Chapter 18

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Chapter 18: Second Chance

Once, when I was very young, my mom took me to a place that had a butterfly habitat. Walking into the butterfly room we were instantly accosted by scores of the winged creatures, their onslaught so sudden it was terrifying in its intensity. The sheer number of butterflies made it impossible to see any of them individually and I didn't know whether to be awed or terrified. Only after several seconds in the room, when the butterflies got used to our presence and settled down, were we able to look at them one by one and admire each for its unique beauty.

This was exactly the feeling I had right now, thoughts flitting about my head as so many butterflies, refusing to settle down and let me examine them, so that the only feeling I has to go on was a frantic aura of anxiety. I opened my eyes and tried to focus on something, anything, just to steady and center myself. My eyes moved to the opened closet, but re-surfacing childhood nightmares forced me to quickly shift them to the floor, where they rested on a slightly reflective surface. I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out in the dark what could have possibly been glimmering on the floor, when I suddenly recognized the object. And as my eyes focused on the discarded condom wrapper, suddenly all the thought butterflies settled down, and presented themselves for inspection, one by one.

I had never seen Edward use a condom before. He told me he'd never used one with Bella, how much he hated using them, in fact. He certainly didn't use one with Jessica or Lauren, or Tanya and Irina, or Alice. Each and every one of these skanks had been far more used than I was, and had the added capacity to become pregnant, and yet the only person I ever knew him to use protection with was me? I stiffened, an overwhelming coldness washing over me. Did he really consider me such a dirty whore that he needed to be protected when he fucked me?

My thought went back to the sex. There was kissing at first. Kissing was good, it was loving, romantic. Except that this kissing had been none of those things. Rough and insistent, Edward kissed me to dominate, to take. There was no giving in his kisses. And there was no giving in his fucking either.

I closed my eyes, wanting to crowd out these thoughts that threatened to obliterate everything that happened this night. All this was what I wanted. What I had dreamed and fantasized about. After all this time pining after him, he finally wanted me. "I want your skin against mine. I want to feel your body naked beneath me. I want to bury my hard cock inside you." Those were all his words. He wanted me. But it was all about what he wanted. Nothing about my wants or desires or even needs. He'd never once touched me in a loving way. Hell, he hardly touched me at all. He didn't even prepare me.

An image from the night with Jessica and Lauren popped into my head. Edward leaning over Lauren asking her "Have you ever taken it in the ass, Baby? Would you like my cock to plug your tight little hole?" and then coating his fingers in her pussy juices and using the slicked up fingers to prepare her. He may have never fucked a man before, but he was no stranger to pumping ass. And the last time I saw him do it he had been more considerate than he had just been with me. How much could I possibly mean to him if that fucking bitch Lauren received kinder treatment than I did at his hands? Bastard! He'd called me Baby, too, just like Lauren, and Jessica, and Alice and probably every single one of the scores of whores he'd ever fucked. I wasn't special in any way. I was just another hole to fill, conveniently located right in his apartment, right in the next room.

In this apartment. Those were the exact words he used. He didn't want to be with me as a partner in public. He didn't want people to know about us. Again I flashed back to a moment in the past, Peter's admonition about Edward. "He might come out to you, keep you on the side while he leads his normal straight lifestyle, but he'll never be all yours." I didn't want to believe him then, but now I knew he had been absolutely right, about everything.

Another wave of cold went through me and I shivered. I knew I couldn't stay in his bed next to him. I needed some room to think. Slowly and carefully I reached for the arms that he had wrapped around me and tried to ease them away from my body. He shifted and tightened them reflexively, making me feel even more trapped than I had before. I stilled, waited a few moments to make sure he was still asleep, and tried again. This time I was able to create a bit of room, just enough to allow me to slither downward on the bed and out of his embrace. I slid out from under the covers and made my way out of his room into the living room. I sat down on the sofa and buried my face in my hands. I couldn't make sense of any of it. How had the greatest day of my life turned into my biggest nightmare in less than an hour?

I shivered and realized that I was still naked. I went to my room and threw on an old but comfortable sweat suit, pulling on socks to warm my frozen feet. I thought about what to do next. I needed to think, but I didn't want to stay in my room. The only place to rest comfortably was the bed, and it held too many memories of my recent nights with Edward. I needed neutral territory. I left the light on in my room and padded back out into the living room, pulling the door to Edward's room shut so that the faint light and any noise I made wouldn't wake him.

Walking back to the sofa I passed a bookcase and noticed a gift wrapped box sitting on one of the shelves. I didn't remember seeing it there before tonight. Curious, I picked it up. It was flat and large and had a good heft to it. A tag attached to it read from Edward to Jasper. I set the gift back, not knowing what to think. There was absolutely no reason for Edward to give me a gift. We weren't much for exchanging gifts anyway, but especially in the middle of the year for absolutely no reason.

I thought back to the last man who gave me a gift out of nowhere for no reason. My right hand automatically touched the left wrist where I had worn the engraved watch given to me by James. I was too foolish to realize it at the time, but accepting that gift was my first step into the hell of my relationship with James. He had lured me in with trinkets, and I fell for it like the naive boy that I was. I shook my head and looked at the wrapped box on the bookshelf. Was I about to make the same mistake again?

But, no. How could being with Edward be a mistake? James and Edward were nothing alike.

As soon as the thought entered my head others crowded in, showing me the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. From the moment we met, Edward had controlled practically every aspect of my life. He chose my classes, picked my seats, selected my friends . . . and when I strayed from his chosen path even by a little bit, he didn't hesitate to punish me, like that shunning in the beginning of Senior year. I thought it was getting better now that we were in college, but maybe I was deluding myself. Hadn't he just changed my class schedule without even asking to make sure we were always together? And just like James, Edward didn't want me to hang out with Emmett and Seth.

"You're mine now," he'd said tonight. "no one is ever going to touch you again." But Emmett and Seth and I touched each other all the time. And Edward hated it. As Seth so clearly demonstrated, he was jealous in the airport. So what did that mean? Was I not going to be allowed to see Em & Seth? Would he start imagining things that weren't even there, just like James did? Would he hit me if he thought I might have been with someone else, regardless of the truth?

I shuddered. No, Edward would never hurt me. Well, not physically. Well, not intentionally, anyway. Or would he? In the beginning I never imagined James would hurt me either. And Edward certainly never shied from physical altercations with others. My mind drifted to the spring break incident, when Edward had nearly attacked Peter with the barest minimum of provocation. He hadn't intended to hurt me that time, but I had no doubt he would have hurt Peter if I had not thrown myself in his path. And then I remembered the incident with Bella in the car, when he did very nearly strike me, only holding himself back at the last moment. Was that as bad as it would ever get, or would there come a time in the future when he wouldn't be able to control himself? And was I willing to take that chance?

I pulled my legs to my chest and hugged them close with my arms, rocking myself back and forth as my thoughts churned. I stared at the door to Edward's bedroom, for the first time with real fear. I was stupid when I agreed to rush into a relationship with James, but at least that was my first time making that mistake. What was it that people said? 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice . . .' No. I could not go through that again. If there was even the most remote chance that the man behind that door, the man who had been my best friend for nearly a decade, could turn into another monster like James, I had to do something before I let that happen. For both of our sakes.

But what could I do? What options did I have? I had to move out, but where to go? I knew now that Emmett and Seth would let me move back in with them, but I could not live down the hall from Edward. Not after tonight. If there was one thing I knew about myself it was that I wasn't strong enough to resist him or to deny him anything. I'd moved out before because I thought he wanted me too. I would have moved right back in as soon as he'd ask me to, and probably as soon as he told me to without even asking. There was no way I could stay in this building, in this city even, and do anything other than what he wanted me to do. There was only one solution. A clean break. I had to leave. Go to a place where he couldn't find me and avoid all future contact with him. It was the only way to save myself. Possibly the only way to save us both.

I stood up on shaky legs. This was a monumental decision. I was leaving school, leaving my friends, even leaving my family, because there was no way I could go back to Forks and risk running into him there. Such a huge change. Was I doing the right thing? Maybe all this wasn't necessary? Maybe I was overreacting? He hadn't done anything yet. . .

OK. He hadn't done anything physical yet. He did change my class schedule so I would never be out at school away from him. And he did say he didn't want us hanging around with Emmett and Seth. Fuck, he even made that comment about my hair, about how I should never cut it again after it grew out. And that was after I told him I kind of liked it short. It was all there. All the signs. This is exactly how things started with James. I could ignore everything again and hope for the best, or I could finally wise up and read the handwriting on the wall. Yes, running away was drastic. And yes, it was cowardly. But this wasn't about heroism. This was about survival. I've done it once and now I would just have to do it again. I could never knowingly put myself in a position to be hurt again, especially by Edward. If he did turn into a monster I would never be able to leave him, and even if someone got me away from him all he would have to do is wag his finger and I would go back. I wasn't proud of this weakness, but being aware of it was valuable, as long as I acted now, while I still could, while he slept and was unable to talk me out of my still sketchy plan.

I went back to my room and turned on my laptop. I still had no idea where to go. Forks was out, since Edward could so easily find me there. But New York was a much larger place and he didn't actually know where my father lived. Over the many summers I'd spent there we'd always used cell phones and e-mails, so there was no need to give him the physical address. I knew my father took care to keep his phone and address out of all public directories to discourage his fans from harassing him at home, so the information would not be publicly available. And in a city like New York, Edward finding me through random searches would be near impossible, even if he had the inclination.

The bigger problem was how to explain to my Father that all of a sudden, in the middle of a school term, I needed to pick up and move from Seattle to New York. Thankfully it was early enough in the term that I could get some money back if I dropped all the classes, but it was still such a waste. Would my father understand? I would have to tell him everything. Would he be ashamed of me? Could he accept a homosexual son? Could he ever respect me after I told him what happened with James and what I almost allowed to happen again with Edward? What if he couldn't handle it? What if he rejected me? What would I do? I only knew one other person in New York, and I wasn't sure of the reception I'd get from him. It had been quite a while since Peter and I spoke.

I decided to cross all those bridges when I got to them. I took out the credit card my father had given me for emergencies and booked a one way flight to New York City. Even if I couldn't make things work with Dad, there had to be some sort of a YMCA or hostel or something like that where I could bunk for a few days, just to figure out my next steps. And by then I would already be across the country from Edward, so that, at least, would be a step in the right direction. I was an adult now. I would figure things out. I had no choice.

I printed my boarding pass and put it in my laptop bag. I started packing my necessities. Once again I would take my laptop and my electronics, along with some clothes. I figured I didn't need the school books -- I'd ask Em to return them for me. I would also ask him to pack up whatever I didn't bring with me and send it to Forks. I would figure out what to do with the stuff later, once I came up with a viable plan.

After I finished packing I changed into better travel clothes. I would have liked to take a shower, but I didn't want to wake Edward. I looked at the clock -- it was 2:00 a.m. I had about 4 hours before I had to be at the airport. Waiting in the apartment seemed foolish - the risk of Edward waking up was just too great. But there really wasn't anywhere I could go, except to Em and Seth's. I debated for a moment, and then picked up the phone and dialed Emmett's mobile. He picked up after a couple of rings, sounding a bit groggy.

"Hey Em, Sorry I woke you,"

"Jas?" I could tell he was becoming more alert and alarmed, "What's wrong, Sugar? What's going on?"

"It's nothing," I assured him, "but I need a favor. I was wondering if I could come over."

"Now? What time is it?"

"It's 2:00 a.m. I know it's late and this is a strange request, but please. . . "

"No. It's OK. Come on over. Are you at your place?"

"Yeah. I'll be right there."

I threw a quick glance around the room, making sure I wasn't forgetting something really important. Satisfied that I'd packed everything I was likely to need, I grabbed my bags and left the room, closing the door behind me. I walked to the apartment door, hesitating slightly as I reached for the doorknob, glancing back to Edward's room. Should I have left him a note explaining? But how could I put what I felt in writing? 'I'm leaving because even though you haven't done anything yet, I'm worried that if I'll stay you'll turn into as big of a jerk as James?' Of course not! I could not reduce my feelings to a note. It was far better to just go. I turned the knob and walked out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind me. Slowly I made my way down to Em's apartment, arriving just as he pulled the door open, wearing only his boxers and wiping sleep from his eyes.

He took one look at my bags and his eyes flashed with anger. He opened the door wider and showed me in, leading me to his room where he closed the door so as not to wake up Seth.

"What did the bastard do now?" he asked menacingly. "I swear, I'm gonna drop kick him so hard . . ."

"Em, please calm down. This is nothing to get yourself worked up about." With him living down the hall from Edward, I couldn't tell him the truth without risking him injuring Edward, and that was not what I wanted. I was leaving preemptively. Edward hadn't done anything, not really. This was all me. "I just decided that I need to leave town for a little while, and I need a ride to the airport. Do you think you can take me? I have to be there by 6:00."

"Leave town?" Emmett asked, clearly confused. "I thought you wanted to move back in here. Why do you need to leave town? Jasper, what's going on?"

"It's nothing, Emmy. Really," crap, I had to come up with some good cover story to tell him or he was never going to let it go. "I came out to my Mom and Step-Dad yesterday," it was desperate but it was the only thing I could think of. Emmett instantly looked concerned again.

"Yeah? What happened? Did they freak out?" he paused for a moment, his face draining of color. "They didn't cut you off, did they? I mean, you don't have to drop out of school, do you? "Cause if that's what happened, we can figure something out."

"No," I shook my head. "Nothing at all like that. My mom was actually very cool -- seems she's known all along. Jerry, my step-dad, was a little more surprised, but he's trying. It's all good, Em."

"OK, then why leave town? I don't get it."

"Well, I was thinking about it and I think I owe it to my dad to tell him now, instead of waiting until I go to New York this summer."

"So you decided to pack in the middle of the night and take the first flight out? And why didn't you ask Edward to take you to the airport?"

Fuck! Emmett was just too perceptive. I should have known he'd catch on.

"Well, Edward and I talked last night and he told me about some feelings that he had for me."

Emmett's eyes opened wide. "Get out? Already? I didn't think he'd have the balls to say anything so soon"

It was my turn to look surprised.

"Come on, Jasper, I told you back in December that Edward had a thing for you. I figured now that you were both living together he'd eventually make a move, but I didn't think he'd have the guts to do it so fast."

I looked down at the floor. It was so hard to talk about this without telling Emmett everything. But I couldn't do that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"You don't seem happy, Jas. I thought this was what you wanted?"

"It was, but now that it happened, I don't know. I'm confused. It's just so soon after . . . I'm not sure I can do this yet. I just thought if I went to see my dad I can kill two birds with one stone. Tell Dad about me and get some time to think about everything here and what I want to do."

Emmett put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"You have had a lot to deal with lately, haven't you? No wonder you're confused. Maybe going away will be the right thing for you. Leave all this behind and re-group."

I nodded. "But Em," I said, "Please don't tell Edward where I went. If he knows he'll call me and I won't be able to think clearly if I'm constantly talking to him. OK? Promise you won't tell him?"

Em looked at me strangely, but nodded. "Sure. OK. I won't say anything. So," he said, "you want to get a couple of hours of sleep? I'll set the alarm."

I undressed and crawled into bed with him. He started reaching for me, but I shook my head.

"I want the outside tonight, OK?" I asked. Em nodded and turned to his side. I pressed myself against his back and wrapped my arms around him tightly. I wasn't sure when I would see him again, and I missed him already. God, why did I have to make such a mess of my life? If only I'd listened to him and Seth about James, none of this would be happening right now. Except that Edward would still be trying to control you, the annoying voice in the back of my head reminded me. I sighed and squeezed Emmett tighter. He put one of his warm, large hands over my fore-arm.

"It'll be all right, Jas," He said. "The worst is over. You'll take a few days to think and talk things out with your dad and when you come back you can set new rules and boundaries that make you comfortable. And I'll be here to ensure Edward never crosses them without an invitation."

We slept for a couple of hours. I was thrilled to get even that much rest, more than I thought I would be getting that night. I convinced Emmett to skip the showers. I didn't want to wake Seth, who was often far too perceptive for my comfort. Maybe it was inconsiderate on my part, but I didn't really care if the person next to me had to hold their nose throughout the flight. Making a clean getaway was far more important.

Perceptively asking if I had any money, Em loaned me all the cash he had in the house as well as an additional hundred dollars he pulled from the ATM on the way to the airport. I swore I would pay him back shortly. Without him knowing, I had stashed my apartment key and book receipts in the drawer of his desk while he was using the bathroom. The money back from returning the books would cover most of my debt. For me, having the cash in my pocket meant a bit of relief. No matter what happened with my father and Peter, I could make it for at least a couple of days on my own.

Everything went smoothly at the airport and an hour after my arrival I sat in the aisle seat of a plane that was taking me away from everything and everyone I knew towards the uncertainty of New York. Tired as I was, I actually slept most of the flight, waking up only as the pressure in the cabin changed as we started our descent into New York City. Once on the ground and off the plane, I pulled out my mobile. It was time to face the music. My father answered the phone after several rings.

"Hello, Son," He greeted me, clearly surprised by a middle of the day weekday phone call. "This is unusual. Is everything all right?"

"Well," I hesitated. I didn't want to get into it now, but I also didn't want to lie. "I'm OK, but there are some things I need to talk to you about. I'm actually at the airport. I was gonna take a cab to your place as soon as I picked up my bag. Will you be around?"

"Wait, you're here? In New York City? Jasper, what's going on?"

"Dad, I'd really rather not get into it over the phone," I pleaded. "I'll explain everything when I get there, OK?"

"OK, Jasper," he relented. "I'll see you soon. But don't take a cab. The service my publisher uses always has limos on standby at the airport. I'll call one in for you. You'll be more comfortable."

"Dad, you don't have to . . ." I tried to protest, but he stopped me almost immediately.

"It's no problem, Jasper. You must have gotten up really early to get here by this hour, so just take the limo and relax. The service is on a flat fee -- it's really not much more expensive than the cab. And this way I can put it on my account, so you don't have to worry about cash."

I agreed, not bothering to tell him that I had the cash. Just hearing my dad's voice I started feeling more optimistic. I remembered the conversation we had during the summer in Europe, how he told me I could come to him with anything. Maybe coming out to my dad wasn't going to be as traumatic as I originally thought? He really was just so easygoing, and I never heard him say one negative word about homosexuals. I crossed my fingers as I grabbed my duffel bag and went out of the terminal to wait for the limo, which arrived promptly and whisked me into Manhattan in luxurious comfort.

Dad was waiting at the door for me when I arrived. To anyone else he would have appeared calm, but I saw the anxiety lurking beneath the surface. He took my duffel from me and led the way to my room, depositing it on the floor. He waited for me to drop off my book bag and then we walked together to the kitchen.

"I figured they didn't feed you on the plane and you'd be hungry, so I made sandwiches," he said as he reached into the fridge for two plates covered with clear plastic wrap as well as two sodas. I smiled gratefully and took one of the plates and sodas from him.

"Other than a couple of bags of pretzels, I haven't eaten anything yet today, thanks!" I sat down at the bar-height counter and unwrapped the sandwich. Dad put his plate beside mine and went to the pantry to retrieve a bag of chips. He put the bag between us, then sat down and unwrapped his own sandwich.

He let me take a few bites without interruption, before looking at me seriously. "Son, what's going on? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

This was it. No more stalling. I had to tell him.

"Not exactly, Dad. Or, at least, not anymore. But let me start at the beginning."

I told him everything I told my mom and didn't hold anything back. I didn't even wait for him to tell me he knew about Edward -- by now I'd realized that I was the only person in the universe who didn't realize he had feelings for me. Instead, I told him right way about my crush and everything that happened during Senior Year and then once we got to college. He listened patiently and we both continued to eat as I talked. I finally got to the part where I came out to Edward and moved out because of his negative reaction. Dad frowned.

"You made that decision pretty quickly, didn't you, Jasper? You didn't exactly give him a lot of time to come to terms with what you'd told him before moving out and moving in with two other gay men, one of whom he thought was your boyfriend. I would have thought you'd give your friend, especially a friend who you claim to love, a bit more leeway."

I looked at him carefully. This was the first time anyone suggested that maybe I overreacted at the time I came out. Trust my father not to pull any punches. I smiled.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, mom was ready to tear Edward apart piece by piece when I told her what happened. But you're right. It wasn't all his fault. I should have given him more time and tried harder."

"Well," he shrugged," Water under the bridge now, right? What happened next?"

I explained about Rick and our New Year's resolution, and then about trying to date and finally meeting up with James. This would be the hardest part. The part I avoided telling mom about. But I couldn't hold back from Dad, not if I wanted him to understand why I had to move away from Seattle.

"Dad," I said with a lot of trepidation, "This is very difficult for me to say and it will probably be difficult for you to hear, but please, just wait for me to finish before making any comments, OK? If I have to stop I may not be able to continue. I haven't actually told this to anyone yet."

He nodded and waited patiently as I gathered up my courage.

"James was mysterious and exciting and older," I began. "He had this aura of self-confidence, of knowing exactly what he wanted and getting it. I found that very attractive and compelling. He sort of . . . I know this sounds so girly, but he sort of swept me off my feet, you know?" I looked at him for confirmation. He nodded, his expression serious, brows furrowed. I had a feeling he knew where my story was heading and didn't like it one bit.

"He asked me to move in with him and I didn't see any reason not to," I said. Dad's frown deepened.

"At first it was just a lot of events together, not enough time for anything else. And then he started getting jealous when I talked to my friends, either in person or on the phone. And he started to hit me."

Dad cringed. Then, completely uncharacteristically, he reached out and took my hand. He held it without saying a word, waiting for me to keep going. I lowered my eyes. I just couldn't look at him as I told him the next part.

"I don't know why I didn't leave the first time he did it. I guess I thought if I could just convince him that I loved him and he had nothing to be jealous about, he would stop. But he didn't. It got worse and worse. The last day I found out he was having me followed and he became so angry when he heard I'd met with Seth that I couldn't risk staying, so I called Emmett and he helped me get away. And then Em, Seth and Edward all helped me when James came to take me back."

I looked back up at him again, not sure what I'd find. He kept a firm hold on my hand. The expression on his face was difficult to read. I could tell there was a myriad of emotions roiling within him.

"That was a month ago," I continued. "Since then all the guys have been taking care of me and keeping me safe, making sure I was never alone just in case James came back. When Seth and Em went on vacation, I was left alone with Edward and we made good progress on bringing the friendship back to the level it was at before I came out, or maybe to an even higher level," I couldn't help but think of all those nights we spent together. That definitely did not take place while we both thought I was straight.

"Then this weekend we went to Forks for Easter and mom sort of guessed about me being gay and then I told Jerry, and it went OK," I felt the need to re-assure him as Dad's hand tightened slightly around mine. "When we got back to Seattle Edward . . . well," I wasn't sure how to phrase this. What exactly had Edward done other than laying claim on me and telling me what he wanted?

"He told me he wanted me, to be with me, and then we, well, you know," It was just too much for me to outright tell my father that within the past 24 hours I had sex with my childhood friend. "But there was something about it all that just reminded me too much of James. And Dad, as much as I love Edward, as much as I've always loved him, I cannot go through that again. I just can't," I choked on the last words as my eyes filled with tears, "especially not with him."

He slipped off the bar stool and pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly without speaking. I'd always loved my father, always looked up to and admired him, always trusted him to do the right thing, but I never felt as close to him as I did in that moment. I instantly realized that I had worried for no reason. There was absolutely no judgment here. Acceptance, compassion, concern and love, yes, but absolutely no judgment. Eventually I pulled back and looked up at him again.

"Son, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you trusted me enough to tell me everything you just did. Does your mother know all this?"

I shook my head. "I told her James was jealous and possessive, but I didn't tell her the full extent. And the stuff with Edward happened last night after we came back from Forks, so there was no time to tell her."

"So she doesn't know you're here?"

I shook my head. .

"Well, we'll have to tell her at some point. As you already noticed, your mother is fairly perceptive. She'll figure out something is wrong anyway, so you might as well tell her up front. But you don't need to do it today. In the meantime, let's go in the living room. I do have some questions and we might as well be comfortable while we talk."

We spent the entire afternoon talking and I realized how skillful an interviewer my father was, a skill he must have picked up in all his years of writing. I would put him up against any interrogator at any police department in the country. He was kind, pleasant, caring, and absolutely relentless. When a question seemed to get too difficult for me he would back off, only to return to it later when he sensed I could handle it better. By the end of the day he had all the gory details and I felt so much better for having shared everything with someone else. The burden wasn't as heavy when I didn't have to carry it alone.

It was almost dinner time when we got to the real issue.

"So what do you want to do about all this, Jasper?" Dad asked. I shook my head.

"I don't really know. I don't want to go back to Seattle. I can't risk getting into a relationship with Edward. So I guess I will need to transfer to a different school, but most of them are in the middle of their spring semester right now," I cursed UW and its stubborn clinging to the quarter system. I didn't mind the quarters so much, although having to take three sets of finals and midterms instead of two was a pain, but being on a different timetable made transferring schools challenging. And now I wouldn't' have enough credits to count for the entire freshman year, which meant at least one additional semester at the new school. I sighed. Nothing was ever easy for me.

"You know, Son, I think it might be a good idea for you to stay here for a while. And it may be better if you just take a little time for yourself, don't worry about school. We'll figure out where you want to go and start working on getting you enrolled for the fall, OK? In the meantime, I know some excellent therapists. You should talk with one of them. I don't know much, but I do know what you went through will take longer to deal with than you're imagining right now. You'll need someone to help you through it. Someone actually qualified to do so. All right?"

I looked at him and nodded. Therapy was probably a good idea.

"But, Dad," I said, “I’m not sure Jerry's insurance will cover me when I'm not enrolled in classes and I don't even know if it covers therapy to begin with."

He looked at me for a long moment, seemingly weighing a decision.

"Jasper, I was wondering when the right time would be to explain this to you. Your mother thought maybe after you graduated college, but I think you're an adult now and are capable of understanding why we did what we did."

I looked at him, confused. What the fuck was he talking about?

"Jasper, you know I'm a writer. What you don't know is that in addition to the books I write under my own name, I also have a couple of pen names, and the books that I write under my pen names are actually even more successful than the books I write under my real name. The other two series have become very lucrative. You always knew that I was comfortable financially, but really I have far more money than I know what to do with. I've been putting a lot of it into a trust fund for you that you will get access to when you graduate college. It will help you pay off the loans and give you a nice start with your post-college life. But I have plenty of money elsewhere as well. Enough to pay for your college transfers without you having to take on extra loans, and certainly enough to pay for your therapy."

I scrunched up my eyebrows, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

"So all this time I never had a car in high school and had the tiny allowance and had to take out all those loans for school -- all the while my father was filthy rich? Why did you and mom want to keep it a secret?"

"First of all, 'filthy rich," my father wrinkled his nose in distaste, "that's really not how I would prefer to describe it. Second, your mother thought it would be better for you not to grow up with too much money. Money does tend to spoil young people, Jasper. Also, as you know, Jerry is not particularly wealthy, and she didn't want to make him or your sister feel bad with you having more advantages than her as long as you lived together. And, finally, she thought that having a rich author for a father would make you stand out too much in Forks. She knew how much you preferred blending in, and I guess she knew why, even though she never shared that tidbit of information with me."

I nodded, absorbing the information. What he was telling me made sense. And really, I never felt I was deprived of anything, so the money was never an issue before.

"Okay, Dad," I said. "I get it. I understand why you and mom made the decision you made. Thanks for telling me now, though. If you didn't I would be stressing out about the money."

"I know, Jasper. And I know you're old enough to handle the information. It still doesn't mean you're going to get a blank check."

I looked at him, startled. "Of course not," I said, hoping he didn't really feel he had to emphasize that. "I don't need any more than I already have. I was just worried about the unexpected expenses."

"Well, no need to worry about that now. But how about dinner? We should probably worry about that. I'm afraid I wasn't planning to cook today. Would you mind going out?"

We went to dinner at Dad's favorite Spanish restaurant and shared tapas as we talked about more pleasant subjects, like the new book he was working on. In the ultimate act of coolness, Dad also told me that he realized that I was now an adult and that while I was living with him his home was my home, which meant that I should feel free to invite friends over. He didn't outright say it, but it was clear that he'd meant overnight visits.

"Really, Dad?" I asked, hesitantly. "I mean, I never expected . . ."

"Jasper, believe it or not I was once your age and I remember what it was like. We're both men. We understand needs and urges. I don't want you to think you have to sneak around to avoid hurting my sensibilities. Just be a little discerning, all right? And keep the noise down?"

"Dad!" I blushed and looked down at the table, then had the courage to look back up at him and gave him a small smile, to which he responded with a wide smile of his own.

"And I'll promise to do the same," he said and winked.

My mouth dropped open. For whatever reason I'd never thought of my dad doing those kinds of things. In all the years since my parent's divorce, he'd introduced me to a couple of women, but he never had any serious relationships.

"I don't really date much, Jasper," he explained. "I'm pretty set in my ways and don't feel the need to disrupt my life with relationships. But I do have female acquaintances that feel much the same way and, well, on occasion. . ."

I held up my hand. "I get it, Dad," I said. "And I think it's great. But, no offence, that's about as much as I want to know." the whole conversation felt a little surreal, and yet it was yet another sign of the closeness between my dad and me. Still, as close as we were, there were some details that just didn't need to be shared.

After dinner I came home and called Emmett to let him know that I was OK. He told me that Edward had been looking for me and was pretty distressed. I knew this, having received a couple of dozen of voice mails and texts from him throughout the day, all of which I deleted without reading or listening. I had asked Em earlier to tell Edward that I needed to get away for a while and that he didn't know exactly where I went. As thin as the cover story was, I wasn't surprised that Edward didn't buy it. But that's all Edward would ever get, and I wasn't quite ready to tell Emmett everything yet.

After hanging up with Emmett I called Peter. Again, I worried needlessly. Peter held no grudges at my extended absence from his life. When I told him I was in New York, he immediately asked when we could get together, and we arranged to meet for dinner the following night. From Peter's tone of voice and choice of words I knew Marcus would be joining us, but I also sensed that things were really no better between them than they had been at New Year's. I only hoped dinner would not be too awkward.

The following day Dad got me an appointment with a therapist he knew who had helped him with some of his books. Emily Young was in her mid-thirties. She had satiny copper skin, dark almond-shaped eyes and long, straight, crow-black hair. She would have been unqualifiedly gorgeous, were it not for the scar running down the right side of her face from her eye down the corner of her mouth. Even the scar didn't so much diminish her beauty as distract from it. When my father explained briefly to her what had happened between me and James, Emily shared that the scar had been given to her by an abusive boyfriend, immediately establishing her credibility with me on the subject of domestic abuse. It was clear that Dad knew what he was doing when he suggested Emily as my therapist. We didn't cover a lot during the first session, but Emily's patience, understanding and insightful questions made me believe that she could help me get better and stronger.

That evening I met Peter and Marcus at a Greek restaurant near their apartment. As soon as I saw them I knew that I had been right to be concerned. Resentment rolled off Marcus in waves, directed both at Peter and me, so much so that he barely condescended to shake my hand. I looked to Peter, trying to silently ask him if dinner was still a good idea. He merely shrugged and pulled me into a close hug.

"It's good to see you, Jasper," he said. "It's been too long."

He led the way into the restaurant with Marcus following sullenly behind him and me trailing behind, wondering what I had gotten myself into. When we were seated Peter ordered drinks and an assortment of hot and cold mezedes, engaging in a brief discussion in Greek with the good looking waiter. Marcus and I both watched the exchange, both noting the dimple appear on Peter's cheek -- a tell-tale sign that he was enjoying himself. I hadn't thought it would be possible, but Marcus became even more dour.

"Must you do that every time?" he hissed at Peter when the waiter departed.

"Do what, exactly, Marcus? Converse with other human beings? Be social? Utilize my voice box?" I was shocked at the cutting edge to Peter's voice. Clearly this was a well-practiced argument.

"Is that what you were doing?" Marcus asked derisively. "From where I was sitting it sure looked a hell of a lot more like flirting. Isn't it enough that we're having dinner with one of your exes? Must you try to form new relationships as well?"

It was one of those moments when I wished I could have slowly backed out of the room and disappeared. The last thing I wanted was to be a cause of friction between Peter and Marcus. Peter looked to me as though he sensed my thoughts.

"Don't pay any attention to him, Jasper." he said to me, ignoring his partner. "Marcus has hermited himself in our apartment so long he's forgotten what few social skills he had to begin with."

He turned to Marcus, who was shooting daggers in my direction.

"You know very well that Jasper and I never dated, so he's not an ex. And why in the world would I try to start a new relationship with you sitting right next to me when I could just as easily come out alone, considering you absolutely never want to go out anymore? Do you think having you sulking behind me somehow enhances my appeal to potential new boyfriends?" There was more biting sarcasm in Peter's voice. I watched Marcus assume a more and more defensive posture. Noticing this as well, Peter suddenly changed his demeanor. He reached out and took Marcus' hand.

"You're being completely ridiculous and you know it," the words were still cutting, but stated in a softer, more conciliatory tone, they sounded a lot more caring. "I swear, as often as you belittle and dismiss how I feel about you, sometimes I wonder if you want me to leave. Is that it, Blackie? Do you want me to finally give up and go? Because if that's your goal, you're very close to the finish line."

I thought Peter's change of tactics was going to bring a similar change in Marcus' reaction, but I was very wrong. Instead of responding in kind, Marcus ripped his hand from Peter's, dark fury covering his expression.

"I told you to stop calling me that," he growled. "Especially in public. And yeah, since it's pretty clear that I'm not enough for you, why don't you give up and go already. In fact, I'll save you the trouble." he pushed his chair away from the table, got up and headed for the exit.

I looked at Peter, alarmed. Was I really witnessing the final disintegration of his year-long relationship?

"If you want to go after him . . ." I said.

Peter sighed and looked down at the table, then lifted his eyes to me. "There's no point," he said. "It's been building up to this for a while. I'm just sorry that you had to witness the end. Some welcome back, huh?"

I grabbed his hand. "Don't worry about me, OK? Just tell me if there's anything I can do."

The waiter re-appeared with our food. I saw him notice me holding Peter's hand and his resulting disappointment, which he quickly masked with a wide smile.

"Here we are, gentlemen," he said, a little too brightly, as he placed the various appetizers and basket of bread on the table. I let go of Peter's hand.

"Hi," I said to the waiter, "I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name when we came in."

"It's Demetri," he told me, somewhat reluctantly, as though wary of the reason why I might want to know.

"Well, Demetri, my good friend Peter, here, just broke up with his boyfriend, and we need something to help him toast the start of a new single life. Is there a wine you can recommend that would go along with all this?" I pointed to the dishes covering the table. I smiled at him reassuringly, hoping he would get the message. A sudden glint came back to his eyes and I saw that he was as quick as he was pretty. "I tend to prefer whites," I prompted when it didn't seem like he remembered the question.

"Right. Well," He turned away from me and back to Peter, "we have a very nice Skouras Chardonnay. I think you'd really enjoy it."

Peter smiled at Demetri, then looked at me, slightly confused.

"That would be fine," I said. "We'll take a bottle."

"Great," Demetri said, never taking his eyes off Peter. "I'm sorry to hear about your boyfriend," he said to my friend, not sounding the least bit sorry.

Peter shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed at being the focus of conversation. "It wasn't unexpected."

"I'm actually just visiting from Seattle, so I don't know much about New York City, but I think Peter needs to get back out there into the game. Any ideas on good places to go?"

Demetri looked back at me and grinned gratefully.

"Yes, sure, I can write down some place you might want to go."

"And if we have any questions?"

"Oh, I'll be sure to include my number, just in case you need to ask anything," the last statement was definitely directed at Peter.

Demetri nearly danced away to retrieve our wine, looking over his shoulder at Peter at least once. I started giggling as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Jasper, what are you doing?" Peter whispered.

"I believe I'm pimpin' you out, Sweetness." I had to laugh at his shocked expression. "Oh, come on, you enjoyed talking with him when you were ordering and you can't deny that he's cute. What's the harm in getting his number? Might be kind of fun. He seems a bit more personable than Marcus."

Peter scoffed. "Athena, over there, is more personable that Marcus," he said, jutting his chin towards a white plaster bust of the Greek goddess standing in a niche at the entrance of the restaurant.

"Well, Athena's not available, so you'll just have to do with Demetri."

Peter looked in the direction of the departed waiter. "I suppose it can't hurt getting his number," he said, a cute faint blush spreading over his cheeks.

"You don't have to call if you don't want to," I nodded and quickly shut up seeing Demetri heading back for our table. He went through the uncorking ritual and let me sample the wine which tasted pretty good to my unsophisticated taste buds. Even better than the wine, however, was the shameless flirting show that was going on right in front of me between Demetri and Peter. The two had reverted to Greek and were speaking about something rather animatedly, Peter's dimple making a welcome re-appearance. Silently an as unobtrusive as possible, I spooned some of the sauces onto my plate, grabbed a hunk of bread and started to eat as I watched and drank my wine. It took another waiter coming over, reminding Demetri that food for another one of his tables was ready, to stop the conversation. Sporting a new blush to match that of Peter's, Demetri quickly produced a piece of paper from his pocket which he placed in front of Peter.

"Here are some suggestions for you," he said quickly, "and my number if you have any questions or would like some company," He flashed another smile at Peter, this one almost shy, and left to take care of the other patrons in his section.

"So," I teased Peter when Demetri was out of earshot again, "that seemed like a pretty good conversation. Did you make a love connection?"

Peter was blushing again, a bit more vividly.

"Gah, Jasper, I just broke up with a guy that, technically, I'm still living with. It's a little soon for a love connection, isn't it? But he is a nice guy. I could see enjoying an evening out with him."

I decided to let it go without further torturing Peter with my teasing. I didn't want him to get so self-conscious that he wouldn't actually call the guy who, seemingly, was pretty interested in, and pretty perfect for him. Peter started eating and slowly the topic of conversation turned to me and the reason why I was in New York. I gave Peter a synopsis, foregoing the gory details but giving enough information so that he would know what had happened and why I felt the need to leave Edward and Seattle. He had a sad but knowing look on his face when I told him about Edward changing my schedule and his jealousy of Seth.

"He never could stand the thought of you with anyone other than him," Peter confirmed. "It was so obvious the day I met him in that movie parking lot. He was spewing homophobic crap, but I could see and feel how devastated he was when he first saw us together, and how angry he'd been for thinking that I might have been trying to replace him as the number one man in your life. Even then, though, that possessive streak was there. I didn't like it, nor did I like seeing how you reacted to it. That's what I tried to warn you about last summer."

I looked down at my plate, concentrating much too much on getting just the right amount of taramasalata onto my bread. "A lot of really smart people had tried to warn me along the way, and I was too stupid to listen."

"Hey," he said as he placed his hand over mine, "that wasn't what I said or meant. None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes, especially when we're in love. Or think we're in love. Look at me and Marcus."

"Marcus didn't abuse you or tried to control you," I said bitterly.

"Maybe not the same way that James or Edward did, but he was controlling in other ways. Passive aggressive. And jealous. You saw what happened tonight. It's been like that for months."

I looked up at him, surprised. Why had Peter stayed with Marcus all this time if he'd been behaving the way he had tonight? Peter saw the question in my eyes and shrugged.

"I don't know," he answered the unspoken question. "I guess I was invested in the relationship and I didn't want to admit it was failing. And he wasn't like that all the time. When we were alone together, he could still be very sweet and loving, the way he was in the beginning. But out in public, when I could get him out in public, well, you saw. . ."

"I don't understand why," I said. "Clearly he's out and he doesn't care who knows it. Why is he so against going out and socializing?"

Peter shook his head. "I really have no idea. He acts like the mere fact that I want to go out means I want to leave him. He gets upset if I even look at another guy, much less talk to one or, heaven forbid, laugh at one's joke. I suggested he go see someone at one point, even offered to go to couples counseling, but he absolutely refused."

We each took a bite of food and ate silently, undoubtedly thinking about our respective situations.

"In the end," Peter continued, "I realized there's nothing I can do for him if he's not willing to change. I was getting pretty close to leaving him. Today just sped the process up by a few days."

"So what will you do? Where will you live?" Peter had moved in with Marcus when their relationship got more serious.

"I'll figure it out," Peter said. "My parents gave my room to Alec, but I guess I can either share with him or bunk down on the sofa for a little while. This is New York -- it won't be that hard to find a place. Someone at school is always looking for a roommate. I just," he groaned lightly, "I don't feel like explaining to my parents tonight what happened. But I'll call some friends -- someone will put me up for the night."

"Peter, you don't need to call anyone. Stay with me tonight," I didn't anticipate taking my dad up on his welcome of overnight male guests, but this was an extraordinary situation and the least I could do for Peter is offer him a place to spend the night.

Peter looked a bit surprised and at a loss for words. I suddenly realized what my proposition sounded like.

"No, please, I didn't mean that. After James, the guys slept with me just for comfort, you know? Nothing sexual. And my bed is plenty big. But if you prefer, my dad has a pull-out in his office."

Peter grinned at me. "Are you sure your dad would be alright with me staying over?" he asked. "For tonight, just as friends," he winked.

I grinned back at him and nodded. "He's cool."

We finished eating and, after leaving a generous tip for Demetri, made our way back to my dad's apartment. True to his word, Dad didn't even blink when I told him that Peter had just broken up with his boyfriend and would be spending the night. And Peter and I did spend that night as purely platonic friends.

As my dad suggested, I spent the rest of the spring and summer concentrating on getting better. My therapy sessions with Emily were extremely helpful. I finally realized that growing up with Edward dominating my life, combined with the feelings I developed for him, pre-disposed me to being attracted to and looking for other men like him. It wasn't pleasant to acknowledge that I actually sought out men who would control me, but Emily assured me that knowledge and acceptance of my past was the only way to prompt change in my future. We worked on ways I could recognize signs of an abusive relationship at the very start, on things I could do to examine exactly what attracted me to one person over another, and on methods I could use to combat fear and anxiety and to straighten my resistance against falling into old patterns of behavior.

I called my mom and explained what happened shortly after my arrival in New York. Understandably, she was upset, especially when she found out I hadn't told her the whole truth about James. Eventually, though, she understood my reasons and supported my decision to leave Seattle. I knew that she and Dad had many conversations about me, with Dad ultimately able to convince her that he was handling the parental duties fine and that I was better off staying with him than returning to Forks. Dad even flew Mom, Jerry and my sister to New York City for the Fourth of July so we could spend some time together without me having to go back to Washington. I knew Mom was upset that I was living so far away, but I think it helped her to see me happy.

When I first arrived in New York, I received a constant stream of e-mails and voice mails from Edward. I deleted them all without reading or listening. I knew that they could have contained anything from heartfelt apologies, to pleas for my return, to insults for my weakness, to fury at my decision to leave him. It really didn't matter. I couldn't let myself listen to anything he had to say. After the communications continued unabated for weeks despite my lack of response, I finally changed my number and e-mail address, instructing everyone not to give my new contact information to Edward. This is what finally gave me a small measure of peace.

I spoke with Emmett often. After a few weeks, I finally told him what happened between Edward and me that night and why I had to leave Seattle. Surprisingly, he took the information in stride and without the rage that I was expecting, merely commenting that I was right to do what I needed to do for myself. Each time we spoke he would ask how I was feeling and patiently listen to all new developments. I shared everything with him, told him everything that went on in therapy and even things I was uncomfortable admitting to Emily, like the fact that I still missed and loved Edward. Em didn't make any judgments. He just told me that my feelings were understandable and that I didn't have to resolve everything at once, that I had time to come to terms with everything in due course.

I spent a lot of time that spring and summer researching schools, finally settling on the University of Rochester. I liked the school, especially its film and media studies program, and Rochester had the advantage of being clear across the country from Seattle with absolutely no tourist attractions worth visiting, which eliminated the potential for accidental run-ins with Edward. I was able to transfer most of my credits from UW and I enrolled for the fall semester, finding a small but comfortable apartment for myself off-campus.

I didn't make a lot of friends in Rochester, gay or straight. I still didn't feel comfortable enough with my own strength and judgment to try dating and, as in the past, I preferred solitude to meaningless socializing. The one exception was the domestic violence survivor's group that Emily helped me locate. I'd been concerned that without my weekly sessions with her I would stop progressing or, worse, regress, but the group served as an acceptable substitute. That's where I met Angela Weber. Angela was a year older than me and had a similar experience with an abusive boyfriend. She also had watched her father hit her mother for years. Ultimately, it was a TA in one of her freshman courses who noticed Ange's bruising, befriended her, and helped her leave her boyfriend, even going as far as loaning her money so she could get a place of her own.

Angela's experience of receiving help from a virtual stranger turned her into a staunch advocate for domestic violence victims and survivors. It was amazing watching her become absolutely passionate on this subject when the rest of the time she seemed withdrawn and shy. I loved both of her personalities and in short order we became very close friends. Ange had no interest in dating either, so we were each other's platonic companions. We saw each other almost every day, either at group sessions or to meet up for lunch on campus or for dinner at either of our apartments. Between Angela in person and Emmett, Seth, Peter and Greg by phone, I felt no urgency to meet or befriend other students, so I spent most of my time in my apartment or at the library. It wasn't exactly exciting, but it was exactly the kind of calm I needed to try to get over Edward. Everything was going exactly along my carefully constructed plan until one afternoon, when my world was, once again, thrown into chaos.

It was an unseasonably cool October day and I was walking home from my last class of the day, tucking my chin into the collar of my zipped up leather bomber jacket that just barely protected me from the wind. I was a block away from my apartment, about to cross the street, when I saw Edward. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of the door to the vestibule, wearing his gray wool short pea coat, his bronze hair in disarray as always. His right hand was tucked into his pocket. In his left hand he held an over-sized gift bag.

I stopped short, panicking, not knowing what to do. My heart and stomach constricted simultaneously, nearly causing me to double over in pain. I started trembling. I had worked so hard to put him behind me, to create a life where I could function without him, to cut off the last strings that could conceivably cause our paths to overlap. And yet here he was, in a single instant, with a single appearance, blowing over the entire house of cards that was my new life. Tears welled in my eyes, the memories of that last night no less fresh or painful despite all the elapsed time. I thought it was all over; that I had finally carved out some measure of freedom and independence. And yet, like James before him, he had returned, undoubtedly armed with pretty words and gifts, trying to lure me back into his clutches.

Paralyzed with fear and anguish and unable to do anything else, I stood rooted in place and stared at him. I knew this was a mistake, but I could not will my legs to move. I watched as he stood in front of my apartment building, holding the bag awkwardly, his eyes downcast as though he was memorizing every crack and divot in the sidewalk. Despite his obvious discomfort, he was still incredibly handsome, and I could almost feel his natural magnetism pulling me towards him. It took all the strength I had just to stay in place. And then he looked up and his eyes met mine.

It was as if an electrical charge went through me. I felt my body quiver and I realized that it would always be like this, my reaction to him would never change. My self-preservation instinct finally kicked in and, knowing that I could not fight the feelings I had for him, I elected flight, turning on my heel and walking away as quickly as I could without drawing undue attention.

"Jasper!"

I heard him yell behind me, but I didn't stop.

"Jasper, wait, please!"

I could hear his voice getting closer. He was on the same side of the street now, starting to catch up with me. Panicked, I broke into a jog. More than anything, I needed to get away. I couldn't trust my reaction to him if we came face to face. The footsteps behind me got heavier, louder, faster – he was sprinting to catch up with me.

I knew he was a fast short-distance runner. I would not be able to beat him. My only hope was to dodge him. Abruptly, I turned and stepped off the sidewalk into the street, intending to dash across to the other side to put more distance between us. Before I could act on my impulse, I felt a strong hand on my upper arm yanking me backwards against a wall of solid muscle. A taxi came screaming down the street, right over the spot where I was standing seconds before. The realization that Edward had just saved me from certain death hit me almost as hard as the taxi would have. I didn't want to have to be grateful to him for saving my life. Then again, since he's the one whose pursuit drove me into the street in the first place, I figured we were even.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice full of concern. I simply nodded and stepped away from him, not daring to turn around or say a word. I began walking and actually managed to take a few steps before I once again felt his hand clamp around my upper arm.

"Jasper, what the fuck? Are you seriously going to walk away pretending that I'm not even fucking here?" He sounded angry now, like the Edward I used to know, like the Edward I had tried so desperately to leave behind. The fury in his voice made it easier to shrug off his hold and keep walking.

"Jasper, please, look at me, listen to me," All traces of anger gone, he was now groveling, begging. My steps faltered. "Please, will you just listen to me for a few minutes?"

I stopped. Despite everything that happened between us, I still couldn't refuse him, especially when he pleaded the way he just did. Slowly, I turned around.

"What do you want from me, Edward?" I had wanted to make the words sound tough, but they came out like a whimper. I cringed, hating myself for being so weak.

"I just want to talk, Jasper. To apologize."

I took satisfaction in hearing that he didn't sound much better than I did. Then I remembered that this was a trick. They didn't really feel weak. They just made sure to sound that way to make us more likely to listen.

"I brought this for you," he said as he raised the bag he held in his left hand, "I think you'll really like it." I looked at it impassively, but made no move to take it from him. After a minute he let his hand drop down.

"Is there," he hesitated, "Is there anywhere we could go and talk?"

I shook my head.

"Whatever you have to say to me, Edward, you can say right here."

I saw him glancing around anxiously and I imagined him mentally calculating how many people were going to hear our conversation. Some things never changed. He was too fucking scared or embarrassed to even have a conversation with me in public.

"Or maybe you should just turn around and go back home. We have nothing to talk about."

He looked up at me in shock, a flash of pain darting across his face. I had to admit, his acting skills had improved. Once upon a time he would not have been as easily able to hide the anger that I was sure he must have been hiding.

"All right, Jas. We can do this your way, here. I just wanted to apologize for what I did, for treating you the way I had."

I stared at him. I had nothing to say. Did he expect me to believe this? And even if he was telling the truth, did he expect me to just accept the apology after everything that happened?

"I've done a lot of thinking since you left, Jas. I realize how much of an asshole I'd been all the time you've known me, even after I thought I had changed. I know it might take a lifetime to make up for what I did and the way I acted, but I will gladly take that lifetime to make it up to you if it means spending a lifetime with you."

I turned my head. The words sounded right, but I didn't believe them.

"Jas, I love you. It took me a long time to realize it, but I've always loved you. I know it sounds stupid, but I think I fell in love with you that first day we met. I know that nothing was ever right when you weren't around. All those summers you spent with your dad – those were the worst times for me. I counted the days for school to start so that I'd see you again. I didn't realize what it was, then. I just always knew you and I had to be together. But I was weak, and I know I fucked it up. I know it was all my fault. I know how much I hurt you.

"All my life I tried to be what people expected me to be and I hurt the person that mattered most to me in the process. I was a selfish prick and I never let you know how important to me you were. Then, when I started to realize that I was no longer as important to you I flipped. I behaved like the lowest life form on earth. And I let my stupid pride and fear get in the way, and I drove you into the arms of that monster! I hate myself for that! And fuck, even when I tried to do better, when I tried to show you how I really felt, I managed to fuck that up too. I know I said all the wrong things, did it all the wrong way. I just didn't know any different, Jas. I didn't know any better.

"And I understand why you got scared and left, I do. And I don't blame you. But Jas, I have changed, I swear I have. And not having you in my life is killing me. When you left, it was like my life ended. I need you. I've always needed you and I will always need you. I love you!" He took a step towards me.

I backed away. I felt like someone stabbed a knife into me and kept twisting the handle. The pain of that night with him, of the way he treated me, of all the things he did and said . . . it was all still too fresh and raw. I could not let myself get caught up in pretty words and presents. I knew how this worked now. He could say these things here, in public, in a strange town where nobody knew him, but if I allowed myself to trust him, if I allowed him to seduce me again, when we went back home it would be just as it always was. I could not go through that again.

"I don't want to hear this, Edward," I said. I heard the pain in my voice and wondered if he would recognize it too. "I've moved on. I'm stronger."

The words were empty. I didn't feel stronger. I certainly didn't sound stronger.

"Jasper, can't you find it in yourself to forgive me? Isn't there any room in your life for me? I know I don't deserve much, maybe nothing, but if you can give me a chance, I'll do anything, I'll take anything you're willing to give me. Just scraps of your time. Five minutes a day. Fuck, five minutes a week if daily contact is too much. I'll move here. I'll be at your beck and call. Please Jas. I love you so much. Please tell me what I can do. . . "

It sounded strange to hear him beg. The pleas sounded so heartfelt. And his words were having the effect he desired. My resolve was starting to weaken.

"Emmett said if I was honest, if I told you everything . . ."

I straightened as blood drained from my face. Emmett had been talking with him, giving him advice, all the while maintaining a friendship with me? Emmett of all people? He knew. He knew everything. I had held nothing back when I spoke with him all those months. I had trusted him with my darkest secrets and he was sharing them with Edward? That fucking traitor! No wonder Edward knew exactly what to say. Emmett had told him what my fears and weaknesses were, told him how to breach the defenses. Fuck! How could Emmett do this to me? How could he betray me like that? I felt my heart shriveling inside me as my face turned to stone. Edward looked up, and a look of panic settled on his face when he saw my expression.

"There's nothing here for you, Edward," I said, my voice finally taking on the ice cold and hard steel quality I had been hoping for all along. "It took me a while the first time, but I did learn. I didn't fall for this with James, and I'm not falling for it with you. Go home. Don't try to contact me again, and tell Emmett the same."

"What? Jasper, no! Please don't do this." his face reflected a myriad of emotions: confusion, fear, realization, denial. I watched him with no emotion of my own. It was as if someone had flipped the switch on my ability to feel.

"Go home." I repeated and tried to side step around him, but he stepped with me to block my path."

"Jasper, please, listen to me,"

I tried to step the other way, only to be blocked again. This was too hard. I was already losing strength and my stone façade was slipping. I looked around for any means of escape. Behind Edward I saw a lone figure walking towards us. Angela. Her eyes met mine and even from the distance she saw my panic. Her steps quickened. She was nearly running, her low heels clicking rhythmically on the sidewalk.

"I have to go," I said.

"No," he said. He reached out to grip my arm. I shrugged off his hand.

Angela had reached us now. She stepped around Edward towards me, placing her hand on my shoulder. She threw a quick glance in Edward's direction, then lifted up onto her toes and kissed me straight on the lips, a kiss full of strength and intensity. "What's going on, love?" she asked, looking deep into my eyes.

I stared back at her, feeding off her inner strength. But I didn't trust myself to respond. Angela stood back on the sidewalk and turned to look at Edward.

"I'm Angela," she said expectantly.

He looked pained, ill, broken.

"Edward," he said, looking at the ground again.

I saw Angela's eyes widen with understanding, then narrow into small slits as she quickly evaluated Edward, noticing the gift bag.

"I see," she said. "What the fuck are you doing here, Edward?" she spat his name venomously. He and I both looked at her in shock.

"Did you think that after doing what you did to him, you can just waltz back here with a present in hand and pick up where you left off fucking up his life?"

I watched Edward's expression. Angela's words hit him like blows. I could tell he hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected me to have confided in anyone, much less a woman.

"Well, guess what?" My avenging angel continued, "He's moved on. He's a changed man, a stronger man, and he has people who love him and really care for him, including me. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you or anyone else ever hurt him again. So take your sorry ass to whatever rock you crawled out from under, Edward. You're not welcome here."

Edward's eyes open wide, his mouth hung open.

"What's the matter, Eddie?" she taunted, "Surprised you're not as unforgettable as you obviously think you are?" Her eyes moved up and down his body. "You are good looking, I'll give you that. No wonder Jasper lusted after you all those years. But that's all it was, and it's over now. Now he's learned that you're nothing but a parasite, feeding off his good nature and kindness. And he's never going to fall under your spell again. So take your fucking present and get the hell out of here."

"It's not like that," Edward protested defensively. "You don't understand. You don't know anything. That's not why I'm here."

"It's not like that?" Angela kept taunting. "You didn't come here with grand speeches about how you've changed? How everything is going to be different if Jasper just takes you back? How losing him has made you a new man?"

Edward's face fell.

"Do us all a favor and save your breath." Angela continued. "We know what your kind is like. A leopard never changes its spots, Edward. But Jasper is no longer the weak, easy prey he was before. So get the fuck out of here. You don't have any power here anymore."

Edward looked defeated. He sent me a silent, pleading look. Despite everything that had passed between us, despite the anger I felt at Emmett's betrayal, I still found it nearly impossible to deny him anything. Knowing that if I looked at him for seconds longer I would be right back where our relationship left off, I looked away. From the corner of my eye I saw his shoulders slump in defeat. He turned around and slowly walked away.

Angela turned back to me. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

I shook my head.

"Can you walk?"

I thought about her question. Now that Edward was gone my whole body was shaking and my legs felt weak. I felt like such a pussy. I also felt like collapsing on the fucking sidewalk, curling into a ball and bawling my eyes out.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I can try."

Angela assessed me carefully. "OK," she said, "we have to get you to your place. It's only a couple of blocks. I'll put my arm around you and you lean on me if you have to. Once we're at your apartment, you do whatever you need to, and I'll stay with you for as long as you need. All right?"

"OK."

I did have to lean on her, and it took a lot longer than it should have to walk the two blocks. I felt like a fucking invalid. But I knew Angela, of all people, understood. She had been through this. She knew how tough it was to face the man who hurt you. She didn't judge. Instead, she was just there for support, which I sorely needed.

Back in my apartment I made it to my bedroom before curling up into that ball and crying a river of fresh tears. I hated Edward for still having this effect on me and I hated myself for not being stronger, for not being able to move forward. How far did I have to run to make sure I never saw him again? I had thought I cut all the strings between us, and Emmett's betrayal hurt almost as much as Edward's return. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, until there was nothing left.

Angie was right there with me through it all, rubbing soothing circles on my back, assuring me that it would all be all right, supplying me with tissues. None of it helped, but I derived some comfort from knowing I was not alone.

She stayed for three days, making sure I drank water and, when I refused all solid foods, broth. She held and comforted me like a child, patient throughout the whole ordeal.

Towards the end of the second day my mobile phone began to ring. The caller id indicated Emmett. I told Angela I never wanted to speak with him again. She turned off the ringer and checked the phone periodically, erasing all messages. When the calls didn't stop, she finally left my bedroom and answered one of them. She spoke quietly, so I could only hear snippets of her conversation.

"He's not able to come to the phone . . . doesn't want to talk to you . . . . betrayed . . . not his problem . . . I certainly will not . . . not responsible . . . same here . . . wait it out . . . concern is Jasper . . .of course I will . . . gave up the right" and then her last words, shouted so I and the whole neighborhood could hear "I'M JUST GONNA SAY IT ONE LAST TIME ASSHOLE! YOU'RE ONLY MAKING THIS WORSE. -- DON'T EVER CALL THIS NUMBER AGAIN!"

On the morning of the third day I finally woke up without any desire to cry. I got up, showered, and changed clothes. Angela fixed me some oatmeal for breakfast, which I ate gratefully as I was starving after 48 hours of my self-imposed hunger strike. After breakfast I assured her that I was going to be okay and she finally agreed to go home. I locked the door after she left and sat on the couch, not knowing what to do next.

I must have sat like that for a few hours – not crying but not feeling anything either. Finally the sound of the doorbell brought me out of my stupor. Cautiously, I went to the door and used the peephole to see who was outside. It was a flower delivery. Fuck. I considered not opening the door, pretending I wasn't around, but they would just come back or, worse, leave the flowers with someone in the building, forcing me to interact with my neighbors.

"Just a minute," I yelled through the door and went to get my wallet, pulling out a couple of bills for the tip. I opened the door, signed for the delivery and traded the man money for the flowers. After locking the door again, I brought the flowers to the kitchen, setting them on the counter.

I looked at the wrapping paper for a long time, not sure what to do. I could just throw them out, but that would be a waste. They were just innocent flowers. They didn't mean anything. Besides, I could always throw them out after I unwrapped them and read the card. A card was neutral. Written or typed by someone at the flower shop. It couldn't hurt me.

I unwrapped the flowers, surprised to find some sort of a potted plant instead of the usual cut blooms. More curious now, but still wary, I opened the envelope and pulled out the card. The message was typed in all capital letters.

I'M SO SORRY, JASPER. I MADE A HUGE MISTAKE. I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO FORGIVE ME. JUST PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID. I WILL ALWAYS BE HERE FOR YOU IF YOU NEED ME.

EMMETT

I felt a couple of huge tears roll down my cheeks, but nothing beyond that. I knew Emmett understood and I knew he wouldn't try to contact me again. This time I wouldn't have to change my contact information and go into hiding again. I had finally cut all of my Edward Cullen ties.