Before we jump into this new chapter, I'd like to thank everyone for all the reviews—it never fails to make me smile whenever I realize that so many of you are interested enough to read and drop a comment, so for that I am grateful :).
And thanks to my dear CoppertopJ for being a wonderful beta!
I made every effort to take careful, calculated steps—not too fast, nor too slow—so that she wouldn't get scared. She was in enough distress already, I couldn't risk her entering a state of shock too. So I moved towards her, locking in a cage that part of me that longed for her blood and focused on what mattered most: her being safe.
Bella didn't realize she wasn't alone at first. She was far too busy analyzing her slightly swollen ankle to notice that the new rumble was not a result of the wind blowing, but of someone approaching her.
One more step, and she understood at long last when she raised her eyes.
All of a sudden, I didn't know which one of us was more scared of the other. Shock flashed across her face, followed in quick succession by stupefaction, confusion, and distress, only to settle into what appeared to be pure disbelief. I didn't know if my face betrayed me to the same extent hers did, but I felt ready to burst. The impossibility of locking my eyes with hers, her scent playing with my senses, the whirlwind of love and protectiveness in my stomach—everything was so incredibly intense, I felt as if I was on the verge of insanity and she could read me, in all my unstable glory, like an open book.
The air was dense with the weight of the past, and there was no taking back what I had done. I could not run away. I could not hide again, now that my presence was no longer a secret to her. But facing her here, out of all places, where I forced myself to abandon our flame, was brutal.
I made another step, as scared as ever. We were still staring at each other, and I feared that this entire highly improbable, yet awfully real situation was getting to her because she winced slightly. My first words to her left my mouth before I could do anything else.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
It was as much of a promise to her as it was to myself as well. It didn't matter how my mouth was fighting the flood of venom, all that mattered was that Bella was hurt and in need of someone's help.
"I'm not," I repeated carefully, right as my feet closed the distance between me and her with one last step. I felt lightheaded as I kneeled by her side, my mind and body hyper-aware of the new closeness. Warmth radiated out of Bella in deliciously fragrant waves, enveloping me, while her heart struggled to find a more peaceful rhythm.
"What's happening?" was all she managed to get out.
"I want to help you."
Bella was not even blinking. I was the first to move my eyes away, suspecting that she would burn a hole right through me with her gaze if I didn't back down. I glanced down at her swollen ankle, wishing my father was here, since his years of study and practice far outweighed my humble degree in Medicine. At first glance, the ankle seemed to be the victim of a light sprain and didn't necessarily appear to require immediate medical attention, just ice and maybe an elastic bandage compression. However, it seemed to be bad enough that she had trouble standing up, so what did I know, really?
I shifted awkwardly, not sure how to proceed. When I looked at her again, I was once again reduced to nothingness by her eyes. Two chocolate pools, deeper than the ocean, stared me down as if I were a creature from another planet. I felt warmer just by being near her.
"Will you let me help you?" I tried again, stretching my arms forward, to let her know what my intentions were.
All colour had left her face by the time she nodded in agreement, and I felt terrible: for what I was about to do, for the way her face told me I was anything but welcome, for being here in the first place. But the damage was done—I was no longer a shadow—and I was losing precious time being an idiot.
A clap of thunder rumbled from miles away right as my hands slid under Bella—the only reminder that what was happening was real, not my imagination messing with me. Besides, my imagination had never been so thorough. I could always picture the heaven that holding Bella close to me once was, but not all the way through. Because for every precise detail my mind resurrected, there were a million little things missing. I was still cold, my throat calm, my senses sedated, when the fantasies ended abruptly.
But now, I was a live wire. My heart was threatening to function again, after a century of inertia, when my palms met Bella's body through her clothes. While I lifted her up, I kept my arms stretched forward, so that the only points of contact between us remained the small of her back, her thighs, and my hands—not enough to be inappropriate, but enough to fuel my wildest reveries for at least half a century from now. I recognized the way her flesh gave in under my hard coldness, and relished in the way her pulse quickened, even if it was probably a direct result of her horror and nothing else.
I was still getting drunk on reality when I noticed what she was doing. Once again, she was staring, making no effort to hide her puzzled consternation.
"Am I… in a coma of sorts?" she asked in the end, her voice barely a whisper.
Her assumption got me to chuckle, and the new reverberation in my chest felt strange. How long had it been since I last laughed, or at least smiled? Apparently long enough to have forgotten what it felt like.
"No, you probably just sprained your ankle."
She shook her head incredulously, stirring my thirst with how unfairly edible she smelled.
"You used to be just a voice, I don't… I don't understand. Can I just check something?"
I was a little worried about her mental state—had she hit her head too, and I somehow missed it? It would have explained the nonsense pouring out of her.
"Yes," I answered, feeling a little out of the loop.
Against my will, I froze when I saw her raising one trembling hand, stretching it more and more until it landed right on my cheek. With that, she got me into a state where I could not move to save my life. All I knew, all there was… was that divine heat, sizzling through my tissues, caressing my veins and turning them to ashes in its wake. But as fast as her touch came to be, just as fast it vanished.
As if it had never even happened.
Bella's hands were once again in her lap, and she seemed almost embarrassed. Now that my attention was on them, I saw it again—her engagement ring. It looked almost ostentatious, so close that I could make out every little line and facet of the cubical piece of ruby.
"It's impossible," she murmured.
Transfixed as I was, finding the will to walk again was a challenge. The fact that I could basically feel her pulse dancing under my touch was not helping.
"What is?"
"You feel real."
"I am," I assured her. "Very much so." She shook her head again, and it was getting obvious that I could not postpone my mission much longer. "I need to get you inside, where you can lay down."
Bella's mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely when she said yes. A small part of me knew that I was in the wrong—not only for interfering in a situation I was supposed to stay away from, but also for daring to return to Forks at all. I had broken several promises in the past twenty-four hours, but jumping right back into Bella's life, even for a few fleeting minutes, had to be the very worst. How was I going to take this back? How was I going to explain things to her in a way that wouldn't send her down a downward spiral?
For once, I counted on her love for Jacob more than anything else. That love had to save her from me. As long as he was her chosen one, she didn't have to look back on the pain and misery I had brought her with anything other than pale nostalgia.
The short walk back to her house was a silent affair. Neither of us said another word. She had left the back door open—not a sound idea at all, although it would have been a lie to say that I was surprised—so I used it to get back into the one house I had missed the most. Inside, the washing machine was still purring like a wildcat, but it couldn't hide the way my conscience screamed at me to get out. I ignored it, choosing instead to peek at my surroundings. Little had changed since my last visit, that I could tell. The floor creaked a little louder, the wood having shrunken over the years more and more. The modest pale-yellow walls could use a fresh coat of paint, but I found them pleasant exactly as they were.
However, there were clear signs that Bella did not live here alone. That sweet and salty amber hung heavy in the air, and I could not tell if the repulsive feeling it evoked in me was a direct result of my unwarranted jealousy or not. This was no longer my territory. It was theirs. Their little nest I had intruded with no right to do so.
I tried to push my discomfort away, shifting my attention to Bella instead. If she was in pain, she was hiding it well. I traversed the hallway, still incredibly careful to keep a distance between our bodies, and stopped once I reached the living room. There were a couple of unfolded T-shirts on the couch and empty cans of beer on the table in front of it, his smell even stronger here.
"I'll lay you down here, all right?" I said, mostly to get my anguish to quieten a little, as the silence had been nothing short of crushing.
"All right."
As I laid her down, I pushed away the T-shirts, so that nothing would get in the way of her comfort. She winced when her foot touched the sofa, and my first instinct was to reach out and caress her ankle. Luckily, I caught myself just in time.
"Do you have any kind of elastic wrap inside the house?" I queried.
"I think I have some left over in the kitchen."
"The kitchen? Are you sure?"
"Yes, I needed it when my… when, um… when Jacob, my fiancé, pulled a muscle a few months ago while… well, he was fixing the sink. I think I left it there. In the top cupboard, I mean."
The words tumbled out of her mouth chaotically, and I could not look at her anymore. Hearing her say those words out loud made the knowledge that she was getting married real in a way that observing from a distance had not been able to. My eyes drifted back to her ring—specifically the way she was stroking the little gem as if it were some wounded animal.
"I'll get it," was all I said, and the weight of that sentence started to weigh heavy on my shoulders before I even finished it.
I rushed to the kitchen, away from the awful shame I felt. My reaction had been completely backwards—I should have found the grace to congratulate her on her engagement, at the very least, instead of acting as if I hadn't heard what she said. Idiot, idiot, idiot. The oddness behind this whole meeting of ours was not an excuse to act like a selfish disaster. As I searched through the cupboard, I could not stop berating myself for my own insensitivity.
In my anger, I found what I was looking for moments later than I would have in normal circumstances. I grabbed the pack of elastic bandages, and immediately after headed to the fridge. I opened the freezer door, relieved to see an ice tray waiting there. Taking it out, I looked around, until I noticed a green kitchen rag hanging on the edge of the table. It wasn't ideal, but I had to make do somehow. I stuffed a dozen ice cubes inside the rag, before twisting the material around, into an improvised ice pack.
When I returned to the living room, I was still too weak to look at her directly. I kneeled by her side, the thirst quietened only by the sight of her ankle: swollen and most likely painful. While I was busy fighting with myself in the kitchen, she had managed to take off her shoes and cuddle in a self-embrace on the couch.
"May I?" I asked, pointing at the new items I had brought.
I saw her nodding in the periphery of my view, and I didn't waste more time. I placed the ice rag on her ankle—ever so careful to keep my fingers away—and backed down after.
"There you go. The ice should stay there for at least ten minu—"
"Why are you here?" Louder than anything else she had uttered to me, Bella's voice pulled me from my guilt trip and right back to reality. It was hard to tell if the accusatory tone was a fruit of my imagination or real. It might have been, since she was completely entitled to despise the first—and hopefully last—man who broke her heart. However, there was no time for pondering over that, because the tide had turned against me, and I needed to learn to swim against the current before the water caused me to drown.
In a bid to stall the inevitable, I danced around the answer. "I saw you falling out there. I just wanted to help."
"That's not what I meant. What were you doing in the woods? In Forks?"
"Passing by." Another way to stall. Perhaps more lamentable than the previous.
Truth be told, I had never really planned to come face to face with her, which meant that I had not fabricated any excuses either. I was here specifically because I wanted to see her one last time before she made her way to the altar in a white dress. To see her happy, fulfilled, and content without me. How could I ever admit to any of this without seeming like a psychopath?
I was fully out of my wheelhouse here.
"Passing by my house?" Bella raised one eyebrow, challenging me. Doubting me. Her eyes were deeply unforgiving. If I thought she was confused before, I had been wrong all along. She was merely trying to piece an illogical puzzle together, with as little information as possible. Until she realized she had to ask for a clue.
"It's hard to explain."
"Try."
I took a deep breath, still hoping I had one ounce of control over the situation. But the firestorm igniting in my core put my reason in jeopardy. I tried going through every possible scenario, praying to find something that made a shred of sense, getting more and more disappointed as I realized there was really no sound explanation.
But the truth was worse. Way worse. More frightening, more revolting. Desperate, I dug deeper, for a proper lie. Something that would assure her it was all a lucky coincidence.
"Actually, I'm here for my family," I began. I wasn't confident in the path my mind chose, but the pressure of having to answer got me to talk before I could find something better. "Well, mostly for my mother. She needed help with the house."
Bella frowned, and that little dimple I adored so much—the one that formed whenever she saw right through my games of play pretend—seemed deeper now.
"Help with the house," she repeated slowly, an appealing shade of red climbing up her cheeks.
"Yes. She… intends on selling it." As the main lie cemented itself, several more got born out of thin air, eager to deposit themselves on the newly-poured foundation and grow on top of it. Not all of them were inventions. For instance, I knew about Esme's intentions to focus on working to help the environment, and how she tried to avoid excesses of any kind—and for once, I could put that knowledge to good use. "Lately, she's been into the idea of a more minimalist lifestyle. Getting in touch with the less materialistic side of life and all that. She wants to turn some of our properties into flora sanctuaries, and she's found some buyers who are willing to demolish them and build botanical gardens from scratch in their place."
I sounded more confident than I felt. As I talked, Bella listened, still frowning at me. The temptation to reach out to smooth that little dimple above her nose was hard to resist, but not impossible.
"Huh," she let out, giving me nothing to work with.
"We're all helping her," I added, hoping hard that she believed me. "I just happened to be the one closest to Forks when she asked."
"And you just so happened to be nearby when I fell."
"I didn't mean to. I was planning to hunt before going to the old house and I heard you wailing from afar, I…"
"Your eyes aren't black."
"It was a precaution."
Our verbal match ended with her squinting, and me looking away. Again. I did not dare to face her questioning gaze, afraid that my fragile justification would crack and reveal how empty it really was.
"Listen," I sighed. "I'm sorry I intervened. I am. It was not part of my plan. But I couldn't walk away, knowing you were hurt."
"I have injured myself in the past."
"I bet you have, but I wasn't there to see it."
Our entire conversation made me feel naked, uncomfortably so, to the point I wanted to run and hide. I tried to make myself useful again, so I removed the ice pack from her ankle, reaching instead for the pack of elastic bandages.
"Wasn't this supposed to stay on for ten minutes?"
"Yes," I confirmed, hoping that my restlessness didn't come across as irritation. "But I won't be here in ten minutes."
"What? No, you will be. You can't just go!"
I was already unwrapping the bandage, eager to finish what I started and disappear. Using my hands, I ripped the stretchy material.
"May I?" I asked, intentionally ignoring her last words.
"Yes, but… don't leave, I want to talk."
My fingers worked fast to wrap the bandage around Bella's ankle, trying to be as delicate as possible, but also as fast as possible. I had missed my chance to be tactful, I could at least be gracious enough to leave her alone sooner rather than later.
"You might need to see a doctor about this if you still can't use your leg to walk one hour from now." I made a small knot, to keep the elastic in place, channeling my concentration into not stalling any longer than necessary.
"Are you ignoring what I'm saying on purpose?"
Yes. But I could not admit to that atrocity out loud.
"I need to go. I'm sorry once more for… this. Please, just be careful from now on."
"No!" she burst out, her voice raised and definitely angry. "I'm not done talking! You can't show up and disappear like that, it's not… it's not…"
She had still not finished her sentence when I stepped outside. And like the spineless idiot that I was, I started running. Away from my blunders, away from the possibility of facing any sort of consequences. My rhythm was far too slow for my liking, but I had to keep up appearances. I could still hear Bella's voice resounding in my head, like a desolate ballad, drowning out all the unwanted thoughts I was hearing, even as I was getting further and further away. Its call was more irresistible than that of a siren trained to lure sailors lost at sea. I wanted to respond—to run right back to her, to tell her my being here was anything but a coincidence—but how could I allow myself to be even more selfish than I already had been?
And even if I knew I was doing the right thing by leaving her alone, it felt deeply, powerfully wrong.
The dozen unread texts from Alice were nothing compared to the eighteen missed calls from Esme. I didn't know where to start, once I got inside my car. I somewhat knew what to expect when it came to Alice, so I swiftly ignored her messages, assuming that they were all various iterations of don't do it. Not that I blamed her.
Esme, however, was a different story. She had been a supporter of my plans, even if they hadn't exactly been the most sound. Besides, she had always respected me enough to not contact me unless I contacted her first. Just one missed call from her would have been a first, let alone eighteen in a row. Curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to call her back, to discover what the fuss was about—besides, I could use hearing her voice, if only to smooth out the waves of trepidation that had been crashing against the periphery of my mind ever since I left Bella's house behind.
"Hi! Sorry for not answering earlier, I—"
"Alice told me already. What were you thinking, Edward?"
"I don't know what happened, I just saw her there and then—"
"That is not an excuse," she cut me off. "Last time we talked, you made it clear you had no intentions of interfering. You know how much that poor girl suffered."
"Yes, but she was hurt, and her phone was in the house, I couldn't leave her alone like that in the woods."
"Agreed. But you did have your phone with you. And if you had checked it, you would have known that Bella's fiancé was going to return half an hour later because his friend wasn't feeling so well."
If I had not felt bad enough before, I certainly did now. With my lids shut, in a thinly veiled attempt to block out the outside world, I talked again. "I left as soon as I could, Esme. I didn't linger."
"Even a minute is enough to open old wounds, my boy."
"What old wounds? She's getting married! She's long past mourning what we had."
"Long enough for you to take such risks? I figured you'd be a little wiser than that. And what about that whole scenario of you helping me sell the house? I hope you know that's not going to happen. In fact, I was telling your father that I wanted to do some renovations there soon. I'd have to check if there was any damage before, but still, the main point remains: I am not selling this particular house. It's our home in more ways than one."
"I know selling it is out of the question," I sighed, daring to open my eyes again. The parking lot was bleak and grey, much like my mood. The pavement was still wet from last night's rain. "It was nothing but an excuse I made up on the spot."
"It was a lie," she corrected me.
"Whatever we call it, it was better than telling her the real reason, don't you think?"
"I think there would have been no need to complicate things like this, had you been a little more careful. Going back to a dark place is the last thing Bella needs."
"It's a little late to backtrack now."
I heard her disappointed sigh, aware that I had it coming. I had let several people down in such a tremendously short span of time: Bella, my family, and myself. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided if I remained in that little attic in Guadalajara after learning about Bella's engagement. My own conceit led my steps back to this town, making me blind to one simple fact: it was not my place to know if she was fulfilled or not in her relationship, and believing—even for a second—that it was, had been my first mistake. And yet, I fooled myself, finding excuses in the way she denied him the pleasure of sex, in their little morning dispute—as if any of that was going to lead her back into my greedy arms.
"Look," I said, feeling defeated. "I really am sorry for not being more careful. I'll leave Forks, all right?"
"And come to Juneau?" My mother's voice sounded so hopeful, it broke me to sadden her yet again.
"I don't know. Maybe not right now. I'm sorry."
"At least let me come to you. You've been on your own for so long, it can't possibly be healthy!"
"I'm good," I lied. "I'll just go check on our house for you, to see if everything is in the right order, and then I'll leave."
There was still plenty of concern hanging from Esme's every word when we bid our farewell, but there was nothing I could do. Keeping in touch with my family via phone calls was already an effort because it was almost impossible to act as if I still had a reason to live when I talked to them. And their reactions were far too overwhelming. Carlisle and Esme were, more often than not, compassionate to the point it became unbearable. Alice sometimes behaved as if she was reeling from a breakup as well, while Jasper handled me with kid gloves—acting more like a therapist than a brother—and I was willing to bet that his behaviour was fueled by the fact that he still felt guilty for that fateful night. Emmett was in a league of his own, since he always tried to cheer me up with jokes I had no inclination to laugh at. And Rosalie—well, she was Rosalie. The magnitude of my suffering was completely lost on her. She could not see past the fact that my leaving led to our family being somewhat less than picture-perfect.
I knew I could not handle seeing them face to face—not yet. It would have been too much, too unpleasant, for them and me.
After I hung up, I turned off my phone completely, needing yet another break from my family, and left the parking lot in a hurry, convinced that every new second I lingered there could open the door to finding new excuses. I could not have that. My mind was swimming with all kinds of regrets when I passed the bridge over the Calawah River. The houses flanking the road were familiar, but I couldn't concentrate on them without remembering the way Bella liked to make up stories about the people living inside them, only to fact-check how close to the truth she was with me.
Frighteningly, everything about this town reminded me of her. No corner was safe.
When the moss-coloured forest started growing thicker, to the point that no other houses were in sight, I started feeling a little more at ease. The road's curves got tighter and curvier, but driving past them was almost second nature to me. I knew them too well. Soon enough, the forest thinned enough for me to find the entrance between the cedars. Not that far behind them, the faded-white facade of the house became apparent.
With nowhere else to go, or hide, I killed the engine and got out, stepping into the massive shadow cast by the trees. The first sign that the house had been abandoned was the new lattice of ivy that had climbed to embrace its outer walls. Half of the structure seemed to have fallen victim to the green invasion. The coat of paint was not as bright as it was when I left. The window surfaces seemed clean enough, courtesy of the constant rain, but overall, the house was obviously uninhabited.
It wasn't until I stepped on the porch that I realized something was off. Too caught up in the big picture, I had not noticed the long crack that sprawled over the window closest to the door, culminating with a hole that couldn't have been wider than two inches. A quick look at the rest of the windows—all immaculate, all whole—confirmed that the hole couldn't possibly be the result of an unfortunate hail-filled rain. No, this hole had a purpose behind it.
Without a key to make my entrance facile, I found myself taking the door out of its hinges, making a mental note to pay for the damage myself. Once inside, I was greeted by the same emptiness as the day I stepped out of this house. Esme's butter-coloured rugs and Carlisle's prized bookshelves were long gone. My piano was nowhere in sight either. Just a vast, blank space—with a notable exception.
Close to the entrance, lying on the floor, I saw a rock. I was both intrigued and wary when I spotted the thread that was wrapped around it, keeping a rolled fat piece of paper close to the rock's crisp edges.
I picked it up, not knowing what to make of the intruding object, but deeply fearing what it hid. Gently, so as not to accidentally ruin it, I separated the paper from the stone and unfolded it.
My heart sank completely when I saw the three one-hundred-dollar bills hidden inside the roll, and even more so when I recognized the handwriting on the paper. Even if the small letter had been left unsigned, I would have still recognized Bella's messy handwriting. The missing tittles, the sharp edges that replaced all traces of roundness, the inconsistent sizing of the font…
God, I wasn't ready for this.
Still, my eyes were already traveling down the paper, swallowing with insatiable hunger the words before them.
"Edward,
I don't know how else to get to you. You've made it entirely impossible to ever be reached. I don't even know if you'll get to read this, but it's all I've got at this point, so it's worth a shot.
It's my birthday next week. And I'm not celebrating, even though Jake wants to take me out to dinner. I probably don't have to explain to you why I don't want to celebrate my birthday ever again, but… how do I explain it to him? He's the closest thing to a best friend I've had since you left, but even he has his limits. I try to be less selfish for him, but it's so difficult when you're always on my mind. Each second I'm alone, there's no escaping thinking of you. Whatever I do, it keeps eating at me. It's a curse. Loving you is the greatest curse imaginable. And yet I don't regret ever knowing you, ever being with you. I only regret not being enough, not being worth keeping.
To be honest, it was a tad easier when Charlie was around. At least then I had a distraction in him when the day ended and Jacob and I parted ways. But now… whenever I return home, loneliness creeps in from every corner. When I eat my breakfast, I swear sometimes I hear a creak on the floor, and I foolishly hope it's you. When I go to bed, all the shadows take your shape, and I invite them to bed with me, hoping their embrace will be as cold as yours. But they never come, and the bed is always too warm, and I end up crying until my tear ducts are drained and my mind becomes too tired to do anything else but occupy itself with the same nightmares on repeat.
The thing is… I know it's all pointless. The loneliness, the crying, the need for distractions. It's not like any of that is going to bring you back. You made it perfectly clear that you don't want me anymore in your life, so I don't know what exactly it is that I am holding on to here. There is no real reason to hope that you'll return, and yet… I still do it. But whenever I dare to hope again, reality keeps knocking me over. Because, you see… I think Jacob likes me. And I think I can learn to like him too.
He tried to make a move on me a few times, but I turned him down. Maybe because a part of me still pines for you to come back, to pick up right where we left off. It would be difficult for both of us, I know—I wouldn't know how to trust you again at first, and you would probably find it difficult to even consider the possibility of loving me. Difficult, but not impossible, right? So I guess the point of this entire letter is to give you an ultimatum, in case you see it, or in case Alice tells you about it. If all my hopes are in vain, I understand. But if not, please know that I'm willing to talk. More than that, I am willing to forgive and forget.
I would do anything to have you back—anything you ask, anything you want, anything you need.
Anything.
So I'll allow myself to hope one last time, until my birthday. And if I'm wrong, then… I don't know, I guess I truly am an idiot.
P.S.: I'm really sorry for breaking the window—hence the money.
P.P.S.: If it's long past my birthday and this letter ends up in someone else's hands, please just throw it away. It's probably useless anyway."
I kept rereading the last few paragraphs, as if the letters would somehow rearrange themselves, at their own volition, and reveal something else, something promising.
Something that wouldn't have me turning the intruding rock to dust.
Something that wouldn't mean that the contents of the letter expired long before I got to reach them.
Something that wouldn't have me kneeling on the floor, breaking apart, with no hope of ever being put back together.
We're going deeper still into Edward's journey of torment...
What are your thoughts on the interaction that Edward and Bella shared after her injury? Do you think he made the right choice when he lied to Bella, just so that he could linger in Forks a little longer than he intended? And did you expect him to find that letter?
As always, I am super-excited to discover your thoughts on this chapter! I try my best to respond to everyone.
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See you next Sunday with a new chapter! Until then, stay safe and happy!