*V*V*V*V*V*

I haven't seen Edward for three days. New's Years Eve came and went and school starts in a couple days and I think I'm going crazy. It's partially because my mom freaked the fuck out when I came home with four stitches at the back of my scalp and partially because Edward has been too busy. At least, that's what he tells me. I don't think it's preoccupation so much as the panic, but our phone conversations have been brief.

He and his father are supposed to be coming by any minute, presumably to talk about what the hell has been going on. It was Carlisle's idea – which would be comforting if I had any idea about his reactions aside from Edward's cryptic comments.

I'm staring at my wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear for this gathering from hell. Part of me wants to dress up like I did when Edward came to dinner that first time, to make a good impression. But another part of me feels like dressing for battle because I can't imagine this being pretty. I go for jeans and a midnight blue blouse that's a bit more formal, my hair pulled back in a slick ponytail. It makes me look older, but that's by design. I almost swipe on some dark maroon lipstick, but pause with the tube suspended by my lips. Too much, I decide, looking at my reflection in the mirror. The moment I decide I'm presentable and take a deep breath, the doorbell rings and I know it's time.

My mother answers the door as I descend the stairs like a convict going to the gallows. I see the tops of one blonde and one copper head in the doorway, pausing to greet my mother.

"Hello, I'm Carlisle Cullen," Edward's father says, extending his hand politely, though his pleasant smile is conspicuously absent.

"Renee Swan."

"Thank you for agreeing to meet. I think there's a lot we should all discuss." As he says all, his eyes flicker to mine. I swallow.

"Yes, I think so," she mutters and I think I'm the only one that hears the sharpness in her voice. She stands back to allow them entry, gesturing to the living room and looking at me as they pass her. Her mouth is pursed, but her eyes are soft. Everything will be ok.

Carlisle sits in the recliner by the fireplace and I automatically sit next to Edward on the couch, leaving my mom the loveseat, three points of a tense triangle. Edward glances down at me and, focusing on his face for the first time since he dropped me off here three days ago, I gasp. There's an ugly bruise – much worse than the one I first gave him – on the left side of his face, yellowing in some spots, but mostly swollen purple.

"It's fine," he says softly, cutting off my sharp intake of breath.

I'm silent, but I seek out the hand resting in his lap and squeeze it. He squeezes back once and then lets go, removing contact. That worries me more than any nightmare scenario I've been dreaming about this meeting.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" my mother prompts like she's calling court into session, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Carlisle nods brusquely and I remember, belatedly, that he's a CEO and accustomed to business exchanges. "I'm sorry I'm here under these circumstances. I'm sure you know that your daughter interned at my company and I have a great deal of respect for her."

"Thank you," my mother says. "She really enjoyed her time there. I hear you had lunch with her once."

"Twice," I blurt, quickly biting my lip and meeting Carlisle's eyes again. This time, he smiles gently and I actually feel myself relax.

"Twice," he agrees. "Your daughter is very bright and I only heard good things about the work she was doing." After a moment, he adds in a more serious tone, "I understand why my son feels the way he does." Aaaaand the pleasantries are over.

Edward's hands clench in his lap.

"And how do you feel about it?" my mother asks calmly.

Carlisle sighs and he looks older than I've ever seen him. "I've already discussed this with Edward, but I'd like them to stop seeing each other at least until the end of the year."

I exhale audibly, my lungs feeling like limp balloons. It's not like I didn't expect this – in fact, this is not anywhere close to my worst fears – but hearing it spoken out loud still crushes me. I whip my head to stare at Edward – is this why he's been so distant? – but his gaze doesn't waver from his father.

Carlisle continues, "I'm not naïve enough to think I could keep anybody apart for very long– nor would I want to because, as I said, I like and respect Bella – but I can't ignore the legal ramifications of this."

"Believe me, I understand," my mother assures him. "I don't want them at risk of someone finding out, but I hope you understand the precautions they've been –."

"Not enough precautions," Carlisle interrupts softly. "She should never have been at his home." For the first time, there is a note of accusation in his tone, though I can't tell at whom it's directed.

My mother sighs. "I allowed it. I'll take the blame for that one."

"My son found them in –."

"I know how he found them," she cuts in sharply. "I also know that he gave my daughter four stitches over it."

I grimace. "It was an accident," I say, though my voice is too soft. It seems ridiculous to defend Emmett when I feel a flare of anger every time he enters my consciousness, but nobody else here is speaking the truth about it.

"I've spoken to Emmett," Carlisle says grimly. "I won't defend his actions, but he agreed to start seeing a therapist about his anger issues." This is news to me – news that clangs oddly in my head, trying to imagine Emmett thoughtfully articulating his feelings. Maybe I never gave him enough credit. "Regardless of Emmett's behavior, I don't want Edward to lose his job over this relationship. If they're both committed to each other, then I don't think it's too much to ask them to wait one more semester – for both of their sakes."

My mother holds up her hands in a ceasefire. "Considering they see each other every day, I don't know how realistic that is. As far as I'm concerned, Bella and Edward have been very transparent with me about their relationship and how they're handling things and I'm comfortable with them continuing on as they have been – minus the visits to Edward's house," she adds, glancing at me pointedly.

Carlisle shakes his head emphatically. "All it takes is one person. And this is a small town."

"Yes, it is. Which is why I'm prepared to tell people that your son is so lovely to agree to tutor Bella for the AP exam," my mother says icily. "If anybody sees them driving together or at my house, as far as they know, it's because I'm paying him to teach her to make sure she gets college credit."

I stare at my Valkyrie of a mother with new eyes, trying to remember a time she's ever been this assertive. Now she's making up a backstory for us just so we can be together? She didn't even speak to me about this.

Carlisle's mouth is slightly agape. God knows what he expected when he stepped foot in our home. "People will make assumptions – especially after she graduates."

"They're going to make assumptions anyway. That's how these things go. Besides, it sounds like Edward doesn't plan to stay here anyway."

"Excuse me?" Carlisle asks, his eyes searching my mother's and then Edward's. "You're going to leave your job?"

"Dad, this isn't the time to talk about this," he deflects.

"After all the difficulty you had getting hired in the first place, do you think employers want to see someone changing schools every year?" Carlisle demands, though I detect more parental concern than derision.

"People change schools all the time and this isn't why we're here."

Carlisle's gaze lingers on Edward for too long before he shakes his head and focuses back on my mother. "So you have no concerns here?"

"I wouldn't say that," she snorts, "but, no, I am not going to try to stop them from seeing each other."

"I guess I'm outnumbered then." He looks a bit shell-shocked, older than I've ever seen him. For a moment, I feel a flood of guilt for causing him this distress, for having the audacity to love his son.

My mother sighs. "Edward, why don't you take Bella for dinner and let me talk to your father alone for a bit?"

I perk up immediately at the prospect of escaping and getting to be alone with Edward, though I can't imagine what she feels she has to say to Carlisle in private. Still, I grip Edward's hand urgently until he stands with me.

"Dad?" he asks.

Carlisle nods warily – and then I'm pulling Edward out the door with me, secreting him away to his Volvo, anxious for his face, his voice, his hands.

"Where to?" he asks me, putting the keys in the ignition.

"Anywhere. I'm not hungry. Let's just find somewhere we can talk."

He eyes me for a long moment, staring over the worried lines in my forehead, and sighs. "I'm sorry I haven't called very much."

I exhale. "It's ok. Well, I mean, it's not. I've been freaking out. But I know things have been crazy."

"You have no idea."

"Then tell me." Maybe my tone is too desperate.

He nods and his jaw unclenches for the first time all evening. He puts the car into gear and doesn't tell me where we're going, but I don't care. I can't stop looking at him anyway. It feels like it's been decades since we were last together – and with that ending so horribly, I've been oscillating between one fear and another, uncertain of his feelings or intentions.

Finally, he begins to say the things he's held back for three days and it comes like a flood.

"I wanted to kill Emmett. I mean that literally."

"How did he even know I was there?" That question has been bugging me for days now, wondering how he found out.

"He didn't," Edward says curtly. "He was just coming over to check on me after the blizzard. He saw your truck outside and put two and two together."

"Jesus."

"After I dropped you off with those fucking stitches, I wanted to find him and . . . and . . . Christ, break his arm or something. I ended up going to my dad's house and he calmed me down a bit, but he wanted to know everything. He was jumping to conclusions about our relationship and that almost made me madder than what Emmett did because he was . . . well, he asked me if I had raped you or taken advantage of you in some way and it just fucked me up to hear my own father thinking that about me. It was because of the shit that Emmett said, but still."

Edward doesn't seem to hear my "oh my god".

"The more I told him, the more he relaxed. I mean, don't get me wrong, I had a lot to answer for, but I told him everything and I think he mostly gets it now."

"When you say everything, do you mean –?"

"Everything," he affirms grimly.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"I suppose it was pretty generous that he was even talking about us being together after the school year."

"He didn't it see it that way at first," he admits. "That took a few days – but I'm getting ahead of myself."

"Sorry."

"No, don't be. There's just a lot to tell you and I want to keep it all straight." He smoothly turns onto the highway running east and resumes. "So once I reassured my dad that it was all consensual and that your mom was fully aware of our relationship – he couldn't believe that, by the way – he made Emmett and me sit down together."

"Oh, Jesus," I groan.

"It was actually . . . I don't know – I mean, I'm still so mad at him for hurting you, but I just never talked to him to like that before."

This surprises me more than anything he's told me thus far, but I ask, "Does he know about us? I mean, the details?"

"Yes. I explained. He had trouble believing that I didn't know who you were and he . . . well, he had a hard time hearing about our relationship. He called me a pedophile and some other shit, but he came around, too. You know what got him?"

I don't even bother shaking my head.

"He didn't know what you wanted to go to college for. It came up and he didn't know – I think it kind of jolted him that he was saying how in love with you he was, but he didn't know that."

"Because he likes the idea of me," I surmise, unsurprised.

"I wouldn't even go that far, but he's had a rougher time at college than he's let on and I think he was clinging to you for safety."

"So how did you guys leave it?"

He lets out a long sigh. "He says I'm messing up your life by holding you back, but he also understood my feelings about you. I guess I would just call him on the fence. From my point of view, he's really conflicted about his feelings for you."

"Maybe therapy is the best thing for him then." Of course, I'm of the opinion everyone would benefit from therapy, so I'm not saying much. Mostly, I just want someone to get it through his head that we'll never get back together.

He grunts – non-committal.

We're silent for a while – which seems unbelievable to me considering how much I've wanted to talk to him the past few days. I think I'm overwhelmed, maybe for the better. Emmett's halfway to accepting us; Carlisle said he has no problems with us dating once I graduate; my mom has been on board for ages. And Edward's next to me again. For all the fears I've had, it feels like we're reaching equilibrium, like things will be ok eventually.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

A smile peeks out at him. "Like things might actually go well and we'll get to live happily ever after."

A corner of his mouth turns up and he reaches across the car to squeeze my hand.

"So where are we going?"

He snorts at this. "I have no idea. I just started driving. I want to get out of Forks."

"Let's just find somewhere to park."

"You sure you don't want to eat?"

"I'm sure."

Before too long, we've pulled off into some nature reserve parking lot outside of town, the pine trees looming large and dusted with snow. Perhaps because of the temperature, there are no other cars.

"Is this ok?"

"Perfect," I say, blushing a bit. My brain has already turned to the thought of being alone with him and isolated in the woods.

He's staring at me and I realize how much more relaxed he looks now, how his brow is not furrowed, his mouth not pursed. "I've missed you so fucking much."

"I missed you, t—." I'm cut off by his lips crashing against mine, his hands pulling at me.

A few days away from him has not improved my self-control. If anything, I feel more desperate now. When aren't we desperate? It feels like we always come to each other in times when we've both resisted for too long, too shattered to maintain sense.

I push the button to release my seatbelt and sink my fingers greedily into the warmth of his coat, feelings his abdomen, the way his chest is heaving. He pulls me closer, almost uncomfortably so, before I realize he wants me on his lap. It's not elegant to clamber over, but he helpfully pushes his seat back to allow me more space. I'm wedged between his body and the steering wheel, but his hands are bold enough in grabbing my ass that I don't care.

"Is this ok?"

I want to shush him – of course it's ok. Everything's ok. Take me now. Do anything you want to me. But I nod instead and unzip my coat, inviting him to touch me more.

With the way he's kissing me, I'm not surprised when I feel his hand – fuck, it's cold – sliding up my shirt, sneaking under the cup of my bra to brush my nipple. It hardens immediately under his icy touch and he rolls it in his fingers, pinching me gently, playing with my piercing.

I moan into his mouth, grasping his hair.

His hand fondles the entire handful of my breast before retracting from my shirt. He cups my face in his hands, breaking from our kiss.

I don't understand, wondering why he stopped.

His eyes sear me. "I love you."

It's the easiest thing to say, "I love you, too."

"It doesn't matter what they say," he breathes, a note of relief in his voice. "Our parents or the people in this town. I want to be with you the rest of my life. We'll make it work. I promise you."

Because I don't know what else to say, I kiss him again, pressing our bodies together almost painfully tight. I want him. For the rest of my life, too – but especially right now.

"I want . . ." I mumble, losing my nerve.

"Tell me."

"I want to have sex with you. I don't want to wait until graduation."

His eyes close and he nuzzles into my neck, kissing the skin there, exhaling. "Ok."

I pull back to see his face and find only gentleness. "Really?"

"Really."

There's no helping the grin that splits my face. I immediately dive back into his mouth, running my hands down the parts of his torso I can reach, wiggling on his lap against the erection growing underneath me.

"Bella, not here," he groans. "Not now."

I huff at him, pouting.

"We'll find a way, but not in a public parking lot. We've had more than our share of parking lots already. I want it to be right."

"But I'm not allowed at your house anymore."

"And you're not allowed to have sex with me either," he points out.

"Fine."

He laughs at my petulance and kisses my nose. "I want you, too, beautiful girl. We'll find a way," he repeats.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

*V*V*V*V*V*