The Twilight Saga Collection part 1(116)

“What happened?” he yelled. He was right behind me. “I thought you liked him.”

He caught my elbow in the kitchen. Though he was still bewildered, his grip was firm.

He spun me around to look at him, and I could see in his face that he had no intention of letting me leave. I could think of only one way to escape, and it involved hurting him so much that I hated myself for even considering it. But I had no time, and I had to keep him safe.

I glared up at my father, fresh tears in my eyes for what I was about to do.

“I do like him — that’s the problem. I can’t do this anymore! I can’t put down any more roots here! I don’t want to end up trapped in this stupid, boring town like Mom! I’m not going to make the same dumb mistake she did. I hate it — I can’t stay here another minute!”

His hand dropped from my arm like I’d electrocuted him. I turned away from his shocked, wounded face and headed for the door.

“Bells, you can’t leave now. It’s nighttime,” he whispered behind me.

I didn’t turn around. “I’ll sleep in the truck if I get tired.”

“Just wait another week,” he pled, still shell-shocked. “Renée will be back by then.”

This completely derailed me. “What?”

Charlie continued eagerly, almost babbling with relief as I hesitated. “She called while you were out. Things aren’t going so well in Florida, and if Phil doesn’t get signed by the end of the week, they’re going back to Arizona. The assistant coach of the Sidewinders said they might have a spot for another shortstop.”

I shook my head, trying to reassemble my now-confused thoughts. Every passing second put Charlie in more danger.

“I have a key,” I muttered, turning the knob. He was too close, one hand extended toward me, his face dazed. I couldn’t lose any more time arguing with him. I was going to have to hurt him further.

“Just let me go, Charlie.” I repeated my mother’s last words as she’d walked out this same door so many years ago. I said them as angrily as I could manage, and I threw the door open. “It didn’t work out, okay? I really, really hate Forks!”

My cruel words did their job — Charlie stayed frozen on the doorstep, stunned, while I ran into the night. I was hideously frightened of the empty yard. I ran wildly for the truck, visualizing a dark shadow behind me. I threw my bag in the bed and wrenched the door open. The key was waiting in the ignition.

“I’ll call you tomorrow!” I yelled, wishing more than anything that I could explain everything to him right then, knowing I would never be able to. I gunned the engine and peeled out.

Edward reached for my hand.

“Pull over,” he said as the house, and Charlie, disappeared behind us.

“I can drive,” I said through the tears pouring down my cheeks.

His long hands unexpectedly gripped my waist, and his foot pushed mine off the gas pedal. He pulled me across his lap, wrenching my hands free of the wheel, and suddenly he was in the driver’s seat. The truck didn’t swerve an inch.

“You wouldn’t be able to find the house,” he explained.

Lights flared suddenly behind us. I stared out the back window, eyes wide with horror.

“It’s just Alice,” he reassured me. He took my hand again.

My mind was filled with the image of Charlie in the doorway. “The tracker?”

“He heard the end of your performance,” Edward said grimly.

“Charlie?” I asked in dread.

“The tracker followed us. He’s running behind us now.”

My body went cold.

“Can we outrun him?”

“No.” But he sped up as he spoke. The truck’s engine whined in protest.

My plan suddenly didn’t feel so brilliant anymore.

I was staring back at Alice’s headlights when the truck shuddered and a dark shadow sprung up outside the window.

My bloodcurdling scream lasted a fraction of a second before Edward’s hand clamped down on my mouth.

“It’s Emmett!”

He released my mouth, and wound his arm around my waist.

“It’s okay, Bella,” he promised. “You’re going to be safe.”

We raced through the quiet town toward the north highway.

“I didn’t realize you were still so bored with small-town life,” he said conversationally, and I knew he was trying to distract me. “It seemed like you were adjusting fairly well — especially recently. Maybe I was just flattering myself that I was making life more interesting for you.”

“I wasn’t being nice,” I confessed, ignoring his attempt at diversion, looking down at my knees. “That was the same thing my mom said when she left him. You could say I was hitting below the belt.”