Chapter Sixteen

Remind me how it used to be

Pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks

And say you want me

~ Taylor Swift, How You Get The Girl

BPOV

It was so easy to forget everything. To let all of the worries and fears and stresses of my everyday life disappear for a few hours while enjoying watching men, Edward, specifically, run around after a little ball.

Objectively, an out of character event to bring me so much joy, but it worked.

I was stressed and tired and frustrated, but none of it mattered anymore as I stared down at that field with a grin so wide my cheeks hurt as the game ended with a landslide of a victory for the Seahawks.

The small bubble of anxiety over the game passed quickly, but I was noticing it more and more as the season went on. I didn't know what to be nervous for exactly, because I scraped by knowing the bare minimum of the game and how it worked, but I knew they were on quite the winning streak. Knew it wouldn't always be celebrations and smiles at the end of the night.

I still wanted those nights, though. With him.

Even if my breath caught every time he hit the field or walked away with a slight limp. He was worth it.

I was lost in my own thoughts long enough to miss half of the suite emptying out, long enough to miss the commotion at the door as Sam came to stand beside me.

"Jacob is at the door," he said, effectively killing every ounce of happiness I had recaptured during the game. "He's being… difficult. He wants–"

I didn't have to keep listening to know what he wanted. Turning my attention toward the door, I saw two of Sam's men keeping Jacob out. Effectively blocking everyone else in. Causing a whole fucking mess as every set of eyes darted in my direction.

"I'll handle it," I hissed at Sam, who was already shaking his head. "Do you have a better idea?"

It was a game we had all played a hundred times before. Sam and his men only irritated Jacob more when he was in a more… obstinate mood.

I put on a smile, carefully weaving my way through the crowd. I pulled Jacob swiftly and quietly to the corner of the suite. He stumbled along behind me, cursing as my nails accidentally dug into his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, arms crossed, silently pouting to myself that my happy little bubble had popped so quickly.

Jacob gave me that lazy, hazy smile that used to make my heart skip a beat. "You're the only one who can take a sudden interest in football?"

"What do you want, Jacob?"

He didn't give a shit about football. It always infuriated Charlie that his future son-in-law wouldn't spend his Sundays with him by the television.

"You know what I want, B. You always do."

"And you know my answer."

"I said I was sorry, B. You know I didn't mean it. You know I'd never–"

A warm arm wrapped around my waist and made all of the tension I hadn't realized was stiffening up every muscle in my body relax.

Edward's eyes were on me, sparkly emeralds that couldn't have cared less who was beside me. "You okay?"

I nodded. It wasn't very convincing.

Edward's arm tightened around my waist as he turned to Jacob and held his hand out. "Edward Cullen."

Jacob scoffed. "Look, man, I get it. Have your fun with her, whatever, but–"

"I would think very carefully about the next words to come out of your mouth, Jacob Black."

I wrapped my arm through Edward's, gently pulling him back. I didn't want a fight. Didn't want him anywhere near Jacob, the two parts of my life colliding in the most unfortunate of ways. "Let's go," I mumbled, squeezing his bicep. Not with my nails digging into his skin like with Jacob, but a gentle squeeze that was more for my own sanity than his. "Please."

Edward didn't hesitate, squeezing my waist and leading me toward the door. I murmured to Sam to make sure one of his men got Jacob to his hotel.

There was no disguising the way he smelled.

It would have been more of a shock if he turned up sober.

—How You Get The Girl—

"He wasn't always such an asshole," I managed to mutter as Edward pulled into his garage.

We had both been uncharacteristically silent on the drive home. There was no anger in the air, no frustration or disappointment making my insides turn.

It was a comfortable, easy, safe silence.

Until I couldn't take it anymore.

"You don't have to–"

"I do," I sighed. "I… he wasn't always such an asshole. I promise. He was– when we were young, he was my best friend. He didn't leave my side for months after my mom left. He was there for Seth, too. Even though Seth didn't really understand it… Jacob was there for him. He took me to every school dance until we graduated, but always made these big extravagant proposals, like he didn't already know we were going together. There was this field in his parents backyard we spent every summer teaching ourselves how to play guitar or read music or write music, everything. He always talked about London, I never really knew why. Always wanted a cozy little house in England for some reason, so I bought us a place there as his wedding gift. Had this whole cheesy speech about how he was my home and it would be ours… whatever. You get it. He wasn't always an asshole."

Edward's voice was quiet and solemn. "When did he start drinking?"

I swallowed. Stared straight forward into his garage that was more pristine than any I had ever been in. There were tools and supplies, but all so organized. Everything had a place, a purpose.

"When we were nineteen."

That silence came back. Just as comfortable, just as safe. So… opposite to what I was used to.

"It wasn't bad at first. It–this business, it's hard. So I understand how it happened, I do. And I always tried to get him to slow down, find something else to take the edge off, but… You know that press release he released the day of our wedding? He wrote it in the bathroom of a bar in Vegas. He wasn't even still in the fucking state."

It was well written. Jacob was excellent at holding his liquor, and had years of experience working in high stakes environments, getting shit done while he was actually on a two week bender.

"Seth was his best man and thought he went to bed early. He spent so long blaming himself but I–" my voice cracked. "He was so good at hiding it. And I kept thinking he would stop. He told me he had, probably two dozen times and I– It wasn't Seth's fault." I brushed away a cluster of tears sliding down my cheek.

"Nobody knew how bad it was. I did, especially after the almost-wedding. He came home two weeks later, telling me he found a rehab facility and was heading there. Asked me to visit him. I went a month into his stay, thinking maybe… maybe this time it would work. He'd never actually gone to rehab, so maybe…" I shook my head. "He never checked in."

Edward breathed out a curse beside me, but I still couldn't bring myself to look at him. I focused on the perfectly folded towels on the shelf to the left of the door. Stained with oil but still carefully folded and put back in place.

"He always came back. Even after the wedding debacle, every few months, he would be back. Be his usual self, the guy I so desperately wanted him to be. Every night after he went to sleep I would search the house for bottles. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to help him, but he always went back to it. Usually when I was on an upswing of my career."

"So, when I started hanging out with new people, and everyone decided I was dating a new guy every week, I just let them think it. Whatever. It was never… in my mind, Jacob and I never broke up. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't tell you how many other women he was with throughout the span of our relationship, but I always had this little bead of hope. That the boy who promised never to leave me like my mom would come back soon."

I felt Edward tense beside me, and finally managed to turn to face him. He had a slight frown, a dimness to his eyes that I could only look at for a second before turning away again. "So, when we met, you were –"

"No," I clarified. "A few months before that, I was in Nashville for a few days on tour. He showed up at my place, more unruly than usual. He drove himself there. And that's when I promised myself I was done. I would let him sleep in the guestroom, just so he didn't hurt anybody heading to the next bar. But that boy… the one who wrote me love songs in his parents backyard… he was gone. So I was done. Then he–he realized I was taking him to a guestroom and not my room. We hadn't– not in a long time. I hadn't seen him for months but I –"

"It's okay, Bella," Edward said gently.

It wasn't.

"He got angry. It wasn't unusual but it was… worse. We were at the top of the stairs and he– I fell."

I winced.

Edward's voice was quiet, but firm. "You didn't fall."

I shook my head. "No. I ended up with a concussion, sprained ankle, and fractured wrist. Sam heard the fall, and as soon as he asked me what happened it just… slipped out. That I fell. But after that… I told him not to come back. No matter what. I wasn't…I wasn't going to be that girl. When we met… I wasn't still with him. In reality, we hadn't really been a couple in years."

The silence stretched on. There wasn't anything left for me to tell, which was good because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to choke it out without breaking into a sob.

Nobody else knew. About Jacob's drinking. Seth, Sam, Dad… I never told anyone. At first because I thought I could help him move past it, then I knew I had become that girl and I… hated myself for it. Still do.

Edward cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. That–fuck–that doesn't do much for you now, but…"

I shrugged. Then choked out a sob.

—How You Get The Girl—

For a few blissful moments right as I opened my eyes, I didn't remember the previous night. Then piece by piece, everything somehow worse in the light of day, came crashing back down on me.

But it wasn't… wasn't as awful as I thought it would be.

I felt better. Lighter. Happier.

Closure. Maybe that's what yesterday was. Maybe I could let go of all of the guilt and anger and pain I had been holding onto for so, so long and just… move on.

There was a squeak of a hinge and the pitter patter of tiny dog paws down the hall. I sat up, pulling the too-long sleeves of a well-worn Seahawks crewneck down my hands as I turned toward the door.

Edward walked in, easy smile on his face as he carried in a tray of eggs and bacon and toast and orange juice. Daisy scrambled past him, plopping herself on the bed at my feet, one of her homemade treats in her mouth ready to be enjoyed.

"Hi," I croaked, my throat sore.

Maybe last night was awful.

He held me all night. Listened to me blabber on and on about how much I had once loved Jacob and then held me while I sobbed. An amazingly nice and comforting thing for him to do for me, but what man wants to hold you while you cry over another guy?

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I–"

Edward sat down beside me, carefully setting the tray at the foot of the bed before turning toward me. "Do you still love him?"

I didn't have to think about it. "No."

"If he came back tomorrow or next week or next year, clean and sober, would you?"

Again, I didn't falter. "No."

It would make a nice story, maybe. Jacob showing up at my door in a year, the Jacob I did truly love and appreciate and pine for. He was long gone, and I knew it, but if he did somehow reappear I would never trust him to stay.

While some of his actions could be blamed on the alcohol, he had done plenty of shit to me sober that should have sent me running a long time ago.

"Okay," Edward nodded, pulling the tray of breakfast up between us.

"You're not… mad?"

He turned toward me with a frown. "You think I would be mad at you for being stuck in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship before we met?"

I deflated. "Well… I don't know. It just all… came out last night. And I didn't mean to cry all night. I'm sorry."

Warm fingers brushed underneath my chin, tilting my head up until I had no choice but to look him in the eyes. "You know how I feel about you. If anything, last night solidified it more."

"But–"

He pressed a gentle finger to my lips. "I'm not done. I've had a few shitty girlfriends in the past, too. Nothing… nothing like what you went through, but we all have a past. And I'm honored that you trust me enough with yours. Because sometimes I… Especially the last few weeks with you gone but also on every radio or television I walk by… sometimes you feel like a dream. And I'm going to wake up one day and never recover from it."

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. Stared at those bright, sincere emerald eyes, and felt so undeniably lost and found at the same time.

Then, he held out a pinky. I frowned at it. "Um–"

"A pinky promise," he smirked, gently poking my nose with his pinky before holding it out again.

"I need to know the terms. I can't just go pinky promising without knowing what its a promise for."

I hoped my face remained somewhat neutral and didn't give away the fact that I would so quickly pinky promise everything away for this man. For the smiles and jokes and unbelievably normal sense he gave me.

"It's a promise that we're done with the bullshit. A promise that we're in this for the right reasons, and that we'll have the decency to tell the other when - if - that changes before finding someone else. A promise that we can let go of the past and jump into this without wondering if the other is on the same page."

My smile was anything but subtle as I wrapped my pinky around his.