Word Prompt: Palpable

Something True

Palpable

This Fall

Icy.

A cold she's never felt before.

A cold that burns, that crushes her lungs, and seems to split her head in two.

For the first second, Bella doesn't mind the pain. She's as calm as the water was before she jumped. The next second her heart is pounding too fast, her lungs are taking involuntary breaths. She can't control it which makes her panic worse. She's swallowing water, choking on it.

Her pounding head breaks through the surface. She coughs and coughs, her lungs continuing to fight for breath even though air is all around her. She kicks her legs, stretching her arm for the dock, not even sure she's reaching in the right direction. A hand catches her and yanks her up—rough—her body scraping against the wood.

"What are you doing?"

On her feet, she's coughing against his body. Everything around her is black.

"You're like ice. Why did you do that?"

The dog barks; she shivers; her bones can't be still. Arms lift her and she's carried fast through air that stings. The breeze pricks at her through her clothes like fire sparks flicking over skin. She hides her face from everything. The coughing finally subsides into one or two at a time, with breaks in between.

"What were you thinking, Bella? Fuck!"

She's deposited into an empty tub. He turns the faucet with a squeak, and water rushes out, pounding against porcelain. It hurts her ears. He cups some warm water in his hand, and drizzles it over her head. He does it a few more times before unbuttoning her jeans, unzipping.

"Bella," he says, his voice calmer now. "Can you help me? I don't want to undress you." Still, he lifts her soaked shirt, peeling it over her head, up and off her arms. She raises her hips and shoves at her own jeans, struggling to get them past her knees. They feel sewn on. Edward takes the ends, sliding them from her ankles. She's in her bra and underwear, the water filling, warming. Her shivering is less violent, though her teeth continue to chatter.

Facing the wall, she tries to hide from him.

A hand flat on her forehead moves her face to his.

He shakes his head. "Why? You know that water. It's gotta be forty degrees right now. Maybe lower. You did that on purpose. Why?"

She does know about the water. The lake barely reaches the mid-fifties in the summer. But tonight, water temperature was one of the furthest things from her mind.

She turns her head back to the wall. "I don't know. I'm sorry." It hurts her throat to talk, her voice hoarse.

"If I hadn't been watching you through the window. I don't. I can't."

She faces him again, this time of her own volition. He's scrubbing his hands over his face.

"I just wanted it to be quiet."

His hand sweeps through his hair, getting it all wet. "Is it quiet now?"

"Quieter."

"Yeah, well, it's a fuckin' riot in my head right now." He sounds and looks so angry, his heavy eyebrows slanting.

The bath full, he shuts the water off with a jerk of the handle.

"Are you warmer yet?"

"My bones are cold."

"I bet."

"I wasn't trying to hurt myself. I just wanted out of my head."

His face softens. He puts his hand on her heart above her breast. She doesn't move. "So fast."

He plucks a towel from the cabinet behind him and lays it on top. "I have to change out of these clothes. I'm freezing and I didn't even-" He leaves the room before finishing, closing the door behind him.

Now, in privacy, she takes off her bra and underwear, washes herself, her body, her hair, and sinks under the water—warm and welcoming, and much calmer.

She's shivering when she steps out of the bath, but nothing like before. This kind of cold, even if she's shivering, she can handle. She dries off and wraps the towel around herself. Her jeans and shirt are gone. Edward must have taken them with him. Not really knowing what to do with her wet underwear, she hangs it over the shower head to dry.

She finds Edward in his room in a fresh shirt and jeans. Biter's asleep under the piano bench. There's a small cushion there now, his little bed.

Edward hands her a T-shirt. She slips it on while he folds back the covers on his bed. "Get in."

He takes her towel from her, laying it over his hamper, and she climbs into his bed, drawing the sheet and quilt up to her neck.

"My underwear is drying in your bathroom. If you go in there, please don't look at them."

He lets out a single breath of a laugh. "Okay."

She turns to her side, watching him as he moves toward his piano. "Let me show you what quiet's really like. Quiet isn't jumping into the freezing lake." His fingers rest over the keys. Before he starts to play, he turns to her. "Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Never do anything like that again."

"I won't."

"Promise it."

"I promise, Edward. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

He stands up, returning to the side of the bed, his expression hard again, his lips tight and turned down. "You didn't scare me." He kneels next to the bed, his face in alignment with hers. "When I saw you jump, my heart fucking stopped beating. It was more than fear. I know that water; you know that water. I thought you were trying to..."

"What?"

"End it." His eyes glisten, they tear up.

Bella's intake of breath is almost a gasp, not at his words, but at his reaction to them. Holding the covers over her chest, she sits up. "I'm sorry. I wasn't hoping to die. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. But just... Bella, you said, 'I'll be right back.' When you say something like that, make sure you come back."

"Okay." She lays her head on the pillow. He stares down at her for a few blinks before lowering his face to hers. She feels his breath, hot, as his lips touch her forehead. They're soft at first, but then they press hard. With a deep inhale through his nose, he pulls away.

Moving back to the bench, he says, "Now listen and hear the quiet."

He plays, soft and slow, music that tinkles. She closes her eyes.

He's in bed beside her in the morning, an arm on top of the covers and locked over her waist like a seatbelt. She squirms under the weight of it to face him. He's not wearing a shirt. His lips are parted. His hair's messy, but probably nowhere near as bad as hers.

Lifting her head, she kisses his cheek while he sleeps. A thousand tiny bubbles burst in her stomach. It's like when a just-poured carbonated drink tickles your nose, only it's inside of her. She's felt tingles like this before and she knows what they lead to if you indulge them. Laying her head down, she tries to drive the feeling away. Even so, her lips are drawn back to his cheek for one more kiss, her fingertips running over his scruffy jaw.

That indulgence is already too much. She has to fight the urge to kiss his lips.

"Bella?" His voice is groggy, the letters running together forming a sound more than a name. His eyes remain closed.

"I have to go home."

"Now?" Pulling her closer, his palm between her shoulder blades, he tucks her head under his chin.

"I have to face what I started," she says into his chest. "And talk to my dad." Thin hairs tickle her nose and lips.

"I'll walk you. But not now. Ten minutes."

For more reasons than prolonging an inevitable confrontation, she's fine with staying where she is—heated, dry, safe in Edward's arms. Her head on his chest, his slow breathing. Ten minutes. Ten hours. Ten days.

...

Bella's in a pair of Edward's sweatpants, rolled over at the waist several times, and one of his sweatshirts. Her damp clothes are bundled up and tucked under her arm. Her hair is wrapped at the base of her neck by a rubber band she took from Edward's Sunday paper. Her shoes are still wet but she can't help that, can't go barefoot.

The police cruiser is in the driveway, Bella's mother's car gone. With watery eyes she turns to Edward.

"Come over when you can," he says. "Or if you want me to come to you, call. Tell me. Or if you don't call, I'll just come over anyway."

She looks down at the dog. "I wish Biter could come in with me."

"He can if you want. Borrow him."

She squats down to pet the dog. "It's okay. I'll see you later, boy." He raises his paw when she puts her hand out and she shakes it.

Straightening up, she locks eyes with Edward. She doesn't really want to say it because she's embarrassed by all that happened last night, but she says it anyway. "Thank you."

He drags the side of his thumb down her cheek.

She pivots to face her house. She opens the door. She steps inside.

A/N: Thanks for reading!