up and shifts to sit cross-legged. "What's up?" she asks.
I scamper further into the room and sit down on the edge of her bed. I shift to face her and take a calming breath to prepare myself. "So, I booked a ticket for Thursday," I force out.
She nods thoughtfully. "Okay."
I swallow. "Okay?"
"Okay."
I bite the inside of my cheek. "T?"
She tilts her head to the side. "E?"
"Can I go?"
"I'm not going to stop you."
That doesn't make me feel any better. "Do you want me to stay?"
"Does it matter?"
I run a hand through my hair. "Tori," I say; "please tell me what you need."
"What I need; you can't give me, Edward."
"Then what can I give you?"
She's silent for the longest time before she completely throws me with her eventual response. "Can you give me back Mom's phone?"
I blink. Then: "Of course."
She shifts slightly. nibbling at her bottom lip. "I didn't actually know," she says softly. "What was on it, I mean. I guessed that there was something, because there was a night when she asked me to take it away from her, and she cried. She cried so much." Her gaze meets mine. "It was about Bella, wasn't it?"
All I can really do is nod.
"I'm sorry."
I look away. I'm not ready to talk about Bella. As far as my family knows; she wasn't ever here and I'm going to keep it that way for now.
"I really thought she'd come," she says softly, her voice trailing off slightly. "I guess we were all wrong about her, weren't we?"
I can agree to that much.
She swallows. "So, Thursday, huh?"
I nod. "I'm just a call away," I tell her. "And, if you need anything - anything at all - you just call and I'll get on the first flight back."
"You're silly," she says, reaching out to take hold of my closest hand.
"That I am."
"I have Peter and Charlotte and James and Carlisle, and even little Riley," she says. "I think I'll be fine without my big, strong brother for a little while."
The idea of being away from her - from all of them - still makes me uncomfortable. "I'm sure you will, T," I return; "just, you know, call, even if it's to bitch about those very people."
She lets out a light laugh. "You don't have to worry about me, you know?"
I shake my head. "I don't even know what that means."
"It's foreign to you, is it?"
I manage a smile. "I love you, Victoria Bryce Masen."
She shifts onto her knees and hugs me tight enough to hurt. "I love you too, Edward Anthony Masen."
Before I leave her room, I remind her to call me whenever she wants, and am suitably rewarded with a significant eye-roll. I don't know why but it truly is the first time that I believe that maybe she will be fine. If I'm not the one to save her; she'll save herself.
I spend my Wednesday morning packing for my trip back to Chicago. I literally move in slow motion, probably in a subconscious attempt to prolong my departure as much as possible. I've accepted that I'm going back but it still doesn't feel like the thing I should be doing. It makes no sense to me and thinking about it gives me a migraine.
I work for a little while. Well, I try to. My head isn't in the right space for anything productive and I try not to feel the anxiety that comes with that realization. So, when the distraction comes just after lunch, I take it. Hell, I grab at it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I immediately reach for it, expecting a text from Jasper or Emmett. Possibly even Rose.
But it's not. It's definitely not.
It's from Makenna.
Mak: Hey, Stranger... They're having a sale on sheet music at Kaspar's. Thought you'd like to know.
Despite myself, I can't help my smile. Makenna's always been a little heartbroken that I stopped playing music and I find it comforting that she's still on my case about it all these years later. She's always been a little stubborn and relentless. It was one of the things I both loved and hated most about her.
Edward: Hey, stranger Stranger. Kaspar's, huh? Find anything good?
Her reply comes a beat later and I'm hit by the familiarity of it in a way that should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn't. Maybe she's realized what I need, and I'm going to take it. Grab at it.
Mak: Just browsing. Manny's still convinced I'm a troublemaker so he's keeping a close eye on me as I move through the aisles.
Edward: With good reason.
Mak: Shut up.
I glance over my shoulder for a moment, ignoring the sudden feeling that I'm doing something wrong. I'm not. I mean, we're just talking.
Edward: Pick something up for me?
I hold my breath.
Mak: Anything in particular?
Edward: Surprise me.
Mak: Oh, you know me - just full of surprises.
Mak: They have an entire Adele collection here.
I shake my head.
Edward: You've always been a little in love with the contemporary pop pieces, haven't you?
Mak: Maybe... but not as much as I love your original pieces.
My original pieces.
I haven't written a note of music since - since my dad, I guess. Just the reminder makes me feel uneasy, but I stand anyway and reach up towards the shelves above my desk. It's where I keep my music. It's where I keep pretty much everything that's not in Seattle.
I pick a ragged book of once-empty sheet music and bring it down, retaking my seat. I let out a long breath before I open the book to a random page. For a moment, I don't even recognize my own handwriting. The person who wrote in this book was such a different person to the person I am today. This person wasn't an orphan. This person was in love. This person was what he believed was happy.
I reach for my phone.
Edward: Why did you like them so much?
Mak: The truth?
Edward: Always.
Edward: It's what strangers do.
I wait a while. I imagine she's thinking about what to tell me, and I'm not disappointed by her eventual reply.
Mak: There were times when we were together that I felt there were parts of you that you never let me see. Whether consciously or not. I think it was to do with your mom's first diagnosis. You convinced yourself you had to be the perfect son and brother your family needed at the time, and I think you lost your way a little. But when you composed; when you played... I got to see you. ALL of you.
I read the text a second time before I reply.
Edward: I always tried to be true to you, you know?
Mak: I do know, Masen. As I you.
I take a deep, calming breath.
Edward: Do you have a favorite piece?
Mak: You ask difficult questions. Give me a moment to think.
I do as requested and I page through my scribbles. I can hear the music in my head as I read through the bars, cringing in places and smiling in others. I'm surprised by some of the melodies my teenage mind came up with. Not that they're good or anything; just that they sound happy. Light, somehow.
Nothing like I feel today.
Well.
My phone buzzes.
Mak: Okay. So, like, don't judge me for my choice. I was once young and in love.
Mak: It's the one you played for me on our fifth date. We went to Laurie's, remember, and had the WORST fries in all of existence before we snuck into the school auditorium so you could use the piano. All of it was so exciting and it was a side to you I'd never seen before, but then you started to play and it was as if something - someONE - just took over your body. It was beautiful and so haunting, and it was the night I fell in love with you.
Mak: The piece was mine, Edward: you called it Oculis Caeruleis. I even remember the spelling. Aren't you proud?
Again, I have to read the messages a second time around. She's said so much.
Edward: I'm very proud. I have to confess that it's also one of my favorite pieces. And of course I remember that night. The fries were shit but the milkshakes were to die for. They're the only reason we ever went back
I take a breath, steeling myself.
Edward: Also, I loved you long before then.
Mak: Confession: I kind of always knew.
Edward: Is that why you told me first?
Mak: YES. I never would have if I wasn't sure. We protect our hearts, us girls, you see.
I do see. I automatically think of Bella and absently wonder who's heart she was protecting when she broke mine.
Somehow, we fall into easy conversation after that, as I finish up with my packing and prepare myself for the trip back to the world that I'm now going to have to tread without my mom. I haven't really lived in Seattle without her and I don't know how it's going to go. I mean, I guess I have my own support system there - as I have here - but it won't be the same.
It never will.
My last supper is a quiet affair. Carlisle joins us, which earns me a grateful look from Charlotte. I don't have the heart to tell her that he's probably only here to deliver the contract we discussed in great detail. I feel like such a grownup when I invite him into my office - my bedroom - and we sit down to talk it over one final time.
It's simple enough. I have no amendments.
When I sign on the dotted line, the banks will no longer own me. Of course, I'll have to make all the necessary arrangements when I get back to Chicago, but the mere act of putting pen to paper eases the grip on my soul just a bit. It's one less thing I have to worry about.
Carlisle stands when we're done and puts his hand out for me to shake.
I surprise us both when I hug him instead, and it takes him a moment to return it. Admittedly, I'm a little embarrassed when the short embrace does end and I drop my gaze like the awkward kid I suddenly am.
He places a hand on my shoulder, prompting me to look at him. "The other stuff is almost sorted," he says.
"Thank you."
We're silent for the longest time before he speaks, signalling the end, I guess. "You'll take care of yourself," he says, adopting that fatherly tone I now believe he was born for.
I nod.
"Do you need a ride to the airport?"
I shake my head. "All sorted."
"You'll let me know when you arrive?"
I smile at him, somewhat knowingly. "Of course."
He shakes his head. "Idiot."
And that's that. We head back downstairs and I manage to be present enough for my last night with my family for a few weeks. It doesn't feel like this night is different to any other, but we all know it is. There are things we're still going to have to deal with but I reason they can wait until I get back for the summer.
I've even started a note on my phone. It's already got five pointers.
It might be four, when Carlisle pulls through. I say when, because he's a man who's yet to let me down. I don't foresee it ever happening, if I'm being honest.
I don't get much sleep.
Before I head to the airport, I visit my mom's grave. The dirt still smells fresh. It's a short visit, during which I tell her my immediate plans: my return to Chicago, the loan and some other things. I don't bring up Bella at all. I'm not yet ready for any of that, and I don't see a time that I will be.
One day. Maybe.
Owing to my lack of sleep, I'm exhausted and banking on being able to get a couple of hours of sleep on the flight. Which is a dream that all goes to shit when I settle in my seat next to 'Chatty Cathy.'
Okay. She's not chatty, but she does initiate conversation before the doors have even closed. That's usually a sign of what's to come.
"Let me tell you a story."
I turn to my left with my phone still in my hand. I have the urge to call Bella. I usually do before I leave Seattle, but I don't this time. I can't. I mean, what do I even say? Would she even answer? Would the phone even ring?
She raises her eyebrows. "You look like you could use a distraction."
I'm only a little bit annoyed by her insinuation. Either way, I do put away my phone and give her my full attention, even turning my body slightly towards her. Sleep can wait, I guess.
Her features immediately soften, as if she can see the devastation in my eyes. "I'm sorry," she says.
"For what?"
"Your loss."
Does she see? Can she tell? I've lost so much more than my mom, and I don't know what to say.
"It's okay," she says, as if she can sense my trouble. "I'm Leah."
"Edward."
She waits a beat, as if she's contemplating whether telling me that she already knows who I am is a good idea or not. She decides against it, I guess. "Shall I tell you a story?"
"Please." The word itself comes out as a sort of plead, but I'm not even embarrassed.
She takes a moment, and then she starts to speak. I listen intently, studiously ignoring the air hostesses and their ever-important safety talk. If it came down to it; I wouldn't know where to find the emergency exits. Well, I probably would. I'm a frequent flyer, you see.
Leah's story starts when she was in high school and details the tale of unrequited love that turned into the real deal. I feel the hope flutter in my chest until she tells me that the boy she was convinced she would spend the rest of her life with left her for her best friend. Something about soulmates finding each other and nobody standing in the way of true love.
What strikes me as odd is that she doesn't sound the least bit sour about it. I guess it has been decades but I imagine there would still be ill feeling about it. I guess I can't imagine ever thinking about this whole mess with Bella and not feeling something bad.
I wouldn't even know where to begin to get past this.
Which is really why I've decided that my best plan of attack is to take things one thing at a time. I mentioned that much to Carlisle and I'm determined to stand by it. I don't see myself getting through the next few weeks any other way.
Leah's story ends with her finding love elsewhere. She assures me that she's lived a long, fulfilling life, being loved by a wonderful man and loving beautiful children.
But.
I hear what she doesn't say. It's in her tone of voice; in the sudden shift in her eyes. She might not have those bad feelings towards what happened all those years ago, but she's never truly recovered from the loss of that love.
Basically, I'm fucked for the rest of my life because I deigned to fall hard and fast for a girl who warned me she probably would fuck me over. It's given me a bit to think about, which I suspect was part of Leah's plan in the very beginning. I'm distracted enough that the flight passes quickly, and then I'm bidding her farewell.
She too tells me to take care of myself, and then Jasper is wrapping his baseball arms around me.
"Welcome home," he says, and I feel something ugly twist inside of me. Chicago is home.
It's no longer Seattle, and I can't shake the feeling that it never will be again.
The house is alive when we get to Fraternity Quad. Apparently, we're celebrating my return and toasting the wonderful woman that is - was - Esme Elizabeth Masen. I'm a machine for not tearing up, and excuse myself as soon as I can, muttering something about having to let my family know I've arrived.
Emmett finds me fifteen minutes later, hiding in the small computer lab we have in the basement of the house.
He hands me a Corona, and we clink bottles.
"It's good to see you," he says, his voice weary. I should ask what's been going on with him - he looks more exhausted than I feel - but I can't bring myself to do it. Something tells me he doesn't want to talk about it, so I won't try. I don't want to talk about anything either.
"Have you been holding down the fort?" I ask.
"Just barely," he admits. "It's been weird without you."
I just nod.
We're silent as we nurse our beers. This feels good and bad at the same time, like it's what I need but I shouldn't. Like, I don't deserve it.
Emmett clears his throat, suddenly looking nervous about something. "Newton's running for president," he says.
I glance at him. "Just him?"
"As far as I know." He sips his beer. Then: "I already put your name forward."
"I'd expect nothing less."
That gets me a toothy grin, and I feel both calm and anxious. I wasn't even sure if I would run again but Emmett's taken it out of my hands. It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is going to be just fine.
It's late when I finally make it to my room with the intention of calling it a night. I have unpacking to do and an entire host of classes in the morning but I'm not even bothered by any of it. I flop down onto my bed and pull out my phone. I have texts a plenty, from family and -
Who else?
Mak: Arrive safely?
Mak: Edward?
Mak: So help me, Edward Masen, if you missed your flight...
I feel a sense of guilt wash over me, threatening to overwhelm me. She's been so kind; so much of what I've needed. So, as with nearly everything these days, I accept the role I must play and ready my fingers to reply.
Edward: Sorry! Landed a couple of hours ago. They practically threw a welcoming party. My boys apparently can't function without me.
Mak: Had me worried. And, yes, that makes sense. Though, I'm not sure who it says more about: you or them.
Edward: Them. Definitely them.
We text for a while. Well, until I fall asleep, still in my Seattle clothes and laced shoes. All I'm grateful for is that I don't dream. I'll take the small mercies where I can. As freely as I can.
I wake up what feels like two minutes later to two texts, one from Tori and another from Makenna. I reply to both before I roll out of bed.
And then I go for a run.