A/N:

Because I wanted this out ASAFP, this chapter is not beta'd. Any mistakes are my own and not the fault of my big-brained wifey, coachlady1.

xxxxxxx

After gently coaxing me to eat something and not-so-gently requesting I take a hot shower, Jasper and I talked a little more about everything that had happened— about where we would go from there.

We were both sure that we wanted to be together, but I was unsure of his commitment to me. The fact that he'd left so easily still haunted me, a constant nagging that was always in the forefront of my mind. I knew these concerns needed to be discussed, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Everything felt so strange between us and I felt uncomfortable talking to him about how I was feeling. It was almost as if our relationship was brand new— the beginning stages where you don't want to overstep any boundaries or make yourself too vulnerable. I felt weird around him.

It was as if we were back at square one.

Jasper brought his things back to my place but never fully unpacked his bags, which didn't help soothe my fears and left me even more on edge. Each and every time I reached in my bedroom closet to grab something, my eyes never failed to zero in on that dark corner where his sad little duffle bag slumped, waiting to be emptied.

I always hoped that today— today would be the day that I opened my closet and found it storing one less item. I was sure that if he just unpacked the damned thing, I would be able to trust in him that much more. All he needed to do was unpack that bag and most of my uncertainties would disappear.

But that day never came.

And every time I saw that bag, a sense of dread— of impending doom would seep that much deeper into my gut. There was only one rational conclusion that I could think of:

He wasn't planning on staying.

I felt so stupid and weak for letting him back into my life. But no matter how pathetic I was, no matter how much potential pain I'd knowingly opened myself up to and no matter how awkward things now were between us, I couldn't turn him away. I couldn't not have Jasper in my life.

So even now, as we clumsily stumble around each other in the kitchen while trying to make dinner, I can't imagine my life any other way.

And when Jasper wipes a few beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, only to leave behind a wide streak of tomato sauce, it leaves me feeling a little hollow.

Before all of this, I would have made a joke and offered to lick that sauce off— or something equally filled with innuendo. He'd probably then throw a few sprigs of basil at my hair and we would end up wresting on the floor… which of course always led to amazing sex.

But now?

Now I just mumble that he has something on his forehead which leads to him spurting out a quick thanks. I then go back to browning the ground beef, wishing that we could go back to how we used to be.

I miss us. I miss our pranks and jokes and laughter and sex. Especially the sex.

We haven't shared much intimacy in the weeks that he's been back. A few pecks before either of us leaves for work is about as close to an orgasm as I've gotten.

But even though I miss the back-then sex, I don't miss the now-sex that we're not having. The trust just isn't there yet and I have a feeling Jasper knows this because he hasn't made any moves to get into my pants. The lack of pressure to get between the sheets has given me an odd sense of relief.

After we've eaten and washed the dishes, Jasper and I go about our daily routine of Project: Ignore Each Other in order to avoid the frequent awkward silences. I pick up a book; he turns on the TV… and the ignoring each other has now commenced.

A few chapters in and I find myself re-reading the same paragraph for the fourth time because I'm unable to concentrate.

The room grows silent and I notice that Jasper is now looking at me. I keep my eyes on the book, pretending that I don't see him— pretending I haven't noticed that he's turned the volume down on some motorcycle show he was watching. "How's the book so far?"

"Hmm?" I slowly raise my eyes to meet his. "Oh, it's good. A little slow, but… good."

He nods a little. "That's good."

"Mmm-hmm." I nod along with him and drag my eyes back to the book.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"What's going on?"

I look up again, confused. "What do you mean?"

"With us. What's happening to us?"

"Oh."

My mind is racing, the book forgotten as I try to figure out a way to answer that loaded question. I honestly never thought our predicament would be brought up. I never prepared myself for the conversation that could come of it. I figured we'd either grow closer and move past this phase in our relationship or just come to accept it as our new reality.

I never stopped to question whether he felt the same way.

"Do you not wanna be with me?"

The lump in my chest prevents me from answering, so I shake my head in response.

How could he think that?

I bring a hand to my chest, applying pressure as if it will stop my heart from pounding its way out.

Things haven't been the best between us, but for him to think that I don't want to be with him; for him to think that I don't want him—

But maybe…

Maybe he's looking for a way out. Maybe he doesn't want to be with me. Maybe he's been looking for the right moment to break the news.

I prepare myself for his next words; prepare for the sting while trying to convince myself that I'll be okay.

Only… I know I won't be.

"Talk to me, B."

B.

He hasn't called me that in so long that I almost cry when I hear it. Memories of how we used to be flood my mind.

"I don't know… I just…"

I just can't trust you.

"Just what?" His eyes are pleading and I hate that we're like this. I hate that there is now this huge chasm between us and I hate that I don't know if it can be repaired.

Seeing what this is doing to him— I know that I can no longer pretend that this is okay. I need to try and make things right.

"Your bag," I blurt. "Why is it still in my closet?"

He looks confused. "What bag?"

"That damn bag in the bedroom closet that you never unpacked—"

"What about it?"

"I know why it's still there…"

My sight is now set on an interesting piece of string hanging out of the sofa. I pull on it, twirl it around my finger.

His finger lifts my chin, making my watery eyes meet his questioning ones.

"You're gonna leave again." Although I try to look strong, my words are whispered and broken.

His expression softens. "Why would I leave you, B, when it damn near destroyed me the last time?"

I sniffle a little pathetically. "You've done nothing to prove me wrong,"

"I'm here. If I didn't wanna be, I wouldn't."

A few tears slip from my eyes and I turn my head, trying to conceal them.

"Don't do that." His thumbs gently smear the wetness across my cheeks. "You don't have to hide from me, Bella. I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry… I don't know how to fix this. Please tell me how I can fix it."

I don't know how I get here, but I am now straddling Jasper's lap. We're holding onto each other for dear life, faces buried in the other's necks as we both whisper unintelligible words, murmur incoherent promises.

Forgive me.

We can fix this.

I'm sorry.

I need you.

I swear I won't leave you.

And when our lips meet, there is no strangeness. Only familiarity and hope— hope that we can get back what we were.

xxxxxxx

A/N:

I was gonna add a little bit of lemony action to this chapter, but decided against it. These two love birds have a little ways to go before they start screwing like bunnies again.

Thank you all so much for your continued support. I wish that I could hump you all to show you how much I love you!

Until next time. Smooches! ^_^