Author's notes (February 16, 2011): Sorry this is a couple of days late. Oh, and sorry for becoming increasingly FAIL at review replies. I read them all, but I often lose the chance to reply in a timely fashion, and I figure what you really want me to do is write, anyway, so...
Thanks to lovely ladies who also happen to be betas/pre-readers: duskwatcher2153, Aleeab4u and GreatChemistry.
SotPM's been nominated for some Vampie awards. I don't usually mention nominations, but since I unabashedly fap over the Vampies, if you think this deserves a vote, I'd appreciate it. (And to those who nominated me, thank you!) It's up for Best Overall, Best AU and Best Romance. A link to the award site is in my profile.
Chapter pic: bit(dot)ly/sotpm19-pic
Chapter music: bit(dot)ly/sotpm19-music
"SINS OF THE PIANO MAN"
CHAPTER 19: LA PUSH AND PULL
"Anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic."
Anaïs Nin
ISABELLA SWAN
Death was chasing me again. I could feel it behind me, closing in with its cold breath and snapping, snarling teeth.
Faster—I had to run faster.
No matter how hard I pushed myself, it always felt like I was only one step ahead of the feral being behind me. Stopping to rest wasn't an option.
A cliff edge was on the horizon. I knew the ocean lay below, tossing and turning like an upset stomach. I wouldn't survive a fall into its icy depths.
I kept running.
The cliff was closer than I thought, and as I neared it, my steps instinctively slowed as panic mounted. Cold breath tickled the back of my neck.
Then I heard him. Edward's voice was carried on the wind. "Jump," he said.
And I did, because I trusted Edward with my life.
I was flying. I was free.
"Hey, Dad!" I called as I entered the house to the sounds of rattling pots and pans.
"Oh! Isabella, is that you?" a woman with a Mexican accent answered from the kitchen. It was Mrs. Guzman, Charlie's primary caretaker. She was a kind woman, and I liked her, but even after three weeks, it was a little strange to visit Charlie and find someone else in the house with him.
Mrs. Guzman continued to speak to me from the other room. "Charlie was just about to have some lunch that Mrs. Cullen brought earlier. She's such a kind woman, bless her. I can heat some up for you if you'd like."
The heavy scent of fish wafted through the living room, and I turned up my nose. Yuck. At least Charlie was still eating what he liked.
"Um, no, thanks," I replied loudly enough for her to hear me as I sat down beside my father's hospital bed. He was asleep, but restive, his fingers twitching beside his overly-slender thighs. I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, unnerved—as always—to find that it was like I was holding his bones. My father was still here, I knew, but there was little physical proof of it left.
Mrs. Guzman came into the living room a moment later; she always wore cheery medical scrubs, as if this could somehow alleviate some of the unending depression of watching loved ones die. Today her top was baby blue and featured cute, cartoonish lambs that were dancing together on daisy-covered, grassy knolls. Her round, smiling face was damp from standing over the stove—and from the heat in the house. Charlie liked it warm nowadays. She set down a tray on a table at my father's bedside and laid out three pills on a napkin.
"He doesn't have to take these right away if he doesn't want to," she explained to me, "but they're here if he thinks he needs them." She smiled sweetly and surprisingly without any pity. I liked that about her. "I'll let you two have some time together. If he needs anything, let me know."
"Thanks, Mrs. Guzman." She nodded and bustled off to the laundry room, humming some church hymn along the way. Tone deaf as she was, it wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was still somehow comforting.
I ran a hand along the side of Charlie's gaunt face, careful not to tug on the tubing connected to his oxygen tank, which he'd recently come to require on a regular basis. His skin was rubbery, and purple and blue veins showed beneath the paper-thin paleness. "Dad?" I said softly. "You have something to eat here. Are you hungry?"
He turned a little, his breath hitching awkwardly as he woke. I let my hand fall to the bed.
"Bells?" he whispered.
"Yeah, it's me. Thought I'd come see you today." I forced a big smile to my face. "I've missed you. Good news, though: things are slowing down at school now, so I should be able to see you more." I wanted more time than we'd have.
He pushed at the buttons of a remote to lift his bed into a more upright position. "I'd like that. How is school, anyway? Haven't heard you talk about it much. Gotten any grades back?"
I nodded and busied myself with putting the tray over his lap, hoping my face wouldn't give away my lie. "Yeah, I'm doing really well this semester," I said. My voice was higher-pitched than it should be, a sure sign that I was spinning a tale, but I didn't think Charlie had ever caught on to that—or if he had, he'd never said as much.
Charlie nodded as he lifted the fork with a shaky hand and began to eat his salmon. "Angela's dad came to visit yesterday," he said a few minutes later. He took a deep, rattling breath. "Said Angela's engaged to the Cheney kid, and Lauren's moving out. Who's taking their places?" He gave me a pointed look.
I knew that protective dad look. Did he suspect Edward was moving in? Not that he'd be too far off the mark…
"Leah Clearwater is moving into Lauren's room," I answered, while uncomfortably squirming under his stare. "I think Angela's got someone organized to take her room over." I didn't tell him that I was now sort-of living with Edward. Sure, he liked Edward and wanted me to live life to the fullest, but I figured jumping into living with someone I'd dated for just a few months might be stretching it. Sometimes I wondered what I was thinking. If I was thinking at all.
I shoved thoughts of Edward aside.
"Leah's moving to Port Angeles?" I nodded and told him it was for school. "She's doing good, then?" he asked. His eyes took on that sad, far-away look they always did when he thought of the Clearwaters—of Leah's father, Harry, his deceased best friend; and of Sue, Harry's widow, whom he'd dated for a short time earlier in the year.
"I think she's okay," I said. "I haven't really seen her. Lauren said she's looking forward to moving in and starting school. I think she's ready to get off the reservation." And away from her ex, Sam Uley, and her cousin, Emily, both of whom had betrayed her horribly when they'd gotten engaged.
"She'll be fine. She's a good girl." Charlie nodded his approval. "Did I ever tell you"—he took an awkward breath, and the oxygen tank hissed—"the story about Harry and me scaring the kids on Halloween?"
He had told me—a dozen times, at least—but I listened, anyway; it was a good day when he was awake and wanted to reminisce. The story was old, one from when I was little, but I'd been away in California with Renée. As a kid, I'd never spent Halloween with my dad.
Harry and Charlie had dressed up in heavy black trench coats and drooping fisherman's hats that they'd found at the local Goodwill. Hovering outside the Clearwaters' small house, they scratched on Leah and her little brother Seth's bedroom window in the dead of night.
"We almost couldn't keep it up when Seth jumped into bed with Leah," Charlie said between raspy laughter. "Harry thought he might wet the bed."
When Leah was brave enough to go see what the source of the ruckus was, both men popped up from the darkness, flashlights shining beneath their chins, illuminating them to ghoulish effect. They roared like monsters come up from the deep and smacked the sides of the house with flattened palms.
Charlie continued to laugh through a cough. "Never heard kids scream that loud since. Sue was so pissed at us. The kids stayed up the whole night."
I grinned, trying to imagine a younger version of my father doing something like that. It was hard to picture. I'd spent so little time with him as a kid, and when I had, it had always been somewhat awkward; serious and loving, rarely playful beyond fishing trips and tagging along to the police station, where I played Solitaire and "colored" in Paint, even though the screens only supported the grayscale. Because of my parents' divorce, there were a lot of special moments I'd never had with my father, really.
Now we were too old for those moments, and there wasn't enough time to try to fix that. There never had been.
Staring out the front window, Charlie had stopped eating. I knew without asking that he was thinking about his friends on the reservation, especially Billy Black. Sure, my father had always lived in Forks, but the people he'd been closest to, those he'd called family, had all been down at La Push. That had all changed because of Jacob and me, and then later because the Cullens had helped Charlie.
I knew my father didn't regret sticking up for me or the Cullens, but having to pick and choose between family and friends is never easy. I'd been so busy thinking about how awkward everything felt for me. Had I ever really thought about how much it had hurt Charlie?
I'd make things right if I needed to.
"Do you miss Billy?" I asked.
Charlie cleared his throat and looked down at his full plate. The asparagus was probably cold now. "No," he said, but I could tell he didn't mean it.
"It's okay if you do." I rested a hand on one of his. "I mean, he's been a real jerk sometimes"—be nice, be nice, be niiice, I chanted to myself—"but he was one of your best friends. Do you… Do you want to see him?" I dreaded the thought of organizing that reunion, but I'd do it if it was what my father wanted. I wanted to give Charlie everything I could…and still I knew it would never be enough. I'd always have regrets. Too many to count.
"Maybe," Charlie admitted, picking up his fork again. He glanced at me. "So long as it wouldn't bother you, kid. Or cause trouble for the Cullens."
"It won't." It was only a small lie. I hoped. "I'll make sure it doesn't."
He nodded, reluctant but clearly hopeful. "Then, yeah, I think I'd like to see him again."
"Okay," I agreed, holding back a sigh. "I'll make sure you get to." I squeezed his hand. "I promise."
That evening, I reclined on the sofa at Edward's house—or, I guessed, our house, maybe—staring blankly at my laptop screen. Edward had gone to FedEx hard copies of some compositions, and for the first time in several days, I was able to spend some time on my research. I'd made a document to keep track of my findings, having named it 2009 Taxes to keep out anyone who might use the laptop—like Edward, for example.
Oh, yeah, I knew he'd been snooping, but I didn't think he knew that I knew.
The document I'd made had three columns: Maybe, Unlikely and Definitely Not. I felt ridiculous every time I put down some mythical creature in any of them, especially the crazier ones, like orcs and dragons. Then again, at least I could rule some stuff out.
"I wouldn't even need to do this if you'd just fucking tell me the truth," I complained to the quiet room. Lucky snorted where he lay beside the couch. I glanced down at him. "Too bad dogs can't talk," I told him. "I bet you know what he is, don't you?" Grunting, Lucky just rolled over on his back; his feet shifted in the air.
That dog was so lazy sometimes.
I'd mostly narrowed my search down to aliens, angels, demons, shape-shifters and—to my complete, blushing embarrassment—faeries. Although, I had to admit, Edward didn't strike me as the faery type, even if the oldest European legends described the "fair folk" as being unnaturally beautiful, humanlike creatures. Alice as a faery? Maybe. Edward? Not so much. I just couldn't get past visions of Disney's Tinkerbell.
"This is hopeless," I groaned.
If there was one thing I'd learned since beginning this strange search for the nearly-unbelievable truth, it was that after thousands of years of oral and written tradition, there were a whole hell of lot of mythological creatures out there and almost as many unhelpful crackpots—more than a few self-proclaimed shamans—who believed in them. How could I possibly narrow my search down without more information?
Bad circulation.
Stiff muscles.
Changing eye color/discoloration.
Fast reflexes.
Food allergies.
Doesn't sleep?
I wasn't sure about the last one, but even if it was true, it wasn't enough for me to learn anything new or narrow my Maybe list down.
Not for the first time, I considered confronting the Cullens. If Edward wouldn't give me any information, maybe they would. Having thought about it a lot, I was pretty sure that whatever he was, they were, too. Still, I was hesitant to go to them.
The difference between Edward and the Cullens—if they were actually the same…species—was that they were better at pretending to be human. I'd never even suspect them of being anything other than human, if not for Edward, and I worried that they might be good enough at being whatever they were that they could throw me off the right track. (If I'd even gotten anywhere near that right track.) It probably wouldn't even be hard for them to do that. Some days I was still convinced that I was dreaming or going crazy.
Anyway, I couldn't confront them yet, not until Charlie… Well, I just didn't want him caught in the middle of anything I might stir up, like a dramatic war between humans and the otherworld. Probably the last thing you'd want to find out in your final days was that your sleepy, peaceful town was potentially crawling with the unexplained. Charlie didn't need to deal with what I was going through. My life had turned into an X-Files episode; the worst thing about it was that you apparently couldn't solve these sorts of riddles in an hour.
The door from the garage to the kitchen opened and closed, and Lucky went scrambling off, nails click-clacking on the floor. Sighing, I exited out of my document and closed the laptop. I'd been staring at the screen for at least a half hour. Once again, I'd come away with nothing. I was at a dead end until I had something new to work with.
Lucky at his heels, Edward strolled into the living room. He gave me his best lopsided grin until he saw my laptop on the coffee table. "I'm back," he said unnecessarily, his eyes glued to the laptop.
He so didn't want me to know his secret, no matter how much I promised him it'd be okay to tell me.
And despite everything, I loved him. I was stupid with it.
I held out a hand for him to come closer. Touching him was easy, like breathing; it took my mind off of everything else—off of Charlie and secrets and even what the future might hold.
His shoulders slumped with relief and he came to me, resting a knee on the sofa between my legs, leaning in close to kiss me. His lips were cold and hard, and a little part of me hated how happy I was to feel him beneath my fingertips, to feel him touch me. I shouldn't love someone who lied, who was keeping secrets…but I did.
"I love you," he said in earnest, grabbing my face and kissing me harder.
Lauren, Leah, Angela and her friend Tori were waiting for me outside of Port Places, the property management company for the house I no longer lived in but still held onto out of paranoia over Edward's secrecy. I tried not to think about that too much.
Considering I'd never met Tori before, I probably should have paid more attention to her, but Leah was who I noticed as I pulled up beside Angela's Camry. Leah had always been a pretty, long-limbed girl—one of the tallest girls I'd ever met—but now she towered even above Angela's six-foot frame. Her face was hard, sharply angled, and her black hair was cut short. She wore an expression that was caught somewhere between dismay and confident cockiness. I tried not to stare, but I couldn't help it; she just drew your attention. It was like a giant Amazon woman had been dropped down into Port Angeles.
"Hey, guys," I said as I slipped out of my car. "Sorry I'm late. The guy after me was slow getting in for his shift at the restaurant, and I had to stay back a bit."
"Whatever." Leah shrugged a shoulder. "Let's get this show on the road already."
Lauren cut her eyes over at her. "It's not Bella's fault that some asshole was late."
"Didn't say it was, but I've got to get back to the rez for a tribal meeting."
Tori, a plump, brown-haired girl who was my height, stepped forward and offered me her hand. "Hi, Bella, don't worry about being late." She smiled, showing off a dimple in her right cheek. "It's nice to finally meet you. Angela's told me all about you. We keep you and your dad in our prayers."
Lot of good those have done. Knowing she meant well, I forced myself to return her smile as I shook her hand. "Hi, Tori."
Leah sighed loudly. "Are we all acquainted now? Awesome. Let's go sign those papers." She stalked off toward the entrance to Port Places.
Angela leaned over to Lauren and whispered, "What's her problem this time?"
"This time?" I asked.
Angela nodded. "She was like this when she visited the house, too. Kind of…"
"Super bitchy," Lauren offered. "I guess that's what I get for finding someone on Craigslist." She frowned at me. "I know you used to know her and all, but you're sure you're going to be okay with her?" she asked. Then she rolled her eyes. "Of course, you're mostly with lover boy these days, so I guess it all works out."
Tori added, "I'm sure Leah's nice underneath it all."
Lauren didn't look so sure. I wasn't either. Leah had been bitter after what happened with Sam. I'd only ever known a bitter Leah, honestly, but bitterness that's carried around for years makes for a whole different person.
In the end, the paper signing went smoothly; it turned out that transferring the lease of a rundown rental house wasn't that difficult. The property manager, Kelly, seemed to want to get us out of there as quickly as possible, too. Leah's foreboding stares and imposing figure made seemed to make her nervous.
"Okay, you both sign here," Kelly said, moving a sheet of paper toward Angela and Lauren. "Your term on the lease will end on the thirty-first of December." She slid a second paper to Leah and Tori. "You'll be able to move in on the third, after we perform an inspection. Sign here." She tapped a pink-painted fingernail on a signature line.
And that was that. It amazed me how quickly big things in life could change from something as easily-forged as a signature.
Late for an afternoon class, Lauren hurried out the door as soon as we were done, waving a hand behind her in farewell. Angela turned to me with a smile once we were outside. "Here," she said, and pressed a creamy-yellow envelope into my hand.
I stared at it. "Is this a wedding invitation?" I asked with a laugh. "Already?"
She nodded, grinning. "We're working as fast as possible."
"Probably for the better," I said, thinking of her morning sickness…that she seemed to have at night whenever I'd been around her lately.
"You'll come?" she pressed. "You and Edward?"
I smiled. "We wouldn't miss it for anything." I gave Angela a hug and offered the usual pleasantries to Tori before they left.
"So you don't stay at the house much anymore?"
I jumped in surprise and looked over at Leah, who stood just behind me. I hadn't realized she was still there. "Um, not so much. Why?"
She shrugged. "It's just for the better. I'm not sure your boyfriend and me would get along too well. In fact, I can tell you we wouldn't."
I frowned at her. "Do you even know Edward? He's nice to everyone."
"I'll bet," she muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She rolled her eyes. "Never mind. Anyway, everything should be cool if you can keep him out of my way."
I spluttered disbelievingly. "My name's on that lease, too! Edward can come around whenever he feels like it. And what's your problem, anyway? You don't even know him." I felt my face grow hot. My heart beat faster. If she thought she was going to be a bastard about someone I cared about, all because she had some chip on her shoulder…
"Look, he's good friends with the Cullens—"
"Yeah? What about it? So am I, Leah."
She blew air past her lips and rolled her eyes. "It's different. You don't get it. And you wouldn't be friends with them if you knew better."
It was all I could do to keep from stamping my foot. "You're right. I don't get it. I don't get why you guys hate the Cullens. The only thing I can figure is that you're fucking racist."
"Racist?" she shouted. A young couple coming out of Port Places glanced at us uncomfortably and rushed by.
"If that's not it, then what is it?" But even as the words fell from my lips, I felt my eyes widen. It was like finding the jacket in Edward's closet all over again.
I stepped closer, my mouth hanging open, my heart racing. "You know, don't you? That's it, isn't it?" I said. "You guys know what they are."
Leah narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?" She made to brush past me. "God, Bella, you've lost it. I don't have time for this. I've gotta get back to the rez."
I grabbed her arm and was surprised when I was met with solid muscle. She was feverishly hot to the touch. I blinked down at where I held her, saying, "Wait. You know. You have to tell me."
Shaking her head, she pried my fingers off her arm and pulled away. "I don't know what you're talking about." She looked around uncomfortably. "I gotta go." She strode, long-legged, to the rusty motorbike she'd come to Port Angeles on.
"Leah! Wait!" I called after her.
But she ignored me as she mounted the bike. She kickstarted it and pulled out of the parking lot at top speed—no helmet on her head.
"Shit!" I shouted, attracting the offended stare of an old woman.
Did the Quileutes know? If they did, would they tell me?
Rain pelted the glass wall of Edward's bedroom. The world outside was cold, verdant and wet—appropriately dismal weather for the first day of December. I'd have to get up soon to face the day and go to work, but for now I was here, safe in Edward's bed, safe with Edward—no matter how inhuman he might be, no matter what the Quileutes thought of him (if they even did know the truth).
Here, we were outside of reality. We made our own little world. Nothing could touch me. Except him. And I didn't mind that at all.
A cold finger drew figure eights along my naked back. I felt the arcing curve of the first loop, the way he doubled it back on itself directly against my spine, and then swept down low for the second loop, which ran so feather-like against the small of my back that it almost tickled. Closing my eyes, I listened as he quietly hummed the lullaby that always seemed to be evolving, depending on his mood.
"I think I could stay like this forever," I sighed. Even with all his secrets. A lifetime of gnawing curiosity maybe wouldn't be so bad if I got this peace with it. Maybe.
Edward stopped humming and lay his palm flat against the middle of my back. "So stay," he said as he shifted a little closer and ran his knee along the back of my thigh. It was an inviting touch.
Coolness radiated from him, and I welcomed the oddly comfortable numbness that stole over my back and legs because of it. It was like floating on cool lake water, the sensation of being one with the velvety molecules that lay behind me.
I smiled a little, almost dreamily. "Forever's a long time, I think."
"It probably would be, yes."
"You'd get tired of me," I teased.
Edward pulled me closer, until I was finally flush against him. "Never. That'd be impossible."
I laughed. "Never's a long time, too."
Cupping my shoulder with his hand, he turned me until I was lying on my back. He leaned over me, then, until our chests touched. Golden eyes searched mine and held me with an almost frightening intensity. When did things become so serious?
"You have no idea… I could never not want you, Bella," he said, his mouth close to mine. His breath was sweet like honey—and distantly I added that to his list of oddities. The scent of him almost seemed to play tricks on my mind, dull me into calmness or arouse me until I was moving my hips against him. Most of the time, it managed to do a bit of both.
"You want me now," I whispered, pushing against his hard length, letting my legs fall open wider. It was an endless cycle: knowing he wanted me made me want him.
The serious moment snapped, and went away as quickly as it had appeared. Edward quirked a brow and blindly flung out an arm for the box of condoms that had a permanent home on the nightstand. He didn't pull faces about them as much these days. "Like I said, I always want you."
As he pushed inside me, I watched his eyes darken to pitch black. He never looked more alien than when his eyes were black. It was scary how it seemed to call to me, how it seemed to reach down and caress something that I knew was in me, something dark—something that had always made me his. I loved it, whether it was right to or not.
He ran hands over my breasts and thighs and stomach. I grabbed his hips, pressed my fingers flat against unmovable flesh, felt the way his whole body trembled like a livewire. He was holding back—he always did—and a little part of me loved that; that he could break me, but wouldn't, that I so thoroughly controlled him, even if indirectly. I was powerful. I'd never been so powerful. Or so powerless to emotion.
"More," I urged. Testing him. Testing us.
He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. I heard the sheets rip beneath his hands. Like a lot of things, that should have scared me, but it happened nearly every time we were together. I always came away fine. He wordlessly replaced sheets.
I pushed up to meet him. "More."
Shaking his head again, he breathed, "Can't."
"You can." My breath hitched as he groaned. "Trust me."
Surprisingly, he did—or maybe he was just too far gone to overanalyze. Grabbing the arcing, oaken headboard, he stretched out above me, all long sinew, pale and flawless marble flesh. His pace quickened until nothing was left but our incoherent sounds and the creaking of wood.
The room melted away. I felt him—hard inside, hard outside. We slid together easily, like we were made for this animal act. In a daze, I watched his throat, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly.
I was close, but not there yet.
Edward knew. He stilled for a moment and took one hand from the headboard. Grabbing my right hand from his hip, he pressed it between my legs. "I-I can't touch you at the same time. Let me watch you. Show me." He groaned, "Oh, God, show me."
I blushed red, but he wasn't interested in my embarrassment as he went back to the headboard and began to move again, his black eyes intent on the hand between my legs. At first it was hard not to feel like I was putting on a show, but eventually nerves gave way to pleasure. As I moved my fingers, I brought my knees back and watched him disappear in my body, over and over again.
I bared my secrets to him, as I wished he'd bare his to me—and feared he never would. In the end, it was more the way he watched me that did me in, like he was hungry, like he'd never get enough of me.
"Edward," I breathed.
There was a resounding clap, and it took me a minute to realize it was the sound of his teeth snapping together. A rumbling sound started low in his chest. Goosebumps and fine hairs rose on my skin, but that didn't stop me from pressing my hands against his ribs to marvel at the strangeness that he was sharing, intentionally or not.
He wasn't looking directly at me, but I could see the tension in his jaw from him profile. "Let it out," I whispered.
He hesitated, but only for a moment. Then his lips turned back, making him look more animal than man, and a low, reverberating growl passed around the edges of his clenched teeth. The sound continued in his chest, even as his head fell back, as he pushed forward, as release stole over him. I felt the sound in his ribs, vibrating low and strong, almost like a cat's purr.
"Wow," I said dumbly.
Edward's black eyes snapped back to me. He didn't seem all there, and for a moment, I wondered if I should be afraid, but then his face softened, and I knew that whatever dark place he sometimes drifted off to—he'd come back. He always came back to me. That's why I was never afraid.
Taking a deep breath, he rested his hands on either side of my shoulders and leaned over me. He kissed my forehead, then my cheeks. "Are you all right?" he asked. He always asked.
I nodded. "Of course." I sighed against his neck. "So you did growl at Lucky that day," I said.
His eyes widened.
"Well, you're not human. I guess…it's to be expected?" Would he ever tell me the truth? Would I ever figure it out?
Edward kissed my shoulder. "You test me too much," he said.
"Someone needs to." Smiling, I ran my fingers through his soft hair. "Besides, you'd think I was boring if I didn't."
"It's dangerous," he whispered. "I don't like admitting that, but it is."
"You'd never hurt me."
"I couldn't live with myself if I did, Bella."
I kissed his ear. "You won't ever hurt me. Whatever you are, I know that much."
Edward was staring. Again.
"What?" I laughed, blushing and self-consciously running a hand through my hair.
He smiled apologetically. "You're not eating. Something's on your mind… Charlie?"
"Sort of." I rested my spoon in my bowl of soup. "I'm going to the rez tomorrow to try to get Billy to visit my dad, and—"
His eyes widened. "You're going where?"
"To La Push."
"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "No, you're not."
"Excuse me?"
"I'd simply rather you not go, Bella."
"Why?" Other than they may know the truth… As far as I was concerned, that was all the more reason to suffer the trip.
Edward shrugged. "Can't you just call Billy Black?"
I sighed. "I wish." That much was true. "I'm pretty sure this'll take a personal visit." Especially considering the last phone call with Billy had ended with several expletives and a wheelchair reference. To be fair, he had called the Cullens evil. "I don't really want to go, but I have to. Charlie needs to see him." And I would do anything for Charlie.
Sitting straight and still, Edward searched my face. "As my…girlfriend…if I asked you not to go, for me, would you refrain?" His eyes were dark, not black, but not their usual amber, either.
"Are you really asking me to choose between you and my dad?"
"That's not it at all."
"That's what it sounds like."
"It's not."
"Well, what is it?" I asked. Other than the Quileutes may know the truth, I thought again. That's has to be it. I narrowed my eyes at him. I wouldn't be sharing that theory. I still wasn't sure what I should do with it myself.
"Perhaps I don't want you seeing Jacob Black," Edward said. "Perhaps I'm jealous."
"You wouldn't get jealous."
He scoffed, "Wouldn't I?"
"I wo— Wait." I stilled. "I never told you about Jacob."
"What? Of course you did," he replied. He didn't miss a beat.
"No," I said, glaring at him. "I didn't." How did he know? Who had told him? Lauren, Angela? I wasn't even sure why it bothered me, but it did.
Appetite lost, I rose from the table with my half-empty bowl of soup and went to the kitchen sink. Edward followed me.
"Don't go to La Push," he said in a low, firm voice, as if that could sway me.
I washed out my bowl and set it out to dry. "You don't get to tell me where I can and can't go, Edward, especially when it comes to something for my father." I glanced at him. "Unless you want to tell me the whole truth. Maybe we could cut a deal."
He scowled at me.
"That's what I thought."
"You can't keep pulling this with me," he said angrily, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Simply because I won't tell you everything—for your safety, no less—doesn't mean you get to completely disregard my desires."
"I'm not trying to," I said as evenly as possible, "but you haven't given me a good reason not to go."
"Because you shouldn't!" he shouted. "It's not safe, and I can't go with you!"
I threw a dishcloth down on the counter. "What are you talking about? I've been to La Push more times than I can count—long before you ever came along. Nothing bad ever happened."
He ran a hand through his hair, lifting the strands until they stood up high on his head—almost comically so, like one of those troll dolls from the nineties. "If you care for me at all, you'll not go," he said.
"That's completely unfair, and you know it."
"It's true."
"It's dirty. You just want to have everything your way."
He laughed. "I want to have everything my way? Oh, that's rich, Bella." Frowning, he turned on his heel and stalked to the door to the backyard. "I'm going out for a while. I'll be back in a few hours."
At the sound of the back door opening, Lucky ran into the kitchen, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. Edward turned dark eyes to the dog, and Lucky came to an abrupt stop. His tail, which had been wagging, drooped between his legs.
"Aren't you going to take him?" I asked. "It'd be safer." It's what Edward always made me do when I went outside.
Edward laughed again. It was a dark, bitter sound. "I'm not the one who needs protection, Bella." As he stepped outside, he called back to me, "Don't go to La Push. I'll work out a way for Billy to see your father, but don't you go." He slammed the door so hard that Lucky yelped in surprise.
True to his word, Edward returned a few hours later. We awkwardly apologized, but didn't really solve any of our problems. The most I could offer him was that I'd tell him if and when I decided to go to the rez.
I debated with myself all through the night. Edward didn't want me to go there at all, and—to some degree—I should respect that desire as an adult in a committed relationship. That seemed like the reasonably mature thing to do.
On the other hand, going to the reservation was about fulfilling one of my father's last wishes, to get to see a best friend he'd not been close to for nearly two years now. Could I simply ignore that, all because the Quileutes and Cullens—and now, apparently, Edward, too—didn't get along? That was their business, regardless of what was fueling all the hate. Did Charlie and I really have to be stuck in the middle?
Things changed when I saw Charlie the next day. He didn't even wake up to see me. Today was a bad day—morphine drip and all. He'd only used morphine once or twice before, and I was afraid of what it might mean now, this far into the cancer, this close to the…end.
It was a last minute decision. Windshield wipers scraping away the typical, fine mist of Forks, I took a turn toward La Push after I left my father's. I didn't bother calling Edward. This was my business, and I wasn't about to let him stop me. I'd make things right. My father would get to see his friend one last time. Everyone else could get over the politics of it, as far as I was concerned.
My cell phone buzzed as I made my way onto the reservation. Alice. I didn't bother answering. While the Cullens weren't so openly antagonistic about the Quileutes, I had no doubt that Alice would try to talk me out of what I was doing. She'd be nice about everything, probably more so than Edward, but still passionately against the idea of my visiting.
It'd been years since I'd visited La push, but it was just as I remembered it—all winding roads buried in forest. Burrowed out bald spots held houses nearer to the beach, but most of the reservation remained untouched outside of a half dozen or so main strips of civilization. A few tall, young boys wandered in clustered groups, shirtless and in cut-off shorts, despite it being forty degrees outside; they looked bored as they kicked a soccer ball between them.
As I drove farther away from La Push's more obvious civilization, I wondered if this was maybe how America would look if Columbus had never set foot here. La Push was a little like another world—less busy, more homologous. In the past, I'd loved it; it had been my second, more enchanting home. Now I saw things differently. Everything seemed so isolated, almost claustrophobic. A whole world lay outside this place, and I wanted to see it one day, if I got the chance.
Where the Blacks lived, the gravel road was prone to washing out, so that for half of the year, you were forced to park far back on the "driveway" and walk to the house in uneven pebbles and thick, grey-brown mud. It would have been better to have the road paved, at least near the house, especially what with Billy being in a wheelchair, but they didn't have much money. I understood that at least, how need sometimes came second to finances, even if it shouldn't.
As I neared their little red house on foot, my boots squelching, I saw him.
Oh, God.
Jacob Black.
Even leaning over the open hood of an old white truck, he was taller than I remembered, less of a gangly boy, more of a grown man. It made him a little easier to look at. In this form, he wasn't the first boy I'd given everything to, the boy who'd broken my heart; neither was I that girl. I was just a stranger crossing another stranger's path.
That's what I tried to tell myself, anyway.
I didn't bother with hellos or any sort of pleasantry. I jumped right in, like yanking a Band-aid off a wound. I called out, "Your dad inside, Jacob?"
Jacob sprang up so fast that his head smacked the propped up hood he was working under. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. He turned to me, rubbing the crown of his black-haired head. His eyes widened as he took me in, as if he couldn't believe I was in La Push.
That made two of us.
"Bella?" he asked. He still had those soft brown eyes. Quick-to-laughter eyes that made me miss the friendship we'd once had.
"Yep. It's me," I said.
He cleaned his big hands on a dirty rag. God, he really was tall. Standing straight, he had to be almost seven feet—and muscles everywhere. He looked uncomfortable and fidgety, a somewhat awkwardly amusing sight in a big man.
"Relax, Jacob. I'm here for your dad," I said.
"Sure, sure. I heard you." He shrugged and looked over the large expanse of their lawn; he'd always made sure the grass was cut, and it didn't look like he'd changed that ritual. "Wanna walk for a minute?"
"Uh, I don't know that that's a good idea. I'm here for Billy. I want him to see Charlie."
"He's not here right now," Jacob said. I must have looked skeptical, because he said more firmly, "He's not. But he'll go see your dad. I'll tell him you came. Or you can wait for Sue to bring him back." He looked hopeful. "He's wanted to see Charlie, you know, but he didn't know how you guys'd take it."
"He's wanted to? Even after what I said?" I asked.
Jacob's lips twitched in amusement. "I heard about that. You were pretty creative, I'll give you that, but nah, Dad's not one to hold a grudge."
Until it comes to the Cullens, I thought, but didn't voice the opinion. I nodded. "Okay, well…thanks. I guess I should head back to Port Angeles…" Part of me wanted to ask him if he knew anything about the Cullens or Edward, but it was too awkward. I could have asked Billy, maybe, but not Jacob.
Shifting his weight onto his other leg, Jacob looked at me like he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say or do. I understood the sentiment.
"Well, goodbye," I said, and turned on my heel.
"Bella?" I looked back. "I'm sorry, you know," he said. "I never meant for things to happen the way they did. Between you and me."
My face warmed with embarrassment. I hated remembering that day, even if it had been almost three years now. Jacob and I had gone on a movie date one night, when he'd started feeling sick afterward. For over two weeks, I tried to get in touch with him, but Billy always had some excuse at the ready for his son not being able to come to the phone, and under no uncertain terms was I allowed to come around him when he was "so contagious." I'd worried enough that I finally couldn't take it any longer and came to the rez, anyway… Only to find Jacob alive and well and hugging another girl, looking at her in a way he'd never looked at me.
That day was the only one I could ever remember being violent. I wasn't proud of what I'd done, but I hadn't exactly been in control of myself. I slapped him so hard I'd broken a finger. Carlisle set it in a splint for me that same day.
"I am sorry," Jacob pressed over my silence.
"It's okay," I managed to say, though my voice came out all strangled. "It all worked out." That was true, I thought. What I'd had with Jacob paled beside what I now had with Edward, even if secrets came between us. At least I knew the secrets had nothing to do with another girl. I didn't understand it, but Edward had eyes for no one else. I was more than okay with that.
"Maybe you're right." Jacob didn't seem so sure. "This…guy you're with now… I don't really like—"
He knows about Edward, too? God, word travels fast in small towns! I pointed a finger at him. "If you're about to go where I think you are… Just don't even start. I already heard shit from Leah."
That caught him off guard. "What did she say? I knew she shouldn't live with you…"
I almost laughed. Everyone around me was saying everything and nothing nowadays. "She said enough about someone she knows nothing about. I'm not interested in hearing it from you, too. And it's not a problem for her to be in the house with me." Because I wasn't really in the house, but I didn't tell him that.
Jacob's shoulders relaxed. "We just worry about you, Bells. That's why we—"
"Don't call me Bells," I snapped.
"Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it." Sighing, he dropped his hands back to his sides. At only nineteen, he was still awkward in his body; he slapped his palms against his thighs. It was obvious that he wasn't through talking, so I stayed.
He surprised me when he jogged forward and pulled me into a hug. It was brief, hardly an embrace at all, but I felt it even after he pulled away; his skin was feverish, just like Leah's had been. The heat lingered in the same way Edward's coolness did.
Jacob stepped back and looked at me with a sudden, disbelieving expression, his nose crinkled up. "He's all over you. I didn't know it'd gone that far…"
What was he talking about?
I shoved him away. "Get off me, Jacob." I was breathing heavily and felt nervous in his overpowering presence.
His shoulders trembled as he stared at me in unguarded disgust.
Alarms seemed to go off somewhere in my head as I watched him shake with rage. Get away, get away. Why couldn't Billy have just been here?
I took a few steps back. "I'm…gonna go. Don't forget to talk to your dad for me."
"So you just choose them—him? That's it?"
"The Cullens and Edward have been my family," I said, still backing away.
"We would have been your family!" he shouted angrily. "You never gave us the chance once Charlie got sick."
I could have stayed and argued, dug up the whole rotten past, but I just shook my head and continued to retreat. He was too angry, too foreign. The seething man in front of me was not the soft, sweet boy I'd known. I didn't want to know this man. "I'm going, Jake," I said in a shaky voice. And then I ran all the way back to my car.
The sun set on my way out of La Push. When I got back to Port Angeles, it was six o'clock and completely dark. No lights were on in the house, but Edward's car was in the garage. I shut the door behind me quietly. "Edward?" I called out into the dark kitchen. No answer. I called again, more loudly.
No answer.
"Dammit," I muttered as I stumbled around, trying to find the light switch. Was it on the left or right? I couldn't remember… I slid my hand over the wall to my right. I was probably just barely missing it.
"Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"
I gasped in surprise. "Edward?" I couldn't see a damn thing, and now my heart was racing. "Jesus, why are you sitting in the dark?" His voice seemed to come from the breakfast table, but I couldn't see him.
"I've been waiting for you," he said. "I expected at least a phone call. You promised me that much."
"I stayed with Charlie longer than I thought I would…"
"And you went to La Push. Without giving me any warning." He sounded cold, distant. I'd never heard him like this.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I should have called. I just…you would have talked me out of it." That argument sounded pretty weak, and I knew it. I'd gone back on my word. He had a right to feel angry about that, at least.
"I imagine I would have tried to, yes. But would you have listened? Probably not."
I ran my hand over the wall again, meeting only flat surface area. "Where's the light switch? I can't find it."
"You don't need it."
Suddenly, I felt him in front of me. Gasping in surprise again, I took a step back.
"You want my secrets," he said. "Here's one. I see fine in the dark." He leaned closer, so that I felt him just before my face. "You're beautiful in the dark."
"Oh," I breathed. My blood felt hot in my veins.
Though I could feel him near, feel his cold body, he was a mottled, amorphous lump of gray-green and black among the darkness of the kitchen. I heard him breathe in deeply.
"You smell wrong."
"What?" I whispered.
Then Edward's fingers threaded through my hair, snaked through the strands to grab at the base of my skull. He tilted my head to the side and back so far that my neck dully ached. I took in a faltering breath as he kissed down the length of my throat.
"Do you have any idea how much you frighten me?" he asked. A kiss. A cool-tongued lick. "How much you've always frightened me?"
"I don't mean to…"
He pulled me closer. He was aroused… My body instantly responded to his desire.
"What would I do if I lost you?" he said, though he seemed not to be speaking to me. "What would I become? It's you who keeps me grounded. It always has been. Without you… If I lose you, I lose myself."
"Shh," I said, running a hand along his neck. "You're okay. We're okay." Were we? What the hell was happening? It didn't feel like Edward was with me entirely.
Fear spiked, but only for a second. I lost my train of thought as he slid a hand over my front and gripped my left breast, squeezed my flesh hard. "I feel your heart," he said. "I love listening to it."
My body hummed with dark tension—hairs raised, flesh prickling; animal instinct seemed to understand what took several more seconds for my brain to piece together. A little voice inside whispered, You went too far this time. Too far for what, though? What was happening? I could barely think beyond the scent of him—sweet and heavy. His want, my want.
"Are you okay?" I managed to ask through his caressing hands and open-mouthed kisses. I still felt his detachment, but also a lower layer of anxiety. My fingers were buried in his hair as he continued to kiss my neck and shoulders, but I felt them shifting every so often—trembling.
"I need to be in you," he half-answered in a low, dark voice, over my mouth. "Take off your clothes." I felt his smirk against my mouth. "Or I can, if you'd prefer."
I heard myself swallow. "You really want me?" But I knew he did. I'd already dropped a hand from his hair to reach for the hem of my shirt. His hand slid down from my breast and expertly unbuttoned my jeans. I more listened than saw Edward remove his clothing.
"That's better," he sighed. "Now you smell like you." He breathed in again. "And me."
I tried to process and analyze all the strange things he was saying, but then cold hands were grabbing my face. Hard lips pressed to mine. This was a different kiss from any we'd shared so far—demanding and desperate and rough enough to make my lips throb. I stopped thinking critically.
"I really can't see anything," I told him when he'd moved back to my neck. "I want to see you."
He moved away from me so suddenly that I stumbled forward and bumped into the counter. I gripped it for support as I heard the clunky whish of the wooden kitchen blinds being pulled up. Moonlight flooded the breakfast nook with a bright grey-white square; it softly illuminated the whole kitchen.
Edward was behind me again.
He moves so fast… Not human. Not at all. Excitement, anticipation and maybe a little fear had my whole body on edge.
"You're really fast," I said, and my voice shook.
"I am," he said, and pressed a hand between my shoulder blades until I was forced to bend over the countertop. My elbows rested on hard granite. My breathing was loud and ragged as his knee pushed one of my legs to the side. I bit my lip until it hurt.
From this angle, with the blinds open and the room dark, I could see the shadowy depths of the woods that ran along the perimeter of Edward's—our—backyard. I watched them in a disconnected, aroused daze as Edward pushed inside me in one swift thrust. "Yes," I hissed, surprised by how much I enjoyed this somewhat twisted coupling in the dark.
Again, I couldn't think, because Edward was moving in a way he'd never moved with me. He wasn't gentle, and he didn't try to hide the low rumble in his chest. I felt it vibrating through his chest when he leaned over me, pressing me into the countertop as he thrust and pushed and grabbed. I lay against the counter, my breasts pressed flat to the cold, hard surface, my back pushed down by Edward's equally cold, hard skin.
"You can't go where I can't follow," he said against my ear. "I can't lose you." He was wild and desperate.
My hipbones banged into the edge of the counter painfully, making meaty thumping sounds that echoed rhythmically with the slap of Edward's skin against my own. His right hand braced my shoulder, while his left tightly clutched one breast. He used my whole body for leverage—for us, for our pleasure—or against me, I wasn't sure. I was too far gone to analyze the hows or whys behind this. I was at his mercy, silent save for breathless pants.
I lost myself to that strange, heady place before release—where the burning tension is blinding enough to suffuse all other thought, blinding enough to dull pain and heighten pleasure.
I cried out when I felt the first flickering spasm, my fingers clawing along the counter, grasping uselessly. My legs shook, as if half my body was caught in some epileptic attack. Edward's hands moved to my hips, gripping tightly enough that I knew it should hurt, but I was beyond pain. I was beyond everything.
He followed me silently, darkly; even the rumbling had stopped. One last slap of skin, a hiss of breath between clenched teeth, and then there was the cool, almost shocking sensation of him as he came inside me. We hadn't used protection. I hadn't even thought of it. Forehead pressed to the counter, I whimpered, feeling spent.
Slowly, the world went back to normal, though one of my ears continued to ring, so that my uneven breathing sounded tinny on the right side of my head. My legs stopped quivering, but Edward's hands hadn't moved from my hips, nor had he slid away from me. I didn't ask him to move.
Minutes passed. Pleasure subsided, and I began to think rationally again and notice, with some shock, pain. Deep in my shoulder, along my breast, down my waist and hips, on the backs of my thighs… There was even a dull ache between my legs. My body suddenly began to close up in discomfort, so that the tightness between my legs as I held him wasn't of ecstasy but of distress. "Edward… Let me up, please."
He moved away abruptly, so fast that it felt grossly alien, like something was torn from my body—a part of me, a part of him. Then I stood up stiffly and pushed away from the counter. I crossed my arms to cover my breasts.
I turned to Edward slowly. "What…what just happened?" I was shaking. The room, which had felt so warm just moments before, was now freezing.
"I…" he began, but he didn't finish. He was staring at me, his face slack with horror. It was one of the most unguarded expressions I'd ever seen on Edward's face, and it chilled my blood.
My whole body seemed to throb with the beating of my heart as I looked down at myself.
Even in the grey, barely there light, I saw what he saw.
Angry red marks. The promise of bruising, black and blue.
I'm hurt, a part of my brain told me in a clear, clinical manner. He hurt me. He always thought he would. He has.
Somewhere, Edward was talking. "Please forgive me. Oh, God, please forgive me."
I hardly heard him as I stared at my bare hips, at the eight dark red dots that represented fingers. There were even darker marks directly on my hipbones, where they'd slammed into the countertop. I felt the pain now.
"Do you need to see Carlisle?"
I looked up at him. As his dark eyes moved over my body, he seemed afraid.
It was disturbing that I had to even consider his question, but thankfully all my pain felt like it was on the surface or near to it. "No… I think I'm okay."
But I wasn't. Not really.
Because now I was thinking clearly; now I was analyzing. Our sex hadn't been about us. I knew that now. It'd been about something else—an animal anger, an animal panic—something from Edward's world that I didn't fully know or understand. Something he wouldn't tell me, I knew, because he never willingly told me anything.
Physically speaking, I wasn't bothered by what we had done. It wasn't like I hadn't been a willing participant, but I felt betrayed somehow. Edward had always seemed like my rock, my sheltering protection. I'd trusted myself with him. But I knew he hadn't been in control this time—not really. The dark place had taken him and swallowed me up in the process.
He warned you he was dangerous, though, didn't he?
Everything felt wrong. I thought I could live with lies, but that was stupid. I was stupid.
I moved away from him until my bruised bottom pressed into the counter.
"This is crazy. I-I can't do this anymore," I heard myself whisper. "I have to leave."
"I didn't mean to hurt you… You have to know that." His voice cracked. It sounded strange, because it was the most human he'd ever sounded.
"I know you didn't mean to," I said softly. "It's not that."
I bent slowly against my muscles' protests and grabbed my clothes from the floor. I hurt all over. I didn't look at him as I shook my head. "You won't tell me the truth. And now…tonight. You were angry at me about going to the rez, and you didn't even think…" I trailed off. "You just used me to prove something… It wasn't about us." The steady, deep ache in my hips told me how much he could have hurt me.
Just what was Edward Masen capable of?
"Bella… Don't. Don't do this." He grabbed at his hair. "I'll do anything."
I glanced at him. "Anything but give me the truth, you mean."
His face fell, all crumbled porcelain in the faded light. "It won't even matter," he said brokenly. "You'll leave if I tell you the truth, too."
I closed my eyes and took a deep, steadying breath that unfortunately didn't steady me at all. "I can't do this anymore," I said again.
"Where will you go?" he asked, forlorn but resigned.
"To Charlie's," I replied, surprising even myself with the answer. "I just want to be with Dad for these last few days." Because I knew it was days now, not weeks.
"All right," Edward said softly. "Are we… Do you want me to leave? For good, I mean." I heard him swallow loudly, uncomfortably, but I'd turned around, to look at the moonlit backyard, so I wouldn't see his face anymore. I couldn't bear to look at him in that moment, for fear that I might go back on this decision. "I told you I'd leave if you asked me to."
"You can do whatever you want, Edward," I said tiredly. "Just…leave me alone for right now. Give me some space." With that, I walked out of the room.
It didn't take long to stuff things into a backpack—some clothes, my journal and laptop with all its fucking useless research. And the dragonfly fossil. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I touched the imprinted wings and tried not to cry over the tearing pain in my heart or the aches of my body.
I felt so many things that I thought I might burst. Love and anger. Grief. Despair. Uncertainty, insecurity over an unknown future. My stomach roiled.
For now, though, I shut myself down, tried to put on the hard, armored mask I'd worn when I first met Edward, when I'd been working to keep my dad alive. It didn't fit nearly as well as it once had. I'd changed. Life had changed.
Both of us dressed again, Edward stood with me beside my car. His eyes were black as he gazed at me from several feet away. He wouldn't come closer, and I didn't ask for him to.
"I know apologies are inadequate," he said, "so I won't offer any more. But, Bella… I love you. It's wrong of me to—you see that now—but it doesn't make it any less true."
I didn't realize I was crying until I felt tears running down my face. They were hot against my winter-chilled skin. "I love you, too," I said, "but right now…it's not enough." I opened my car door. "I need time to think, and maybe you do too." I forced myself to look him in the eye, to give him a hard stare. "I won't be with you without the truth, Edward. Not after tonight."
It took holding my breath and forcing a maniacal smile to my face, but I managed to hold in the worst of my sobbing until I got to the main highway. There, I pulled over in the dark night, and screamed against the arm of my father's jacket.
Closing Notes: (1) You knew Edward and Bella had to snap at some point, right? (2) Trust me? (3) Please? (4) *crickets chirp* (5) Damn…