Chapter 7

"Honey, they are about to take the coffins. Do you want to say goodbye one more time?" asked my father.

Discharged from the hospital just yesterday, a wave of gratitude washed over her for her parents. They'd shouldered the burden of the funeral arrangements, shielding her from the overwhelming details during her most vulnerable time. Her father, a constant presence by her bedside, hadn't left her side for a moment. She knew he'd likely exhausted his vacation days, and her heart overflowed with thanks as she squeezed his hand.

"No."

"Bella," her father touched her cheek lovingly, "this is the last time you'll see them. Please try."

Her father was right. The anger that had burned so fiercely earlier had now been eclipsed by a raw, suffocating grief. She walked alone between the coffins, an island in a sea of sorrow. His glasses were missing from the bridge of his nose, the familiar glint absent, and a fresh wave of grief washed over her. She met his closed eyes, so still and peaceful, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her. Reaching out, she brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead. Taking a deep breath, she pressed a kiss to her hand, then gently transferred it to his cool lips, a silent goodbye.

With a shaky breath, she turned to her little Alec. Sleeping in his casket, he looked impossibly innocent. A fierce longing to scoop him up and rock him forever ached in her arms. She reached out, stroking his soft hair, and began the familiar melody of his lullaby. The hole in her chest, raw and fresh from just a few days ago, pulsed a dull ache with each word. Tears welled, blurring her vision, and spilled down her cheeks in silent sobs. Just as her knees threatened to buckle, a comforting hand reached out, a silent anchor in her grief. Her dad, his presence a balm, was there to hold her up.

"Come on," he said softly.

"Goodbye, my little prince," she said before leaning down and kissing his forehead.

The muffled screams into my pillow stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Each one a guttural eruption of despair and a chilling acknowledgment – Edward Cullen would be a fixture in my life. A suffocating weight settled on my chest, crushing me with a longing for escape. Not the violent escape I'd once sought, but the quiet kind. A yearning to simply vanish, leaving behind the crushing reality that felt impossible to bear.

Max got my attention to let him out again and I got out of bed to do so. I wanted to call Alice to vent but I remembered that at this time they were putting their children to sleep. I had to talk to someone or this feeling of excitement, nervousness, and nausea would kill me. An idea came to me. It was risky but worth a try.

"Hello?" I could hear his smile.

"Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting something," I said embarrassed.

"Not at all, I was reading but my book can wait. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

I was quiet. How did I explain it to him?

"Bella? Everything is alright?" his playful tone now turned into one of concern.

I did not answer. Tears formed in my eyes yet I didn't know how to explain it.

"Do you want me to go see you?" I could hear him grab his keys.

"That's crazy. It's late, " I managed to say.

"What I'm hearing is that you and Max can meet me at the park in 15 minutes. It's no problem for me. In fact, now I need to know the story or I won't sleep."

"Okay, see you there," I conceded.

As soon as we hung up I changed into a running suit, grabbed Max's leash, and brought him in. He got excited when he saw the leash and even more excited when I said "park." I put on my running shoes and we headed out. We could have taken the car, but the park was very close to me and Forks was a very peaceful town.

The sight of Jake waiting for us stopped me cold. Before I could even process the day's events, I was in his arms, tears flooding down my face. It was a primal reaction, a desperate need for comfort and a silent plea to be heard. Jake held me tight, a wordless anchor in the storm. My mascara, a casualty of the day's turmoil, likely left dark streaks across his shirt, but the luxury of vanity had long evaporated. Max stood nearby, his presence a steady reassurance even if the full-blown panic attack never materialized.

I didn't know how long we stayed like that until I regained my composure. Jake continued to look at me with concern and understanding, but he didn't say anything. While I stopped sobbing, he scratched Max's head and talked to him.

"I know, your owner is a little strange, but I think we'll keep her," he turned to look at me with that last sentence and I smiled.

"Who 'we'? The only one who has to put up with me is Max," I responded, sticking out my tongue.

"Are you okay?" He straightened up and tilted his head.

"I think so. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened to me."

"Memories?" He suggested.

"Something like that," I sighed, looking toward the children's games.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or I can grab another shirt for you to dampen," he joked.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," I apologized, noticing the damage to his green shirt.

"It's okay, that's what washing machines are for. So shall we talk about that?" He started walking towards the swings with Max forcing me to follow him.

"Do you remember Edward?" I asked sitting down on one of the swings.

"Ah, the friend who is not a friend from the coffee shop," he acknowledged.

"Yes, well, today he was at my house and we talked," he nodded, encouraging me to continue. "He wanted to apologize for something that happened the day of my husband and son's funeral. He made a 'get over it and move on with your life' type comment" Jake grimaced. "Exactly. I was already very upset and the comment hit me like a bomb. I yelled at him, told him to never speak to me again, and cut him out of my life."

"I see," he muttered. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I feel like your reaction isn't just because of that."

"No, well," I really didn't want to talk about it, "He and I have a complicated history. We were friends for many years, then... um... we fell in love, but things didn't work out."

"Oh," Jake said. "I imagine a dramatic ending to that relationship, am I mistaken?"

"Definitely not," I sighed, looking at my shoes.

"Bella," I looked at him, "you don't have to let someone into your life just because they've been in it before. That's important to know. Also, don't let anger keep you from someone you love out of fear."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me," I confessed.

"I mean that any decision you make on the matter will be fine as long as it is what you feel is best for you. Accept him or reject him, both make sense. Do what your heart dictates."

That gave me some peace although it would've been better if he had told me what to do.

"Thank you, Jake. Really, thank you."

"Anytime," he answered honestly. "It's late and I know you have to work, but do you want to go get something to eat?"

"Sounds good, I just have to leave Max at home. I can tell you all about my disastrous date today."

"Very promising," he smiled. "I have a blanket in the car, we can spread it on the back seat to put Max in. This way you don't have to walk home and we can leave sooner."

I agreed and gave him directions. Max kept trying to move over to my lap which made Jake laugh a lot. He was such a strange dog. We dropped off Max and Jake took us for some burgers.

Ditching the restaurant, we munched on takeout in the car. I spilled the tea about my date and how the guy practically recoiled when I mentioned my passion for animated movies. Jake, ever the one-up king, chimed in with his own disaster date. His date consulted a fortune teller that very day, who proclaimed they were destined for marriage. Jake hilariously recounted his attempts to convince her they weren't soulmates. I couldn't stop laughing. There really were crazy people in the world.

As our laughter died down, tension hit the air. Jake looked into my eyes with a special spark in his. I swallowed nervously. I knew what he wanted, and maybe I wanted it too, but at that moment with Edward on my mind, I didn't think I could do it. I hadn't kissed anyone in three years and until recently I thought that was how it would be for the rest of my life. I looked at his lips and he started to lean in. I panicked thinking that if I rejected him, I would lose his friendship. He leaned closer and took a bite of my burger.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" I shouted indignantly.

"I was hungry," he said with his mouth full.

"You bastard," I said, throwing a couple of fries at him.

"Hey, hey. Call me whatever you want but show some respect for the car."