Chapter 47.
Back in Ogden, it's the first day of practice for our summer session.
The gym is crowded when I show up. Bella is there already, center of the mat, with Seth warming up behind her. Her eyes find me from across the room, and when they do, she smiles. I think I do, too, before I take my spot.
Jasper runs us into the ground with conditioning training, then Rosalie finishes us off trying different setups and pyramid skills. She leaves the partner stunts for last. Emmett gets paired with Bella, and Vicky with me, as we demonstrate a few stunts to the rookies.
Toward the end of practice, and before everyone heads to the lake house for games and the trivia initiation activity, I find myself gravitating over to Seth and Bella. They're the only pair of stunters I haven't spotted yet.
"Try to keep your body aligned, straight, under mine," she is suggesting to him, after he nearly drops her. "That'll help." When she turns to me, she seems a little surprised but recovers quickly.
I stand beside them, hands clasped behind my back, and nod at Seth who gulps loudly.
"What do you want to see, boss?" He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.
"Triple up toss," I say, noticing how Bella's eyes shine through the corner of mine. My heart beats faster. Seth's eyes bulge. "Just kidding," I say to him. "Practice your toss extensions."
Seth practices a few basic throws, while Bella does the majority of the work.
"You have to drop lower," I correct him, demonstrating a squat with my arms extended in front of me. "Both on the toss and as you set her down, to break her fall. That way it's easier on her ankles, too." I raise up and vaguely gesture at her legs. I find her staring at me, chest rising with each labored breath. Cheeks flushed. Hair spilling out of her ponytail.
I'm lost for a second, or maybe two.
Fuck, can I even do this?
Coach breaks the spell, dismissing the team and signaling the end of practice.
Our teammates get going, start picking up their things.
I don't move.
Neither does Bella.
"Triple up toss?" I ask, challengingly, teasingly.
She knows I'm talking to her and only her. She doesn't say anything, but her lips twitch into a smile.
I crack my neck. Roll my shoulders. Feel the energy almost buzzing as I move behind her.
Bending over to her height, I secure my hands on her hips, fingers steady.
I briefly look to find Coach's attention—and the eyes of everyone else who remains in the gym—on me. On us.
"Ready?" I ask.
Bella peeks over her shoulder, eyes bright and on mine. She nods confidently, while her fingers wrap over mine on her hips.
"Ready."
The gym is quiet. All eyes on us.
"Let's try a few singles first," I whisper in Bella's ear. I'm not about to drop her on a triple the first time we stunt together again.
"All right," Bella says, breathing deeply.
We're out of sync at first, and any stunt requires perfect timing.
"You're rushing," I say, while she wipes her face on her towel. I do the same with my shirt.
"You're lagging!" She laughs, looking at me.
It takes a few trials, but we find our rhythm again. And then, it's like time hasn't passed. Like two years went by in two days. Like we have been partnering our whole lives.
Coach comes closer and suggests a few moves for us to try.
Top elite stunts.
The best of the best.
Some of which have not even been done in competition yet.
I know Rosalie wants us to see what we are capable of, to see what we can incorporate into the team's routine. But for me, it feels like it's my time to shine, and a dark, proud part of me wants to show Bella what I am able to do, what I managed to learn—to accomplish—without her.
We throw stunt terms at one another, each one harder than the last. We try again, and again, and again, until the gym slowly empties and we are the only two remaining.
"Back handspring double up," I challenge, and she smiles. "To cupie."
"All right…" Her eyes shine, and her cheeks flush.
I never got a chance to even attempt this with her before. It's tricky. It requires finesse on her part, perfect control and grip on mine, and impeccable timing from both of us.
She sets up a few feet away, her back to me. Her shoulders rise with a deep breath as she gets ready. I take a few breaths myself, my hands in front of me, my fingers twitching, ready to catch her.
A tiny shrug of her shoulders signals the start of her back handspring. She swings her arms back and then up before she jumps, launching her body backward to land on her hands. Except her hands don't even touch the floor, because I catch her hips and throw her up, spinning her with my hands so she makes two full turns before landing with both feet on my right hand.
We don't get enough height, so my arm is bent, but I am able to shoulder press her up and save the stunt.
"Yes!" She lets out with a little breath. Her enthusiasm almost makes me smile.
"Full around." I'm feeling cocky. With a little dip and a flick of my wrist, I have her spin a full 360 and land on my palm again.
"Do it again." I hold my breath, and she gasps a little when I smoothly turn her again.
"One more," I say between my teeth, pushing my luck with my shoulder complaining.
Another clean turn. That's three in a row. And a first, for me.
"Fuck, yes!" I grunt out, euphoric, as I pop her off and set her down, and then I almost—almost—pull her into a hug.
I stop myself, barely, before I can wrap my arms around her fully, and the pseudo embrace turns into an awkward hive-five.
"Wow…" she pants, eyes on me. "Show off…" She lets out a chuckle, hands on her hips.
I stand up tall in front of her while she gets her water, and then I subtly shake my shoulder off a little bit. We've been at it for hours, and I am exhausted, but I try to limit my breathing to my nose only, mostly out of stubbornness—I don't want her to know I'm dying.
"Do you need a break?" Her eyes are back on me, knowingly.
"I'm fine." I guess my drenched shirt gives it away.
"You're doing that thing with your face though." She points a finger at my mouth, while a smile tugs at her lips.
"What thing?"
"When you press the corner of your lip. Just on the right side. It's what you do when you're in pain that you're trying not to show."
I take a deep breath.
Whatever.
"You also high-fived me with your left hand," she presses. "Which I know means your right shoulder is hurting."
I don't know why it bothers me that she knows these things—that she remembers everything—but I avoid her eyes and turn to my water instead.
"Let's just get on with it," I say, my good mood ruined.
It's just us in the gym now, and that charged energy sets between us again. Only this time, it feels hard, too hard, to keep myself in check. To keep things from bubbling right back up.
"Cullen—"
"Don't…" I say curtly before she can say anything else. "Don't call me that."
"What do you want me to call you, then?" she pushes, voice steady.
"Don't call me anything." My anger boils at the painful reminder of the familiarity we used to have, of how easy things were between us, of how much we would have enjoyed a night like this two years ago.
"C'mon, that's not fair."
"Fair?" I laugh sourly and don't bother pretending not to pant anymore. "You really want to talk about fair?"
"Edward, I'm sorry...for everything." Her voice trembles, and when she looks up at me, there are tears welling in her eyes. Unfair, backstabbing, heartbreaking tears.
"Nah, we agreed we wouldn't do this." I take a step away from her, afraid that if she's within reach, my arms will be tempted enough to try to comfort her.
"I just want to explain…" Every effort I make to move away from her, she matches with a step in my direction. "I never meant for you to get hurt. I thought it was the best I could do. For me to get better. For you to not get thrown in the middle."
"Okay, good to know." I reach for my bag and turn on my heels, heading for the locker rooms, hoping by some miracle she doesn't follow me.
"Please, hear me out," she begs behind me as I push the swinging doors to the locker rooms, fighting my instinct to hold them open for her but storming inside instead.
The sounds of her steps make me turn to look at her. My shoulders tense. I'm trapped—both by her body, blocking the door and my way out, and by the many memories we made in these locker rooms together.
I knew it was a bad idea to allow myself to be alone in the gym with her.
Then, I just explode.
"Okay, you want to talk? Let's talk. How fucking could you?"
She flinches a little at my raised tone, but before she can open her mouth, I continue.
"How could you just…turn around and disappear? After everything we'd been through. Like I was nothing to you. Like it was all a lie."
"I was only trying to protect you," is what she says, and I fucking fume.
"Yeah. Fuck that." My words cut like ice, both how they feel coming out of me, and how they tear through her.
"It's the truth." She wipes her tears furiously, as if angry with herself. "I thought it was the only way."
I groan into my hands and then pull at my hair, pacing in front of her.
"Phil threatened to get you off the team." Her words make me halt my steps. "To blacklist you."
"What?" I suddenly feel cold, blood draining from my face.
"I needed to get myself together enough to fight him." Her arms wrap around her torso, hugging herself. "To fight them. And I didn't want to drag you down that path with me."
"So you just cut me off?" I can't fucking believe it.
"You worked so hard to make the team. I didn't want you to lose everything because of me. You would have lost your scholarship, your spot on the team, everything."
Anger bubbles inside of me, but other feelings mix in. Regret. Frustration. Guilt.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" My voice is laced with desperation as I finally look at her. "Two years, Bella, and not even a text. A message. Nothing."
"What would you have done if I had explained?" she asks, coming closer, her fingers about to reach for me before she drops her hands.
"Help you fight them? Been there to support you? I don't fucking know." I pull at my hair until it hurts. "We could have found a way together. We could have told them to fuck off."
"He was going to use you against me," Bella says softly. "I couldn't risk it."
I drop on the bench, my face down, my shoulders sagging, feeling absolutely defeated. "The shit you said to me…" My hand presses on my chest, right over my heart, to try to keep it from feeling like it's breaking again. "Bella, you wrecked me."
"I needed you to believe me." She cries as she moves closer, crouching in front of me, her hands burning on my knees. "It killed me to say those things to you, and for what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."
"Fuck, Bella…" I try to breathe as I feel the walls closing in me.
"I'm sorry." She hugs herself to my legs, quiet sobs coming out of her as I try to calm down. "I'm so, so sorry," she says again and again.
Five things you can see.
The wall. The door. The crack that runs from the frame to the ceiling. The light with the flickering bulb. The dented locker door from last summer when Emmett lost his temper after he found out the reason Rosalie was getting a divorce.
Four things you can feel.
My heart thumping in my chest. Bella's arms wrapped around my knees. Her cheek pressed on my thigh. The wood of the bench, chipping under my fingernails.
Three things you can hear.
The fridge's compressor in the back of the room. Bella's soft sobs. My own rushed breathing.
Two things you can smell.
The rubber of the mats stored in the locker room.
Shea. Butter. Fucking shea butter.
One thing you can taste.
I open my eyes, taking a deep breath, refusing to do the last one. All I want to taste is Bella.
"Stop crying, please." I pull on Bella's arms, helping her up.
When she looks at me, my hands let go of her elbows. She sniffles, running a hand under her eyes, and sits next to me. I stare at my feet and try to think while watching her every move out of the corner of my eye. She twists her fingers, fidgeting, but seems to collect her breathing enough to calm down.
"Why wait all this time to tell me?" My voice is barely a whisper, my eyes trained down. "Why now?"
"I didn't want to risk getting you involved or…" She shudders a little, her arms wrapping tightly around her torso. "Phil finding out that I was talking to you, not until I was legally rid of him."
I tremble as well but in rage. "Fuck's sake."
"When I collapsed in Daytona, they filed for an adult guardianship, which in Florida allowed my mom to basically sign everything over to Phil. I think Phil had been planning on that for a while. He owned all of my channels and accounts. I was contractually bound to go to Texas, join Volterra College, and film that docuseries. They managed all of the money from that. I mean the contract still said that 60% of it goes to me, but it's all in a bond until I'm twenty-one, and then they'll re-evaluate again…could be thirty, or more."
"What in the actual fuck?" I read some rumors, and I knew there was some legal stuff going on backstage, but I never thought it was that bad.
"My copyright battle with Phil wasn't over until a couple months ago. I have control of my life now, of my name, of my brand…and he won't come after you anymore. He can't."
"I can't believe you didn't even give me the chance to help you through it."
"You did help me though. Seeing you succeed, watching you achieve things for yourself—it made me feel like it was all worth it. Like I didn't ruin you."
My head spins but my anger slowly dissipates, being replaced by guilt instead. I should have fought harder for her.
"Also, I know you went to Charlie. He showed up in Florida and helped me through everything. Helped me come up with a plan to get rid of Phil. Helped me pay for my lawyers. Helped me keep you safe. I don't know if I could have gone through the past two years without him."
I look down. Chest hurting. Would have been nice to know.
"I made him promise not to reach out to you. If he had, I know you would have gone to Florida, you would have tried to rescue me, and I would have ruined you."
I look up and get lost in her eyes, feeling mine pool with tears like hers.
"You saved my life, Edward," she says, tears spilling. "I will be forever thankful to you."
I try to breathe through the lump in my throat to no avail. Then, I groan into my hands, uncertain how to feel. I'm relieved and pissed off. Embarrassed. Proud. Frustrated. In love.
Still so fucking in love with her.
"Do you hate me?" she asks after a moment, and I almost want to laugh.
"Of course I don't hate you, Bella. I could never…"
I hate a lot of things, but I don't hate her.
I hate that her parents valued money more than her health. I hate that she didn't fight for us the way I would have fought for her. I hate that she robbed me of the option of helping her through what she's been through. I hate the fact that we lost two years together.
I hate the way she makes me ache when she's nearby.
But what I hate the most is that I can't hate her at all.
"I never stopped loving you," she whispers. "That hasn't changed. You were my first everything. My first love. My first real friend..."
I blow air out through puffed cheeks and look away while her words surge through me, warming me up all over.
"I know that maybe you don't feel the same anymore, and that's fair…two years is a long time…but I hope we can be friends or colleagues at least? What happened in there…" She gestures at the doors that lead back to the gym. "That doesn't just happen with anyone. We're going to win everything this year."
I clasp my hands over my bouncing legs, shaking my head at her, while I take a deep breath.
Because she's so fucking right, and I don't want to live in a world where I can't stunt with her.
Colleagues? We have to.
Friends?
"I can't be your friend," I say softly, and her eyes immediately well up with tears.
"Okay, I understand." Her chin trembles as she looks down.
I close my fingers under her face, finally allowing myself to touch her. "I can't be just your friend," I clarify. "I won't survive that."
Her lips stretch slowly in realization. "Okay." Her hands wipe away her tears. "So, what do you want to do?"
What do I want to do?
All I want to do is kiss her.
But I need…I don't know, fuck, I need time to process things. Because if I kiss her now, there is no way I would be able to hold back. Not anymore. Not ever again.
Her eyes train on mine, wide and expectant—so fucking beautiful.
"I want to go back out there and show you that I can throw a triple," is what I say instead.