Friday May 5th, 1933
1 day until the wedding
Carlisle and I stepped out into the overcast morning.
I prayed the clouds would clear by tonight's rehearsal dinner. Then, I cursed myself for caring, and cursed myself again for praying.
"I hope you're in the mood for some fresh air," he called, then took off, beelining for the trees in the opposite direction of Esme's secret garden. I caught up to him without issue, jogging several yards behind him.
We hadn't made it a mile past the tree line when alarm bells sounded in my head. I realized with a rapidly rising dread that I was alone in the middle of the woods with a man who, despite our supernatural circumstance, was practically a stranger.
He's married, I thought to myself, grasping for calm. I'm safe with him.
…But hadn't Royce's co-criminal Oliver been married, too? And a father?
Hadn't I lost my life to the man who was supposed to be marrying me?
What would stop him from hurting me out here? His conscience? His morality? His values?
I was a fool to get myself into a situation like this again. I was practically begging for trouble. Asking for it.
Panic crept in, and before I knew it, that panic morphed into anger.
He had no problem taking liberties with my body. I was physical proof of that.
I wasn't too far behind him. It wouldn't take much. Hardly any effort to ensure my own safety. And the safety of countless potential others —
I bounded up behind him in a microsecond and sunk my teeth into his shoulder. It felt the same as when I'd bitten Edward. Blissful.
He cried out and reacted within an immeasurably small amount of time, tucking the shoulder I was biting into my stomach. I hadn't expected him to come closer.
Caught off guard, even though I was the one who'd attacked him while his back was turned, I tried to scuttle backwards, away from his reaching arms. My teeth popped out of his shoulder and the euphoria of my bite ended abruptly.
I wasn't sure how, but I ended up on my back on the forest floor, staring at Carlisle atop a tree quite a ways away. His hands were up by his face in a show of surrender, even though he'd effortlessly bested me.
Shame befell me.
I rolled over to my stomach and shoved my face into the dirt, sobbing.
He called to me, seemingly from the same faraway spot as earlier. "I'm so sorry, Rosalie."
"It was me," I cried, tearlessly. Missing the wet physical proof of my emotions made me cry harder. "Forgive me. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to forgive."
"Stop trying to make me feel better."
"It wasn't your fault."
"How could it not have been?!" I wailed. "Your back was turned!"
"That doesn't matter."
"I'm wretched."
"No, you're not."
"It wasn't even self-defense."
"That's debatable."
"What happened to me?!"
"Shall we return to the house?"
That sobered me up quickly. No, we couldn't go back to the house. I had a task to complete. If I wanted to see my wedding dress again, I needed to pull it together.
I was good at that. I could do that. I'd reined in my emotions hundreds of times, especially with men present.
It was harder to ground myself than usual. I could hear the fluttering of nearby birds and insects, the faint heartbeats of some creatures in the distance, the wind weaving through each blade of grass.
My sobs slowed. Carlisle waited. Patiently.
I gritted my teeth and got to my feet.
"No," I said, sloughing off the muck I'd covered myself in. "I have to keep going."
He remained in his tree. His shoulder looked good as new.
"You can take as long as you need to before we start moving again."
"Right. I've got all the time in the world," I snarked.
His eyes softened. "Rosalie, taking time to heal doesn't make you any less impressive."
Phantom tears stung. "I don't care what you think about me," I lied.
"And I think that's proof enough that you're making excellent progress," he asserted.
I glowed inside. Not that he'd ever know.
I started marching in the same direction as before, and stopped when I realized that in order to continue on that path, I'd have to cross him.
I wasn't turning my back to him. We weren't switching positions. Not a chance in Hell.
Did he trust me enough not to attack him if he led the way once more? Did I trust myself enough to?
"May I descend, Rosalie?"
It was an action I was comfortable with. "Yes."
He deliberately and obviously made his way down the tree. I knew his exact whereabouts in our shared space without effort. I couldn't look at him.
He remained several feet away from me. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"No."
"Shall we press on?"
"Yes."
"Are you comfortable with me turning my back on you again?"
What a strange but appropriate description.
"Yes."
"Follow me."
He turned on his heel and advanced at half-speed. I tailed him, but still didn't look. It was easier that way.
We hadn't been far from our destination when I'd had my meltdown. Within less than a minute, we slowed to a stop in front of an abandoned barn.
It didn't smell like an abandoned barn, though. I sniffed at the air, detecting metal… rubber… concrete?
Carlisle looked at me, an excited grin spreading across his angel face. "Any guess where we are?"
"I'm still trying to guess whether I'm trapped in a horrific coma dream or if I'm somehow actually at a barn in the middle of the woods."
His grin didn't fade. As much as I liked to make handsome men smile, it made my anxiety spike.
Carlisle approached the facade and pushed aside a door large enough that it could've been mistaken for a wall. Maybe it had once been.
Inside, there was only one room.
A garage.
/
Hi y'all sorry she's late I love you 3