CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Crushed

For the past month, I'd perfected the act of "accidentally" bumping into Edward, actually faking additional stumbling on top of my natural, relentless clumsiness. I did it so frequently that I came across like a drunken sorority girl with vertigo, but his touch was my addiction. Worse yet was how his disinterest in physical contact did little to dissuade me. The fact he wasn't interested in me only made my obsession seem less wrong, less like a betrayal.

Soon I realized it wasn't just the feel of him that I was addicted to; it was Edward himself. So I stopped. No more pratfalls, no more needless closeness on our short walks from lunch to English. I couldn't indulge myself anymore because it wasn't just lust…it was love.

And then it started.

Within the span of a single week, on his own and without any intentional or accidental intervention by me, Edward casually touched my arm four times and my shoulder once. Each time a part of his body met one of mine, I had to grind my teeth together with my tongue sandwiched in between to keep from looking at him like he was my own personal savior… above everything, I could not possibly let him know just how crucial he'd become for my own happiness.

As impossible as it was, sometimes I was convinced he was crazy about me. I kept a running tally in my head whenever I momentarily lost my grasp on reason and allowed myself to think that somehow he wanted me.

Aside from the blasé physical contact, there was the way he smiled at my jokes, even the bad ones, and saw past the act I put on for the rest of my classmates. He grew almost angry at me whenever I put myself down. He teased me about my truck in this playful, irresistible voice that made me forget that I didn't like anyone dissing my Chevy. He'd figured out my favorite candy was gummy bears, and I always found a bag sitting at my usual spot at our lunch table whenever I was having a bad day. Friends did stuff like that…but something about the way he looked at me while doing those things made me feel as if it was something more.

The greatest indication of something beyond friendship was his reaction when I returned to school with a new draft of my Dartmouth admissions essay days before Thanksgiving break. On his advice, I focused my essay on my complicated but precious relationship with Renee. After his critique in the cafeteria, I went home and poured my heart out. It was easier than I'd thought it would be, probably because my relationship with my mother was one of the few in my life that wasn't in a perpetual state of hurt and confusion. In the end, I'd written an essay about growing up as my mother's keeper, how I'd resented her and adored her, how I'd played it safe to balance out her daredevil maneuvers, and how I was reaching out to Dartmouth as a tribute to her, taking a chance that she'd never had.

After reading it, Edward stared at me and simply nodded, his eyes shining. "They won't turn you away after they read this, Bella. I promise you."

Desperately, I wanted him to mean himself instead of the Dartmouth admissions committee. I wanted it so badly that without thinking, I leaned a bit closer, willing him to mimic me. When he did, my breath hitched in my chest and I forgot we were in the middle of a crowded cafeteria amidst the smell of Sloppy Joes with his sister sitting at our very table.

Inches away from my face, his mouth spoke softly. "You mother would be so incredibly proud of you if you ever allowed her to read this." His lips twitched into a knowing smile. "Of course, you won't, will you?"

The artificial light created gold flecks in his hair. With a herculean effort, I tore my attention away from them and responded, "Don't be stupid. I'd die if she ever saw this…I mean, I don't exactly paint her in the most positive light."

He scoffed, but his eyes remained kind. "You didn't write a disingenuous puff piece about her, Bella. What you did was capture the essence of who she truly is without sugarcoating her mistakes. You were honest, and because of that honesty, you illustrate just how much you care for her. I think she'd be incredibly honored by what you've written."

"Eh," I shrugged, trying to cover up how flabbergasted his praise had left me. "All that stuff I wrote is just so personal…It's one thing for a bunch of uppity geezers in New Hampshire to see it, but I can't imagine anyone I know reading this. I'd be so embarrassed, and nobody knows I feel like this—" I cut myself off as our eyes met and we both realized that Edward and Edward alone was yet again getting an exclusive peek into aspects of myself I usually kept buried…parts I didn't even let Jake see.

I busied myself with re-editing the essay, and Edward turned to Alice and engaged in an oddly stilted conversation about a weekend hunting trip.

After reading my words for what seemed like the millionth time, I saw Alice watching me, her discussion with Edward now abandoned.

"What's up, Alice?"

"I was just thinking…what are you doing this weekend?"

"Um, it's Thanksgiving, so…nothing actually. Just dinner on Thursday and then eating leftovers with Charlie for three days straight." I didn't add that Jake and I would probably watch Christmas movies on the couch the day after Thanksgiving; we had an unofficial running date every year. Besides, acting like I'd be alone with Charlie was mostly true, considering that after a few helpings of turkey, Jake usually passed out on the couch for hours and left me to weep through It's a Wonderful Life by myself.

"Good," she exhaled, her face lighting up. "I was thinking you and I should do something. You could come over—"

"Alice." Edward's tone cut through the congeniality of Alice's invitation like a shard of ice.

Her smile didn't falter. Ignoring her brother, she continued, "We could play board games. I'm particularly fond of Mall Madness and Balderdash…oooh, or chess! Do you like chess?"

"Yeah, actually. I—"

"We have a prior engagement this weekend, Alice. Don't you remember?" Edward stared pointedly at his sister, who rolled her eyes in response.

"Oh, come on, Edward. We can go camping anytime."

He nearly growled in Alice's direction as he responded, "There is nothing I would rather do this weekend than camp, so stop interfering with plans that were made ages ago."

"Stop being such a killjoy, Edward." Alice turned to me and continued, "Ignore him, Bella. I'd love to get together with you instead of drudging up to Goat Rocks with the likes of him." She jerked her thumb to where Edward sat sullen and silent, spinning the bottle cap I'd discarded on the table.

My heart plummeted as I grew wise to his wishes. Had he wanted me like I wanted him, he'd welcome an excuse to see me over the four-day weekend, to let me a bit further into his life by showing me his room and the extensive CD collection he was always alluding to. Instead, he made it clear he didn't want me anywhere near his house or his family…or himself. Don't worry, Edward. I get it. I felt so massively foolish to think he craved my company as much as I urgently yearned for his.

My eyes stung in humiliation as I muttered, "No, it's cool. I should probably make sure Charlie doesn't choke on a drumstick or something. And I heard the weather is supposed to be great on Saturday, so you guys should definitely take advantage." I smiled weakly and rose to my feet. "Uh, I should go…I need to make some corrections on my essay in the computer lab before I forget my train of thought. Later, Alice…See you in English, Edward."

I started walking away and didn't turn when he called out, "Good bye, Bella." His voice was as sincere as always, but I was no longer fooled. I prayed silently that his fingertips would never graze my forearm again; knowing that he felt nothing while I was reveling in his touch broke my heart.

X X X

My depression over Edward's subtle rejection occupied my thoughts throughout the week, past Thanksgiving Day and into Friday. For obvious reasons, the Quileutes didn't chow down on turkey and stuffing, so Billy, and therefore Jacob, didn't show up for dinner Thursday, leaving Charlie and I on our own. With just the two of us and enough food to feed a malnourished football team, the day always felt a bit surreal.

I was grateful when Friday rolled around and I could finally escape the unsettling silence. I needed a distraction and a reminder of where my loyalties lie, so visiting Jake in La Push was the perfect solution.

"You sure you don't want to watch Miracle on 34th Street on your dad's couch instead, per the usual?" He asked out of courtesy, already tearing open the container of mashed potatoes I'd hauled in from my truck.

"Eh, it's cool. I mean, how many times can you watch those people wonder if Kris Kringle is really Santa Claus? It's so obvious he totally is; you can't fake a beard like that." I shoved a yam in my mouth and searched Billy's small kitchen for a napkin.

We stuffed our faces for a solid half hour. Even though the silence was excusable, what with our mouths overflowing with reheated pieces of heaven, it wasn't exactly comfortable either. There were too many things we weren't saying, subjects neither of us dared to broach.

The ironic thing was that Jake thought he was being smart; he honestly thought he was treading in safe waters when he asked, "How's the Dartmouth essay coming?"

I swallowed the last of the cranberry sauce and shrugged. "It's done, actually." I clicked my tongue and mustered up a weak grin. "Go me."

He played the game, too, smiling with only the lower half of his face. "So when do I get to read it?"

Things that were once a given were now impossibilities. "Uh, I sent it off already. I was sick of fussing with it," I grumbled, picturing the exact place where three hard copies currently rested next to my keyboard.

"Don't you have it saved on your hard drive or something?" He asked dully for lack of anything else to say. I don't think he even realized he hadn't looked up from his food since we'd sat down.

"Probably. Remind me next time you're over," I said, hoping he'd forget all about it. A year ago, he'd be the only person allowed to see something so personal, but now it felt like I would have to do too much explaining about what I'd written.

"'Kay." He took a swig of milk from the mug in front of him. "So, you're happy how it turned out?"

"I suppose."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

A stranger walking by would see us as the world's youngest middle-aged couple. We embodied disenchanted suburbanites, suffering through dinner to keep up appearances and staying together for the sake of the kids. Between pauses in our wooden conversation, the only sound around us was the clanking of our forks against our plates, and we sat opposite each other at the small oak table with our body language failing to signal that we acknowledged the other's presence. I caught my own reflection in the kitchen window, seeing what the passerby would see…and it disgusted me.

Jake started talking again. The small part of him that refused to give up on us fueled on the conversation. I loved that piece of him and hated that my involuntary apathy was killing it. "Sam and Leah are done," he was saying, his voice pained, finally matching the facial expression he'd unknowingly worn for weeks.

I wasn't surprised at his news, given the heartbreaking display we'd all witnessed at the Halloween party. "That's awful. How is she taking it?"

"Nobody's died yet, but if there are any missing persons, she's first on my list of suspects."

"Jake—"

"Hey, don't judge me. You haven't seen her…if you think she was bad before, holy crap, you try talking to her now. The girl's set up permanent residence atop Bitch Mountain." He spotted the furrowing of my brow and softened his tone. "I guess I can kind of understand, though." My chest tightened, but thankfully his head was somewhere else. "Sam's got it bad for her cousin. Like, stalker bad."

"No! The girl from the beach?"

"You got it. She won't give Sam the time of day, though."

"Well, of course not. What is he thinking?"

"No idea. He's kind of an asshole lately."

I'd become so self-absorbed that I could only think wryly that Sam and I had that in common. "Oh really?"

Jake hesitated, pushing invisible food around his empty plate with his fork. "Let's just say the thing with Sam and his cronies has gotten worse."

"Cronies? I thought it was just that guy Paul who followed Sam around."

"Now there's Jared, too. The two of them must be feeding Sam's ego like crazy because last week he got all self-important again and took me aside for another one of his little 'chats' where he tells me to act responsible and set a good example. He acts like he's my dad or something." Jacob shuddered and then averted his eyes.

I knew better than to let whatever it was that was bothering him go. He was hiding something. "Is that all Sam wanted? I mean, what he did was annoying and weird, but it isn't that bad, right?"

He grimaced and took to staring out the window. "That wasn't all he said, Bella." His cheeks flushed slightly as he finally turned to look at me. "He…mentioned you, actually."

"Excuse me?" I had absolutely no clue why Sam Uley would reference me of all people. In the three years I'd spent following Jake around La Push, I'd maybe shared two sentences worth of conversation with him, consisting of no more than formal pleasantries.

"This is really stupid, okay? Remember that I told you Sam has gone more than just a little nuts lately? About how he sees himself as some sort of guardian of La Push?"

"Yeah…" Having not the slightest theory about where this was going, I could only shake my head and follow along.

"Well, I guess that includes anything attached to the Quileutes. Which kinda includes you." He chugged the last of his milk and continued to appraise me apologetically. "He knows you go to school with the Cullens, and he mentioned—he mentioned that I should tell you to be careful."

The heat rose to my face, and all the anger I wanted to unleash on Sam Uley boiled my blood. I don't know what enraged me more, the fact Sam felt he could interfere in my life when I was nothing more than a stranger to him or the fact the ridiculous prejudice against the Cullens in La Push apparently extended further than I'd originally thought.

"How is that any of his business, Jake? Where does he get off doing something like that? I don't even know him."

Jake was embarrassed at the situation, clearly, but all he did was shrug. "He's pretty much insane, Bella. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

The anger tunneled my vision, and all I could feel was infuriating frustration. Edward and Alice were amazing, kind people who took me in as a friend and made me feel happy during my school days for the first time in years…no, the first time in my life. How dare Sam Uley. "So what exactly does he have against the Cullens, anyway? Is he pissed that they're all smart and rich and that he's just some idiot who dropped out of school to run around butting into everyone else's lives?"

It was mean and unfounded, but I didn't really care. Not only did Sam trash two people I cared a great deal for, but he also dragged Jake into the middle of his own unfounded hatred.

Jacob took in my red face, and his expression shifted into confusion. "Why are you letting this bother you? Who cares what Sam thinks?"

"I do, Jake. At least, I care when he's pulling you aside to tell you to reign in your girlfriend, like I'm some unruly dog needing a leash."

"It wasn't like that, Bella. It was more like he was worried about—"

"Stop it. Stop doing that. Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not. I was the one complaining about him in the first place, remember?" Jacob had raised his voice to match mine, but he still looked more lost than irate.

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, Jake. Sorry…It's just that Alice and Edward are my friends, and I can't believe somebody who doesn't even know them is talking trash about them all over town. It's so stupid."

Jake played with the ends of his shiny black hair. "If it makes you feel better, he just said you should be careful. He didn't really say much about the Cullens at all." The smallness of Jake's voice should have bothered me more, but I was still distracted.

"Next time he comes up to you with this nonsense, you can tell him that the Cullens are fantastic, sweet people who I trust and—"

"You're wrong, Isabella."

Somewhere during my ranting, Billy had rolled into the kitchen under my radar. I spun to face him.

His icy, almost cruel expression belied the unconditional kindness I'd come to expect from him. His lips turned sharply downward, emphasizing the wrinkles surrounding his mouth in a way that turned him into a stranger rather than the surrogate father I'd known nearly my entire life. When he spoke again, the sternness of his words made me shiver. "The Cullens are exactly the sort of people you should never speak to. Not under any circumstances. I've tried to warn your father, but his stubbornness might just destroy both of you, so I'm begging you to listen to me, Bella."

Nothing about his voice was pleading. I should have been intimidated by his hostility, but all I could do was sneer back at him as he ignorantly badmouthed the boy I secretly loved.

Moving his wheelchair closer to where I sat on my hands at the kitchen table, Billy continued, "They are capable of horrifying things, and if you have any sense, then you will stay clear of them at all times and spend as much time afterschool here in La Push. Despite what you may think of Sam Uley, he's the best thing to happen to the Quileutes in a very long time, and he can protect you."

"Dad—" Jacob began, embarrassed.

I silenced him by placing my hand gently on his. This didn't involve him; it was between Billy and myself. I continued to glare at the sour, misguided man in front of me. "If you knew them, you wouldn't be spitting out these insulting, ridiculous accusations. Alice and Edward Cullen, and their father for that matter, have treated me with kindness, and under no circumstances would they ever hurt me."

Billy watched me between the narrow slits of his eyelids. "You cannot possibly know what you're dealing with…because if you did," he narrowed his stare further, "you would never put yourself, and Jacob by association, into this position. Grow up, Bella, and listen to me. Stay. Away. Do it for yourself, your father. For my son. By simply creating a relationship with them, you're putting everyone you love in serious danger. Stop being selfish and think beyond yourself."

"Dad, please, don't—"

"It's alright, Jake." My voice was steady, but I could feel my pulse throbbing rapidly in my neck.

"No, it's not, Bella." He patted my hand, and stared down at his father. "Dad, you don't have to worry about anything; Bella just sits with them at lunch…I mean, they hardly know each other."

The muscles in my stomach clenched. I couldn't look at Jake as, in barely a whisper, I said, "That's not really true. I told you…we're friends." The word hurt to say, but it was the truth.

Billy moved even closer and placed a firm grasp on my arm. "If you think those people are your friends"—he spat out the word as if it disgusted him—"then you are a seriously naïve little girl who has no idea she's playing with fire."

Nostrils flared, I shot a pointed glance at where his hand tightly held my forearm and allowed coldness to pierce my words. "I'd rather be naïve than a cruel, bitter old man who unfairly judges people he doesn't even know."

Billy released his grip instantly.

Jake wouldn't look at me as he coolly said, "Bella, that's my father." He placed his face in his hands, so I couldn't gauge just how much my thoughtless, incensed words had hurt him.

Ashamed, I gasped, "I am so sorry, Jake." I tried to reach out to him, but he jerked away from my touch, still refusing to even look at me.

Billy eyed me, looking more disappointed than disdainful, then made an unceremonious exit to his bedroom. Before he disappeared completely, he called to me, "If you knew what I knew, Bella, you'd think twice about befriending anyone in that family."

His cutting emphasis on "befriending" wasn't lost on me. I wondered if the guilt was simply making me paranoid or if I was just that transparent…regardless, it was possible that Billy knew. Or, at the very least, that he was suspicious. The impact of knowing that Jake's father was aware of my betrayal was too much; the tears gushed from my eyes, moistening my cheeks and spiking my eyelashes, as I took in just how much agony I was causing Jake and, though I was still livid at him, Billy.

After the door to Billy's bedroom slammed shut, Jake and I were left separate and silent, physically sitting together at the table but emotionally in separate zip codes.

Without turning his head in my direction, Jacob handed me a napkin to wipe my face dry. I couldn't stop crying, so I didn't bother with the effort. I struggled to keep my sobs as silent as possible, knowing what I had done merited the pain; I didn't want to take away from Jake's well-justified hostility.

Finally, I couldn't take the quiet any longer. "I can't even begin to tell you how sor—"

"Don't, Bella. Just don't."

I pursed my lips, biting my bottom lip inside my mouth so he couldn't see how hard I was trying to hold myself together. It was his right to fall apart, but I didn't deserve the release.

Jake turned the full force of his wide brown eyes upon me. They were bloodshot, conflicted. "You could have just let it go. You know better than to take him seriously about this whole thing. But you fought…you fought with him when you didn't have to."

I wanted to tell him he was right, to lie down and take it because I'd done so much worse to him. But I couldn't. Not about this, not when his father told me there was something ugly and dangerous about the people whose company I treasured. I couldn't allow Jake to justify what Billy had said, even though I should have.

"I did have to, Jake. I told you, they're my friends. They are wonderful, caring people who have made my life so much better. I couldn't—I couldn't let him do that to them. To say those things when there's no way that the Cullens are anything like that." He stared back at me, stone-faced. "Can't you understand that?"

Pushing back his chair so it noisily slid across the tiled floor, Jacob stood and angrily stomped across the kitchen in three paces, tossing his dishes into the sink with such force that his plate cracked in two. His tone biting, he asked, "So you're not sorry, not at all?"

"I shouldn't have called Billy…what I called him, but I'm not going to apologize for defending people I care about."

He stayed across the room, sizing me up as if seeing me for the first time. I felt different now than I had the first time I'd ever set foot into this very kitchen, so it was possible that he was.

"I've never seen you mean before. You can defend people all you want, but you can't do…that. What you said to him, you said it for people you hardly know. I know my dad's a little off when it comes to some stuff, but he's been there for you forever, and you've known these people, the Cullens, for a couple of months. I don't get it—no, I don't get you."

"He was attacking them…and me, for what it's worth. Was I just supposed to tell him he was right, and let him—"

"Yes. Because he's my dad. Because it isn't that big of a deal."

I clenched my jaw and searched the room for my keys. "It was a big deal to me, Jake."

I saw them on the counter behind where he stood. As I moved toward him, he flinched until he realized I wasn't after his embrace. He grabbed the keychain in his fist and held it away from me. "Why is this such a big deal? Who cares what a couple of old men and Sam Uley think of the Cullens?"

I leapt for my keys, but he held them high above my head, beyond my reach. "I care. I care about people lying about those I'm close to. Before the Cullens came along, I had no one to talk to at school. I was depressed eight hours a day until I got out of class and came to see you. I felt alone, like there was something wrong with me. I just…didn't fit in, but then I met Alice and Edward, and suddenly it wasn't the worst thing in the world to go to school every day. Don't you get that? How I can't let Billy treat them like that, after all they've done for me? I'd do it for you, too. Jake, if someone started spreading ridiculous lies about you, I'd do the exact same thing."

Jacob shoved the keys into my palm. He didn't let go of my hand as he spoke. "Yeah, Bella, I know you would. But we love each other. Sometimes, you have to know when to draw a line. You don't have to stomp all over my dad because you're upset about some friends of yours being misunderstood. Dad wasn't hurting anyone; he thought he was looking out for you."

I couldn't believe what he was suggesting. Even if Billy's intentions had been in the right place, his actions certainly weren't. I'd been out of line in speaking to him with such disrespect, but Billy had the nerve to badmouth innocent people, to urge me to cast aside their friendship. And, somehow, Jake thought there was no harm in his father spreading malicious lies. For the first time, the Blacks' cozy kitchen made me feel claustrophobic.

Thumbing the key to my truck, I bolted out the door, stumbling through the yard. Jake raced ahead of me, his newly long legs giving him an advantage.

"You shouldn't drive like this. You're so pissed that you can hardly see straight."

I shook my head, not looking up at him. "I need to get home. I can't be here right now."

Surprisingly, he nodded. "Maybe that's best…just be careful."

I climbed into the cab and started the engine, willing myself to hold back the second round of tears until I was out of Jake's sight.

As I shifted into drive, I heard a tap at my window. My heart stuttered at the idea that somehow Jake would say something to wake us up from this nightmare.

Instead, he mumbled. "Your tire's pretty low. I can put some air—"

"Forget it. I'll stop at a gas station."

"Fine." He turned back toward the house without a second glance.

The tears gushed out so quickly that I tasted salt almost as soon as they left my eyelids. I was furious with Jake, even though I felt like I really didn't have the right. My anger over Billy's behavior was entirely separate from my being in love with Edward; if Billy had only insulted Alice, I likely would have reacted in the same way. Still, getting angry at Jake for pretty much anything seemed inappropriate, seeing as how I had fallen head over heels for someone else when I was supposed to be his. No matter how inconsiderate he acted, what I had done was a million times worse.

I reminded myself that Jake was all I had. More than I deserved, really. I was terrified that maybe I didn't want him, at least not as much as I should. My hands shook against the worn leather of the steering wheel at the thought.

Part of me wanted to turn around, to go back and beg for forgiveness, but another side, an uglier side, told me to keep driving. I needed space, time to think. Edward certainly didn't want me, but did that give me the right to keep my feelings for him secret from Jake? Didn't my boyfriend have the right to know that when it came to Edward, friendship was only the beginning of what I wanted? Further, would Jake even want to know, considering nothing would ever materialize between Edward and me?

I was so caught up with the beginnings of my nervous breakdown that I didn't notice the thumping sound coming from beneath my truck. My tire. Crap.

It was past eleven o'clock at night on Thanksgiving weekend. My only option for an open gas station was the 24-hour BP on the outskirts of town, the one Charlie told me to avoid at all costs. It was on my way home, but it was frequented by lonely truckers and, due to its location directly off 101, late night drag racers that Charlie frequently complained about but could rarely catch. I tried not to think of how Charlie had reported there in response to a late night robbery less than a month ago as I pulled in and searched for the air pump.

Thankfully, I'd found it just in time, as my front passenger-side tire was nearly flat. My eyes were still blurry from the onslaught of tears that hadn't yet completely abated, but I managed to remove the plastic cap on the air valve and attach the hose without too much trouble, though I sniffled during the entire process.

As I waited for the pressure to build, I searched my glove compartment for a napkin to dry my eyes. I was considering blowing my nose on old map of Oregon when I heard a series of loud roars. Three sets of headlights flashed in the distance. Though each vehicle had to be going at least a hundred miles per hour, I instantly recognized the second, a red BMW that had once made my heart sink.

And then I saw the third.

It was easier to spot, both because its speed was decreasing and also because I'd recognize that Volvo even if I were blind. Of course, Edward would be racing his fancy car in this very spot, right when I was covered in my own snot and trembling with uncontrollable nerves.

Even worse was that if he saw me, he'd know I caught him in a lie. He insisted that he and his family were camping this weekend, an obvious bit of dishonesty to keep me from visiting Alice in his house. I didn't want to listen to his excuses; I just wanted to pretend I didn't know, that we were friends without a laundry list of uncomfortable, white lies between us. Well, white lies and the huge, bold-faced lie involving me being completely, irrevocably in love with him.

I absolutely could not see him, not now. In a flash, I ripped out the air hose, capped the valve, and started my ignition. The tire was inflated enough to make it home, at least. As his car turned into the parking lot, my truck and I chugged off in the opposite direction.

I was four, maybe five miles outside of Forks when the thumping noise from earlier grew louder and more insistent. Without getting out and examining it, I knew the stupid tire was as flat as a pancake.

I pulled off to the shoulder, determined to rectify the situation on my own, not that I had a choice given the time and the forest that bordered the highway for several miles. I chuckled bitterly as I remembered how Jake had taught me how to change a tire months before…the same day I'd first met Edward, right before my world flipped on its axis.

Yanking the rusty jack from the truck bed, I got to work, letting Jake's instructions filter through my head. Soon, despite working in impossibly dark conditions, I'd successfully propped up the front of the vehicle with the jack, but I had no recollection of how to physically remove the tire. I'd loosened the lug nuts, but the thing wouldn't budge. Lying down, I examined the wheel in the moonlight, feeling over the bolts with my fingertips in order to try to figure out what step I'd missed.

After a few minutes, I decided to lie down flat on my back, under the truck, and peer behind the tire…I knew my idea was probably pointless, but I was frustrated and needed to do something before admitting to myself that I was stranded in the dark, along a highway, completely alone.

As soon as I scooted underneath the Chevy, my hip brushing against the stubborn tire, I knew I'd made a horrible mistake. Next to my waist sat the jack, rusted through and now buckling from the weight of the heavy metal frame. From my position on opposite side of the wheel, I would have never noticed that the jack was straining at its limit, but now, from underneath the truck and behind the tire, I could see that when my hip had hit it, I'd also shifted the jack's position. It wasn't going to hold.

It gave way in shifts. The first movement caused the underside of the truck to fall down only an inch or two from my face. I lied paralyzed against the ground. My legs were free, as only my torso was pinned, but it didn't matter. Though not yet crushed, I had no leverage; I was trapped. The only thing left to do was close my eyes as the second movement brought the frame within millimeters from the tip of my nose.

My eyes started to sting. This was it. I'd always thought it would be a serious fall or a blow to the head. But this, at the mercy of my own beloved truck, was not was what I expected. I'd said good bye casually to Charlie before leaving for Jake's place and talked to Renee just that morning. Those good byes I wouldn't regret. But Billy was another story. And Jake…

I hoped the end would come sooner so I wouldn't have to think about it. I sucked in my breath, as if that would somehow hasten the inevitable.

When I finally let myself exhale, I opened my eyes to see the frame lift. The lifting was slight but fast. Unnaturally fast. I shut my eyes again.

Maybe I'm already dead.

I felt something on top of me, preventing the truck from crushing my body. Without opening my eyes, I grasped at whatever it was that was saving my life.

It was cold…but familiar.

It was a person.

My eyes shot open. Edward.

My breathing was shaky, and I could only imagine what I looked like, covered in tears and grease.

As for Edward, he looked terrified. He searched my eyes and then placed a hand gingerly under my head, raising it slightly and bringing our faces closer.

"Bella?" All I could think about was that his body was pressed against mine. "Bella? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

In truth, I was pretty sure I wasn't. Other than my heart palpitations resulting from our close physical proximity, everything was spinning and my head ached, like my skull was shrinking and crushing my brain in the process. I hadn't remembered hitting my head, but…

"Bella! Say something! Please, I need you to wake up. I need you to live. Tell me you can hear me. Please." He ran a hand carefully through my hair; he was so close, I could kiss him. I could blame it on the mysterious head injury…pretend I didn't remember it later.

As soon as I shut my eyes, a hand flew to my face and then it moved around my waist. I heard a loud crash and felt a whoosh of air. Then, we were moving. When I re-opened my eyes, he had me in his arms, next to my now partially overturned truck.

We were alone. No EMTs, no jaws of life. His car was nowhere to be seen. Yet…the truck was on its side. And I was alive.

I shifted slightly so I could study his face. He cradled me close, so close that I could smell the sweetness of his scent without even trying. Noticing my movement, he eagerly placed a hand to my face. "Bella? Say something. I'm begging you…say something."

The edge of the truck's frame was bent. In the shape of a hand.

My eyes widened as I lifted a hand to touch his face. "What are you?"