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Chapter 8

Growl

I walked from our home to the main house slowly. My arm was wrapped protectively around my waist, and my mind was racing. I had only one experience with this sense of loss, of dread, of fear, and I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge it. I pushed it all back down, consciously pulled my arm away from my waist, and was muttering for myself to get a grip, when I sensed Edward was close.

He was straddling a tree limb, midway up a large, old oak tree a few hundred feet in front of me. He was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and his bare foot swung carelessly below him. I looked up, trying to square myself and read his face as nonchalantly as possible. I was not good at nonchalant anything. He grabbed the limb and jumped down, graceful as ever, and was suddenly in front of me.

"Hi." I breathed. I started to chew my bottom lip. I already felt dumb. What was the appropriate greeting here?

"Hi." He said, his eyes seeming to drink me in. I noticed he didn't look mad, so I took that as a good sign.

"I thought I would meet you at the house."

He shrugged in response, still staring at me. "I have been out here a lot. And, I thought meeting you in the middle might be a good start to our discussion." He did not smile in response to mine. I straightened up.

"So are you, Edward, meeting me in the middle?" I asked pointedly.

"I am here and we will talk. Can we just start there?" He responded, his tone trying to mask an underlying hardness.

I nodded and we walked back to the house. I could hardly stand the strain, or the physical distance between us. He seemed to be sharing my struggle. Twice he seemed to reach for me, and then thought better of it.

We were alone in the house, as promised, and we went back up into Edward's old bedroom. It still had our original king sized bed in the middle of it, and I smiled despite the anxiety between us. He flashed over to his bookcase, closing books and shelving them quickly, leaning in front of it as I sat cross legged on the bed. All of a sudden I sensed he was hiding something, but decided not to press him considering the upcoming conversation.

We started at each other, sensing each other's longing, but not yet willing to surrender. I bit my tongue, literally and figuratively, feeling like he should be the one to speak first. He seemed to be taking the same approach, and after then minutes, I sighed loudly and started.

"Edward. I hate this. I feel like I am eighteen again." He raised one perfectly arched eyebrow as an interruption. I went on, "Human eighteen again. I am so mad, no, furious, confused, and so incredibly hurt…." I trailed off. He winced on my last word, but looked down to mask it. "More than all of that, I am so, so scared." I felt my eyes prick with the tears that would not come. I was embarrassed too, but I had to preserve some sense of pride here.

"I don't understand how you can think so little of me. After all this time. How you don't think I am worth discussing something so important to our family…to our daughter. That you would think I couldn't handle, or wouldn't be capable of even understanding. Or that I wouldn't ask or care how you felt. That somehow I could be bonded to anyone but you. You, who mean more to me than my own life. You know me better than anyone ever has, and still…." I was shaking my head, not meeting his eyes. My breath ran out and I wrapped my arm around my waist for support.

He was across the room in an instant, slumped in front of me on his knees. "Oh, Bella. My Bella. I would never, never hurt you. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry." He whispered over and over, never moving. I looked at him, not sure how to handle his pleading or vunerability. I did what came naturally, and took his face in my hands, kissing him all over.

He gripped me to him, progressively tighter, and I laced my hands through his hair. He rubbed his face to mine as he spoke, "You can handle so much more than I can, Bella. You must believe me when I tell you how sure I am of that. You are stronger than I am, more perceptive, more giving, more loving. I could not begin to know where it comes from."

I pulled from him then, wanting to see his beautiful face. "So why?" I asked simply.

He put his hand on the side of my face, "Because I am not like you, and I am not strong enough. There a hundred reasons why this is not a good idea. But the one I cannot get beyond is that it kills me to think that he might have a connection to you again that has the power to threaten ours." He closed his eyes as he said the last sentence, as if he was steeling himself from the pain voicing it would cause. I pushed his hand away, and he slumped onto the bed.

I had to stop this. I was teetering between love, lust, and anger, and I had to get control of all three. "Edward, you can't really believe that. Nothing can threaten us and survive. Nothing ever has. Not my police chief father, my rather inconvenient mortality, not other vampires, not the Quileutes – even a certain one, not the Volturi, not even your own stupidity. How can you honestly worry about us?" My voice was rising and the anger was winning. Even my pacing didn't seem to slow it down.

"Bella" Edward said from the bed, "You don't know how powerful the connection is between a vampire and his creator. I am truly frightened for you, for me, for us, for Nessie. What would it do to her to have her husband more connected to her mother than his own wife?" If I hadn't been able to see the pain on his face, I would have sworn he wasn't fighting fair, but I knew he was speaking his own version of the truth.

"I am sure of two things – us, and Renesme and Jacob. I am as sure of those things today as I have been for the last hundred years." I spread out on the bed next to him, running my fingers through his tangled hair as I spoke.

He turned to face me a rubbed small circles in my back, seeming to think over what I said. I appreacited the time, both because it seemed like he was truly considering what I had said, and it gave me time to cool off a little. He started slowly, "So, are you really considering do this?"

I sighed. "Darling, I don't know. Considering? Yes. How can I not? I love them both, and there is nothing a mother wouldn't do to stop pain for her child. But I don't want to consider this alone. I need you."

He seemed to rally at this a little, and I smiled in return. "I need you. " I repeated, and he strained to reach me to kiss me on the lips. The taste of him calmed me, and I pressed my tongue into him. A small groan radiated from him and he kissed me harder. I pulled back, shocking both of us, and shook my head no.

"I have missed you so much. But I am not done talking with you and I can't be distracted."

He groaned, but nodded in agreement. "I have been thinking about this, and really want to discuss it. I am worried about lots of things, and am not sure which worry is the biggest. So, let's say we agree." Edward's eyes darkened, but I pressed on, "What will the Quileute think or do? I know Jacob has been off their radar for a long time, but we would at least have to involve Raven. Would the Volturi get involved? We know they are terrified of werewolves, but since Jacob is teachnically a shape shifter will they care? Would he be at risk? Would our family? What would Jacob be like changed? A wolf? An old man, a young man? I don't want to think of him as a newborn, and oh, Edward, can I even do this?"

Before giving Edward time to answer, I said quickly, "And if I don't do this, do we lose both our children forever?"

Edward sighed, and it was my turn to slump onto the bed. My hand stayed in his hair, unmoving, and he pulled me closer to him. He hummed to sooth me, and I was glad I could voice everything that had been tormenting me. Well, not everything.

"Before we deal with all of that, I want to talk about something else too, " he looked wearily at me, expecting this part. "I am not longer the teenage human who will give in every time you decide to frown at me. Don't you ever make me feel silly and incapable again, or you will need to worry about a lot more than a growl or two." I looked anxiously at him, hoping for an appropriate response, terrified he was about to burst out laughing.

He looked at me, his golden eyes darkening, and apologized. "Bella, you have never simply given into me, teenager or not. You are not silly, and by far the most capable person I have ever known. I never meant to make you feel like anything less than the amazing woman I am so blessed to call my wife. " He looked expectantly to me, and I knew if I still had the ability I would have blushed. "But," he continued, "you may feel free to growl at me any time you like. I find that terribly sexy."

And growl I did, until the sun came up through the windows shining on the bed we had shared for a century.