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Chapter 8: BPOV

"What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step."

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Bella. You don't have to pretend. You don't have to do anything. Just... just let me be your friend."

His voice is cracking. His face is pleading. And it is too much. It is all just too much.

Him being here, caring, begging, fighting. It's too much. I'm so scared of the things that I am feeling that I can hardly breathe. All I want to do is run. I want to get away – as far away as I can. I would never have thought, that with everything that has happened, this would be the scariest thing.

Because I can't say no. I can't walk away. I can't tell him to leave me alone.

The tears are building as my chest constricts. The numbness is gone. I feel raw. Empty. Broken. And completely vulnerable.

I close my eyes. Trying to push it all back. Trying to find the courage to walk away.

"Please, Bella, don't fight me."

And it's like trying to stop a wrecking ball. The momentum had been building through the entire conversation and it is impossible to stop it.

It is so unfair to him. It is so extremely selfish and wrong. So so wrong. He is seeing someone else. Those beautifully green compassion filled eyes are meant for someone else.

"Okay, Edward ... I think I can, um, try the friends thing." The words roll out my mouth. They are too easy to say.

My head is screaming at me.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I have no idea what I am doing.

Friends? God, I want that. I want it so much it hurts, but that is the exact reason why it is so wrong.

He exhales as if in relief.

"Okay." He says as he removes his hold on me. "Friends." The left side of his mouth pulls up a little as he smiles. It's not a full one but it is something and something inside of me feels good knowing that I put it there, that something seemingly so simple has an effect on him

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"I'm not sure what that entails exactly," I say because it's true. Having a title does not change anything and I have no idea what his expectations are.

His mouth lifts a little more. And the tension begins to slowly ooze away from my body, from the car, from everything.

"To be honest, neither do I, but I do know one thing, no more running, or wanting to run, or whatever."

"Please." He tacks on at the end.

I nod.

"And no avoiding me or the pub or anything like that."

I nod again.

"And..."

"There are a lot of stipulations to this friends thing," I interrupt.

He chuckles and it slices what is left of the tension like a hot knife through butter.

"I'm starting to think that I should have given myself time to consider it." I continue.

"Okay, okay." He holds his hands up in front of him as he says it.

I smile at him and it's the first real one in a long time.

"Seriously though. I need you to stop hiding from me." His voice is soft, but he is still smiling.

I can feel the strange tension building again, but it's different. It's that same feeling I get when he looks at me with his knowing eyes – when he sees me. It's amazing to me how aware of everything I am when I am with him. I can feel so much more - physically, emotionally. I feel alive. And I hate it. And love it. And I am so scared of it that I could scream.

We stare at each other. His eyes are imploring and I want to say anything to keep him smiling, to make his smile bigger, but I know I can't.

"I can't promise anything, but I will...try." Of course, while I say it, I know I am lying. I know that he will never know me. I know that I will always be hiding. I know that I will always wish he could. I also know that this has a time frame, and a pretty short one at that.

"That's all I am asking for." He says as he leans back in his chair.

"Do you wanna go get something to eat? I'm starving. Friends do that right?" He asks, his voice a little hesitant.

I don't answer immediately.

No. No. No. My head continues trying to make me do the right thing.

"Eat? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that they do."

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He laughs again, as he opens his eyes. The sound is addictive.

"Okay, smart ass." He says reaches for the keys in the ignition. He turns them and the engine comes to life.

The rain has subsided a bit and the heater has created a warm, little bubble inside the Volvo.

"Where to? The diner?" I ask. There aren't a whole lot of options in Forks.

"God no. I eat enough of the pub grub stuff."

"Hmm. Port Angeles then?"

"Is that okay?"

"Um, yeah. Why not?"

He puts the car in reverse and turns to look behind him as he backs out the driveway.

Silence is not a good thing. My thoughts are too loud.

What the hell do you think you are doing?

"Do you mind?" I ask as I reach forward to turn on the radio.

"Nope. Go ahead"

I turn it on and am shocked by the sounds that fill the car.

He looks at me. I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs as he tries to hold his smile in.

I burst into laughter. It's a foreign feeling and I can't stop. He looks over at me. He is still smiling but the picture is blurry as tears start to well up in my eyes. Tears born of laughter – the kind I haven't felt in years.

It's over a year's worth of pent up laughter and I feel ridiculous. It makes me laugh harder.

He laughs with me. The sound is so good. And with the euphoria filling me up, I decide to make sure I hear it more often.

I try to speak after a few more moments of laughter.

"As your f- friend, I f-feel... the need to p-point out... that this is something to be ashamed enough of to at least try to hide it."

By the end of the sentence I start to make sense again. The laughter is dying down.

"Well, in all fairness, I wasn't exactly expecting company." He says as he continues driving, smiling brightly while he watches the road.

"Still. I mean, I realize that you are a bit different than the stereotype, but seriously? This is pushing it."

He tries to keep the laughter in but I can see it there, bubbling on the surface, and I revel in it.

"It's not mine." He says while reaching over to grab another CD out the cubby.

"Hmmm... I'm sure that is what they all say."

He loses his control and a chuckle slips out as he replaces the CD.

"It's my brother, Emmett's. His wife, Rose, is pregnant and she keeps playing this crap in the house because "the baby likes it"." He uses air quotes as he says it. "I thought it was funny so Em put the CD in my car to hide it and to get me back. I kinda forgot it was there."

My smile is bright as he talks. It's so nice to listen to him talk about his family – to be so normal.

"The big guy is Emmett, right?"

"Yeah, that would be him." He is still chuckling.

"Do you see them often?" I ask to keep the normal going.

"Yeah, I've been staying with them for a while."

"How far along is his wife? I don't think I've seen her."

"Oh, like 5 or 6 months, I think." He shrugs as he says it.

The conversation continues as we drive. I learn that he will be taking over the pub from the end of the month. He tells me his plans for it and his eyes sparkle as he talks. I can visualize it and I just allow myself to enjoy the normalcy of it. I allow myself to live in his world for a while.

That is until I look at the speedometer.

"What the hell, Edward? Slow down!"

He looks over at me, startled, as he pushes the break.

"The Volvo is one of the safest cars in the world, Bella. Calm down."

"That doesn't mean you can drive it like a maniac!" My voice is slightly panicked.

He chuckles a little. "Okay, okay. I've slowed down. Relax. I get a little carried away sometimes."

"My dad was the chief of police, that shit sticks with you. I can't even go like five miles over the limit without feeling bad about it." I say once we've slowed down to a more comfortable speed. Charlie drilled that into my head every time I went anywhere with him.

I let out a shaky breath.

"Sorry." He starts. "I really do just get a little carried away sometimes."

I look over at him and he is looking at me with a curious expression. I can only imagine where his thoughts are. I wasn't supposed to mention Charlie. I don't know whether Edward knew him or knows what happened. I don't know whether he even knew who I was.

I can tell he wants to know more, but he doesn't ask and I am grateful.

I battle to not think about Charlie, to picture him in the driver's seat lecturing me about every safety precaution under the sun.

I can hear his voice perfectly. "No matter how well you think you can drive, Bells, you never know what the other people on the road will do. You have to always be prepared."

I can feel the memories sucking me in. I can feel the knot in my stomach tightening. I can feel my chest constricting.

"Bella?" His voice is worried and it helps to keep me here. The velvet reminding me of where I am and who I am with.

I push it all back. I fight the feelings. I fight for this moment, for the normalcy.

"I'm fine." I look at him and I can see all the unasked questions in his eyes. All the questions I cannot answer.

"We're almost there." He says as we get close to the turn off.

xxxxxx

.

We arrive in town and Edward parks in front of a quaint little restaurant – Bella Italia. It's been quiet for the last few minutes of the drive. He didn't ask the questions but I can see that he is thinking them, while I have just been trying not to think at all.

I can't help it, I snort at the irony.

"What?" he asks. A small smirk playing on his lips.

I just look at him and roll my eyes as I get out of the passenger side of his Volvo.

He follows suit and gets out the car, closing and locking the doors.

He chuckles a bit as we walk in. The place is small and dimly lit. There are cubicles along the walls and standard tables placed in what seems like the same random pattern that every other restaurant has.

A waitress comes up to us.

"Hey," she starts. "Table for two?" She is grabbing menus already.

We're still wet, although not dripping, and I can only imagine what we must look like.

"Yeah, can we get one of those cubicles?" Edward asks as we start walking toward one. His hand is hovering over my lower back. He is not really even touching me and I can feel the warmth.

"Sure," She says and we follow her through. She places the menus down as Edward and I slip into the cubicle across from one another.

"Thanks," He smiles at her, his crooked grin, and she smiles back. I can see her cheeks reddening slightly. His hair is in a disarray but it suits him. His green eyes are soft and when he smiles the corners crinkle up.

My stomach flutters.

"Can I get you something to drink?" She is talking to him. She doesn't even look at me.

"Yeah, what do you feel like, Bella?" He doesn't notice the way she is looking at him. His soft stare is directed straight at me. I can see the smile in his eyes. My stomach flops and I recognise the feeling. I like that he is looking at me. I like that he is not noticing the good looking waitress who is eye fucking him.

Stupid. Pathetic. Wrong. So so wrong.

"Wine?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders.

"Good choice." He answers through his smile. "Can we get a bottle of Merlot? Are your house wines still the same?" He looks at her this time.

She smiles. "Yip," she pops the 'p', "But I'll bring you a few to taste first and then you can decide. It's always good to explore your options." She lifts an eyebrow as she says it and her implications are pretty obvious.

I am floored by her lack of courtesy. I know Edward and I are just friends, but really? This chick doesn't know that.

He doesn't even flinch.

Maybe it's not that obvious?

"Nah, that's alright. You can just bring a bottle of the house wine." He looks at me for confirmation and I give him a small smile.

"When you find a good thing, there is no need for options." He doesn't look away as he says it and once again my stomach flops.

What are you doing?

"Sure," she says. Her voice is curt now and there is a part of me that feels pretty smug. A part of me that feels as though I just made a small victory.

Edward leans forward and grabs the menus from the edge of the table where the waitress left them for us. He hands me one before opening his up.

I look at mine, scanning the options. I'm not really hungry. My body is used to being neglected.

After a few moments Edward puts his menu back down and I follow suit.

He watches me. His gaze is intense. I can see the questions swimming in the depths of his eyes.

"Thanks for coming with me," he says.

I smile.

"It's what friends do."

He smiles back.

It is silent and the anxious knot sitting in my stomach tightens. I look down at my hands in front of me and fidget with the ends of my sleeves. They are frayed.

I can see he wants to ask. I want to let him.

I can't.

"Can I ask you something?"

Oh God.

The waitress returns at just the right moment.

She sets a wine glass in front of each of us, places the bottle on the table and reaches into the pouch in front of her apron for a corkscrew.

I watch her as if it is the most interesting thing in the world.

She uses the knife part to cut through the metal covering the cork. She shoves the piece she cuts off in her pocket and places the tip of the corkscrew on top of the bottle. She pushes down as she turns and screws into the cork until it is deep enough. The other side of the contraption reaches the lip of the bottle and acts as the support as she pops the cork out.

You can see she has done it hundreds of times.

She puts the cork in her pouch before grabbing Edward's glass and pouring a little inside.

She puts it down in front of him again and he picks it up. Swirls it. Smells it. Takes a sip.

"Perfect," He smiles at her. "Thanks."

She smiles back and fills his glass, as well as mine.

I grab mine and take a sip. It's a good wine.

"What do you think?" He asks.

"It's good," I smile at him and take another sip.

"You're quite the wine connoisseur," I say.

He chuckles. "It's my mom," his smile is warm. "They have a wine cellar at home. She's quite the collector."

"Do your folks still stay in the area?" I ask. He hasn't mentioned them yet.

"Yeah," he takes another sip of his wine and I watch as he swallows. "They stay just outside of Forks, still in the house we grew up in."

I realize how little I know about him. It feels as though I have known him forever.

"You've met them." He says, his eyes are cautious, scared.

I try to think about where I could possibly have met them. I try to think of someone who resembles him.

"Really? Where?" The knot is tightening again. I can feel the tension and I can't understand it. This is a safe topic. His life is a safe topic.

I try to smile, but I am sure that it looks more like a grimace.

His face is tense.

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen is my dad."

The name registers and my heart beats faster. The knot is painfully tight. I take a deep breath.

Dr Cullen. I can see the soft blue eyes, the blond hair, the caring smile. I used to see him at least once every time I'd visit my dad, every holiday really.

He knows. He knows who I am.

"Um, yeah," I stutter out. "I've met him a few times." I force a chuckle and grab my glass, taking a big swig, praying for the alcohol to calm me down, to loosen the knot, to help me get through this inevitable conversation.

I close my eyes and take a breath.

"We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, Bella." His voice is soft. I feel the warmth of his hand on mine.

Instead of the fire, the electricity, there is a calming tingle – a radiating warmth.

Safe.

I open my eyes and see him looking at me. Soft. Gentle. His eyes are filled with compassion.

"Did you know him?" I blurt out before I can even think of what I am saying.

His eyes crinkle a bit in confusion.

"My-my dad. Did you know him?"

His eyes widen in recognition. I can see the hint of fear again. I have no idea what he is afraid of but I know that I need to know this, before I say a single thing, I need to know if he knew him.

It's quiet for a while. I can see the conflict in his eyes.

"Are you guys ready to order?" The voice cuts through whatever trance we were in.

I pull my hand from his and grab my glass again. I drain it.

"Yeah, can I get a Tuscan steak?" He asks. There is no smile.

I look at the waitress, she looks amused by the unidentifiable tension in the air surrounding our table. I envision sharks circling. It's a funny image, but I can't laugh – the knot won't let me.

I grab the bottle and top up my glass.

A throat clears. "Bella?" Edward asks.

I look up at him and realize that they must be waiting for my order.

I am still not hungry.

"Can we get another bottle?" I ask as I hold up the bottle.

"Sure," she smirks.

"And to eat?" Edward says. He is looking worried.

"I'm not really hungry."

"But just in case you feel like something."

"Um, okay." I think through what I saw of the menu. "Can I get the mushroom ravioli?" I have no idea why, but that is the dish I remember.

"No problem," the waitress says. She grabs our menus, smirk still in place, and walks away.

I sip my wine.

I'm waiting for an answer.

"Yes," Edward says eventually. "I knew the Chief."

"How well?" I ask. Once again there is no filter.

"Well enough."

My stomach drops. I'm quiet as I figure out what to do with this knowledge.

"I only just found out that he was your dad." He says and somehow that makes me feel better. "He was a good man."

"He was." I say. It's soft. I can feel my eyes blurring and I try to keep it in, to dry the tears with willpower alone.

"I'm sorry, Bella. We really don't have to talk about any of this."

I can't stop.

"I just miss him." A single tear falls and I wipe it away quickly.

I look up at him again and I can see that his eyes are shining slightly.

"Did you know me from before?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head. "No, we never met, though I did know of you." There is a small smile on his lips.

I nod.

It makes sense. I am pretty sure I would have remembered meeting Edward.

"I met your mom." I say. It's the only one of the million thoughts swirling through my head that make any sense. "She was at the hospital once. She must have been visiting your dad. She was very sweet."

He smiles softly. "She still is."

I give him a small smile.

I want to ask him all about what he knew about my dad. I want to see someone else's picture of him, someone who got to see him all the time. I want to envision another past, one where I could have been here with Charlie.

Our food arrives.

"Can I get you anything else?" The waitress asks once she has placed our dishes in front of us and has opened the second bottle of wine.

"No, we're good for now." Edward answers and I nod.

She walks away again. I finish my wine and refill the glass.

Edward grabs his knife and fork.

I grab mine.

I take a small bite.

My stomach grumbles.

I drink more wine.

"Hmmm... it's just like I remember. So good." Edward says through the food in his mouth.

I take another sip.

Another bite.

More wine.

Alcohol does wonders for tension.

"How did you know him?" I eventually ask. The words just fall out my mouth.

He swallows. He is watching me.

There is no time. There is no tension. It's like everything stands still as I wait for his answer.

I see the hesitance in him. It's not the fear from earlier. This is not for me.

He has secrets too. He has things he doesn't like to talk about and for some reason this realisation makes me feel even closer to him.

He grabs his glass and brings it to his mouth as he takes a sip.

I'm frozen as I watch him.

He puts it back down. He looks right at me. His eyes piercing through me. He holds my gaze ad whispers four words that I never would have expected.

"He saved my life."

A/N: Okay, so I know it has been super long since my last update.

I am so sorry – it has been a hectic few weeks. But I am hoping that I will be able to get back to updating at least once a week.

Thank you so much to everyone who has put my story on alert or who has reviewed – you are all awesome!

And a special thank you to my best buddy, Stephie9101. She is my biggest fan and pushes me to write, even when I am just not in the right head space! I love you, my friend!

As always, please let me know what you think... Reviewers get a Chapter 9 teaser :-)