hi everyone this is between the buildings. first of all, this chapter is completely un-betaed so forgive any mistakes that our .ever abeelich usually fixes for us.

second of all, i haven't gotten a chance to personally thank you all for the reviews. we love them and you all for the theories and the praise and for just liking the story in general… it means a lot to us.

anyway… i'm thinking that's enough for me. sorry about the delay in updating but we've been all over the place recently.

enjoy! and… as always… let us know what you think. :)

There are moments in life where you really wish you could just melt into the floor. Sadly for me there have been many. Like the time I walked in on my mom and 459 having sex in the living room. I was six and was sure that he was trying to rip her in half. Or the time that Emmett decided that his little Emmett needed to breathe and then the land lady came by to pick up our rent check. And yet this moment beats them all.

I hunch my back and try to not make it too obvious that I am only wearing Edward's dress shirt. This is where my aversion to bras really comes back to bite me in the ass.

"Well I try to please," I say forcing an obnoxious smile. I glance over my shoulder at Edward who is still standing at the sink, he hand under the faucet. I know I told him to stay, but if there was ever an exception, this would be it.

"So how long did you wait before you skanked yourself onto my boyfriend? Or were you waiting around the corner when I left?" Hannah sneers. Wow. Pent up rage much? I mean I get that I am standing in what until very recently was her apartment in her recently ex-boyfriend's shirt. I get the skank reference, I do.

"Well, I had to pick up some condoms first so it took me about twenty minutes," I answer. Hannah's mouth drops open and I hear Edward snicker behind me. I may understand where her craziness stems from does not mean I am going to let her make me feel like shit. I'm pretty good at doing that myself thanks.

Suddenly she pushes herself inside and takes a mental assessment. I know she's looking for things I've stolen or moved, or who the hell knows what else. I push the door closed and wait for Edward to take care of this. Because as much fun as exchanging insults with the devil is, this is not my mess to clean up.

Hannah stops in the middle of the room, crosses her arms over her chest and fixes her glare on me. Why? I sigh and make my into the kitchen, fully intending on forcing Edward to at least open his fucking mouth.

I inadvertently hug the wall as I slide past Hannah, unwilling to find out if her rage has reached a physical peak. When I get to the sink I slam the handle down.

"I think Hannah wants to talk to you," I hiss as I push Edward towards his demonic ex-girlfriend. And then it hits me. I hope she's his ex-girlfriend. I slide down against the cabinets not caring that Hannah is probably currently judging my every move. I feel sick.

I just assumed that they were over, that he had ended things. But I was so damn worried about filling the hole he created I hadn't even asked. How did I not ask? And then, shit, we just started things up. Started all this mess up without even really talking it out. I mean, what the hell was I to him anyways? Was I his girlfriend? His booty call? Or just the girl he was screwing to get over a relationship? Lord, what if I am a rebound girl?

I can't even pretend to listen to the arguing that is going on just feet away from me. When did this happen? And the ring? The damned ring. He still has it, still carries it with him. That has to mean something right?

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I lose control of my calm. I force my eyes shut and bite my cheek. I slept with him. I let him sleep in my bed, MY bed.

I hear the door slam and then Edward's feet block my clear view of the floor. He nudges me, but I can't move. I'm frozen with all this holding me down. My mind slows gradually, but the damage is done. The seeds planted.

Edward's knees come into view and then his hand tries to tilt my head upwards. I resist keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Hey…hey, look at me," he insists. I look up at him. "You can stay on the floor if you like, but you're not allowed to sit on the floor and curl up and hide. You belong here more than she does, ok?"

His words are nice and somehow answer all my unspoken thoughts, but that doesn't make them right. I don't answer for a while, just look at his face. The slight stubble on his chin and a small scar hidden by his right eyebrow. I slowly let my legs straighten out and place my hands, palm down on the floor next to me.

"How can that be true Edward? You don't even belong in this place. She's the only one that really belongs here," I argue. I push myself away from him and avoid his reaching hands. It's the truth. She's all around us, even though she's gone. Her dishes, her decorations. Even if Edward may have bought them. They're all hers.

Edward falters and clenches his fists at his sides. He takes several deep breaths before meeting my eyes again and nods slowly.

"Maybe we can look into fixing that later then?" he suggests. Him and his words. Easy quick fixes and yet he doesn't say what I need him to. He doesn't tell me what the hell his, whatever the hell she is, was doing here. He doesn't tell me why he is still carrying around the ring. And he doesn't tell me why he keeps everything that represents him locked in a closet.

"We? What does that even mean? You and I as friends? You and I as fuck buddies? I mean Hannah was just here and, what did she want?"

The words fall unceremoniously from my mouth. I'm not one to make demands, I have a long list of things I'm not offering up. But none of my skeletons are going to be knocking on my door and insulting Edward any time soon. The words hit Edward head on and he recoils.

"Fuck buddies? You think we're fuck buddies Bella?" He spits. Once again the emotion scares me and I crave it at the same time. He stands quickly, his hands diving into his hair and then pushes his glasses up on the top of his head so he can rub his eyes. I'm transfixed by his movements. Quick pacing across the small space that is the kitchen. He then stops in his tracks and looks down at me again.

"Stand up Bella." It's not a request. I slide slowly back up the cabinets, my legs protesting against the motion. He takes my shoulders into his hands and leans down to be at eye level.

"We're not fuck buddies and we're obviously more than friends," he states. How does he manage to give me a straight answer and yet not answer me at all. I let my breath hiss through my teeth.

"Then we're what Edward? Playing it by ear? Having fun until you're all healed up? Don't tell me what we're not. Tell me what we are," I demand. I'm going to make him do this. Make him set the definition. Because my mind is too messy to pull anything good out of. His mouth moves soundlessly and I have a brief moment of clarity. Because there is plain in his face, written in the lines and apparent in the hunch of his shoulders. I did this.

I reach for him and he doesn't hesitate to step into me. I let my fingers run over his face trying to smooth out the lines I put there. His face relaxes under my touch and I find a small victory in that. He takes several breaths that I can taste on my lips.

"Do you really think that little of me?" His voice is so small, it wrestles my victory from me instantly. His hands slide up my body and rest of my face. I lean into his touch. Why the hell do I have to say whatever springs to my mind?

"Bella, I want to be with you. I wouldn't waste my time if I didn't want to," he says. I nod against his hands and feel a little lighter. I swallow thickly and just stand there, letting him hold me in place. My defenses crawl back into place and I smile instinctively at him.

"Well that's good to know, I know how much you charge an hour for your time and I wouldn't want to be billed," I tease. His brow furrows again and he shakes his head. I pull away from his arms and move to the bedroom. Suddenly Hannah is everywhere, her condescending gaze in every perfectly place pillow. I pull my jeans on quickly and reach for my purse.

I am back in the kitchen before Edward has even moved. I plaster the smile on and press my lips into his cheek.

"I just remembered something I have to do today," I say. It's not an outright lie. I can think of lots of things I should be doing today. Again the confusion on his face.

"I thought we were spending the day together," he replies. I smile again and press my lips firmly to his. I smile as the shock wears off and he responds. He opens his mouth and I slip my tongue inside. I take in his taste and the softness of his tongue. I'm going to need this to get through the day.

I press my lips to his in three quick pecks before pulling away completely.

"I'll see you later," I say. I am out the door before he regains his senses. It was a dirty trick, but I had to get out of Hannah's apartment.

***

God, what a fucking morning.

I don't even know what Hannah came here for. All I know is that she came and Bella left. And now I'm standing in the kitchen throwing these hideous bowls and dishes into a huge garbage bag.

Granted, this isn't exactly the most logical thing to be doing. I could go into the spare room and clean out the boxes that belong to Hannah. But I don't want to be in that room today. Not yet anyway.

So I drop the dish in the bag and take huge amounts of satisfaction in the way it crashes at the bottom. I was looking forward to spending the day with Bella and then she ran out of here like a bat out of hell.

I guess the truth is that I probably could be a lot clearer about my feelings for her. I thought I was being obvious but I guess not.

The thing is, I like her a lot. A lot a lot. More than just sex, more than just a fling. I mean, I want to be around her all the time. That never happens. I never want to be around anyone all the time—I don't even like my own company that much.

I move into the living room and wipe everything off of the coffee table into the garbage bag. I'm actually enjoying this. Maybe I can ask Bella if she wants to come shopping for new things.

After I de-Hannahtize the entire place except for the spare room, it's already been about three hours since Bella left. And now I have nothing to do. And I want to see her. I don't care if she said she has things to do today. I'll go with her. Hell, she googled me at three in the morning to find my address.

I slip my feet into a pair of sneakers and throw on a sweatshirt before I walk out of the apartment, garbage bag in hand.

I take the train up to Bella's but the ride takes longer than I have patience for but I eventually get there. I take the stairs up to Bella's and knock on the door.

Emmett swings it open and I think he sighs but I can't be sure. "Hey, man," he says and slaps my hand. "Come in."

I walk in and sit down on the sofa, tapping my feet, I want to see her. "How've you been?" I ask instead, because I like Emmett and don't want to seem like a douche.

"Good," he says with a nod and sits down in the chair across from me. "Izzy's not here."

Great. You know that feeling when your heart is racing in anticipation? And it's beating and beating at an insanely out of control pace? And then it just stops? Because you've been let down, because whatever you were looking forward to isn't gonna happen? That's how I feel right now.

Because I know I won't be able to find her until she's ready to be found. And it's not fucking fair.

Emmett sighs. "You two can't keep doing this," he says.

I narrow my eyes. "Do what?"

He rubs his legs. "I'm just saying that maybe you two need to work some shit out. Because this," he says and motions to the space in between us, "is starting to get annoying."

"Look, I came here to find her not to piss you off. I just need to know where she is."

"I'm not Izzy fucking 411. I know the kid's got her issues and I know that it's annoying when she wanders off without saying anything. But you need to tell her. Do something about it, because I'm not gonna be around all the time to do this."

And, you know, I get that he's irritated. He's completely justified in being annoyed with us. Because whenever I can't find Bella I complain about not being able to find Bella to him. And I'm sure whenever I do something she comes home to tell him about it. But the woman doesn't have a cell phone. I don't have any other options.

"Look, Em, I really appreciate what you've been doing for us. Seriously. And I'm sorry for going over the same shit with you all the time," I say sincerely, because I like him and because he's right.

"Listen," he says and leans in, elbows on his knees, "I'm going to tell you something only because I like you and I think this can work between the two of you, okay?"

I nod. It's nice to know that we've got his confidence even if we don't have hers.

"Iz needs shit spelled out for her," he says. "If you don't like something, tell her you don't like it. If you want something, tell her you want it."

I nod slowly despite my confusion. "And?" I ask.

"And I can tell you right now that if shit doesn't get straightened out, she'll do what she usually does. She'll freak out and start weaning you off of her until she has you proposing to some other chick. And I don't want to see that happen again. It hurts her and I like you."

I pinch the bridge of my nose underneath my glasses. What the fuck is he talking about? Why would I be proposing to anyone? I don't want anyone except for Bella. I don't get why this is such a difficult concept for everyone to understand.

"Are you suggesting," I begin slowly, "that Bella thinks that I'm not serious about this?"

Granted, I know what she suggested earlier but I figured it blew that fire out already. Crazy girl thinks that I'm the type of guy that would take someone like her as a fuck buddy. The thought is nauseating. I mean, the sex is great. But she's… she's just too good for that. Too, too good to be my fuck buddy.

Emmett nods slowly. "I'm just saying that she… she has a bunch of crazy ideas that you need to ask her about."

I sink back into the couch and drop my head back before I close my eyes. Why do I feel so fucking out of every fucking loop in the world right now? "What am I supposed to do?" I ask him.

I hear him stand up and walk away and when he comes back into the room, he holds a beer out to me. I accept it. "The game is on," he says with a shrug. "And we've got a lot more where that came from." He motions with his chin at the beer in my hand. "You can just wait here until she gets back."

I guess that sounds like a plan.

***

There are a lot of odd things we do for fun. Like strapping sharp blades to the bottom of our feet and sliding across ice. I lean into the railing above the ice rink and watch as a rouge skater breaks loose and takes out several other people like dominos. I shouldn't laugh, but I can't help it. They all flail around on the ice like beached fish. An old woman to my right glares at me, but I simply grin back at her. You have to find pleasure in the little things right?

She shuffles away and I let myself get lost in the never ending round and round that is the path of the skaters below me. The monotony fills my mind for a moment and I don't have to think about the fact that I am avoiding other thoughts.

I wanted to find someone when I left Edward. I wanted to lay all my problems out like fake designer bags on the street and let people take them away, but I couldn't. It seemed too easy this time. And the problems are laced and woven with my current happiness. It makes it hard to separate them.

A heavy sigh leaves my body and I rest my chin on my hands and bite the inside of my cheek. I thought about going to Simon again, but I didn't want him to feel like I was using him to hide and Angela wouldn't exactly be the warmest shoulder. So here I am. Pretending to be one of the many tourists enjoying the sites when in reality I'm trying to find the strength to just be with him.

It's harder than it sounds. I wish it were as simple as the will, because I have plenty of that. I want to be with him. I want to teach him how to do laundry and make more than ramen and maybe even put his musician hands back to use, but then I hit a wall. A wall with names and dates and faces. A wall I don't want to add him to.

Every time I think I'm pulling a brick loose and can see the light on the other side, it's shoved back in place. And it's not fair.

Anger pushes my frustration to the side and all I want to do is go back in time and smack my mother a few times. To yell, and scream and tell her exactly what her habits with men have done to me. To make her spend nights with me instead of them. To force her to show me what love is so I wouldn't spend the rest of my failed attempts trying to find it in all the wrong ways.

The tears run down my face and that makes me more angry. I wipe at them roughly, the cold of my hands making me shiver at the same time. Rational seeps in and I know I can't push it all back on my mother. Because I left her behind me a long time ago and everything since then has been me and my warped heart.

Another collision on the ice breaks me from my daze and I am forced to smile. This time I'm grateful for the clumsiness. And then I feel it. The tug, the pull, the need. And it gives me a little hope because it's not something I've felt with anyone else. It's something I've been able to keep at bay, but this time I let it flow over me like a midnight craving. I want Edward.

I want him to be standing here with my laughing inappropriately at the behalf of others. I want him to shove my hand in his pocket with his own and keep it warm. I push away from the railing and leave the laughing families and lights behind me for something better. At least I hope I can stick around to make it that.

The cold sting my cheeks and I walk faster. I reach the subway and I'm torn. His or mine? I want him, but I don't feel like I can just waltz back into his place and pretend that I didn't leave him high and dry this morning. For some reason I'm sure he'll want an explanation or ask questions and I don't think I can give them to him.

I head towards home resolved to fix it tomorrow. Everything will be better tomorrow. Tonight I'll let Emmett lecture me on the finer points of whatever the hell is most likely watching on ESPN. I'll argue just to piss him off and drink a beer or two. I can feel my back straighten.

The need is still there, but calmed by the promise of tomorrow. I work up a little chant in my head about this working and actually smile at most people who stare at me on the subway.

By the time I hit my building I'm all but humming feeling like I have solved a problem almost as pressing as world hunger. Well, obviously nowhere near world hunger, but in my little world, it's pretty huge. I throw the door open ready to yell something at obnoxious at Emmett and I freeze.

There are two bodies on the couch. Two familiar bodies. One being the overbearing roommate I was prepared for and the other has all too familiar natural bed head. The need screams out in victory, but the rest of me is torn.

Their heads turn as the door hits the wall and suddenly I realize that sneaking back out is not an option. I smile tightly at them both before pushing the door closed. Emmett switches the TV off and stand up doing an awful job of a fake stretch.

"I'm going to call it a night. Turn off the lights will you Iz?" he calls from halfway up the stairs. Traitor. I let my eyes burn a hole in the back of his head. He's going to watch the game in his computer instead. I swallow thickly as I feel the eyes still on me.

I take my time pulling my sweatshirt from my arms and hanging it neatly on the coat rack. I guess it makes more sense for it to hang then just fall to the floor like I usually let it. Part of my wants to make a run for my room and hide under the covers like the emotional child I am, but I swallow and force myself to meet his eyes.

I hate what I see there. I hate the uncertainty and the hurt. And I hate that there isn't a doubt in my mind that I put that there. Out last moments together rush through my mind and I feel cheap. I shouldn't have used a kiss to escape. The guilt rushes over me and I walk slowly towards him. His eyes take in my every move, but he doesn't speak and that makes it all worse. I reach the edge of the couch and stop.

"I didn't know you where coming over."

They aren't the words I want to say and more importantly they aren't the words I should say, but they're the mess that falls from my mouth and now I'm stuck with them.

"That probably has something to do with the fact that you're impossible to get into contact with," he answers. There's nothing in his words. No emotion, no inflection, nothing and it scares me. I look at the floor for a moment hoping the right thing to say might appear at my feet, but all I see is one of Emmett's rogue socks peaking out from under the sofa. Pig.

"I guess I should invest in something like a bat signal so I know when you're looking for me," I tease. I want nothing more than for this awful funk to lift from the room and for him to look at me like he did this morning before, well before I made an ass of myself and left. He rolls his eyes and the motion actually hurts.

"Oh, good. We've entered the joking portion of the night. Let's make silly jokes until we've convinced ourselves that nothing's wrong," he states. His words force me back a few steps. I don't know how to react to this Edward. He's obviously anger and not sorry about it. I want to feel an emotional victory for him, but I can't focus on anything than his eyes pouring anger out at me.

I take a shaky breath and swallow again. At this rate my mouth will go dry before I can actually respond.

"I'm not trying to make jokes. I just don't know what to say," I say because it's the truth. Because I don't have a good reason for why I keep doing this to him. And I'm not surprised he's mad.

"You could start with why you ran away and hid from me all day. Because I keep getting this feeling that you think I'm not emotionally invested in this, but I'm not the one running and hiding in zoos and playground or wherever the hell you were every time I get scared."

His face is stone, but his words are sharp. I want to tell him that I've actually been at the ice rink, but I don't think that's what he wants to hear. What he wants to hear is exactly what I can't tell him. It starts with my mother and runs all the way 1 through 22. And I'm worried that once he hears all of that he'll walk away like he should and this time I don't think I can just bounce back.

So instead of telling him I feel my anger resurface. He doesn't know why I ran? Cause I seem to remember Godzilla bitch and yeah, that seems like good enough reason. The words start to bubble over and before I can even censor them they spill over.

"You want answers? Well so do I Edward. I ran because your scary ass ex-girlfriend showed up at your door today when I was in nothing but your shirt and then she tore me apart while you watched. Maybe that's why I felt like I needed to leave. Or maybe it has something to do with that damned ring in your pocket," I seethe. It doesn't feel good. I don't feel relieved or lighter, I just feel low. His words start as a grumble and I almost want to place my lips over his and stop this before it goes any further, but it has to happen.

"Here we go with the fucking ring again. It's there because I need it. Not because I'm going to run out of your bed in the middle of the night and go propose to Hannah. I don't know how to make it any fucking clearer to you that there is nothing left between Hannah and me. Nothing. She came to pick her shit up and I'm sorry if she hurt your feelings, but Hannah has nothing to do with this anymore. You keep brining her back into it, not me."

I feel about two inches tall. Hannah was one of my barriers. Something that was keeping me at a safe distance from him. Making sure that nothing real could happen, an excuse. My breath shakes from me and I keep my back straight and my mouth tight.

"You need the ring? What the hell do you need an engagement ring for if not to propose? Don't make me sound like an idiot for assuming the obvious. I won't let you make me feel like an idiot," I insist. My resolve is crumbling along with my ability to keep my words angry. I glance up the stairs and wonder if Emmett is going to burst through his door and demand we shut the hell up, but knowing him he thinks this is healthy. What could be healthy about all this hurt?

His hands rub over his face, knocking his glasses askew. He sighs and his body slumps into the couch a little. His hand reaches into his pocket and I almost roll my eyes.

"The ring belonged to my grandmother, that's why I need it. And I'm not trying to make you feel like an idiot. Christ, Bella, that's the last thing I want to do. It's just there! It's comfortable, okay? I wouldn't even use it to propose to anyone with. Stop using it as an excuse for this. Stop pretending this fucking smudged, dented, bloody piece of metal is why you're running away from me all of the fucking time," his words are punctuated by him slamming the ring onto the coffee table. My eyes are glued to it. I want to know more. I want to know why he needs it, what purpose it serves, but I wouldn't dare bring it up again.

I pull my trembling upper lip in between my teeth and grit my teeth to hold back the moisture in my eyes. My knees go a little weak and I sit on the edge of the coffee table. My hand covers the ring and my fingers trace its familiar shape.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask because I am at that point. The point where I will say what he wants to make this stop. The urge to leave is so strong I have to fight it off constantly. That would be the worst thing to do and despite everything else I want to fix this.

***

I feel bad. I feel like a monster sitting here being mean to her while she stares at me with that look on her face—it's all sad and she looks like she can't decide if she should stay here with me or run as far away as possible.

She'd probably be better off running honestly, but I wouldn't let that happen now. I take her hand in mine, trying to make her see through the simple contact that I don't want her to go. That I'll throw that fucking ring out of the window and hold her hand for the rest of my life if it'll make her feel better.

It takes her a minute but her fingers finally respond and wrap around my hand. A peace offering. The conversation isn't over by any means, but maybe this will make it feel safer.

"Tell me what you're so afraid of, Bella," I say softly.

She shifts slightly and her eyes flit to our tangled hands before they come back up to my face slowly. "What aren't I afraid of?" she asks and a bitter laugh escapes her lips, a completely un-Bella laugh.

I squeeze her hand impatiently. I don't like this Bella. This Bella with the sad, defeated eyes. "Why are you afraid of me?" I ask, trying again, and my desperation is obvious in my voice.

"I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of me and what I can do to you, and if you really knew you would leave. You should leave." I feel my heart constrict in my chest as she takes a few deep, gulping breaths. Panic breaths. "You should want to leave," she whispers.

I narrow my eyes at her. "You want me to leave? Is that what this is?" And my voice comes out angrier than I intended it to. But she's practically sitting there begging me to walk away. And it hurts.

Her eyes water and her breathing speeds up and she takes my hand in both of hers, squeezing it tightly. "No, I don't want you to leave. I'm not that good of a person. I should let you leave, make you leave, but I'd never be that noble. Don't you get it?" she asks me, a combination of panic and sadness lacing her voice. "I'm going to break you."

I use my free hand and run it through my hair. What is this? "Bella," I say but she doesn't look back up at me. "Bella." My voice comes out more forcefully the second time and she looks up, meeting my eyes with weary ones. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

She takes her lip in between her teeth and the act looks almost painful. But then her breathing settles. She starts drawing patterns on my palm, gently, soothing all of me.

"Are you sure, Edward? Are you sure you want me? Because this is your chance. You can leave now and I won't hold it against you. I'd even try to smile if I saw you on the street."

And now I just want to shake her. I want to take her shoulders in my hands and give her a good, rough shake, because she isn't making any sense.

"I don't understand this," I say instead. "I don't understand what the fuck you're talking about. I don't understand why you don't get it. If I wanted to leave, I'd be gone. And you wouldn't see me on the street or anywhere fucking else. Bella, make me understand. Please."

Because I'm a second away from standing up and walking out of that door. Because if it were anybody else, I'd already be gone. Because I want this to work and I want to understand what is making her so fucking sad. Because I don't give a shit what the reason is. I don't care if she's delusional and convinced that she was Abe Lincoln in a past life. None of it matters.

"I'm sorry. I just want so badly to do right by you. To keep you from getting hurt. And the longer you're here doing the things that you do that make me feel so… whole, the harder it's going to be. It's like I'm toxic and I just don't… you shouldn't…" her voice trails off and then she's climbing into my lap and burying her face in my neck.

Her arms wrap tightly around me and her breathing is speeding up again. I run my hands up and down her back.

"Sshhh," I whisper, pressing my lips into the side of her head. "Bella, relax, baby." I hold her until she calms down again and then I pull away. "Listen to me. Are you listening?" She nods. "People get hurt. People get hurt every single fucking day. And sometimes it's an accident and sometimes it's not but either way it's inevitable. So, yeah, maybe somewhere down this line one of us will get hurt. But running and hiding won't prevent any of that."

I brush the hair back from her face and press a small kiss to her lips. "I don't want to leave. And I don't want you to push me away. I want you. I've never been surer of anything else. I want the good and the bad and even the hurt if that's what it takes, okay?" I push the hair back over and over because it seems to be relaxing her. "But, Bella, I need to understand. I need you to help me understand."

Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck. "If you want me, then I want you. And I'll try. I'll try so hard not to hurt you," she whispers.

"I'm not getting an answer tonight, am I?" I ask and squeeze her sides gently.

"I'm sorry," she says and looks up at me through her big, watery, honest brown eyes. "Maybe one day I'll be able to say more, but I just want you to know that I'm going to try."

I nod and put my hand on her neck, brushing my thumb back and forth across her cheek. Because the thing is, there's not a chance in hell that I'm letting her give up. I can push enough for both of us until she's convinced of whatever she needs to be convinced of.

And because I know that people need secrets that they shouldn't have to apologize for. Hell, I have a ton of them.

"That's good enough," I say and pull her back in against my chest. I just want to feel her all soft and small and sweet against me.

"But, Bella? Tomorrow we're going cell phone shopping."

She huffs but it's muffled against my chest. "Fine."

I smile into her hair and then tilt my head down so that I can kiss the top of her head. For the first time, I'm realizing that she's all I've ever wanted. For the first time in years, I actually want something good. And I meant everything that I said—I'll take it all, the good and the bad and the toxic. I don't care if it hurts even though I'm fairly certain that it won't. Because I'm not letting go.