There was just enough for me to quiet the sobs — hold them back but not end them. The tears didn’t slow. I couldn’t seem to find any handle to even begin to work with those.
“Wait for me upstairs,” I mumbled when we were in front of the house.
He hugged me closer for one minute, and then he was gone.
Once inside, I headed straight for the stairs.
“Bella?” Charlie called after me from his usual place on the sofa as I walked by.
I turned to look at him without speaking. His eyes bugged wide, and he lurched to his feet.
“What happened? Is Jacob . . . ?” he demanded.
I shook my head furiously, trying to find my voice. “He’s fine, he’s fine,” I promised, my voice low and husky. And Jacob was fine, physically, which is all Charlie was worried about at the moment.
“But what happened?” He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes still anxious and wide. “What happened to you?”
I must look worse than I’d imagined.
“Nothing, Dad. I . . . just had to talk to Jacob about . . . some things that were hard. I’m fine.”
The anxiety calmed, and was replaced by disapproval.
“Was this really the best time?” he asked.
“Probably not, Dad, but I didn’t have any alternatives — it just got to the point where I had to choose. . . . Sometimes, there isn’t any way to compromise.”
He shook his head slowly. “How did he handle it?”
I didn’t answer.
He looked at my face for a minute, and then nodded. That must have been answer enough.
“I hope you didn’t mess up his recovery.”
“He’s a quick healer,” I mumbled.
Charlie sighed.
I could feel the control slipping.
“I’ll be in my room,” I told him, shrugging out from underneath his hands.
“’Kay,” Charlie agreed. He could probably see the waterworks starting to escalate. Nothing scared Charlie worse than tears.
I made my way to my room, blind and stumbling.
Once inside, I fought with the clasp on my bracelet, trying to undo it with shaking fingers.
“No, Bella,” Edward whispered, capturing my hands. “It’s part of who you are.”
He pulled me into the cradle of his arms as the sobs broke free again.
This longest of days seemed to stretch on and on and on. I wondered if it would ever end.
But, though the night dragged relentlessly, it was not the worst night of my life. I took comfort from that. And I was not alone. There was a great deal of comfort in that, too.
Charlie’s fear of emotional outbursts kept him from checking on me, though I was not quiet — he probably got no more sleep than I did.
My hindsight seemed unbearably clear tonight. I could see every mistake I’d made, every bit of harm I’d done, the small things and the big things. Each pain I’d caused Jacob, each wound I’d given Edward, stacked up into neat piles that I could not ignore or deny.
And I realized that I’d been wrong all along about the magnets. It had not been Edward and Jacob that I’d been trying to force together, it was the two parts of myself, Edward’s Bella and Jacob’s Bella. But they could not exist together, and I never should have tried.
I’d done so much damage.
At some point in the night, I remembered the promise I’d made to myself early this morning — that I would never make Edward see me shed another tear for Jacob Black. The thought brought on a round of hysteria which frightened Edward more than the weeping. But it passed, too, when it had run its course.
Edward said little; he just held me on the bed and let me ruin his shirt, staining it with salt water.
It took longer than I thought it would for that smaller, broken part of me to cry herself out. It happened, though, and I was eventually exhausted enough to sleep. Unconsciousness did not bring full relief from the pain, just a numbing, dulling ease, like medicine. Made it more bearable. But it was still there; I was aware of it, even asleep, and that helped me to make the adjustments I needed to make.
The morning brought with it, if not a brighter outlook, as least a measure of control, some acceptance. Instinctively, I knew that the new tear in my heart would always ache. That was just going to be a part of me now. Time would make it easier — that’s what everyone always said. But I didn’t care if time healed me or not, so long as Jacob could get better. Could be happy again.
When I woke up, there was no disorientation. I opened my eyes — finally dry — and met his anxious gaze.
“Hey,” I said. My voice was hoarse. I cleared my throat.
He didn’t answer. He watched me, waiting for it to start.
“No, I’m fine,” I promised. “That won’t happen again.”