AN: And heeeere we go.
No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Seventeen
"Does it hurt?" I asked, my voice tight as fuck, my hand gripping hers like it was the only goddamn thing keeping me sane.
I was holding on too hard. I knew it, but I couldn't stop. Not with her sitting here like it was no big deal to get stabbed repeatedly with a fucking needle.
"It stings," she said softly, those wide, honest eyes looking up at me.
I wanted to believe her, but how the hell could I when she always played shit down? That girl could get hit by a truck and still say she was fine.
"Stings?" I repeated, my voice cracking with disbelief. "Bella, if it gets worse than that—hell, if you feel even the tiniest bit worse—you fucking tell me. I'll haul you out of this shitty little shop so fast, they won't even know what hit them."
She smiled at me, that small, patient smile that made me feel like a goddamn idiot for how on edge I was. "Edward," she said calmly, like she wasn't the one having her skin carved up for some ink. "I'm okay."
Jane, the artist, snorted without looking up. "You're more worked up than anyone I've ever seen in this chair, big guy," she said, her tone way too cheerful for what was happening. "She's handling it like a pro."
I ignored her. My focus was on Bella. Always Bella.
"If it starts to hurt too much," I said, my voice tight with worry, practically pleading with her, "you have to say something. I don't care if they're halfway through the tattoo—just tell me."
Her hand squeezed mine, and she sighed, but not in pain. No, it was the kind of sigh that meant I was being too much, and she didn't want to deal with it. "Edward," she said again, this time more firmly, "I'm fine."
Fine. That fucking word again. A lie, every damn time.
The buzzing of the needle started again, and with every twitch of her fingers, my grip got tighter. I couldn't help it. My nerves were shot, my heart pounding loud enough to drown out every other goddamn sound in the room.
"Almost there," Jane chirped, way too chipper for what was happening. "You're a tough one, beautiful."
"Yeah, she's tough," I said, and for a moment, there was pride in my voice. Because she was. She always had been.
But inside, the words twisted into a knife. Yeah, she's tough, because she has to be, you asshole. She's just a girl. She shouldn't have to be tough. She should be innocent, untouched by this kind of shit. And whose job was it to make sure of that? Mine. And I'd failed.
Jane leaned back and announced, "All done."
I exhaled so hard I thought I might pass out. "Fucking finally."
Jane handed Bella a mirror, smiling like she hadn't just spent the last hour torturing her. "Take a look."
Bella hesitated, her gaze flicking to mine before she looked at the mirror. I gave her a small nod, trying not to choke on my own goddamn nerves. She tilted the mirror down, and the second she saw it, her lips parted.
My name. Edward. Inked on her skin. Forever.
My stomach clenched so hard it hurt. What if she hated it? What if she regretted it the second she saw it?
"It's perfect," she said quietly, her voice sure and steady.
Relief hit me like a fucking freight train, but before I could even process it, Jane's brother Alec decided to open his mouth.
"Hope you're ready for that," he said, smirking like the asshole he was. "Names are cursed, you know. Statistically, most couples with name tattoos don't last."
My head turned to him, sharp and cold. "What the fuck does that mean?"
"Relax, man," Alec said with a shrug, like he wasn't moments away from getting his ass handed to him. "Just saying. Statistically—"
"Statistically, you can shut the fuck up," I said, my voice flat and unforgiving.
Jane rolled her eyes, muttering something about her brother needing to get laid, and Bella laughed softly, the sound cutting through the tension in my chest.
I forced myself to look back at her, to focus on her, because that was the only thing keeping me from decking Alec.
"Let me see," I said, my voice softer now, tugging Bella's hand toward me.
She turned, her jeans shifting slightly as she adjusted to avoid smearing the ink. "What do you think?" she asked quietly, like my opinion mattered more than anything.
I reached out, my fingers brushing over the swollen, red skin. My throat tightened, my chest a fucking mess of emotions. "Mine," I whispered, the word raw and rough, and she nodded, her eyes locking on mine with the same intensity I felt.
Alec, thankfully done with his bullshit, finished my tattoo and leaned back like he hadn't just etched my soul into my skin. "You're set, bro," he said casually.
I looked down at it—the bold, black lettering, still raw: Always crazy and forever beautiful. My Bella.
Bella gasped softly, her knees wobbling as she clung to the bench for balance. Her face a mix of shock and something deeper, something darker. Possessive.
Our eyes met, and the whole shitty world disappeared.
"What do you think?" I asked, my voice coming out unsteady, raw in a way I couldn't hide.
Her lips trembled, and then that smile broke through, small and fierce. She mouthed it back to me, the same word burning through my veins: "Mine."
Two hundred and fifty fucking dollars later…
Am I a grumpy asshole? Yeah, no doubt. Do I want to punch every prick who sticks their nose where it doesn't belong? Every fucking time. So yeah, it took everything I had not to break Alec's face when he told Bella I was a mistake. A mistake. Like he had any right to say shit about us. But that didn't stop him from running his mouth.
"Oh, you're not married?"
"Been together, what? Two weeks?"
More smug bullshit that made me see red.
"Edward," Bella said, cutting through the static in my head with just one soft word. "It's fine. Let's just go."
If it wasn't her birthday, Alec be eating his own tattoo gun. But no, I swallowed my lumps and behaved. The kid deserved better than me spending her day in lockup.
"You're right, kid. Let's get the fuck out of here," I said, shoving the door open hard enough to rattle the windows.
Outside, the Gateway Arch loomed across the street, glowing cold and sterile in the night. But Bella? She didn't need some giant metal beacon to stand out. She just did. She was my anchor in all this chaos, the only thing that made me believe I could maybe be something other than the walking disaster I was.
"Get over here," I said, dragging her to the side of the building like my life depended on it—because maybe it fucking did. I needed her alone, even for a second, to calm the fire raging under my skin.
She tilted her head, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. "What's your deal now?"
I didn't answer, just grabbed the waistband of her jeans and tugged like I couldn't help myself.
"Edward!" she said, laughing as she batted my hands away. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Let me see it," I demanded, pulling her closer.
"You just saw it," she said, rolling her eyes but grinning anyway. "It's not going anywhere."
"I know that," I said, smirking. "But I want to see it again."
She groaned like I was the most infuriating person alive but started unbuttoning her jeans anyway. She never really told me no. "Fine," she said, pulling them down enough to reveal the white bandage.
I peeled the edge back carefully, my hands shaking a little as the ink came into view. My name. Bold. Permanent. Etched into her skin.
"Holy shit," I breathed, my fingers hovering just above it like touching might ruin it. "That's so fucking badass."
It was perfect. She was perfect. And the weight of it hit me like a punch to the gut—what it meant, what she'd done. The words were out before I could stop them.
"I love you."
Her head snapped up, her eyes locking on mine. "What was that?"
Fuck. She heard me. My chest tightened, but I couldn't look away. Her gaze wasn't pissed or freaked out; she looked curious. Like she wanted to hear it again.
"Nothing," I said, the word snapping out of me as I dragged her mouth to mine, desperate to fix this before I ruined it even more.
The kiss was chaos—hungry, raw, and reckless. There was no softness, no hesitation. My hands were in her hair, gripping like she might slip away if I let go for even a second. I pressed her against the wall, my body caging hers, and every fucking thing else in the world disappeared.
Her lips. Her scent. The heat of her body against mine. That was all I could think about. Hell, I probably forgot my own damn name.
Her nails raked down my chest, dragging over muscle and skin, sending shockwaves straight through me. She was clawing at me like she needed this just as much, like she'd fall apart if I didn't give it to her.
I was already rock hard, and she fucking knew it. She used it against me, rolling her hips with a teasing grind that had me biting back a groan. The way she moved, the way she begged—it was like she was daring me to lose control.
I broke the kiss, gasping for breath, my forehead pressed against hers. "Fuck, Bella," I growled, my voice thick and ragged. "You keep this up, and I won't stop. You get that, right? No stopping. No going back."
Her eyes were dark, wild, her lip caught between her teeth as she smirked. "What if I don't want you to stop?"
"Jesus Christ," I hissed, my lips brushing her jaw, my teeth scraping as I shoved my knee between her thighs. "You're fucking dangerous. A goddamn menace."
"And you can't get enough," she whispered, her hand sliding boldly over the front of my jeans, palming me with just enough pressure to make me choke on a curse.
"Fuck, baby," I groaned, the words breaking apart as my hand slipped beneath her shirt. Bare skin. No bra. Evil—this girl was fucking evil. "You're killing me."
Her hips bucked against me, her voice low and pleading. "Then stop talking and fuck me."
The last thread of control snapped. My mouth was on hers again, desperate, devouring, as my hand dipped lower, her soft skin like fire under my fingers.
"Yes," she gasped, her own hand slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans, brushing the tip of me, already wet for her.
I was gone. Completely gone.
But just as I hooked her leg over my hip, just as I was about to give in to everything, the sound of rowdy voices cut through the haze.
"Yeah, bro, don't let us stop you!" one of the frat boys hollered, and another added with a laugh, "Careful with the wall, man!"
I froze, my jaw clenching as Bella buried her face in my chest, laughing so hard her shoulders shook.
"Fucking perfect," I muttered, turning just enough to lock eyes with one of the idiots in the group.
I didn't say a word, just stared him down, letting him see exactly what he was dealing with. His confidence cracked instantly—panic flashed across his face. He grabbed his buddies, muttered something, and they all scrambled off like rats. The sight sent a cold wave of satisfaction through me.
Bella looked up, her cheeks flushed and eyes still sparkling with laughter. "Oh, no," she said, deadpan. "We wouldn't want to make a scene."
I smirked despite myself, my hands sliding to her neck, holding her there like I could keep her anchored to me. "What the hell is it with you and walls?" I murmured, my voice low. "Every damn time, I'm two seconds from losing my mind."
She grinned, biting her lip, her breath still ragged. "What is it with you and cars?"
I couldn't stop the dark laugh that rumbled out of me, shaking my head. "Shit, babe. We're a fucking train wreck. Fucked up and reckless."
Her grin turned wicked, her body arching into mine just enough to make me forget the crowd around us. "Matching tattoos, about to fuck in public? Yeah, I'd say reckless is an understatement."
I slung my arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the sidewalk, fighting the urge to pin her against the wall and let the whole street watch us unravel. Fuck the consequences.
We'd barely rounded the corner when a voice sliced through the noise—sharp, unmistakable—and I froze.
"Edward Cullen!"
It hit me like a sucker punch. I didn't even have to look to know who it was. Eleazar Denali. My dad's lawyer and campaign manager. The arrogant bastard who'd been sweeping up my father's disasters for as long as I could remember.
Fuck.
That was my first thought, crashing hard into every reckless, idiotic choice I'd ever made.
My second thought was: What the hell was I thinking? Why the fuck had I brought Bella here?
Panic clawed at my chest as it hit me—how close we were. Too close. Too close to Chicago, too close to everything I'd buried and promised would never touch her.
I'd sworn to keep her safe. Sworn none of the rot from my old life would ever touch her. And now, here we were, standing right in the shadow of all of it.
"Fuck me," I muttered under my breath, tightening my grip on Bella's hand.
She glanced up at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who—"
"It's you, holy shit!" Eleazar said, catching up to us with a grin so wide I wanted to punch it off his face. He was out of breath but still buzzing with excitement. "I knew it was you! I'd recognize your father's face anywhere."
My stomach twisted, sharp and bitter. Not this again. I'd heard it my entire life—how I was a little Carlisle, a carbon copy, his goddamn shadow in every way that mattered. At every school event, every football game, every family barbecue, people had pointed it out like they were the first to notice. "You've got his jawline, his nose, his smile," they'd say, ruffling my hair like I should be proud. But all I ever felt was trapped, like my face wasn't even my own.
I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the instinct to shove Bella behind me and make this asshole disappear. "You've got the wrong guy," I said flatly, already trying to maneuver us around him.
Eleazar's steps sped up, his shiny-ass shoes clacking against the pavement like he owned the goddamn world. He slid in front of us, blocking the path like the arrogant prick he was. "Don't tell me you don't remember me, Edward. I watched you grow up."
The fuck he did. His beady little eyes scanned me, lingering on my tattoos and piercings like he was mentally filing away every reason he thought I was a disgrace. Then he cocked his head, expression confused and full of speculation. "You look different. But it's you. No doubt about it."
Bella tensed beside me, and I felt the panic radiating off her like heat. She didn't say a word, though, just clung to my hand as I pulled her closer.
"Sorry to disappoint," I said, my voice sharp and cold, barely holding back the venom. "I'm not that guy."
But the bastard didn't even hear me—didn't care. Eleazar kept running his mouth like I hadn't said a damn thing. "Your father's been telling everyone you were dead, you know," he said with his fake concern. "Told the whole city you were gone. But here you are. Alive and well."
Alive and pissed.
Every muscle in my body screamed to lunge at him, to shut him the fuck up permanently. I wanted to bury my fist in his smug face, watch that satisfaction drain out of him as he hit the pavement.
Bella's fingers squeezed mine back, a silent reminder to stay in control, but fuck—it was hard.
"Not just alive, but with company." Eleazar's eyes flicked to my girl, and my blood fucking boiled. He smiled, slow and slimy, like he was savoring every second. "Does she know?" he asked, his voice dripping with fake curiosity. "Does she know what you did? Who you left behind?"
"Shut up," I growled, my voice low and lethal. My grip on Bella's hand tightened instinctively, like holding onto her was the only thing keeping me from lunging at him.
But of course, Eleazar didn't shut up. He never did. "The Governor of Illinois' daughter, Edward," he said, his words deliberate and cruel. "Her family still talks about you, you know. Poor girl. Left at the altar. You vanished without a word. The whole city was in an uproar. The golden boy Cullen humiliating her? Scandal of the year."
Bella's hand shifted in mine, her grip slackening. I felt her withdrawing, her body pulling away even though she wasn't moving. She didn't say a word, but I could feel the weight of his accusations sinking into her, rattling around in her head. A sick mix of anger and panic was burning through me, but I couldn't look at her. Not now. Not while he kept spewing his shit.
"It was quite the spectacle," Eleazar went on, completely oblivious, like the arrogant bastard he was. "Front-page news for months. Your father's name dragged through the mud. He lost so many connections over that little stunt of yours."
My teeth ground together so hard I thought I'd crack a molar. The world around me blurred, my focus narrowing in on the motherfucker standing in front of me, talking about my life like it was some fucking political drama for his entertainment. Scandal? Votes?
He didn't even notice Bella flinching at the words or how close I was to snapping. He was too busy relishing his own voice, too goddamn stupid to see how far he was pushing me. My vision tunneled, fists clenching at my sides, and I was seconds away from showing him exactly who he was fucking with.
"But he made up for it this year. He's in the lead now," Eleazar said, his tone light, almost cheerful, like this was some casual conversation between old friends. "That's why I'm here. We're meeting with potential donors."
I scoffed, the sound sharp and biting. Donors? Yeah, just a lineup of crooks ready to lie, cheat, and steal from the people they were supposed to represent. And I'm the fucking criminal? At least I'm honest about who I am.
"You know, your father and mother are at the Ritz. You should see them. Bring your…"
He paused, his gaze flicking to mine, and for a second, I saw it—hesitation. Like it had finally fucking dawned on him that he'd walked into the lion's den, poked the beast, and now had nowhere to run. But instead of shutting his goddamn mouth, the idiot doubled down, finishing with a weak-ass, "…friend."
Friend?
That word hit like a fucking gut punch. My fists curled so tight I could feel my nails digging into my palms, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to snap. I wanted to grab his smug, arrogant ass by the collar, drag him to my level, and make it crystal fucking clear—Bella wasn't my "friend." She wasn't some disposable piece in his bullshit narrative. She was mine. And no one got to disrespect her. Not even with a fucking word.
I took a step forward, slow and deliberate, the rage boiling just beneath the surface. My voice came out low, sharp, and laced with enough venom to make him flinch. "You don't fucking know me," I growled, the words slicing through the air. "And you sure as hell don't know her. So back the fuck off before I make you regret every fucking word that came out of your mouth."
For a second, the bastard blinked, the confidence draining from his face as reality hit him square in the chest. He raised his hands in mock surrender, a pathetic attempt at saving face. "Alright, alright. My mistake," he said, his voice shaking despite his forced grin.
He turned to walk away, but the coward couldn't resist one last look over his shoulder. Fucking idiot. I caught his glance, my stare locking on him like a goddamn target, daring him to step out of line again. He quickened his pace, his fake bravado cracking wide open, because he fucking knew—one more word, one wrong move, and I would've ended him right there.
"Christ," I muttered, dragging a fucking hand through my hair, the tension in my chest coiling tighter, threatening to strangle me.
I couldn't fucking breathe, couldn't think.
Bella was staring up at me with those goddamn wide eyes, full of questions I didn't want to fucking answer.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," I said, grabbing her hand harder than I meant to and pulling her toward the curb. I couldn't deal with this shit here, not with her looking at me like that.
The silence between us was fucking suffocating as we walked. Her steps were slow, uncertain, like she wasn't sure if she should even be here with me. I could feel the questions practically screaming out of her, even if she wasn't saying shit yet. Who the fuck is Kate? Why didn't you fucking tell me?
And the worst question of all—Would she leave when she found out?
"You asked me why I left home and turned into a criminal," I said, my voice low and unsteady. "I told you it was the better fucking option. Do you remember that?"
Bella's voice was barely more than a whisper, soft and unsure, but it hit me like a damn tidal wave. "Yes," she said, quickening her pace to match mine. Always trying to keep up, like she didn't fucking realize I didn't deserve her following me.
"Well," I bit out, still refusing to look at her, "I was supposed to marry a girl. Some bullshit arranged marriage deal."
Her question came timid, almost hesitant, but it sliced right through me. "Did you love her?"
I stopped so fast Bella nearly stumbled into me. I spun around, my voice sharp and raw with panic and anger. "No. Fuck no!" I snapped, staring her down like I could will her to believe me. "She was… fine, I guess. Nice enough. But she wasn't what I wanted. Not even close."
Bella's gaze didn't waver, but her voice trembled as she asked, "Then how did you get engaged to her?"
"Because when I was eighteen, I got mixed up with some assholes. Small-time crooks who thought they were funny as hell, and I was dumb enough to think they were. They roped me into planning this heist—a million-dollar penthouse job. It was supposed to be fucking perfect, clean as shit. But everything went to hell. Cops showed up, and those bastards flipped faster than I could blink. Sold me out, every last one of them. Next thing I know, I'm staring down twenty-five to life."
I prayed, like a goddamn coward, that she'd understand, that she wouldn't run. Because if she did, if she left me now—fuck, I didn't even know how I'd survive that.
I wouldn't.
I'd fucking end it before I could feel that kind of emptiness.
My legs moved faster, my pulse pounding in my ears as the anger fucking clawed its way out. "My father—King Fucking Asshole—stepped in. Cut a deal with the Governor to save my sorry ass. Charges dropped, clean slate. But there was a fucking catch: I had to marry the Governor's daughter, Kate."
Bella frowned, her voice almost defensive, like she was trying to see the good in the bastard. "So, your dad used his connections to get you out of trouble? I mean, I don't agree with forcing people to marry, but… it sounds like he was trying to help you."
I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp enough to cut. "Help me? Sure, that's what I fucking thought. I believed it, Bella. Like a goddamn chump, I went along with it. All of it. The engagement, the parties, the fake smiles. I was ready to bite the bullet—until the fucking wedding day."
I further explained how everything changed thr morning of thr ceremony.
"I overheard my father in his office, talking to Kate's dad," I said, seething at the fucking memory. "Turns out, those two pieces of shit set me up. Paid off those assholes I thought were my friends to frame me, tipped off the cops, the whole fucking thing."
Bella stumbled beside me, her words tumbling out. "What? But why? Why the hell would they do that to you?"
"Because it was never about me. It was about his goddamn political career. He couldn't get me to marry her any other way, so he boxed me in. Used my life—my fucking freedom—as leverage. All so he could look good, climb the ladder, and slap 'Governor Cullen' on his fucking resume."
We stopped just outside the garage, and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I grabbed her shoulders, harder than I should have, leaning down so close she couldn't look anywhere but at me.
My voice came out in a rush, raw and broken. "I ran that day, baby. I fucking ran like hell. Emmett helped me pack, and we were gone. Kate probably cried herself to sleep, but I didn't give a shit. I wasn't going to let them control me. Not after what they did. I was nineteen—a fucking kid. They robbed me of everything."
Her eyes searched mine, wide and full of something I couldn't handle—hurt, confusion, maybe pity. I hated it. I needed her to get it, to get me.
"But why, Edward?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Why would your father do something like that?"
"Because I'm nothing to him," I spat, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. "A fucking disappointment. A loose cannon. He wanted to clean up his image, look like a goddamn saint, and I was just another pawn in his game. Two birds, one fucking stone."
My grip loosened, and my hands slid down her arms. I didn't deserve to touch her.
"I've been a problem since the day I was born, kid. I fuck things up. I don't think. I just do. And I can't even make excuses for it, because the truth is… I like it. I like the chaos. The mess. It makes me just as fucked up as he's always said I am."
I couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop watching her face, searching for any sign she wasn't about to walk away. Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but she didn't. And it killed me. I couldn't look away, couldn't fucking breathe, waiting for her to tell me I wasn't worth it—or worse, to say nothing at all.
She reached up, her hand firm against my cheek, steady in a way that felt like a punch to the gut. "Edward," she said, her voice low but sure, cutting through all my shit, "we may come from different places, but we're the same."
I shook my head, pulling back, scowling because her words felt like a lie. "No, Bella. You don't fucking get it. You're good. You're not like me."
She slid her hands into my jacket pockets, her touch sparking something sharp before I could stop her. When she pulled out my keys, she held them up, a smirk playing on her lips, her eyes dead serious. "That's where you're wrong," she said, her voice calm but unshakable. She jingled the keys once. "And I'll prove it to you."
She didn't have to fucking say it.
I knew exactly what was rattling around in that goddamn head of hers. Always the same shit—trying to prove she's all grown, like she's some badass criminal just like me. Like that's something to fucking aspire to. Always had to show she could handle it, outdo herself, outdo me, or whatever imaginary scoreboard she thought was keeping fucking score. And one of these days, it was gonna get her fucking killed.
"Don't you fucking do it," I barked, my voice sharp enough to slice through the air between us.
For half a second, she fucking hesitated, just long enough to make me think she might actually listen for once in her life. Then, she fucking bolted. Full goddamn sprint.
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