A/N: Warning: this chapter has discussion of the death of a loved one. Please be advised.

Happy reading. (That feels a little weird to say for this one.)

4. The Lakes

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die
I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you
Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry
I'm setting off, but not without my muse

- the lakes, Taylor Swift

"I think this is the best thing you've ever written." Alice says a few days later. I sent her the first few chapters of the story I started, and her feedback makes me almost giddy.

"You really think so?" I'd kept a few aspects of the last story that I'd sent her pages for, like the main character working through her feelings of grief, but everything else was brand new. The words had poured out of me and on to the page with an ease that I hadn't felt in so long. It felt right, because I wasn't forcing words onto the page out of obligation of producing something; I was putting the words onto the page because I had to, the characters and their story demanded it.

And if the love interest bore a striking resemblance to a certain auburn-haired, green-eyed man? Well, we'll just call that a coincidence.

"I mean it. I've read some pretty amazing things from you, but this takes the cake. It made me cry."

I smiled wider, "I don't think I've ever made you cry before."

"I'm serious, Bella. It's incredible." She paused for a moment, and I knew what the next thing out of her mouth would be, but it didn't fill me with dread the way it usually would. "How are you doing?"

I thought about her question before I answered. "Better." I knew it was the truth. Being here wasn't some magical cure. I still had mornings where it was hard for me to get out of bed and words didn't flow, but it was getting better. I was putting in the effort. I was trying. "I still have my bad days, but it's better."

"You sound better, happier." I heard her set something on her desk. "Maybe I should spend some time out in bum fuck nowhere."

I laughed, lying down on the couch. "I think I've kind of met someone."

"Now we're getting somewhere." She snickered. "How did you kind of meet this someone?"

"I got a flat tire on my way here. I had to walk the rest of the way, and I met this guy at the bar in town that helped me change it. I didn't think I'd see him again, but when I met up with some people for drinks, he was there. He may have kissed me." The memory of his kiss haunted me in my dreams. I ran my fingers across my lips, the phantom feeling of his lips was still there, making them tingle.

"I'm sorry, I've gotta ask." Her voice dropped, taking on a conspiratorial tone. "How was it?"

I closed my eyes, reliving that moment, my toes curling in my socks. "He kissed me like he was trying to memorize the way I tasted."

"Oh my God!" She sounded like she was fanning herself. "I wish Jasper would kiss me like that."

"The night he kissed me may have also coincided with the night I started writing again."

"It sounds like you've found yourself a muse."

I blushed, thinking about the fact that the love interest in my novel looked exactly like him. Maybe he was my muse. It had to mean something, right?

"It's weird, though." I sat back up on the couch, bringing my knees to my chest. "The fact that I know absolutely nothing about him but can't stop thinking about him." The fact that I really, really wanted him to kiss me again.

"Bella," her voice took on a more serious tone. "I don't think it's a coincidence that your inability to write started with the end of your relationship with Paul. Sometimes, you just need something, or someone, to get your creative juices flowing. There's nothing wrong with that."

Her mention of Paul caused a twinge in a wound that had mostly healed. We met when I was junior in college. He'd been a fraternity brother of Irina's then boyfriend and she'd introduced us. Paul had been charming, sweeping me off my feet instantly. Our relationship had been hot and heavy for the first two years, such as it is when you're in college and partying most of the time, the alcohol flowing, making you see everything through rose-colored glasses. I hadn't been able to see how possessive he was, how much he didn't like it when I spent time with other guys. Toward the end of our relationship, it wasn't a coincidence that the last book I'd written was about a woman who escaped her toxic, abusive boyfriend, starting over in a new place where she met a guy that was the total opposite of her ex. It didn't escape me how my life was mirroring that plot.

"If you want my unsolicited opinion," she continued, pulling me out of painful memories. "I say go for it."

When my call with Alice was over, I packed up my laptop and headed out to Two Beans in a Pod, the local coffee shop. I'd taken to writing there the last week, after I had a day where the words weren't wanting to come. Getting out of the cabin helped and I spent hours there, drinking too many lattes as I wrote.

I parallel parked outside the store before heading inside.

As I stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit my senses. I always loved the way coffee shops smelled. Two Beans in a Pod wasn't huge, but they made great use of their space. The counter took up the left side, a case of pastries that had been made that morning sitting beside the register. They had a partnership with the bakery in town that made a delivery every morning. It was my experience that they didn't last long, and I was surprised to see any left at eleven am.

The walls were painted black behind the counter and a warm chestnut brown on the other. There were regular tables with chairs near the front windows, and comfortable couches along the right wall across from the counter. A bookcase was next to the entrance of the hallway that led to the bathrooms.

There were only two people in line in front of me, one of them with a familiar head of auburn hair, like my call with Alice had manifested his reappearance. He was just standing there on his phone, brows furrowed. He was the most casual I'd seen him in light wash jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair, whose texture I now knew so well, was a mess, like he'd just rolled out of bed. In short, he was the sexiest man I'd ever seen.

"Hi." I greeted, sucking in a breath when his green eyes met mine, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"Hi." He pocketed his phone, smile widening to reveal his dimples. "We finally meet during the day."

I smiled back at him. The pull that always made itself known when he was around, strengthened, giving a sharp tug.

"I can take the next person!" The man behind the counter called, breaking our moment.

Edward stepped up to the counter, "I'll have a cup of whatever's brewed and whatever it is she's having." He motioned his head toward, taking out his wallet. "And I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to."

I slammed my mouth shut so the words wouldn't escape. Instead, I said: "Thank you." Stepping up to the counter.

"Your usual?" The man behind the counter asked, smirking.

I bit my lip, feeling my face heat, Edward looking over at me with a surprised look. "Yes." I told the man, whose name was Tyler, according to the name tag on his shirt. "I may have been here every day this week." I told Edward as he inserted his card into the machine.

His chest shook with silent laughter, "I gathered that."

We stepped off the side to wait for our coffees, which didn't take long at this time of day.

"Join me?" he asked, picking up his coffee.

"Sure." I agreed even though the responsible part of my brain said that I should be writing.

I followed him to one of the couches, taking a seat next to him, crossing my legs in his direction.

"Haven't seen you around in a couple days." I commented, blowing on my coffee before taking a sip, only burning tongue a little. Angela, Ben, Jacob, and Claire, who I'd learned was Jake's younger sister, had met for lunch on Sunday and he'd been nowhere to be found. I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't been disappointed.

"My work schedule's pretty crazy."

"You're a doctor, right?" He looked at me, brows furrowed. My face heated. "I saw the lab coat in your trunk."

"Ah," he gave a nod. "Yeah, I work in the ER."

I looked at him impressed. "You must see some pretty crazy stuff."

"You have no idea." He shook his head with a laugh. "This one kid came in yesterday with an action figure stuck somewhere where no action figure should ever be stuck."

"Oh my God! Those poor parents."

"Apparently, it wasn't the first time, either."

"Oh God." I groaned.

"So, yeah, I'd say I see some pretty weird stuff." He looked down into his coffee, smiling. "What about you?" He looked over at me. "Angela mentioned that you're a writer."

"I don't see nearly as much strange stuff." I joked, making him smile again.

"I meant what kind of books do you write." He shook his head on a laugh, before adding: "Smart ass."

"I write romance." There was a bit of hesitation behind me telling him, because there was such a stigma around the genre, that they were all smut and fluff, with no substance. There were romance writers out there writing novels that had more emotional depth than a thousand-page fantasy.

"Are they dirty?" He wagged his eyebrows, like he was joking, but there was heat in his gaze. It was more subtle than Friday night, but still unmistakably there.

I felt my face flame for the third time. I broke eye contact with him to look at my fingers around my cup. "Maybe."

"I'll have to read one, then." Had his voice always been that low?

I looked back up. Had he always been sitting that close?

My phone pinged with a text, and I wanted to scream. I took it out of my bag to see a text from Leah. She'd sent me a picture of her, Jessica, and our mom sitting at the kitchen table carving pumpkins, a huge smile on her face. A text saying that they wished I was there followed. A pang of sadness settled over me. I missed them.

I texted back saying that I wished I was there and that I missed them so much, before pocketing my phone again.

"Everything okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," I settled back onto the couch. "It was just sister."

"You have a sister?"

"Two, actually. Jessica and Leah." I tucked some hair behind my ear. "They're carving pumpkins with our mom."

"What are they like?"

"Annoying." He threw his head back in a laugh. "They're kind of awesome, though. Jessica is in her final year of medical school at Duke and Leah owns her own photography business. She just hired an assistant, so it must be going pretty well. And mom, well, mom is our rock." I think back to the first days after dad and how she was there for us and my heart aches.

"What about your dad?" His question is innocent, most people ask about my dad, and every time it's a sucker punch to my gut, like tearing out stitches from a cut that bleeds endlessly.

I sit up straighter in my seat, putting some space between us. "He passed away last year."

"I'm so sorry, Bella." The sympathy in his voice makes me want to throw up.

"You know, it's been a year and it still feels like it happened yesterday." I see him move closer to me out of the corner of my eye, coming to rest with his leg touching mine and his arm behind my shoulders. "Sometimes I feel like a failure because the rest of my family has been able to move on, and I'm just… stuck."

"You're not a failure, Bella." There's a familiar pain in his voice. I look into his eyes, finding them bloodshot, unshed tears pooling in them. He chewed his lips. "I was sixteen when my brothers and I lost our parents in a car accident. They were coming home from Raleigh and were struck by a drunk driver. My brother, Eleazar, moved back home afterward to take care of us because he was the oldest. It felt like I had been in the pit for years, Bella. Years." His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a tear. "There's no right or wrong way to grieve and comparing your process to someone else's isn't fair. Because a year?" he shook his head. "That's no time at all."

"I'm sorry."

"It's been twenty years. It hurts less now."

"You have brothers?" I asked, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

The corner of his mouth lifted at my smooth change of subject. The hand of the arm around on the back of the couch landed on my shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles. "Yeah, I have three. There's Eleazar. He lives in Seattle now with his wife and their five kids."

"That's a lot of kids." I sniffed.

He smirked. "We're Irish and Catholic."

I let out a strangled laugh.

"Then there's Emmett. He lives in New York with his fiancée who's a model. Embry is the closest. He lives an hour away with his wife and daughter."

"They all left, but you?"

"Yeah, they did. Being here was too painful for them and they all left at the first opportunity."

"Did you ever think about leaving?"

His face takes on a thoughtful expression. "I thought about it. I went away for school, and I wasn't going to come back, but it didn't feel right like being here does." It was a strange experience to have my own words echoed back to me. "My parents loved this place. Being here, in this place they loved so much, it's like…"

"A balm." I finished for him.

He squeezed my shoulder. "Like a balm." We were such kindred spirits, more so than I could have imagined.

"My dad loved this place, too. That's why I came here. It just felt right."

"I'm glad you came," he replied earnestly. "I'm glad I met you."

"I'm glad I met you, too."

We stayed there, talking for a long time, going through another cup of coffee, our conversation venturing into much safer territory. Sitting there next to him, watching his eyes crinkle as he recounted a story of the time his brother Emmett went streaking through their neighborhood and getting caught by a policeman that brought him home, it felt like a part of me that had been raw and weeping, healed.

"Who likes cheese, but not cheeseburgers? That's just weird." I teased as we made our way out of the store.

"I just don't like them." He sounded defensive, but I could hear the laugh in his voice that wanted to escape.

"I still say it's weird." He held the door open for me and I went through it.

"I'll find out something about you that's just as weird and hold it over your head." My stomach did a flip at his words. I liked the thought of him getting to know me better. "Question."

"Answer."

"What time do you take those daily walks around the lake?"

"Usually around ten." I replied as we walked slowly toward my car.

"And, hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Of course." I bit my lip so he wouldn't see me smile.

"If someone wanted to join you on these walks. What cabin would they meet you at?"

A thrill went through me. "Hypothetically speaking, if someone wanted to find me, I'd say that my cabin was the first one you come to as soon as you turn off the main road. The one with the shed in the backyard."

"That's good to know. Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically." We came to a stop next to my car and I turned to face him. I had that nervous, fluttery feeling as we stood there, like this was the end of a first date. "I had nice time. We should… do this again."

"We definitely should do this again, but in the form of dinner next time."

This time, I didn't even try to hide my smile. I smiled so much today that my cheeks hurt, and it felt good. "I'd like that."

"Wait!" He grabbed my wrist when I started to walk away. "There's just one thing."

He stepped closer, invading my personal space, my heart starting to pound. His thumb came to my chin, tilting my face up. When he started to lean down, I rose up on my tip toes to meet him halfway.

I thought that I had imagined it, over hyped it in my head, maybe, but I was wrong.

His lips moved in sync with mine in a way that I had never experienced with anyone else. It started out slow, but escalated quickly, the heat between us rising. When his tongue ran across the seam of my lips, I let him in willingly. He groaned when my tongue stroked his, using his thumb that was still on my chin to open my mouth wider so he could have better access and that turned me on.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing myself closer to him, but it wasn't enough. I had a feeling it would never be enough. I wanted him like I'd never wanted anyone or anything ever.

He started to slow the kiss down, his lips a slow, smooth glide across my own, ending it with a few chaste kisses before he pulled away.

"I've been thinking about that since Friday night." He smirked sexily down at me, and it only threw more kindling onto the fire that refused to go out.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since Friday night." I painted, my eyes closing briefly when he pushed some hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my neck.

"I'll see you later, Bella." He backed away, his eyes going over me with a look of longing on his face. I stood there and watched him go until he turned to walk the rest of the way to his car.

As I got behind the wheel, throwing my laptop bag and purse in the back seat, it struck me.

I was falling and falling fast.

-IS-

Angela's house was small, built in a cottage style, complete with ivy growing up the side. It somehow fit the woman that I had come to know.

I walked up to her front, ringing the doorbell. She'd called earlier in the afternoon to invite me over for a girl's night with her and Claire.

Angela opened the door, looking flustered. "Hi, come in." She stepped aside, looking down the hallway as she did to what looked like her kitchen.

"Everything okay?"

"Claire is cooking dinner." She replied just as there was a loud crash from that direction. "What's wrong?!" she sounded panicked, telling me that that wasn't the first time.

"Will you relax?" Claire called, appearing in the doorway, a dusting of flour on her cheek, making her look angelic. "I have this under control." She looked at me. "Hi, Bella. There's a pitcher of Bloody Mary's in the living room. Maybe you can get Angela to chill."

The woman in question sneered. "Just don't burn my kitchen down, okay. Ben can take a lot, but I think coming home to a charred kitchen would make him blow a gasket."

Claire rolled her eyes. "I promise not to burn down your kitchen."

"She's going to make me get premature gray hair." She sounded haggard, running her fingers through her hair, watching Claire disappear back into the kitchen. "She won't even let me in there."

"Maybe you should do what she said and relax."

She glared at me. "Don't start." She threw her arm around my neck, leading me into her living room that was furnished in mismatched furniture that still somehow looked like it went together. A large, plush love seat sat in front of a coffee table, with two armchairs on either side. Books were in piles next to the fireplace that had a fire crackling inside it. The mantel of which was covered in pictures of Angela and her friends. A small piano was against the wall behind the love seat, sheet music sitting open on it. A pile of romance novels sat on the coffee table.

"What's all that?" I pointed to them, taking a seat as she poured me a Bloody Mary.

"Claire and I were trying to pick our next book for book club."

"You're already finished with the last one?" It was hard to believe that I had been in town that long.

"Not quite. Our last meeting for it is next week." She handed me my cocktail, her own in her other hand.

I took my drink. "Do you still want me to do that meet and greet."

"I would never ask you to do that." She insisted and made me trust her more. She wasn't befriending me to get something out of me, she was befriending me because she just wanted to.

"You're not asking, I'm offering. It's different."

"You'd really do that?" I could tell by her tone and the look on her face that she really wanted me to but would never ask.

I nodded. "I would love to."

She launched herself at me, wrapping me in a hug. "You're the best. You're going to make the ladies in my book club so happy."

I squeezed her back.

Another crash came from the kitchen.

"Claire!"

"Sorry!"

-IS-

The next morning, I'm more eager for my morning walk than any other day. It makes me feel like a teenager again. I bound down the stairs, going over the coat rack by the door where I pull on my coat. The temperatures have started to cool, and I'd stopped at a local shop the day before and picked up a coat and a hat. I slid my feet into my boots, tying them tightly.

I knew he'd be there, but seeing him leaning against his car, hands stuffed in his pockets, made me giddy.

"Good morning." I greeted him, walking down the porch steps.

"Good morning." He smiled, shoving off his car. If only he knew what those dimples did to me. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

As we made our way around the lake, there were times we were quiet, walking in companionable silence, and there were times we talked. It was nice, that feeling of comfort that was becoming so familiar present between us.

"What's your favorite color?" I asked. We were about halfway around the lake now.

He thought about it for a second, looking at my coat. "Red, I think."

I rolled my eyes. "You can't just say that because it's what I'm wearing."

"Why not?" There wasn't an ounce of guilt on his face. "You look good in red."

I rolled my eyes, mocking annoyance, all the while my stomach flipped.

"What's your favorite color, then?"

"Green." I replied without thinking.

"You can't just say that because it's the color of my eyes." He retorted.

"It's because of the trees." It wasn't. "They're so green here."

"You're a really bad liar."

I ducked my head, smiling. I seemed to do a lot of that around him.

As we came to the halfway point, there was a break in the trees where you could unobstructed across the water. I stopped, looking out at the lake, remembering my dad bringing me to this exact spot when I was kid.

"This was my dad's favorite spot. He and I would come here at night when it was quiet, and just… look."

Edward came up beside me, looking out. "It's really beautiful here."

"It is."

I could feel his eyes on me, and I just knew.

"You can ask me if you want."

I could see him chew his lips. "What happened?"

I didn't answer right away, because I couldn't. There were times it felt too raw. "He'd had chronic neck problems my entire life. Countless surgeries." Tears pooled in my eyes, and I didn't try to stop them. "It was a routine procedure, no big deal. I didn't even go to the hospital. He'd told me not to." I took in a shuddering breath. "Everything went great. The surgery was successful, and he'd been fine. They released him from the hospital on a Thursday and early Sunday morning he woke up my mom saying he couldn't breathe." I closed my eyes, biting my lip as I remembered my mom's agonized cries on the phone when she called to tell me. "He was fine." I spit because I was angry. It wasn't fair. He was so young; he shouldn't have been gone. "He'd been fine every other time before." I sobbed.

Edward didn't say anything, he just wrapped his arms around me, letting me cry into his chest.

"I miss him all the time."

I felt him kiss my head. "I know. Believe me, I know."

I let him soothe me, taking in his scent that was spicy mixed with fresh air and something uniquely Edward. While it hurt to tell him, it also felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn't talk about my dad much these days, and while I'd just recounted one of the worst moments in my life, it oddly felt good talk about it. Because it was Edward.

This man, like this place, was a salve to my soul. Everything hurt a little bit less when he was around.

A/N: What happened to Bella's dad is actually what happened to my dad. It's been almost ten years since, and while it's not as raw, it sometimes still hurts to think about him.

Anyway, I will see you next chapter.