She'd been thoroughly chilled by the time she went back to sleep, and had been glad of the pajamas Edward had brought her, and with gentle touches, helped her put on.
In the morning, he was less glad of them—worried at what they hid.
He couldn't see any marks, and she didn't seem to be hurting; her sleep had been placid too.
These things did nothing to assuage his mounting concern, though.
Still, he said nothing, refusing to bring his worry to their bed. He wouldn't taint what they'd had with his fear.
He kept telling himself this. The resolve lasted a solid twenty minutes after she'd woken up.
She'd just emerged from the bathroom, and started, met with his sudden appearance.
"Sorry," he murmured, putting his hands in hers. "Are you feeling OK?"
"Yeah," she said, pushing her eyebrows together, "why?"
He frowned. "Nothing hurts?"
Her features darkened, and she answered firmly. "No."
"Are there any bruises?"
Her eyebrows shot up at this.
"Are there?"
She pulled her hands away from his. "Don't."
"How can I not, Bella?" He gestured to himself, to the headboard, and the pillows, now sitting dispiritedly beside the bed.
She was frustrated now. "I didn't check because I feel fine."
"Can you, please?" He asked softly, "save me from my imagination?"
She softened at this, turning around. "Alright."
He waited nervously at the ensuite door.
"Bella?" he asked, after a few minutes.
"Yeah." Her voice sounded uncertain to him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, opening the door.
The lie was so plainly written on her face, his own scrambled with distress. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine," she said. "Really."
"I'm getting Carlisle."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he was gone, and then back, Carlisle following only slightly behind him.
He took one look at Bella's face, now a flagrant red, and said, "perhaps we can have a moment in private?" He looked at her, eyebrows raised, and then at Edward, clearly thinking something to him.
Bella shot Edward her own angry and hurt look before he disappeared.
After a few seconds, Carlisle nodded, "we're alone. Can I show you something in my study?"
She'd expected the third degree, or pills, or worried insistence on an examination, but not this.
In his office, he pulled out several large texts—medical reference books—opening them to various pages, laying them out on his desk. Then he pointed to the first of the illustrations. "I know you're used to bruises, Bella, but they're a sign of damage." Catching her look, he went on. "Not always severe, but, here," he explained, "kidney damage, caused by bruising to the back, and damage here," pointing to the next page, "can lead to more serious internal bleeding, which is hard to see, even for me." He paused, letting all this sink in. "I've never encountered a pair like yourselves, and I'd rather you be careful. So, any bruises?"
She looked down, and to the side, but the dusky flush was impossible to hide.
Carlisle read her expression, and flipped through the book, giving her a moment.
"Can you show me what severity, and where?" He tapped the page, showing her the chart.
Blowing out an embarrassed breath, she pointed to the topmost part of the page, and then to her arm, and more intimate places.
"Any discomfort?" Carlisle asked, relieved.
She shook her head.
"Nothing medically concerning, then," he said softly, pulling a t tube of ointment from a drawer, handing it to her. "Can I offer some advice though?"
"Sure."
"Be entirely honest with him."
The idea of being dishonest didn't sit well, but neither did Edward's anticipated overreaction.
She nodded, pulling out her phone, and calling him.
His arrival coincided with Carlisle's subtle departure.
"Are you OK?" he asked, slipping his hands around her back, almost not touching, just lightly resting on the surface of her clothes.
Frowning, she said, "I need you not to freak out."
She could almost see the fear blossoming in his face.
"And to understand that I am fine...and that there are some bruises—that I can barely feel."
His face was making elaborate shapes on itself, as the emotions played over it.
He was struggling to stay calm. He had hurt her.
That was Jacob's move.
Not his.
Watching this, she put a hand to his face. "You didn't hurt me, Edward." Then, with a crack in her voice, "please don't do it now by saying you did."
The breath he took in was audible to her. "OK," he said, trying to think how he could stand to be in his own skin.
The others were returning, having given them some time.
Exasperated by the timing, Edward growled out a "not now!" to Jasper, as he approached.
"I'm just the messenger," he drawled, "Esme has breakfast for you, Bella." He didn't add that he had something to show her after.
"Thank you," she said softly, and to Edward. "I'm fine, remember?" She was pleading with her eyes. "It was a good thing." The tears she'd been managing to hold back were truly threatening now.
"I'm sorry," he said, "you're right." He pulled her into a real hug, "I'm just…"
"Paranoid."
They both chuckled a little, foreheads pressed together, small smiles mirrored in each other.
After breakfast, Jasper came and sat down at the table, a box and board in hand.
Bella watched him set up the chess pieces, her curiosity growing. Edward had showed her the most rudimentary game play, but she wasn't very good. This set featured clocks.
Edward nodded as if approving.
"Timed chess," Jasper said. "Teaches you to strategize while dealing with stress." He explained the rudiments to Bella, who agreed to play.
Two rounds in, she was flustered and losing badly—again. "Don't worry about winning," Jasper coaxed her. "Just focus on making a strategic, but quick move."
"Isn't winning kinda the whole point, in a fight?"
"Yes," Jasper said, making his move, and tapping the clock. "But right now, I want you to feel mildly stressed, while working to think clearly."
They played on. By the fourth round, it was easier.
"Good," he said, "you're doing very well." He could feel her warmer emotions shrinking, cooled by the logic of her thoughts.
By the fifth round, she was doing even better, but getting tired.
"Enough for today," Jasper said. "Tomorrow?"
"Sure," Bella said, still not so certain of him, but less intimidated. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Ma'am," he smiled, tipping an imaginary hat to her as he left.
She giggled, and Jasper chuckled in reply
Edward was bristling, sensing Rose's idea of what was next in the queue of activities. "Not today," he murmured, knowing she was tired, worried about her getting hurt.
Emmett snorted out, in a voice that Bella couldn't catch, "well, if you'd let the girl sleep, she'd be up for it lover-boy!"
Edward ignored him.
Shifting in his seat so he could be closer to Bella, he asked, "what do you think about going away for a few days? Just us?"
"I'd like that," she said. After a bit she added, "but not too far away. And maybe after I see John this week?" This last bit was added tentatively, as if it was asking too much.
"Of course." He kissed her. "We have a place south of here, near Ocean city. That close enough?"
"That sounds perfect," she said, smiling. "Just us."
- 0 -
Alice still wasn't seeing Bella's future with any predictability, and she huffed, and then hummed, as Bella packed, uncertain of outcomes.
"Alice, what I wear is not going to make a material difference. Trust me."
Alice rolled her eyes. "Trust me. Clothes make a difference. Especially when it comes to taking them off."
If her blood wasn't so occupied in making her blush, Bella would have been able to open her mouth again, but Alice let out a long, "oooh! Good!" Then she disappeared from the room, and reappeared with a bundle in her hands, saying "no peeking!" as she stuffed it into Bella's bag.
Bella rolled her eyes instead, tucking the rest of her clothes into the small case.
"Ready?" Edward asked, picking up his own suitcase, hand hovering over hers.
"Yes, think so," she sighed, running through her mental checklist.
"Have fun you two," Alice winked. She'd caught enough to know they would.
The other family members called out their farewells for the next few days. They were taking advantage of Bella's absence to do their own hunting, Jasper and Emmett heading East. Rose and Alice were going North, investigating some stray leads there.
Carlisle and Esme were staying to keep up the family appearances in town, and to be close by, just in case.
Bella's eyebrows rose at the choice of vehicle.
"No?" Edward asked, pausing before he opened the trunk.
"Oh no, it's fine, just...surprised," Bella said. "Um...we're not in a rush, are we?"
"No," Edward smiled, "no rush."
"Good," Bella smiled back, sliding into the sculpted leather seat. It felt like it was hugging her.
The drive was scenic, but otherwise unremarkable. Edward made sure it passed by at a pleasing pace for Bella.
When they hooked back around the sign for Ocean City, Bella looked at Edward, "wait, wasn't that—"
"Our turn's up here," he said, "technically, the house is in Ocean City limits, but right at the edge of Copalis."
The roads diminished as they went. First from the highway to the main roads, and then to a long and winding side road that led to a obscure driveway.
The house was a stately arts and crafts style, a dark dusky blue set into the deeper greens of the forest. The ocean moaned in its background, unseen but its wash heard over the rocky breakwater.
"How many houses do you have here?" Bella asked Edward, stepping out, letting him take her hand in his.
"We, Mrs. Cullen," he said, smiling at her as he said the word, "have six in washington state. One in the middle, one in Seattle, and four in other corners.
"Six," she whispered, "wow."
He chuckled, opening the door.
"Let me give you the tour," he said, watching her take in the space. It was beautifully appointed, the angles of the space complemented by soft furniture, and softer lighting. Someone had clearly been here to turn them on.
But it was a house, beautiful as houses went, and its primary benefit was its privacy.
And a hot tub.
"Oh," Bella said, spotting it. "Perfect."
"Thought you'd like that," Edward said. "Maybe we can head in after dinner?"
"Sure," Bella said, wondering if they'd need to drive out to get food.
"Let's go see what's in the kitchen," he said, leaning down to kiss her.
She almost dismissed the idea of dinner, thinking of other ways to fill their time, but her stomach grumbled, loudly, derailing her other ideas.
They hadn't been intimate since that night, almost a week before, Edward insistent they wait until the bruises had healed. Bella had been less than thrilled with this plan, but John had cautioned her, concerned about triggers and relapse.
Edward wouldn't hear talk of her cooking, pulling things out of the fridge, then pouring her a small glass of wine.
"Wow," she said, "wine. Pretty sure that's not legal."
He grinned. "Well, if you insist on being law-abiding—" and reached to pick it up.
"Oh no, I'm good, just saying, I like this law-breaking side of you." She took another sip. It was cool, and white, and delicious.
It reminded her of Edward.
Dinner pleasantly dispensed with, she was mildly euphoric, and more pleasantly anticipating watching the sunset play out from the hot tub.
"The water beckoning?" he asked, catching her glance.
She blushed out a "yes."
Still shy about changing in front of him, she disappeared into the washroom with her bag.
She discovered the item that Alice had packed, laughing. It evaded traditional description, two two pieces at the front and back that laced together with criss-crossing ties—one at the shoulder, and the other at the corresponding hip.
It was easy to appreciate Alice's comment about the way clothes might come off.
Edward's stare, as she came into view of the hottub was worth all the frustrated moments she'd had in putting it on.
He held out his hand, helping her into the water, the foamy bubbles leaving Edward's swimsuit a mystery. There was no need of words, as they sat beside each other, this morphing easily into Bella sitting over him, legs straddling his.
The sunset was spectacular.
Neither of them noticed it.
Edward's flesh was pink with the reflected light of the sky, while Bella's was a heat-inspired rose from the water. They clung together in a tight embrace.
It didn't take long for Bella to tug the string at her hip, feeling Edward's lips pull out a giggle as he undid the one at her shoulder. Removing his swimsuit was a simple push of her fingers, hooked at the waistband.
They were both far warmer than usual from the water, aroused and eager from their days of waiting. Laid out on the deck, Bella pulled Edward over her, lips insistent at his own neck and mouth. She made the arch of her back an explicit invitation, trying to angle herself to find him.
He was as wanting as she was, but for all his care, not careful enough. As their bodies became one, he missed the abrupt widening of her eyes, and the momentary stillness that was not wrought by pleasure.
She'd been sucked deep into the grip of a memory, not able to wrench free from it—or to move out from him, and it was Jacob she was remembering, all the phantom pain repeating itself in Edward's movements.
It was only a few seconds, but when it released its hold, she panicked, pushing frantically at him, voice distressed in breathy and inarticulate cries.
He back away immediately, horrified.
"Bella?" he said, hands out as he watched her breathe too fast, curl up into herself on her side, fingers digging into her arms. When he laid a towel out over her, and tried to pick her up, she screamed "no!" at him, and huddled further into herself on the deck.
He waited, watching and worrying, as she began to shiver.
"Bella," he tried again, "let me take you inside."
She nodded, and he did, laying her as gently as he could on the bed.
When he laid his hand on her hair, she started again, another "no," whispered out.
So he waited, two handwidths apart from her, watching her wrestle with this insistent iteration of memory.
"Sorry," she finally said, when her breathing had slowed, "I don't know—"
"Don't apologize," he said, shaking his head. "I did something—"
"No." The word was fierce, all her air behind it. She took a long breath in. "Jacob did this."
His eyebrows wedged together. He wouldn't disagree with her, but he knew he'd done something to unearth the monster's memory.
"Can I hold you?"
"No," she said, the word rising in pitch as she tried not to cry.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"No, I'm just afraid."
He wanted to go break something. Pretend it was Jacob, and reduce it to its molecular pieces.
"Can you hold my hand instead, please?"
The uneven squeak of her voice made the anger crumble, and he put his cupped hand under hers, curling it around as she did. Not long after, she went to asleep, tumbling into the dark places where he wished he could follow.
