-:-

It was warm for October, so Edward and I cracked our windows and enjoyed the breeze that wafted through the car. I had to give it to Forks—the air was unsullied and fresh, and it smelled like the real version of the evergreen and pine candles we lit in the winter to make the holidays seem not so Florida-ish. I was used to living in the heart of the city; in Jacksonville, if I rolled down my truck's window, I mostly smelled car exhaust and the occasional fried grease that permeated the air from the local fast food spots. Though, I could see why my beach-happy mother had originally gone stir-crazy.

It was greener than a leprechaun's tit.

Trees, bushes, grass, moss, and other copious amounts of plant life covered the sides of the streets like they had been painted. It was appealingly atmospheric, though—I couldn't deny that. All of it brought out the green in Edward's eyes, too, so… that was an extra bonus.

"Do you have a music preference?" he asked as we finally came upon civilization. A few houses and local businesses began to pop out of the leafy backdrop, and for a moment, I wished I could remember what street Charlie used to live on.

"Oh, I'll listen to anything," I said, peering out the window. "You can put on what you normally do."

He chuckled under his breath. "Okay, but you might be sorry you said that."

I turned toward him and raised my eyebrows. I watched his hand as he turned on his CD player and waited for deafening, screaming vocals to shatter my eardrums, but was surprised when refined, melodious piano notes sounded.

"You thought this would make me sorry?" I said. "Now I'm disappointed. I expected something scary, like Evangelicals screaming at the sinners."

He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. "Most people I know think this is boring. I have a bit of an excess." He gestured to the back seat of his car. I turned and saw a few binders that I supposed were filled with music.

"Wow," I said. "All classical?"

"Maybe half. It… happened to fall into my hands."

"Music hoarder, are you?" I said as I saw a smaller book of CDs lodged under his armrest. I traced my fingers over the top. "Do you mind if I look?"

"No, go ahead," he answered, turning left at a stoplight.

I picked up the booklet and leafed through the pages. Mozart, Stravinsky, Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven. And more Mozart.

"Man, you must really hate Mozart," I joked.

"It's true, I can't stand him," Edward teased in return. "Originally, I wasn't interested. My dad tried to get me into Mozart in particular early on, but I was too young to appreciate it. I was a teenager before I understood how brilliant he was."

"I'd try to make an intelligent contribution, but I quit the piano when I was ten," I confessed. "Never mind that I only started a few months before my tenth birthday."

He laughed, and the sound warmed my whole body. I continued flipping through a few more pages, passing Tchaikovsky, and more Beethoven, and then stopped when I came upon a Three Days Grace CD amid the classical geniuses.

I grinned and peeked over at him, imagining him air drumming on the steering wheel. Sophisticated little closet rocker.

"So, who's this playing?" I asked, putting the book of CDs back and stretching my hand outside the window, letting the wind manipulate it with curves and dips. "I don't think I've ever heard this before."

"Ludovico Einaudi," he replied, sweeping his windblown hair out of his eyes. "He's modern—a bit of a minimalist, but I like his style."

"It's calming," I said as the next song began and we listened quietly for a stretch. It was almost melancholy, but beautiful. "What's the name of this one?"

"Primavera," he answered.

"Like pasta?" I asked, immediately cringing. I was definitely hungry.

He grinned. "Not exactly. It's Italian for 'spring'."

We listened to the rest of the evocative song in silence, sharing subtle glances every now and then. I'd forgotten how simple things suddenly became sexy when I was interested in someone. The way he handled the gearshift with ease, how the wind blew the edges of his hair, the way he slid his thumb across his lip once in a while—all fascinating. I wondered how long it would take to get to Port Angeles because I was already tempted to hold his hand.

"So, why does Doris call you Mr. Masen?" I asked as we rode along the water on Highway 101. "Wouldn't you rather be called Edward?"

"I've told her several times that she could, but she didn't take to it," he said, giving me a hint of a smile. "I suppose she appreciates formality, Isabella."

His eyes sparkled as my name rolled neatly off his tongue. I was thankful for the wind on my face; it kept the blush-monster at bay.

"I think it's just so it makes you sound closer to her age," I said, cracking a smile.

He snorted. "You're not going to let that go, huh?"

"Nope," I teased.

"So, how long are you planning to stay?" he asked. "At the lodge, that is?"

I shrugged. "Charlie sent Doris a check for a month's stay. My mom probably thought that's how long it would take before I caved and came running back to the beach."

"Charlie?" he asked.

"Oh, Charlie's my dad," I answered. "He lived here his whole life and was excited about me checking out the town, so he was more than generous. He only moved to Florida around June."

He creased his eyebrows. "He lived here, but you're from Florida?"

"I was born here, but my parents got divorced when I was really young and my mom took me to Arizona. She remarried this guy Phil and we didn't move to Jacksonville until I was seventeen. Then she just got divorced a year ago after—"

Nope. Not going into that.

"Well, they had their reasons," I finished. "She and Charlie got back together last Christmas. It's a whole soap opera, I know."

"I'm curious, why did you decide to come here?" he asked. "Just wanting to check out the town where you were born?"

"I suppose so. I guess I wanted to reconnect with something. Life felt a little disjointed, so... here I am."

He gave me a pensive glance before turning back to the road. "I'm listening."

I contemplated before I spoke up again. "To start, I wasn't getting anything substantial out of my job," I said. "It was mostly clerical work at an editing office, and there wasn't room for growth in that particular department, and they were about to start laying people off anyway, so I gave them my notice a few weeks before I came. I guess this is just a temporary fix. I'm taking a break and trying to figure out what I want to do. Also, there's Renée—that's my mom—and Charlie. They're living together."

He nodded, waiting patiently for me to continue.

"I had an apartment with a friend, but she got engaged and moved in with her fiancé. And everyone I know has someone, you know? Already married or engaged, or have long-term roommates, and honestly, it's not really feasible to keep renting anyway, so… I didn't have much of a choice except move my stuff to my parents' house. But I decided to come here before I officially start living there."

We were silent for a few moments. I twirled more strands of hair around my fingers, wondering what was going on in his head. He probably was thinking that my behavior was childish, as if I left because I was without a significant other. I just didn't want to ruin the rest of the day by telling too much of the truth.

"Not ready to give up your freedom just yet?" he asked.

"Yes and no," I said quietly. "I'm more nervous I'll be a burden on them, or their happiness, or whatever. I was the reason they split up in the first place. They were young parents and Renée couldn't cope with the stress. Of course, now she tells me I'm the best thing that ever happened to her, but I was out on my own when they got back together. I don't want to impose on their second chance, you know?"

Edward's gaze lingered before his eyes turned back to the road. "Bella—" he started.

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "I was a baby. I didn't do anything wrong. Trust me, I've heard it."

"But you don't believe it," he stated.

"I do and I don't," I said, shrugging. "I know they love me, but when you look past that, they might have made it if they didn't have me so soon."

If it wasn't for me, Renée and Phil might have made it, too.

I winced at the thought and turned to stare out the window before Edward could see my expression. I heard him take a quick breath, as though to say something, but he must have reconsidered. I kept my eyes on the passing cars and the sparkling sun on the water, and we remained mostly quiet for the rest of the drive. When we finally got to Port Angeles, I had to admit that my truck probably would have given up halfway before needing an oil change and two tire rotations after taking on that kind of speed.

The town looked similar to the Riverfront Boardwalk back home; it was smaller with little shops and restaurants that speckled the streets, and off in the distance, I could see the harbor. Edward parked along a side street and I opened my door to step out. It felt strange being lower to the ground and not having to jump out of the car for once. He fed some quarters into a meter and then looked at me expectantly.

"So, you're in the mood for pasta, are you?" he asked, giving me a grin. Oh, right. Primavera. I knew he thought I was a little food whore on the inside.

"Well, since it's only a quarter of ten, I guess that can wait," I said with a smile, catching the time on a street clock. Though, if someone had handed me a pan of lasagna, I would have taken it, run to a private location, and devoured half the pan all by myself.

"Ah. Maybe for dinner then," he replied.

"Dinner?" I repeated. "That wasn't part of the deal. I can't let you treat me twice in a row."

"You're right," he said, starting to walk towards the shops. "Counting lunch, that'll be three."

I stood there, trying to protest, but he was already crossing the street. And his ass looked good enough to bite in those jeans, so I followed him, giving up the fight. I couldn't compete with that.

-:-

After we had a quick breakfast of buttery, flaky croissant sandwiches (which was the best thing I had tasted in days), we walked along the streets, poking around in random stores. Edward saw me eyeing the postcards in a bookstore, and told me to pick as many as I wanted—his treat. I declined.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to choose them for you," he'd said. "It's a shame because I'm not sure of how many or which ones you like. I could buy the rack, you know."

I sighed and plucked out three basic, emblematic "Washington" cards. Simple enough. "The rack," I repeated. "Where do you come from anyway, Wall Street?"

He gave me a small smile. "Chicago."

Chicago? Forget me. What was he doing in Forks?

"Okay, are you a co-owner of the Chicago Tribune? The Bulls? Have stock in them both?" I asked, eyeing him as he took out his wallet.

"Hardly," he answered, handing the cashier a bill. "I don't have a job at the moment."

"Thank you," I said as he gave me the small bag, postcards in tow. "Cheesy, I know, but I still like to send these."

We walked out of the store and began walking along the street that led to the water. The air was scented with a mixture of clear airiness, salt, and a hint of boat fuel. It was actually kind of a nice smell. I definitely was my father's child.

"So, what did you do before you came here?" I asked, tucking my hair behind my ears as the wind blew.

"I worked for a law firm," he said. "I took a job there because my father was a partner, but I never loved it like he did. It was something I knew, though. After college and two years in law school, I realized that studying to take the bar exam wasn't my idea of fulfilling my life."

Law school. It explained his maturity, anyway; I hadn't outright asked, but he only seemed a few years older than I was, and he was certainly not like the sophomoric twenty-something guys I knew back home.

"So, you quit?" I asked.

His eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at the sky for a brief moment. "Not exactly. I started looking into joining the Army or Marines. I thought about it after high school, but my dad talked me out of it. He wanted me to get into his business and build a name for myself. And once I started talking about changing careers, he wasn't exactly excited about the idea of throwing away six years of school. And my mom… well, she didn't want me going anywhere near guns or bombs or anything that could involve shrapnel somehow impaling me."

I felt my stomach twist at the thought of him in a different country, in the midst of gunfire and explosions. I didn't blame her.

"Obviously, I never joined," he said, sounding wistful. "I think I would have, but…" He hesitated and looked away. "Some things just don't work out."

Something in his voice made me reach out to take his arm, to get him to face me. We stopped walking and he hesitated to look up at first. When he did, there was clear distress in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I could use some coffee. How about you?"

"Hey," I said, taking his arm again as he took a step away. "I told you about my parents in the car. I thought you said you knew that this whole getting to know each other thing worked both ways."

He exhaled, driving his hands through his hair and stretching his arms. "It does. But it's not a contest."

I scoffed quietly. "Fine, Mr. 180," I muttered, walking past him. "Let's go get coffee."

"Hey—wait," he called after me.

I stopped, spinning my toes until I was facing him again, and looked at him expectantly.

"Please don't be angry with me," he continued, taking a few steps toward me. His expression went from grim to an emotion I couldn't decipher, and he took a short breath and closed the gap between us. "Look, I haven't told anyone as much as I just told you since I left Chicago. It's difficult for me to bring up the past. Will you be patient with me?"

I was a hypocrite; I hadn't even given him the whole truth in the car, and here he was giving me what he could handle, so I had no right to push him. We were on equal playing ground, and I knew I couldn't fault him for only sharing what he was comfortable with.

"I'm sorry. You just looked upset." I scuffed my shoe on the pier. "Do you remember what you said last night? About being protective? Well, maybe I want to protect you, too."

He gave me a small smile and squeezed my shoulder. "You're sweet. But you don't have to worry."

Understatement. Oh well, it was a start.

"So, coffee?" I said, repeating his suggestion. "I wouldn't mind an encore of that Chai latte. We can talk about anything else. The weather, sports, music… whether or not you ever saw that pizza girl again…"

He nodded with a light laugh, seeming content with that plan, and we walked up the pier to the strip again.

-:-

After spending an hour talking in an artsy café, we continued walking along the streets, perusing different stores. We even jumped down to a small patch of beach, where we took off our shoes and stuck our feet in the water. It was ridiculously freezing and I yelped as a puny wave washed over my feet, earning a quiet laugh from Edward. Time passed quickly—between conversation (that was not emotionally serious in any way) and shopping, and even just watching the boats sail back and forth, we had skipped lunch, and dinnertime had approached.

We had filet mignon (in lieu of pasta), baked potatoes, roasted broccoli, and a rich, dark chocolate mousse with fresh raspberries in a boisterous restaurant that played alternative rock music (and I tried not to moan like the chick from When Harry Met Sally when I tasted the dessert). I mentally racked up the amount that he had spent on me that day and decided that I'd leave an envelope of cash under his door if he refused anything when we got back to the lodge. Or maybe I could take him out another day, or buy him a sort of thank-you gift; the guy looked like he could use a massage, if anything. Of course, after imagining that I had to take two mental cold showers before I could look at him without getting flushed.

It was nearing six o'clock as the sun started to set. The clouds grew denser, apparent that rain was on its way to pour upon us. I shuddered from the chill as we walked down the street, a few blocks away from the car.

"Are you cold?" he asked, glancing at me as I brought my arms close to my chest.

"A little, but I'm okay." I longed for my hoodie, which was folded on my dresser back at the lodge.

He slid his arm around my shoulders, and the stir that he usually gave me in my stomach branched through me like a tree. I shivered, only not from the cold this time. He pulled me closer to him, rubbing my arm, then paused. "I should have asked. Is this okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Thank you." I put my arm around his back so we fit better as we walked, and the simple act of getting to touch him, too, was enough to give me the belief that I could fly the rest of the way home.

As we walked, the rain inevitably broke through the clouds and started coming down in thick, fast drops, and it was a downpour within seconds. We dashed underneath an awning of a restaurant for cover, both laughing.

"Well, I doubt it's going to quit anytime soon," I said, looking up at the grumbling, dark sky. "I guess we'll have to make a run for it."

"You won't," he replied. "I will. You'll get soaked."

"So will you!" I laughed. "We came here together and we can both get wet. That's the deal."

"Nice try, but I never made such a deal," he said, grinning, and opening the door of the restaurant. "Why don't you wait inside where it's dry? I'll pull up in a few minutes."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he reached over and brushed a wet lock of my hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear, and said, "Please, for me?"

Well, shit. Edward's eyes were equivalent to puppy eyes—only spicier. That, plus the feel of his hand against my cheek, was enough to deplete my resolve.

"Damn you and your eyes," I said, unable to help smiling, stepping toward the door and taking hold of it. "They're like weapons."

He laughed. "I'll be right back," he said, jogging into the rain and disappearing around the corner, and I couldn't help thinking Run, sexy-pants, run.

I sat on a bench inside the restaurant by an unoccupied hostess booth, next to a blackboard that read in fancy, yellow chalk, "Please seat yourself," but some witty patron had erased the 's' in 'seat.' I chuckled and looked toward the bar, where there was a smattering of televisions with different baseball games on. After a minute, it was getting rowdy and a few men started to get wound up, yelling about something, so I stood up and moved closer to the door, not wanting to stick around for the aftermath.

Through the windows, the rain was coming down in bucketfuls. Edward was going to be dripping wet. Not that I really minded the mental image, but it was flu season, after all. As the shouting became louder in the bar, I went outside, figuring I would just jump in when he pulled up.

Moments later, the door opened behind me, and the loud men from inside came bursting out, still yelling about whatever game was on. One of them staggered into me, grabbing onto my shoulders for support; a man wearing a ball cap, who was completely wasted. Two others followed him, one wearing a dirty pair of overalls and the other wearing a beanie. They both also looked sloshed. Happy-hour victims, I guessed.

"Whoa, whoa, girly," the man with the ball cap said, raising his hands after I'd wrenched myself away. "Don't panic. I won't bite."

"Yeah he will," Mr. Overalls said, giving me a grin that made his eyes squint. "Say you're sorry, Danny."

I stepped to the side, out of their way, standing against the wall. "It's okay," I said softly, averting my eyes from the biggest man, the one who'd almost fallen on top of me. My hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and tried to keep it together, knowing Edward would be back any second.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" slurred the beanie guy, looking up from lighting a cigarette. "Lose your boyfriend?"

"No," I said quickly. I would have walked away, but there was one of them on each side of me. "He's getting the car."

"Aw, hear that now?" Overalls said, slapping Ball Cap, or Danny, on the chest. "She's taken."

I ignored them, waiting for them to drunkenly stagger down the street. When they didn't, my heart started to race and I felt my hands clam up.

"Excuse me," I finally said, trying to slide my way between them to go back inside.

"No, wait a sec, honey," said Beanie, reaching out to block me, taking hold of my arm.

I stopped and flinched, my breath catching in my throat. The guy called Danny locked my other wrist in his hand, and, in a flash of memory, I saw the last time I'd been grabbed like that.

"Don't leave, sweetie, what'chur name?"

I felt another hand graze my shoulder and slide up to my neck and again, the images came in waves.

His hand on my back, squeezing and pulling me closer as I resisted, trying to squirm my way out of his sweaty grasp. Phil was strong though. Pitching had given him great upper-body strength. I cried out, but he gripped my head with his oversized hands.

"Shh, Bella," he had said, his tongue wet and slippery on my cheek and mouth. "I know you want me, too. I know you do." He was drunk from a combination of beer and half of a bottle of Jack, his recent specialty. I kicked at his legs, the table—whatever I could reach—but it was no use.

"Stop it! Let go of me!" I yelled, flailing and twisting. "Phil, stop!"

But he only locked his arms around my chest and pressed his lips on mine, and the scent of the alcohol and his putrid breath made me gag. I tried to scream again, but it was muffled by the ghastly kiss, and before I knew it, I was pinned atop the table.

"We're just having some fun, honey." Danny with the ball cap was speaking. The one who looked like Phil.

Phil pressed himself on me, grabbing my chest, and I broke my lips free long enough to cry again, "Stop!"

"Don't tease me, Bella, I know you want it, too." He reached between my legs and then started to pull off my shorts.

I sobbed uncontrollably, barely having enough breath to scream. "Mom!"

"Shut up! What are you trying to do?"

"Get off! Mom!" I howled her name over and over, tears streaming from my eyes, blinding me. I choked on my own saliva and couldn't scream anymore. I was crying so hard that Phil's grip eventually loosened, and as he backed up, I kicked at his groin as hard as I could. He fell, pulling me with him, and we hit the kitchen floor with a crack. He lay gasping while I crawled away, my ankle searing in pain from the fall. I wanted to run, but I was frozen, so I backed into the counter and pulled my knees to my chest, continuing to cry for Renée.

"Bella?" Phil said, his voice shaking. "Why are you being… Why are you doing this?"

I trembled, watching as confusion and fear began to flood into his expression.

"Me?" I cried, still sobbing hysterically. "You… You tried to—"

"You wanted this!" he accused me, pointing his finger unsteadily. "I saw how you've been looking at me! You touched me first! You came on to me!"

My chest felt like it would burst. I couldn't breathe. I shook my head frantically, in shock and disbelief at what had just happened. "Y-you're drunk!" I screamed, my throat raw. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Phil's face contorted from anger to uncertainty, and then to absolute panic. "No, Bella, no… Oh, no. No, no. No." He struggled to his feet, muttering, and suddenly flung his hand across the counter, sending beer bottles and a high-ball glass crashing into the refrigerator. Broken glass covered the floor, and I felt a piece roll from my hair to my shoulder. I recoiled and pushed myself further into the corner, shaking madly.

"I'm—I thought you—I thought—" He staggered to the sink as he retched loudly and I seized my chance to get by him. I got up, limping from the room, and running as fast as I could to the door. I heard him call out to me, but I kept running. Running and running and running.

But I couldn't now. They wouldn't let me. It was going to happen again and there were three of them. I started to scream.

"Man, let her go, she's crazy!"

I managed to tear away, tumbling past them, blinded by the rain and the hair in my eyes. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe—

A sharp, blaring sound filled my ears, and then—

Nothing.

Silence.

Blissfully black. Sort of.

Fuzzy gray shapes were floating in front of me, coming and going, and I heard a sound like static on the radio. Where the hell was I? It was hard. And cold. And wet.

Ow. Fuck.

I realized that I had my eyes closed as I fluttered them open and shut, taking in my blurry surroundings. Someone was touching me. Cradling my head. The movement made my head swim with pain.

I whined and tried to swat away whoever was touching me. I blinked again and tried to focus. It was a man, I supposed. I blinked again and color started to come into focus, too. Black? Brown? Green.

Edward.

Two Edwards.

I rolled my eyes back in my head, wondering if I had died. Apparently, I had been a good girl, because only some sort of heaven would offer such a fantasy. Ha. Heaven was more kinky than I thought. But then, the two Edwards slowly blurred into one.

He was saying something. Something with a B? Oh, me. Bella.

"Bella!" Ugh. He was shouting. I tried to reach my hand up to cover his mouth, but he grabbed it and squeezed, continuing to say my name.

"I hear you," I said, wincing at the movement of even talking. What the hell had happened? I was on the ground. Rain was pouring around us and on my face, and I flinched, shutting my eyes.

"Jesus," I heard Edward say in a faint whisper and I felt him lean down until his forehead was touching mine. "Oh, thank God."

"I'm fine," I said, even though my head, hip, and arms hurt like a bitch. I was becoming more coherent, but I was still confused. "Edward?"

He jerked his head up then and gazed into my eyes. "Are you all right? Jesus Christ."

"Ew," I told him, pointing. "Your lip is bleeding."

"Don't move," he said, breathing like he'd been running. "Are you okay?

"Yeah, calm down." I craned my neck to see what was going on. My eyes widened as I saw a green car right in front of us. Were we in the street?

Oh, my God.

"Did I get hit by that?" I asked Edward incredulously.

He cupped my cheek in his hand and seemed to struggle to swallow before saying, "Yes. You—you fell into the road. The driver wasn't going fast, but—he hit you."

Well, my nickname was Ineptabella Swan, after all.

I winced and struggled to push myself up, but Edward's warm hands held me down. "No, don't move. An ambulance is coming. Just stay down."

"What?" I said, pushing against his hands. "No. I don't want an ambulance."

"Bella," he said, anxious. "You were hit by a car."

I rolled away from his grasp and weakly pushed myself up, which was a terrible idea. I felt dizzy enough to puke and had to lean on Edward for support.

"Is she all right?" I heard someone shout.

I turned toward what was turning out to be quite a crowd standing around the car. People were peering over their neighbors' shoulders and staring at me with wide eyes. Damn it. Audiences always made things ten times worse.

One man was lying on the ground not too far away with his hands over his face, which was pouring blood. Two other men were standing over him. One of them had a gash under his cheek. Had they gotten hit by the car, too?

"Sweetie, you okay?" another random guy shouted over the rain. "I am so sorry. You came out of nowhere and my car fuckin' hydroplaned."

"Tell them I'm fine," I mumbled to Edward, pressing my hand to the back of my head. "Tell them not to call an ambulance. I don't want to go to the hospital."

"You're going," Edward said sternly, making me stare at him in awe at the sound of his voice.

"When did you get so bossy?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he scolded. However, seeing him look so worried made him sound less firm. "You were unconscious. You have to get your head checked."

"I am not getting in a damn ambulance," I said, just as seriously. "I'll go, but I'm not going in one of those."

It was embarrassing to admit, but they scared me. When I was a kid, I watched my neighbor get hoisted into one after having a heart attack while he was mowing his lawn. He never made it, and since then, ambulances gave me anxiety; silly, considering how they did the exact opposite of trying to kill someone, but the thought still made my heart start to race—especially when I heard a faint siren coming from down the street, and I let my breath out in an aggravated sigh.

It was all a blur. Police cars showed up like there was a bank robbery going on and officers separated Edward and me so they could talk to each of us. They threw lots of questions at me as two paramedics made their way over and started interjecting questions between the cops'.

"What's your name?"

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Can you see me clearly?"

"Were you assaulted?"

"How's your pain?"

"Did you step into the street, or did the car swerve into you?"

"Any blurred vision? Can you breathe normally?"

I was overwhelmed and tried to answer as best as I could, having no recollection of what happened after Edward had left to get his car. Was I assaulted? What kind of question was that? Yes, an automobile assaulted me. Smartass cop.

Everything was a daze going on around me, and I wondered if it was actually happening. I felt like I was hallucinating. Maybe this whole thing was one big illusion. I could see blue and gray blotches in my periphery and I blinked, trying to get rid of the shapes and foggy feeling in my head.

"Okay, let's get her on a stretcher," one of the paramedics said.

That brought me out of my funk. "No, thank you," I answered, staring pointedly at the red and white truck with the bunch of scary medical equipment inside. "This isn't really an emergency. I'll go to the hospital, just not in that."

"Ma'am," one of the medics said in a strict, rehearsed voice, "you are physically unable to drive yourself to a medical facility. I strongly advise you to let us take you in to get treatment. You could be bleeding internally."

Hearing that made me shut up. Ew. I'd better not be.

"Is there anyone we can call?"

"I'm not by myself," I said, pointing over to where the police were talking to Edward. A tall man wearing overalls was standing with them, pointing over to where the bloody man was propped up on the ground with a paramedic hovering over him, too. "That's my friend. Can't he take me?"

"Ma'am-"

"I'm not going with you," I said obstinately. I knew I sounded like an idiot, but I just wanted to leave. I wanted to get back in Edward's car, away from the crowd and questions, and go to sleep.

"I tried to swerve, but I still hit her." I heard the voice that had called me 'Sweetie' earlier pop up again. I turned to look and saw a brown-haired guy looking at me nervously. "She kind of came up on the hood and then hit the ground."

That honestly sounded like something that would happen to me.

I was going to say something, but a sudden wave of dizziness nearly knocked me flat on my back and one of the paramedics grabbed me before I could crack my head against the pavement again.

"Hey, Bella," the guy who caught me said in a much gentler tone than his partner, gripping my hand with his. "My name's Ben. Now, listen, honey, I know you're nervous, but it really is in your best interest to come with us. Your friend over there is scared enough. Why don't you let him meet you there and save him the anxiety?"

Good God. I paused, taking a breath and feeling a little too unwell to keep arguing. "Okay," I finally mumbled in a defeated tone.

I tried to pretend everyone wasn't staring at me as they tucked a blanket around me and strapped me down to a stretcher. Ben and the other paramedic who remained nameless picked me up and slid the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. As the one guy started hooking the gurney up with what looked like giant seatbelts, I asked Ben, "My friend is still out there. Can you go and see if he knows where I'm going? His name's Edward."

"Sure thing," said Ben, nodding to his partner and jumping out of the ambulance.

I stared at the ceiling in silence, thinking of the dreaded phone call I'd eventually have to make to Charlie and Renée. Renée would flip out, of course, and Charlie would probably call all of his Forks friends to get them to check up on me. After what felt like forever, Edward finally appeared at my side, his hair plastered against his head and dripping from the rain.

It was as I thought: he looked fantastic when wet.

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I said impatiently. "They're taking me to the hospital. I don't even have my insurance card. Someone wouldn't let me bring my purse."

"I'll get it," he promised, squeezing my arm. "I'm so sorry, Bella."

There he went with the apologies

"Why are you sorry?" I asked. "I'm the idiot who stepped into oncoming traffic, apparently. And what happened to your face?" The rain had washed away the blood on his lip, but it was still cut.

"She might not remember what happened for a bit," Ben explained to Edward. "If she has a concussion, she might not recall it at all."

"What do you remember?" Edward asked.

"You left to get your car, and…" I honestly had no idea. "I don't know. I woke up to you over me, calling my name."

Edward's face tensed and he pushed his hands through his hair. My eyes widened when I realized his hand was bleeding, too.

"Seriously, what happened to you?" I exclaimed, reaching out to pull his arm toward me. His knuckles were scuffed and bloody, and starting to swell.

Edward flexed his fingers. He shared a look with Ben, before muttering, "I tripped."

"You're lying," I accused.

"Don't worry. Which hospital are you taking her to?" he asked Ben.

"Olympic Medical Center over on Caroline Street," said Ben. "It's right over by—"

"Scratch that," said another voice from the front of the ambulance; it didn't sound like Ben's partner. Were there 3 of them, or had I really hit my head that hard? I couldn't see since I was strapped down. "Olympic's just had a water main break in front of the ER and trauma center. They're rerouting us."

"They have to take us. We're three minutes away," Ben said.

"I don't know, man, they're saying they're sending their traumas to St. Michael's or Forks Community," said the Wizard of Ambu-Oz.

Ben turned to Edward. "Where do you have to go to get her insurance card?"

"We're staying in Forks," Edward said.

"Well, that makes it easy," Ben said, and called up to the front, "Forks Community, Jack!" He looked down at me with a gentle smile. "Bella, are you up for a road trip?"

"I guess I have to be," I said. At least we would be closer to the lodge. That just meant less time for me to be nauseous in the car on the ride back. Hospitals meant IVs, and I knew I was going to have a rough night ahead of me.

Ben checked to make sure the gurney (or giant finger-splint—that's what it felt like) was properly secured to the floor and moved so Edward could take a seat. "Are you coming with us, sir?"

Hearing Edward being called 'sir' by a guy who was probably the same age as him was funny. I tried to smile, but winced; even smiling hurt.

Edward looked down at me and picked up my hand. "I can if you want," he said. "I could always get a taxi to get your purse. I can get my car tomorrow."

"No, don't leave your car here. You're acting like I'm dying. Do I really look that bad?"

"No," he said, shaking his head with a slight smile. "You look beautiful."

My mouth went dry, and I was very thankful that I wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor at that moment. I tried to answer with something smart, but all I could do was giggle and roll my eyes.

"Ow, don't make me laugh. I must really look wrecked for you to have to say something like that."

He shook his head again and looked at Ben. "Forks Community Hospital?"

"Yeah," said Ben. "Are you familiar with it?"

"I'll find it," Edward answered, then gave me one last look. "I'll be there as soon as I get your things."

"Okay," I said, suddenly worrying that I had left my underwear on the floor or something. If any were in plain sight, I hoped that it was a pair of pretty ones and not the pair with blue and purple penguins printed all over them.

"Please don't rush and wreck your car," I told him, imagining him speeding along the highway just to get to my damn health insurance card.

Edward gave my hand one more squeeze, then hopped out of the ambulance. I turned to look at Ben, who smirked.

"You said he's just your friend?" he asked.

I nodded. "Well, I guess. We've only known each other for two days."

"Ha," said Ben, chuckling and shaking his head. "With the way you two were looking at each other, I bet you in three days or less, you'll be joined at the lips."

"I wish," I said, feeling dizzy again. "Oops. I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yep," Ben said, grinning.

I cringed when the siren gave a few loud bleeps, and Ben patted my shoulder, telling me he would give me some fluids and something for the pain as we started moving. Thinking of the needles and blood tests that were awaiting me, I closed my eyes and hoped to God that I didn't vomit while I was still strapped down.

-:-