It's been weeks since that morning in the Cullens' kitchen, but I can't get Edward out of my head. I didn't destroy the evidence of our relationship. I tucked photos and letters under my floorboard—too weak to let them go.

I'm on my hands and knees, lifting the loose board. I pull the shoebox out and brush my hand across the lid. Why am I doing this to myself?

Maybe I like pain.

I open it and lift the first photo. He's grinning, and I'm kissing his cheek. We were happy. Our love wasn't a lie, and I can't pretend it didn't exist. The next photo is at his high school graduation. He's in a cap and gown, and my arms are wrapped around his waist with my head against his chest. The future ahead of us was so bright.

There's a folded letter next. My fingertips graze it. I can remember it word for word. I'll cry if I unfold it, so I don't. I place it beside me and keep digging. A promise ring lies at the bottom. It's just a simple knot. He gave it to me the day before he left for Dartmouth, promising to someday replace it with an engagement ring.

He never did.

I put everything back and close the lid. I gently place the box back and cover it with the floorboard, vowing not to open it again. Someday, long after I'm gone, a young girl may find it. She'll see the photos and read the letters. It might make her believe in true love and soulmates, but she'll never know the truth.

There is no such thing.

. . . . .

"It looks good," Carlisle says, examining my nose. "Edward set it well."

I nod. "I suppose he's not a terrible doctor."

He chuckles. "No, I'm rather proud of him."

"Can I ask a question?"

He sits down on the stool in the exam room and starts typing up notes on his laptop. "Of course."

"Did you really stop talking to him for a year?"

He looks up at me and nods. "I was angry with him. I saw how much he hurt you, sweetheart. I thought I raised him to be a good and true man, but breaking you like that . . . I was ashamed of him. But he's my son, and I had to forgive him. We all make mistakes, and I don't say that to excuse his actions. What he did was wrong."

"I'm glad you forgave him."

He sighs. "How are you doing, Bella?"

I smile sadly. "It's not easy starting over. I mean, it'd be easier if I had a job because I can't get the house any cleaner. I even reorganized the garage."

His brow lifts. "And your dad was okay with that?"

I laugh. "No. He can't find a damn thing now."

He smiles. "You're absolutely overqualified, but I am looking for a new secretary. Maggie is retiring."

"I know nothing about a medical practice."

"She's not leaving for another two months. She can train you. I can't say the pay is the best, but I offer good benefits."

"Are you serious?"

He nods. "I am. You can start on Monday. At least it'll get you out of the house."

I consider it for just a moment before agreeing. I'm going fucking stir-crazy. "I'll try not to let you down."

"I doubt that's possible. Now, you're all good to go. Try not to back into anyone else," he teases.

. . . . .

There's a BMW parked in front of the house when I get home and my heart drops when I see him sitting in the driver's seat.

Jake's here.

I should keep driving, but I'm fucking tired of running from him, so I pull into the driveway. I do consider ramming into the car first, though.

He opens the door and steps out as I do, walking toward me with a Manila envelope in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

He cocks his brow and waves the envelope. "I'm here to discuss our marriage. I can't call you, and you don't respond to my emails, so what else was I supposed to do?"

"How did you find me?"

He laughs. "It's your fucking dad's house. Where else would you have gone?"

"You need to leave."

He shakes his head. "No, we need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"We made vows, Isabella."

"Vows?" I scoff. "What vow said I had to endure being punched, kicked and choked? When did we say it was okay for you to throw whiskey glasses at me and slam me into a wall because you had a bad fucking day?"

"I said I'd get help."

I shake my head. "That's not good enough. I'm not coming back to you, Jake."

"You love me. Don't pretend you don't."

"The man I fell in love with didn't hurt me."

He reaches out and puts his hand on my cheek. "I'll be that man again."

Angry tears fill my eyes as I pull his hand away. "I believed in you, and you shattered that belief! You can't erase what you've done to me. Just let me go, Jake. I'm begging you."

He shakes his head, grabbing my upper arms tightly. "I'm not leaving here without you."

"You're hurting me."

He looks at his hands, crestfallen as he drops them. "I didn't mean to do that."

"You never mean to. Now, get the fuck off my father's property."

He backs up, sighing. "This isn't over."

"Yes, it is. Go home, Jake."

He retreats to the BMW, speeding away as my heart races and my hands shake. I slide down against the truck door and cover my face.

He's never going to let me go.

. . . . .

"You should have called me," Dad says, shaking his head as he paces the living room. I sit quietly on the couch, feeling bad. "Did he say where he's staying?"

"No, just that he won't leave without me."

"I'm putting a deputy outside the house when I'm not here."

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. "That's not their job."

"Technically, it's exactly their job. It's that, or you can go stay with Carlisle and Esme. I won't leave you here alone with that son of a bitch around."

"He said he's going to get help—that he can be the man I fell in love with again."

He throws his hands in the air. "Jesus, tell me you don't believe him? Tell me you're not going back with him?"

I shake my head. "No! But . . . I don't think he's here to hurt me."

He kneels in front of me, taking my hands. "It takes one moment," he says solemnly. "One wrong moment, and he could kill you. He may not mean to, but I'm not willing to risk that."

I sigh, leaning in and hugging him. "I'll do what you want. But I do have some good news."

"Oh yeah?"

I nod, smiling softly. "I got a job. I mean, it's just at Carlisle's office and it's not as if he hired me because I have skills, but it's a bit of freedom and gives me something to do. I won't have to repaint the house."

He chuckles lightly. "That was your plan next?"

I nod. "The kitchen was going to be red."

"Dear God I'm glad he hired you."

Don't own Twilight.

Thanks to my beta Fran and prereaders, May, Mary, Sarah, Ashley and Christina.