If You Could See Into My Soul
Chapter 12 – The Best Thing
Bella's POV
We were experiencing a heat wave.
That wasn't a euphemism for things between Edward and I. Although, after our first intimate experience, any of our friends had been hard pressed to find us without our hands on one another. And any alone time with Edward quickly escalated to more. Not that I was complaining.
But literally, I mean we were setting record temperatures for the month of March. I hated the heat. And coupled with the fact that Aunt Flo ambushed an unprepared me at lunch, well, let's just say I was less than happy. Hot, crampy, bloated. What a winning combination.
'Sourpuss' was the expression that came to mind. I couldn't help it that my uterus was expelling a carefully constructed womb that I hadn't used. And I definitely couldn't help that it caused bloating and some serious discomfort. I'm sure if I had told Edward, he would have offered ice cream or chocolate, cuddles, a back massage, a movie. Anything, really. Because he was thoughtful like that. But I was too busy being irritated by everything to say something.
Edward noticed, but he stayed mostly silent. Distracted, I think, by the dark blue cotton dress I wore that showed too much leg, and my hair pulled up high in a ponytail exposing my neck. More canvas for him to paint with his lips and tongue. I did catch him rolling his eyes at my poor attitude a few times, though. When he wasn't mauling me, anyway.
Case in point, his hand was, once again, drifting to the scarred flesh of my thigh. We were at his kitchen table, supposed to be doing homework. But he was far too handsy to have gotten any work done. Higher, higher, fabric bunched to my hip, fingertips on my panties, dipping between my thighs. It was too much. Sensory overload.
"Stop." The word was much harsher than I meant it to be. I shoved his hand away and yanked my dress back in place, a scowl on my face. I crossed my legs beneath the table, face heating in embarrassment as Emmett laughed across from us. Rosalie glanced up and rolled her eyes, not interested in our squabbling. It had been going on all day.
Edward huffed, tongue ring tapping. His arms crossed over his chest, knee bouncing, eyebrow quirked. Annoyed. I think he was annoyed with me. "You've been awful bitchy today."
Rosalie's lips pursed, like she was holding in whatever it was she wanted to say. Probably to tell him to stop being a dick because I was on the rag. She was the one who had provided the supplies at lunch when I was suddenly ensnared.
My face heated again. My tone was accusatory. "Did you just call me a bitch?"
Emmett cleared his throat. He scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable. There may have been a tinge of pink on his cheeks. "Ed, man. You should probably shut the fuck up."
"Bitch-y," he clarified, amusement in his eyes. "Not a bitch."
I think he was enjoying riling me up. It wasn't usually so easy to do, I typically had pretty thick skin. But today was one of those rare days where I felt raw and exposed, nerve ends paper thin. I was not enjoying being provoked. I felt caged in, claustrophobic. Accused, defensive. It was just Edward, for Christ's sake, but my mind was pointing all weapons at him, ready to fire.
Hadn't anyone ever told him not to poke the bear? Especially the very hormonal, emotionally distressed bear?
Edward's hand moved towards me. Most likely to provide a comforting touch to my cheek or to drape an arm behind my shoulders. But from the corner of my eye, my mind took the approach as danger, ordering my limbs to flee, flee, flee.
The chair I evacuated tipped over, clattering obnoxiously on the tiled floor. All eyes were on me, pressed as I was to the corner. My heart hammered in my chest, my mouth ran dry. I was a child again, being told I was bad for misbehaving, even though I had done nothing wrong. Renee had reached out and slapped me across the face, pushed me to the floor. Told me I had better get my shit together and behave.
"Bella." My eyes met Rosalie, and I shook my head. I held my hand up in the classic 'stop' gesture, and thankfully she stayed seated. Emmett glanced between the three of us, so incredibly confused.
And Edward. He looked…remorseful? Afraid? Unsure? Like he wanted to get up and come to me, but my hand held up forced them all to stay in place. As if I wielded some sort of power, an invisible force field around me. Keeping me there, holding them away. Part of me registered that I was having an anxiety attack. Sensory overload. My eyes flickered around the room, looking for things to count. Five things I see…four things I hear…
"I'm fine," I lied, swallowing reflexively. My heart refused to believe the lie, fluttering dangerously, causing my lungs to work faster to push and pull oxygen. Sidestepping along the wall, I reached the doorway and did my best to force my legs to walk up the stairs, not run. Running meant I was being chased, and I didn't want to be followed.
I locked the bathroom door behind me, turning the cold-water knob on the sink. I splashed the cool water against my face, trying desperately to calm the fuck down. There was no threat. Edward was not a threat. He wasn't Renee. He wasn't Sage. He would never, ever raise a hand against me. He loved me. He said so himself.
So did Renee, so did Sage…
My mind was taunting me, blackening the edges of my vision, forcing my breath to leave me in sobs. I was headed for a full-tilt panic attack. My hands shook as I gripped the marble edge of the counter, willing them to stop.
Sensory overload, I reminded myself. Too hot, too uncomfortable, too much touch. That's all. I just needed to re-center myself. There was no need to panic, no reason to fight or flee. Everything was fine.
A knock at the door had me holding my breath. I knew it was Edward. Who else would it be? I hadn't snapped because of anyone else. He was most likely coming to apologize, even though he hadn't done a damned thing wrong. It was me who needed to apologize. For not being whole. For being this broken girl who flinched at unexpected touch. If I had been watching him as he moved towards me, I wouldn't have panicked.
I unlocked the door with shaking fingers, pulling it open. His hand was gripping his hair tightly, green eyes swimming in remorse. He sucked one side of his cheek between teeth, grinding.
He didn't move towards me. Didn't move one inch. "Bella, I am so sorry."
I was shaking my head, pressing my palms into my eyes. Bright white spotted my vision when I opened my eyes again. "No, Edward, please. You have nothing to be sorry for."
He made a tortured noise in the back of his throat. "I shouldn't have…you told me to stop…."
"Shouldn't have tried to touch your girlfriend?" I laughed mirthlessly. It sounded manic, like I was really losing my damn mind. I stepped closer to him, then around him. Panic was fading, anger replacing its absence. "It's fine. I'm fine."
I paced the floor of his bedroom. He watched with wary eyes. I wondered what my expression told him. Come closer, stay away. Hold me, leave me. Help me, kill me. Anxiety bubbled inside of me, made my heart beat fast, disjointed. Made my chest tight and my lungs weak.
"What…happened? What did I do?" He sat slowly on the edge of his bed, hands gripping knees. I hated that I made him so unsure, made him question his movements near me.
"Nothing," I growled. Because nothing had happened. It was an overreaction caused by a past that wasn't nearly as tragic as it could have been. So, my mother hit me a few times, big deal. So, my ex-boyfriend had grabbed me, bruised my flesh. Edward wasn't either of them. And people had had far worse done to them.
He scoffed, anger darkening his moss green eyes. "Bullshit. Clearly, I did something you didn't like. You fucking flew out of the chair."
I paused, pinning him with my stare. Anger balled my hands into fists, shook them at my sides. I couldn't remember the last time I had been so angry. I wanted to break something, throw things, cause physical damage to match what hurt inside. Wanted to bleed emotion from my skin, draw a razor across my flesh, open me to the world. Drain me of emotion.
"Maybe there are some things I don't want to talk about. Like how you don't want to talk about why you hate Carlisle so much."
His jaw flexed. Vexation, again. How long until he was sick of me completely? "That's fucking different, Bella. You jumped because I moved to touch you. The thing with Carlisle isn't like that."
I ignored him. Rage. That's what I felt. Fists tight, I could feel my nails biting into my flesh. Rage because I have reason to fear touch. It hadn't always been kind. He was prying too much, asking me to expose myself to him. Instead, I turned on him. "It pisses me off, you know that? You have the father I always fucking wanted, and you choose to be angry with him. For what? Clearly, he loves you. But no, that's not good enough. Whatever he's done to you is un-fucking-forgivable, right? Whatever. It doesn't matter. You don't want to talk about it. Right?"
I spun on my heel and bounded down the stairs. I grabbed my backpack from the kitchen, ignoring Rosalie and Emmett's intense stare. When I left through the front door, I slammed it shut. I marched down the winding driveway, not wanting to go home, but not able to stay at the Cullen's either.
With shaking fingers, I pulled my phone from my backpack and called the all too familiar number. Things between us would never be equal. I took too much, and he gave too much. Like a leech, I would drain him of his kindness, his empathy.
When his headlights swept over me, however, the dam broke. Jacob pulled me into the car, into his warm embrace. Told me everything was going to be okay as he pulled away from the home where my heart laid.
"I fucked up," I whispered to him, heart in my throat.
Jacob smiled sadly, slinging an arm behind my shoulder. The same thing I had jumped at before. "He'll forgive you, Bell. That kid loves you."
Leah, in the backseat, stroked the back of my head. She offered a small smile and an already packed pipe. "It'll be alright, babe. Just relax."
!#$#!
I wasn't supposed to do drugs.
Well, okay. No one is supposed to do drugs, but with the meds for anxiety and depression, I really was not supposed to.
For this exact fucking reason. It can mask symptoms, cause the 'afterwards' to be worse than the 'before'. Leah didn't know about the meds, or else I'm sure she wouldn't have offered the pipe. Jacob had been smart enough to keep his damned mouth shut. For once.
My hands shook as I walked back up the curved driveway. I was drenched in sweat. The walk from Leah's house to his had taken longer than I anticipated, mostly because I had to stop several times to vomit. Except nothing really came up. Just bile, burning my esophagus and nasal passages.
He probably didn't want to see me. I had been a bitch, whether he wanted to say it or not. Bitch-y, not a bitch. I had scared him, yelled at him, and left him. What a woman he had.
The porch light offered the only illumination to the house, casting foreboding shadows against stone walls. I'd never noticed how eerie it looked in darkness. A home for the undead. Ghosts and vampires and other macabre beings.
I swallowed hard against more bile as I knocked. The light in the family room was still on, that much I could see through the front window. The door swung in, throwing Carlisle's features into darkness. His blond hair ringed his head, much like a halo.
"Bella?" He was confused but stepped aside to let me step inside.
"Hey, Dr. C." I gagged a little as I walked in, pressing the back of my shaking hand to my mouth. I definitely didn't need to barf on Edward's dad. That wouldn't bode well for me.
It was bad enough that I was high as a mother fucking kite. I had ignored warning from Jake and Leah both to 'take it easy.' Leah had offered the pot to help me relax, but it was having quite the opposite effect. My anxiety had risen, set my body on edge, made me as skittish as a deer in the presence of a wolf. My heart felt like it was going to fly out of my chest, or maybe stop altogether.
"Is everything…alright?"
I wasn't sure why he asked. Kindness, perhaps. He could tell nothing was alright. My eyes were glassy, reddened. And I reeked. I had taken a piece of gum from Jacob to clear the taste from my mouth, but that was three times vomit ago. And it did nothing to help the smoke that clung to my sweaty skin and hair.
I waved a hand dismissively in the air. He watched as it trembled, and I shoved it against my chest, crossed both arms tightly to keep me together. I opened my mouth to say that word again: fine. Everything is fine. But Edward appeared on the stairs.
"Heeeey, Edward." I shuddered, feeling my heart gallop in my chest. I pressed a hand to my mouth, willed myself to not vomit, not here. Willed the shaking in my limbs to dissipate, but the rational side of my brain was rather pissed off at me, and not responding. I should have known my own limits, but I was too angry, and the smoke was too sweet. I'd had far more than I should have, even if I hadn't been on meds that altered my reaction.
"Fuck, Bella." He was by my side just in time to catch me. My knees buckled, and I pitched forward. I thought I heard Carlisle chastise him for cursing, but then I was in his arms, and he was taking me higher and higher.
"Jesus, Bella. You're burning up." Edward deposited me on the edge of the bathtub, locking the door behind us. I raked a hand through sweat-soaked hair as he stooped to divest me of my shoes. I cough-gagged, and Edward's eyes narrowed.
He stepped inside the shower to start the water. He pulled me to my feet and dragged my soaked dress over my head. I should have felt indignant, but in that moment, I was thankful. I don't think I could have undressed myself if he had demanded it of me. My limbs were heavy, uncoordinated, shaking. Useless.
I stood, stark naked, before him for only a moment before he pushed me into the stream of the shower. He followed right after. Naked. We were both blessedly naked, but from my perspective, Edward was not at all interested.
"Fuck!" The water was ice cold, sobering, causing my back to arch away from the stream. My overheated flesh appreciated the cool down for only a moment, and then my teeth were chattering. And then I was retching, emptying my body yet again of nothing. He held my hair back, grimaced as he watched my stomach heave.
"What did you take?" His voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of don't fuck with me. He was pissed off. Because of me. How much longer would he put up with me? How much longer would he allow me to torture him?
"Just pot. Just pot," I shook my head, but it made me dizzy. I reached out to steady myself, fingers curling around the strong muscles of his arms.
"Don't fucking lie to me, Bella." Harsh, he spat the words at me.
"I swear. I promise. I'm not suh…supposed to do any drugs with the…the meds. They fuck me up."
"I can see that," he answered sardonically. He reached behind me to adjust the water temperature, thankfully making it warmer, more tolerable. He washed my hair and scrubbed my body roughly, though lovingly. His touch was gentle still, tentative. Afraid I would flee as I had earlier.
He shut the water off and wrapped me in a towel, rubbing hands up and down my body to gather fat water droplets. He picked up his discarded shirt and slipped it over my head. I inhaled deeply, his scent filling my head. A different sort of high.
He pulled on his pants and unlocked the bathroom door and entered his bedroom, going straight for his dresser. He withdrew a small article of clothing and returned to me. My panties. The ones I had left behind after we had sex. I wondered if they smelled like him, but I wasn't going to be the weirdo sniffing panties.
He held them open before me. "Step."
Any shred of dignity I had hoped to retain, vanished. I braced a hand against his shoulder and stepped into them, allowing him to pull them up. As if I had a choice. He left again, returning with a toiletry bag full of feminine products. Rosalie. Bless her.
He allowed me a moment of privacy as I took care of my lady business. He could have stayed, for all I cared. He'd already seen all the ugly parts of me. I stood to wash my hands, staring bleakly into the mirror. The person staring back at me wasn't someone I wanted to know. I ran my fingers under my eyes to scratch away runny mascara. My hair seemed to be a lost cause of gnarles.
His bedroom was mostly dark when I exited the en suite, a small lamp illuminating enough for me to make out his bed. There was a package of saltine crackers and a can of ginger ale on his bedside table. Edward stood at the window, lit cigarette between his lips. He exhaled into the dark night and closed the window after he flicked the cigarette out. His eyes were tight around the edges as he approached me.
I climbed onto his bed, noting that his bedroom door was mostly closed; ajar enough to still be considered 'open,' but not allow others to see in. He picked up the sleeve of crackers and opened it, offering one to me. I chewed at my lip nervously, feeling my stomach somersault and clench. I really, really, didn't want to vomit anymore, but I didn't want to further anger Edward, either.
I tentatively reached out and took the cracker from him. Without meeting his eyes, I sucked the corner in my mouth, swallowing against the rush of saliva that the salty square triggered. He exhaled heavily, throwing himself down on the bed. He reached into his bedside table and pulled out a comb, arching a brow at me in question.
Edward had a thing about my hair. Whenever it was down, he loved to twist it, run his fingers through it, tangle his hands in it. And when it was wet, he loved to brush it out for me. He told me it was something he used to do for his mother, and how could I deny him the simple pleasure of playing with my hair when it made him so happy.
I turned my back to him, offering my hair completely. His hands fell to my shoulders, and I hadn't realized how tense I had been until he pushed gently, making me drop them. He parted my hair into sections and ran the comb through, working slowly and tenderly. The tenderness of his actions made me feel even worse, and tears blurred my vision. I did not deserve him.
"We're going to have to talk, you know," he muttered quietly. The anger that had colored his voice was gone, and somehow, my guilt grew again. I warranted his anger. I could understand his ire, but the benevolence he was bestowing upon me was foreign. And it would have been welcome in other situations, but I didn't understand it in that context.
I nodded, continuing to suck on the wafer. I'd managed to eat about a quarter of it, but my stomach was still rolling, and I was so tired. My eyes fluttered when he pressed a kiss to the back of my head.
My voice was thick with unshed tears when I spoke. "Edward, I'm so sor-"
"No, Bella. Not tonight," his voice was firm, but not unkind. The bed dipped as he laid beside me. "We'll talk tomorrow, honey. You need to rest."
I discarded the soggy remains of the wafer in the trash can and laid down. He clicked the lamp off, throwing the room into total darkness. It was only then that I dared turn to him. His eyes were shut, one arm under his head and the other on his stomach. I ached to curl up into him, to bury myself inside him.
His lids flashed open, eyes flickering over to me. One half of his mouth tugged up, and he removed the hand from his stomach, laying it out beside him. An invitation. "C'mere."
I didn't need to be asked twice. I tucked my head under his chin and his free arm closed around me. He brushed the damp tendrils of my hair away from my cheek. I fisted the material of his shirt tightly, afraid to let him go. He wasn't pushing me away, but the morning light could change everything.
"Edward…" I whimpered.
"Tomorrow, love. Just rest." He kissed the top of my head once more, and with one last heavy sigh, he fell into sleep.
!#$#!
Sleep evaded me until the early hours, just before dawn. Every possible scenario of the day flashed through my mind, churned my stomach with nerves at the thought that he could walk away from me. That he should walk away from me. I was no good for him, and last night only stood to solidify that.
The light woke me, and I already knew I had overslept before I opened my eyes. Edward was beside me, already dressed. His fingers drew lazy circles across my arm, earbuds tucked firmly in his ears.
I tugged one bud from his ear and stuck it in my ear. His eyes met mine as the chorus swelled. "…I'll be your safe ride home when you call me/ I'll be everything and more/ When you call my name…"
His song choice made me hopeful that maybe he didn't hate me as much as I feared. He smiled and ducked to kiss me softly. I hummed into his mouth, content to ignore the day and last night's clusterfuck. But Edward had other ideas.
"C'mon lazy bones. Time to get up." He withdrew the arm behind my head and poked me in the side.
I squirmed against his ticklish touch, attempting to pull the blanket over my head. Edward grabbed it and withdrew it from my body completely. I curled up against the cold, whining. "What time is it?"
"Nearly eleven." He went to the window to light a cigarette, and I was mesmerized by the way his lips curled around the cancerous stick. He scratched at the stubble on his chin, eyes intent on mine. I felt entirely exposed under his intense scrutiny.
"Why didn't you wake me?" I stood and stretched with a yawn. The dress I had worn yesterday had been laundered and sat neatly folded on his desk. I faintly heard the click of his tongue ring against his teeth as I slipped the dress over my head.
"I thought you could use the sleep," he murmured. He discarded the cigarette as I disappeared into the bathroom. I borrowed his deodorant and toothpaste, having left mine in my backpack which was still at Leah's house. Though he had combed my hair before I fell asleep, it had still been mostly wet. I needed a lot more than a comb to get through the rat's nest, so I settled for piling it up into a messy bun.
I plopped down on his bed, chin in my hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, cheek sucked between his teeth. He scratched absently at his head through his beanie. "So, are we going to school, or what?"
He smirked. "Or what. Come on."
Edward took my hand as he passed, dragging me from the bed and down the stairs. He grabbed his keys from the hook by the front door. "So, we are going to school?"
He closed my door behind me and settled himself in the driver's seat. "Nah. Carlisle called Charlie and said you were sick. And then he called the school and told them we wouldn't be in today."
"Sick in the head, maybe," I mumbled with a huff. I reached forward to turn on the stereo, allowing some heavy rock to filter through the speakers. Edward extended his hand across the center console, capturing my hand in his. He drew it to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss against my knuckles.
"Please, Bella. Be kind to yourself. You're talking about the woman I love, after all."
Though I wanted to tell him not to love me, that I didn't deserve it, I bit my tongue instead. He had said we were going to talk, and I intended on telling him exactly how I felt. "Where are we going?"
"Breakfast," he replied easily. He glanced at the clock and smirked. "Or lunch, I guess. I'm fucking starving."
I hummed in acknowledgement, withdrawing my hand from his. I turned my head to stare out the window, but not before I watched a frown take over his features.
The diner parking lot was nearly empty when he pulled in. Aside from the elderly, there weren't many people out on a Thursday morning. Edward took my hand as we entered the diner, and a perky blonde led us to a booth.
"Can I get you guys started with something to drink?" She spoke mostly to Edward, so I turned my head. I had a sinking feeling that he had taken me to a public place to end things, so I wouldn't make a scene. The 'talking' that needed to be done required an audience so things didn't get out of control.
"I'll take a water," Edward supplied, and then when I stayed silent, "Bella?"
I cleared my throat, offering perky tits a tight-lipped smile. "Coffee, please. And a water."
With a promise to be right back, she left us. Edward dragged a hand through his hair, removing his beanie in the process. His fingers drummed impatiently on the Formica tabletop, his gaze unwavering from my own.
I squirmed under his scrutiny, knowing he was waiting for an explanation as to what happened last night. I figured complete honesty was the best route to go, so after blondey dropped off our drinks and took our food orders, I spoke.
"My mom used to hit me when I was a kid." And then I cringed, because that wasn't how I wanted to say it. "Not, hit me, hit me. Just…slap me or shove me around sometimes. She never really hurt me, not physically. Yesterday was like…sensory overload, or something. I don't know. Everything was too much. I was having an anxiety attack, and then you – "
"You were having an anxiety attack?" His brow furrowed as he regarded me, his tone bordering on harsh. There was a spark of anger in his eyes. He closed them tightly, jaw grinding, and when he opened his eyes again, the anger had faded. "Why didn't you say something?"
I shrugged. "Jesus, Edward, if I told you every time I had an anxiety attack, there wouldn't be much else to talk about. Most of the time I can work through them, find something to ground myself. Yesterday was just too much. And then you reached out to touch me from the side, and my mind, like, freaked. Like you were a threat, which you aren't. I just felt like I was a kid again."
He sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. He started to tap his tongue ring against his teeth as he stared out the window. "So, what you said yesterday…"
"I meant what I said," I intoned tersely. "I just didn't mean to say it quite like that."
He regarded me coolly, so I continued. "Sometimes it does piss me off. That you have a father who loves you so fucking much, and you talk to him like you don't. I'm jealous, Edward. That you have a father who cares so much for you. Charlie never did anything all those times Renee came after me." I swallowed thickly, aware of the sudden tightness in my chest, the sudden blurring of my vision. I was determined not to cry. "You don't have to tell me what happened between you two, it's none of my business, and I know that. I'm sorry for how I said it, but I'm not sorry for saying it."
Blondey returned – Amber, her name tag read – depositing our plates in front of us. The tension between Edward and I was palpable, and she quickly retreated.
Edward leaned forward, suddenly taking my hand in his. His gaze dropped from my eyes to our joined hands, and he swallowed. "Carlisle…was leaving her. He knew she had cancer, and he asked her for a divorce. Because of Esme."
"Edward, please, you don't have to say anything." I squeezed his hand in both of mine, ignoring the lurch of my heart at his words.
"I've been so angry at him for wanting to leave her. And I was angrier that she died before the divorce was final, so he gets to say he's widowed and not divorced. But if it were you…l think I would have done what he did. We can't help who we love…or when we love them."
He raised our joined hands to cup my face, catching a tear that I hadn't realized had fallen. "I love you, Bella Swan. But this…communication thing, we need to work on it. You can't keep running from me."
I nodded in agreement, turning my head to kiss his palm. "I know. I promise to try really hard. No more running."
"And baby, I'm so sorry. Your mother…" He shook his head dejectedly. "Her behavior is inexcusable. But please, believe me, when I say I would never hurt you. If you don't believe anything else I say, please believe that."
I sniffled, freeing a hand to run under my nose. "Okay."
He stood then, turning to join me on my side of the booth. I tucked my head under his chin, content to believe that he loved me. That he would never hurt me. Maybe he meant it. Maybe time would tell me otherwise. But for now, I loved him, too.
"And, Bella? For God's sake, please don't smoke anymore pot. Carlisle truly believed you were sick last night, but if you make a habit of it, he's not going to believe me so easily. Also, vomit is really gross."
I laughed, feeling some of my nerves fade away. I reached out to his plate to snag a piece of bacon, munching happily on it. "No more pot. Roger that."
He shook his head, though he was smiling. He kissed the top of my head and tucked into his own meal, while I turned to the pancakes on my plate. For now, things were good. Things between Edward and I would be okay. I would stop running, and he would start communicating. Maybe Sinatra was right when he said the best things in life are free.
Love doesn't always have to be so complicated. Maybe I could let Edward prove it as long as I had him.
"...'Cause when I looked into your eyes
And you dared to stare right back
You should've said "Nice to meet you, I'm your other half"..."
The Best Thing - Relient K
A/N: Also mentioned in this chapter is the song Safe Ride by Cute is What We Aim For. This chapter was difficult for me to write, and it went a little bit differently than I had imagined, but sometimes that's just the way things go. Hopefully we can all understand some of Bella's hesitations and insecurities as well as Edward's anger towards his father.
Reviews are always much appreciated!
Mwah! KQL