Chapter 34

A/N: we have really reached a pivotal point in this story and i know, in the grand scheme of things, i only have a small little community of readers but posting this is making me EMOTIONAL!!! And I'm so grateful & i love edward cullen and i love to write about him lol

& thanks for sticking around bc its become a long one, huh??? (and its gonna keep getting longer hahahaha)

BELLA POV

"Yo, you got a light?" He asked as he approached.

I've noticed him before, since he lived across the street and all, but we've never actually spoken to one another. He was a notorious hot, broody bad boy throughout the neighborhood. Jessica Stanley said he was the best fuck in school, and there was a laundry list of girls who agreed. He smoked cigarettes and wore leather jackets and hung out with Jasper Hale and Emmett McCarty.

I lifted an eyebrow. "You don't have one, Masen? You smoke like a chimney."

"I was hoping to use yours."

I have noticed him before, but I never noticed how absolutely stunning he was. With deep green eyes and chestnut hair, he stood in front of me like a real man, not a dumb high school kid, like James inside.

Maybe stunning wasn't the right word. Edward was beautiful.

-.-.-

"NO!" I heard my scream before I heard the blow from Jacob's shotgun. Edward's eyes grew, flying frantically to meet mine as he dropped to his knees in front of me.

"No! No, no, no…" I ran to him, catching him in my arms as he slumped to the ground. His green eyes rolled around, searching for something he couldn't see.

"What did you do?!" I screamed again, cradling Edward's bleeding body against mine. "What did you fucking do?!"

I heard the gun drop to the floor and the shuffling of feet, running away. I heard the squeaky metal back door open and the hum of my Dad's voice, but I couldn't comprehend any of it.

All I could do was scream. And cry. And hold onto him tighter.

His eyes closed, and he mumbled something as he shook in my arms.

"No!" I yelled again, using the hand that was supporting less of his body weight to brush his overgrown hair off his sticky, pale forehead. "No, no, Edward. Baby, please. Wake up. Please."

He didn't.

-.-.-

"Why don't you come home with me, Bella? His uncle's on his way. There's nothing we can do right now…"

"I'm not fucking leaving, Charlie!" I screamed back at my dad, clearly disturbing the rest of the people in the waiting room, but obviously not given even a fraction of a fuck. I've been disturbing them for… however long I've been here. It could have been minutes or hours. It felt like days. I just shook and sobbed and paced and screamed and waited for someone to tell me he was going to be fucking okay.

He had to be okay.

It was my fault. All my fault. If I would have been honest from the beginning… if I just told Jacob…

Rage flared from within me as I thought his name. I screamed again.

I should never have brought Jake back here. I should have known better. I should have known what would happen when I saw him again, what happened every time I saw him.

Fuck that. Every time I thought about him.

Which was always.

I screamed again.

-.-.-

"Just… don't get weird about it, okay? It was just a fuck."

I stared at Edward with narrowed eyes, trying to look nonchalant but also definitely checking him out as he dressed. The way the muscles rolled in his back as he pulled his shirt over his head, mostly.

He visibly paled as he looked at me. "What?"

"Didn't you come onto me?" I asked.

"Yeah, and?"

"So why would I get weird about it? How about you don't get fucking weird about it?"

That was what my therapist would later tell me was called projecting as a defense mechanism. Okay, obviously, I couldn't afford real therapy, but the counselor at Phoenix Community College had to count for something.

Anyway, it was called projecting as a defense mechanism because I already knew, even before that moment, that I was most definitely going to get weird about it. In fact, I knew from the moment our hands brushed earlier that night, when I handed him the lighter he asked for. There was something there… a spark or something, and it set something inside of me ablaze, and I knew I was done for.

-.-.-

Charlie stayed with me until Alice showed up.

"Bella!" She shouted, running through the waiting room and into my arms.

This was my fault, too. I did this to her brother. I knew how much he meant to her, and I still let this happen.

I crumbled into her hug. "Alice," I sobbed, pressing my wet face into her shoulder. She held me tighter, crying and shaking just like me. "I'm so s-sorry…." I managed to stutter out on a sob.

"Shh, Bella…" Alice cooed, rocking me in her arms. "Its not your fault, Bella."

It is. I wanted to tell her. Its all my fault. But I couldn't get the words out. I could only hold on to her like an anchor, the closest thing I could get to her brother, and cry.

-.-.-

"I mean, it looks like a really nice piano."

I've successfully wrangled Edward Masen into my grasp once again. I wasn't gonna fuck him this time, because my Dad and his Uncle were right outside (and like, half of the neighborhood, but I didn't really give a shit about them), even though my body literally ached for him. He smelled like wood and smoke and boy deodorant and it drew me to him like a vice.

Not to mention the way he looked.

Now, he was pissing me off, too, so I definitely wasn't going to fuck him.

"It is a nice fucking piano. You done?"

He just stared at me for before closing his eyes for a moment. "Yeah," he said.

I exhaled, too, relieved it was over.

He wasn't done.

"So, what, you play piano?"

It was just something I didn't like to talk about. It was too laced in Mom and Dad and the shattered remains of what was once a happy childhood.

Well, happy in a naive, childish kind of way.

I tried to shake him off as we went upstairs and sat on my bed, but his questioning was relentless. He asked about my guitar, and he asked if I could sing. He laughed when I told him I wouldn't sing for him. It pissed me off, but it was pretty cute the way his eyes lit up and the way his cheeks dimpled, so after a minute I started laughing too.

"Do I get to ask you questions now?"

He shrugged. "I guess so."

I thought about what I wanted to know, and only came up with one question. A real tit for tat situation.

"How did your mom die?"

He stiffened, his nostrils flaring as his gaze turned into a glare. "What the fuck, Bella?" He hissed.

"What, dickwad?" I asked, pissed off all over again. Defensive projecting, remember? "You were asking me personal fucking questions."

"I wasn't asking you why the fuck your mom left you!"

"Well, the piano has a direct correlation to my mother and why she left, so you kind of fucking did."

We stared at each other for a long minute. The longer I looked at him, the calmer I felt.

"Are you a fucking witch?"

"What?" I asked, now more confused than anything.

"Fucking forget it." He muttered, letting his face fall into his hands.

I stared at him again. He looked vulnerable like this, folded up in my bed. It tugged at my heart strings a little. Then, I thought about how he asked if I was a witch, and I started laughing. Really, really laughing.

"You're a weird dude, Masen."

And after that, the mood just… shifted. No one was pissed off anymore. We were just… there. Two people who were just there with each other, and that was enough, I guess, because we told each other everything.

And I knew we'd just truly met, and I knew that I didn't actually know what it was I was feeling, but I was pretty sure I already fucking loved him.

-.-.-

I was jostled awake by a hand on my shoulder. I didn't even realize I fell asleep. I sat up straight, my neck stiff from my uncomfortable position on Alice's shoulder, and looked up at Carlisle Cullen.

I did this to him, too.

"Oh, Bella, please don't cry." Carlisle said, squatting in front of me so we were face to face. His eyes were red and puffy; he was crying, too.

"I-Is he…" I stuttered, but Carlisle put his hand out to silence me.

"He's out of surgery. I just landed in Chicago about an hour ago, but I had a chance to talk to the doctors." He reached out to brush a tear off my cheek. It reminded me of Edward, and just made the tears fall faster. "He's going to be okay, Bella."

I had no control over my body when I threw my arms around him. I cried, harder than before, feeling what I guess was relief, but it was much stronger than that.

I barely registered Alice's arms as they snaked around Carlisle and I, but at the sound of her tears, I cried even harder.

When I regained enough composure to speak, I asked; "Can I see him?"

"Not for a little while, honey." Carlisle voice was calm and sounded like silk. It made me crave the sound of his nephew's voice, so similar but so fucking different, too. "They're getting him set up in the ICU." He was talking to both me and Alice, now. "They've placed him in an induced coma to help him heal. He'll be out for a few days."

"But he' ll be okay?" Alice squeaked out.

Carlisle nodded. "He has a long road to recovery ahead of him, but yes. He's going to be okay."

Carlisle's wife, Esme, appeared then, placing a dainty hand on Alice's spiky hair and smoothing it. "Why don't you girls let me take you home for a bit? I'm sure you could use a shower…"

"I'm not leaving." I said.

"Bella…" Carlisle started, but I cut hIm off.

"I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere until I can see him."

"Sweetheart, I promise you, you will see him soon. But…" His eyes raked up and down my body. I looked down at myself. I was in my pajamas with slippers on my feet that I didn't remember putting on. Oh, and I was fucking covered in Edward's blood.

I choked on my breath at the sight of it.

"You should get cleaned up." Carlisle continued. "And… the cops want to speak with you, of course. I figured you may want some time to yourself before you have to have that conversation."

Oh, the cops. Of course. I was totally thinking about talking to the cops while the love of my life laid in a hospital bed, cut open and wounded, all because of me. Of course.

"Its all my fault." I mumbled, my head falling as more tears leaked from my eyes. I didn't know how much I could possibly have left to cry.

"Now, Bella, you know that's simply not true." Carlisle said. He patted my knee before rising from his kneeling position with a grunt. "And I know Edward wouldn't be happy to hear you say that."

I choked out a laugh. Of course he wouldn't. Edward wouldn't let me blame myself for any of this. He never did. He just took what I gave him without complaint, and all the while I thought it was just because he didn't care as much as I did. Why would he? He was smart and handsome and perfect and I was a hot fucking mess, bringing my boyfriend and his violence to this city to ruin Edward's life.

But that wasn't true, as it turns out. He loved me. He loved me, too, so much that he got himself shot over it. Over me.

I heaved out another sob, but nodded, letting Esme guide me out of the hospital and to the closest hotel, where her and Carlisle bought me a private room for the night.

The shower helped clear my mind. A very, very little bit. The quiet of the hotel room helped, too, but it reminded me so much of the night I shared with Edward just two fucking days ago that it did more harm than good, I think.

The whole hour I spent there, I cried.

Esme was kind enough to lend me a pair of legging and a sweater that said "SEATTLE" on it. I folded up the bloodied clothes I was wearing, swearing to myself that I would never wash them. I would keep this part of him forever. His insides, splattered all over the fabrics I wore in his bed on so many nights.

I didn't care what anyone said. It was all my fault. These pajamas would serve as my reminder of that. And they would probably be the last piece of him I could keep.

Carlisle said he was going to be okay, but that didn't mean he didn't fucking hate me.

As soon as I gathered myself enough to navigate, I walked back to the hospital. I didn't bother to tell Alice or Esme I was going - I needed the time alone, and they would figure it out.

The cops were waiting for me when I arrived. Carlisle's old friend from med school let us use his office to talk. I told them everything. Well, I told them as much as I could between bouts of hysterics. I was a fucking mess, anxious and desperate to see Edward. I had nothing to tell the police; where could Jacob have gone to? I told them about his friendship with Mike Newton, but that was all I had. Jake was a dumbass, but I didn't think he was stupid enough to hide three blocks away from where he shot someone.

Edward. He shot Edward. Because of me.

When the officers finished up their useless interview with me, Carlisle escorted me out of the office.

"Emmett, Rosalie and Jasper are here." He told me. "I thought maybe you'd want to see Edward alone, first."

I must have run out of tears to cry by then, because all I could do was nod.

The corridor to the ICU felt miles long. We walked in silence, Carlisle looking straight ahead while I looked at nothing; all I could see were images of Edward behind me eyes. Mostly it was him smiling or laughing, which was a fucking treat, because he really was a broody bastard. I smirked to myself, just a little bit, thinking about all of the times he'd pout when I'd have to leave his bed, whether it be for my dad's sake, or Jacob's.

You know, the guy that shot him?

My smirk fell.

Finally, we approached a door.

"I'll be right out here if you need me." Carlisle said. I nodded, taking a deep breath and walking inside Edward's hotel room.

You know, the one I put him in?

-.-.-

He had me in the alleyway behind the school, both of his hands on my face as he searches my eyes for something.

And then he kissed me.

Fucking finally. Angela Webber told me that Lauren Mallory told her that Edward doesn't kiss. That really fucking bummed me out, because I did, and I wanted to kiss him really fucking bad.

We melted into each other. My tongue found its way into his mouth. He grunted, muttering something that felt like the word 'mine' against my lips. I gasped, lightheaded, but couldn't keep my lips off of him, so I let them wander down his stubbled jaw. I kissed his neck, and it was so warm and hard from the muscles underneath it.

"I fucking want you." He said.

"You can have me." I told him, and I meant it.

When we were done, I asked him what that was all about. I knew as soon as he said he'd talked to Emmett that he knew I fooled around with James over the weekend.

I spun around to face him, walking backwards as I spoke. "Its really not your fucking business who I sleep with."

Fuck him and his double fucking standards. I was pretty damn sure he fucked some random chick this weekend, too. It was kind of his thing.

"What if I want it to be my fucking business?"

We stopped in the street between our houses.

"So…" He said.

"So, I won't fuck anyone else if you won't." I told him. He laughed, his smile big and wide and showing his perfect teeth. His face made me smile until I was laughing, too.

"Fucking deal." He agreed.

And what a fucking deal it was.

.*

I really thought I'd imagined the worst. I knew I would never be ready, per-say, but I thought I could handle it.

I could not.

Edward laying unconscious in his hospital bed with a tube coming out of his mouth was way beyond the realm of my imagination.

The sound that came from me was a foreign, barbaric wail. If I thought I had run out of tears before, I was sorely mistaken. It seems I was wrong about it all, in fact. I thought seeing him would make me feel better, would let me know he was okay. But that was not the case. Edward was not okay.

The trembles wracking through my body made it hard to walk, but I pressed onwards until I reached the chair besides his bed, where I collapsed. His right hand had an IV needle sticking out of it, and his left had one of those blood-oxygen machine-things on his finger. It was the side closer to me, and seemed the least fragile choice, anyway, so it was his left hand that I grabbed. I tried not to squeeze it too hard as I wept over his limp body, but the feeling of his skin against mine made it nearly impossible to regain the composure I thought I found earlier.

I'm not sure how long he was there - probably from the start, when I lost it, but Carlisle startled me when he placed a hand on my shoulder from behind me.

"You said he was okay," I choked out. "This is not okay."

"I said he'll be okay, Bella. Not that he was."

I leaned down, pressing my lips against the back of his hand, and whimpered.

"He lost a lot of blood, but you got him here fast enough that they were able to do a transfusion right away."

"I didn't do anything." I mumbled against the skin of Edward's hand. "Not anything besides put him here, anyway."

Carlisle sighed, but didn't comment further.

"I don't want to say anything that's going to hurt you, Bella, but I think you want to know the truth, right?"

I lifted Edward's hand ever so gently and pressed his palm against my cheek. I nodded so Carlisle knew I agreed, but didn't take my eyes of Edward's face.

He was so beautiful, even here.

"Esme, Alice and I know it's not your fault. Rosalie, too, I believe. Those other two boys, though…"

"They're right." I barely whispered.

"Bella, you couldn't have known…"

"I should have known, Carlisle!" I shouted, popping out of my chair so fast it made my head swim. "I should have! He… Jacob is violent, and I knew that. I knew it and I still brought him h-here…" My throat was so raw from all of the screaming and crying that my voice gave out as I yelled. "I-I didn't think he would fucking shoot him!"

"He has a history of being violent?"

I sobbed again, collapsing back into the chair. "H-He beat up this guy…" I had to gasp to collect enough air to speak. "His friend. He was his friend, and h-he beat him so badly that he went into a coma."

"Did you tell the police that?"

I nodded, letting my face fall into my hands. It was wet and sticky with tears and snot and spit.

Carlisle was quiet for another long second.

"Did you tell Edward about that?"

Of course not! I wanted to scream. Of course not because he would have tried to kill Jacob, and then Jake would have….

But I couldn't speak anymore, so I just shook my head.

"That's probably for the best." Carlisle said.

"I just want him to wake up," I whispered, lifting my face so I could grab Edward's hand again. "I just want to tell him I'm sorry."

"You'll get a chance to, sweetheart. I promise."