16

Turning into Cypress Hill Cemetery, the driver continued to the northeast corner, then stopped at Bella's request. Edward exited first, holding out his hand to her as she dug enough cash from her pocket to pay for the ride. She then placed her hand in his while inhaling a deep breath before they walked to Carlisle's gravesite.

After Carlisle's funeral, it had taken her father hours to coax her away, wrapping his arm around her and whispering, "Come on, Izzy. Let's go home."

But her home, she thought, was with Carlisle, and leaving him here was like letting him go — really letting him go.

And she hadn't been ready.

Even when Charlie didn't give her a choice. . . when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the taxi and held her while she cried all the way back to her apartment.

She wasn't ready to leave their home. Charlie stayed for over a week before he returned to Woodbury. Another three weeks passed before she made the trip herself.

And in those three weeks, she hadn't been able to return to the cemetery. Especially after she spoke to Paul and Liam, when they told her how he'd begged for extra shifts, complained about how bitchy and grumpy she had been. James called them liars and said they were jealous of him, but how could she be sure? How would she ever really know how her husband felt about her before he died?

"Carlisle Michael Cullen, born on the twenty-fifth of June, died on the fourteenth of August," Edward whispered. "I don't know what I was expecting to feel when I stood here, but I feel . . . I almost feel numb, I guess."

"Me too." Bella sat with her knees bent in front of her, her hand coming to rest on her belly. "Do you think he knows about Little Bit, Edward?"

"I do."

She looked at him, finding him watching her. "Are you just going to stand there?"

He smiled, before he sat in front of her. "I should have been here. For his funeral, I mean. I should have been here for you, Izzy."

"I don't even remember it," she admitted. "There are bits and pieces. The pastor talking about what a brave and honorable man he is . . . was. James was there. Paul and Liam, the rest of his squad, and dozens of others from around the city. They were fierce when it came to honoring one of their own. Dad kept his arm around me the whole time. The whole fucking time, and I remember thinking Carlisle would have hated all the attention, the fanfare, the bullshit. He would have wondered who was protecting the city while they were all gathered around to mourn him."

"He never did like attention," Edward whispered. "And lord knows we got plenty of that from the good people of Woodbury growing up, thanks to Mom and Dad."

Bella reached over, wrapping her fingers around his. "Why do you think they were like that?"

Edward shrugged. "Because they were assholes? Because they hated us? Because in their minds, we ruined their lives? I don't know, Izzy. I've asked myself that question my entire life." He used his shoulder to wipe away a tear. "I remember the first time he hit me. I was five years old, and Carlisle had just turned four, and he wanted some grape juice. Mom had passed out already, so I went to the kitchen and poured him a glass. I guess I didn't put the lid on his sippy cup correctly because the second he walked into the living room, it spilled when he tripped over his shoes. It got all over the white carpet. I tried to clean it up, but all I did was make it worse, and when Dad got home, he . . ."

He shook his head. "He was so fucking angry, Izzy. Just fucking furious, and he went to grab Carlisle, and I lied and told him I had spilled it. I just . . . I'd never seen Dad so . . . so mad, and it scared me because while he had called us bastards and pieces of shit for as long as I could remember, he'd never put his hands on us before. And I couldn't let Carlisle get hit, so I lied, and he beat the shit out of me while Carlisle sat in a corner and cried. From that day forward, I tried to protect him, tried to keep him from getting hurt, but I couldn't always stop him. Mom, on the other hand, never seemed to see the way her husband beat her sons. Of course, she would have had to put the bottle down first."

"Why'd you take your first drink? Seeing what she was like, why would you ever take a drink? I'm not judging; I'm just curious, I guess."

Edward frowned. "I don't know, Izzy. I was fifteen, and Jake and I had crashed a senior party. I can't even remember the dude's name, but we thought we were the shit," he scoffed. "They had a keg, and we wanted to fit in, so we grabbed one of those cheap, red Solo cups. It tasted like piss, to be honest, but the more I drank, the easier it got to take the beatings. Soon, that wasn't enough, so I started smoking pot, and then, when that wasn't enough, I took whatever I could find to just . . . just make the pain easier, I guess. And then Jake died, and you and Carlisle left, and no amount of drugs or vodka could ease the pain anymore. I realized I needed to deal with my shit, so I entered rehab, got clean, talked about my feelings way more than I wanted to, and realized I needed to make amends with a lot of people I hurt. Well, I tried, at least. Some people, like Dr. Black were willing to hear me out. It took a while, but he eventually forgave me, said Jake was his own man and made his own decisions that night, that we were kids doing dumb kid shit. His words, not mine. Emmett and Ro were easier; they never blamed me like you and Carlisle. I mean, he didn't give me the time of day, so . . ."

"I wish I would have known you reached out to him, Edward. I would have encouraged him to talk to you."

"You would?"

She nodded.

"You didn't much want to give me a chance when you came back to Woodbury."

Bella frowned. "Well, to be fair, I had just buried my husband. I wasn't exactly in the best mindset."

"I suppose that's fair."

"Actually, it's not. I can't sit here and tell you Carlisle should have given you a second chance when I all but told you to fuck off the second I saw you outside Dr. Black's office." She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Edward. I wish I hadn't lost so many years with you."

Frowning, he pulled his hand from hers and stood, walking several feet away from her. As she found herself standing, she watched how his shoulders tensed, his fingers clenching into tight fists. There was something about the way he had been lately, the way he constantly told her he was there for her that confused her.

"Edward."

He looked at her.

"What did I say wrong?"

"Nothing, Izzy. You didn't say or do anything wrong. It . . . I . . ." He used both hands to grab the back of his neck. "It's just hard, you know? Being here. He had this whole life I had no clue about, people who cared about him. And he talked about me, and you . . . you . . ."

"I what?"

Edward whispered, "You forgave me."

"I did."

"And do you . . . do you really think he would have . . . forgiven me if he'd known how much I've changed?"

"I do," she murmured, sniffing back her tears. "Maybe if I had the chance to tell him about Little Bit, it would have helped. Maybe . . . maybe I should have gone to the station that morning and told him I was pregnant, then he wouldn't have lied and picked up the shift."

"But how often had he lied to you before that night, Izzy?"

"A lot, I guess," she replied, turning back to his headstone. "Edward, I think you should tell Esme who you are."

"What?" he gasped, and she looked at him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because she deserves to know the truth about you, about Carlisle. She deserves the chance to know she has a brother who loves her."

Edward shook his head, his hands dropping to his hips. "Izzy."

"You keep talking about wishing Carlisle had seen how much you've changed and how you miss him. You have a sister, Edward; you could have a family again. Don't you want that?"

"Doesn't matter what I want, Izzy. Sometimes, we have to settle for what we get and not what we desperately want."

"Why, though? Why settle?"

"Because taking the chance . . . might cost me more than I'm willing to give up right now. I . . . I'm sorry, but no."

And without another word, Edward turned and walked to the curb and sat.

—RtW—

Edward was being quiet, Bella thought. They had arrived back at the hotel an hour ago, and while she had laid down to rest, both her body and mind exhausted, he was lying across the couch with a book propped up on his chest, his legs hanging over the armrest. He had barely said more than five words to her after they left the cemetery. Just said no when she asked if he was hungry, no when she asked if there had been any place in the city he wanted to visit, yes when she asked if he was okay, and yes when she pushed again about being all right. But Bella knew he was lying. She just wasn't sure why he was lying to her.

"I hear sleep is easier when you close your eyes, Izzy," he said, dropping the book onto his stomach.

"I'm not tired," she muttered.

"You were yawning your head off in the taxi," he scoffed.

"So? That doesn't mean anything," she grumbled, sliding her hand over her belly. "What are you reading?"

"It's called a book."

"Smart ass," she coughed.

He laughed. "You should recognize it."

"I should?"

Edward sat up and held it out to her.

She raised an eyebrow as she grabbed it. Flipping it over, she snickered. "Wuthering Heights? You used to give me so much crap about reading this book all the time, and now you're reading it?"

"Open the front cover, Iz."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

She sat up on the side of the bed and opened the front flap, her eyes widening as she looked from the book where she'd had written her name in cursive freshman year to Edward. "I thought I'd lost this when we left."

"I, um, I found it in Carlisle's room a few days after you left town. That was the first time I'd read it."

"The first time?"

He nodded. "I've probably read it a dozen times, especially when I was trying to get clean. It . . . Well, to be honest, it kept me focused."

"It did?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

She stared at him.

"Because every time I read it, I think about you."

"You think about me?"

Once again, he slowly nodded.

"Why do you think about me, Edward?"

"No real reason."

"Don't do that," she said, standing and placing the book on the bed. She sat next to him on the couch. "Edward, why . . . why are you here with me?"

"Because you need me."

"But why are you here? Dad or Jay would have come with me if I'd asked. Even though I have my reason for not asking them, why'd you say yes without question?"

"Izzy," he murmured.

"Why, Edward? Just tell me why?"

He closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath before he looked at her and said, "You know why."

"Do I?"

"I think you do."

"Say it. I need to hear you say it."

"It's not going to change things, Izzy. I'm not . . . I'm not expecting things to change between us."

"Edward," she whispered, reaching for his hand, but he scrambled to his feet and hurried to the door, only stopping when she said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He placed his hands on the door before he looked over his shoulder at her. "When should I have told you? It wasn't going to change anything, Izzy. He and I . . . we both loved you, but you only saw him. Only him."

Edward grabbed the doorknob and left before she could process what he had just said.

—RtW—

Edward didn't return for hours. Bella called and texted, but he didn't reply. She ordered them room service, but he never showed up, and by midnight, she was lying in the dark room with the curtains open and the sound of the city trickling through the window. Though she was beyond exhausted, her mind wouldn't shut off as she replayed her conversation on repeat.

The door to their room opened, and she watched him enter, kick off his shoes, grab his pajamas, and walk into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he climbed into the bed next to her, moving one of the pillows between them, but Bella covered his hand with hers, hearing him inhale a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Yes, you should have." She tossed the pillow on the floor before she scooted closer, laying her head on his shoulder before placing her hand on his stomach, feeling him shiver. "Why didn't you tell me, Edward?"

"Because I just got you back, Izzy. I mean, I literally just got you back. How was I supposed to tell you how I felt when you were . . . you were hurting so much? And I just wanted to help you, to be a part of your life again in any way I could. That's all I want. That's all I fucking want."

"I don't know what to say," she whispered. "You've always been one of my best friends, Edward."

He covered her hand with his, lifting it to his lips and placing a kiss on her palm. "I know, and I don't expect more than just being your friend again, Izzy, but I can't turn off my feelings, either."

And before she could respond, Edward released her hand, rolled onto his side, and pretended to sleep.

So Bella did the same.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! Big shout out to Sunflower Fran for all the support and love and helping me clean up my messy chapters. See you next Wednesday!