A/N This fic is inspired by the wonderful Kristan Higgins. I do not claim to own any themes, but I hope everyone enjoys the newly revised version! Tell me what you think :)
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"Finally," Bella sighed as she poured herself a rather large glass of wine before plopping down on her comfy couch.
Today had turned out to be a very long day: after a last-minute interview with a hopeful job offer only for it to end with them politely saying she was overqualified, Bella just wanted to crawl into a hole.
The original plan after grad school was to move out of the city, where the shadow of her family's name didn't exist. She wanted to be a journalist at some magazine or newspaper in a small town and then work her way up the later. But the most important part was that she would do it herself.
But no, even after moving to Boston and being laid off, and now living in Manhattan, people tended to know who her father was. And the swan name haunted her wherever she went. And for some reason, people didn't want the daughter of famous prosecuting lawyer, Charlie Swan, working at their publishing company.
It sucked.
Of course, it seemed like even the best-laid plans failed, and that was how a 25-year-old Harvard graduate was still floating by the coat-tails of her father; living in his upper east side apartment he probably had never stepped foot in.
'Stay as long as you want,' Her father had told her on the phone when she called saying she could find another job in Boston.
She had graduated with an undergrad and masters in English; something she had pursued because it was her passion. But now she was starting to think it had been a mistake.
But the self-loathing was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing.
"Hello?" She wondered who could be calling her at this hour, certainly not a job offer, because today was her last interview.
"Hello, is this Isabella Swan?" A professional feminine voice rang loud and clear from the other line. Bella didn't recognize the voice at all, and it couldn't be a telemarketer because she had a private number. By her father's insistence.
"This is she," Bella answered rather hesitantly.
"Hello, this is your father's secretary, he asked me to call you on his behalf." Bella went quiet. Why would Charlie have his secretary to call her? At least he managed to call himself when he felt he needed to fulfill his quota of fatherly duties.
"Is there a problem?" It was a broad question, and sort of cynical, but it was late and Bella was tired.
"Yes, I'm afraid so, Ms. Swan. Your Father has been in a car accident."
Bella froze at the words, nearly dropping the phone in the process. But she managed to hold on.
"H—how bad is he? I mean, is he alright?" Bella didn't recognize her own voice, but could only imagine what her answer was going to be: Her father was dead, and she hadn't even known him. Not in the way a daughter should know her father. Guilt washed over her.
"Ms. Swan, your father is fine, he is in a stable condition." Her calming voice was repeating several times; allowing Bella to gather her wits.
"What happened?" She went straight to the point.
"Well, Ms. Swan, he was struck head on by another vehicle. But I am happy to say after surgery, he is now in a stable condition. He wanted me to tell you to be safe."
"Be safe? What the does that mean?" she pushed the phone closer to her ear, "Am I in danger at all?" she asked critically.
The secretary took a deep sigh, "You are in no immediate danger. But the authorities do believe the car crash was no accident. There might have been foul play involved. A sort of retaliation meant to scare your father," The secretary said.
Bella was suddenly unable to speak, so the woman continued, "Ms. Swan, your father is concerned for you. He wishes for you to leave Manhattan."
"Oh," Bella couldn't say any more than that, her throat constricting. It sounded like Charlie had almost been murdered, and he thought she was next. Her ears were suddenly buzzing.
"Your father has taken care of everything. You move in two days. I suggest you stay in your apartment when you can, and he will call you as soon as he can to make further arrangements," And with that, she was gone.
Bella sat dumbfounded for a while, frozen with what she was supposed to do with all this information. How the hell did Charlie expect her not to worry after news like that? How was she supposed to sleep tonight?
Bella stood in the kitchen for a while, wondering if she should tell her mother or a friend in case something did happen. She shuddered at the thought.
But perhaps it would just be calming to talk to someone, but at the same time, all she wanted to do was lock all the doors and crawl under her huge comforter and go to hide.
And that's exactly what she did.
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The next morning, no matter how much it confused her, Bella started the strenuous process that was moving. After trying and failing to call back Ms. Secretary a hundred times, there was still no answer. And none from her father either.
And so the day drudged on, Bella's brain operating by itself as she drifted through he apartment and packed her belongings.
Then her cell phone rang. And Bella practically sprinted into the kitchen and a second later it was at her ear, "Hello?" her voice was breathless from running.
"Bella?" Came her father's voice from the other line.
She let out a sigh of relief, "Dad! How are you? Are you alright?" Bella could hardly get the words out fast enough. And after nearly a decade of calling her father by name, she had called him Dad.
"I'm fine. Bella, are you alright?" his firm voice came from across the line; gathered and calm as usual.
"Yes, I'm fine. But what about you? I mean, are you really in danger?" she pressed, and she heard him take a deep breath from across the line.
"It seems that some men are angry with me, and clearly were willing to do something about it," he said wryly, and Bella couldn't believe how nonchalant he was being about all of this. He had nearly been killed.
"How can you be so calm about all of this? And now you think I might be in danger. And you want me out of the city?" her voice was getting shriller by the second.
"Bella, you have to understand as a prosecutor, I'm used to this. But if I'm right about the men that are behind this, then you need to get out of the city while the authorities figure this out. It'll only be for a few months," he said.
"Months!"
"Just until this all blows over," he answered.
"What about mom?"
"An ex-wife is not the same as my only child," he dismissed, "These men want to hurt me where it counts, Bella. And you are likely their next option."
She blanched, but Charlie only continued to talk in that same calm voice, "I made arrangements for you to move somewhere remote. And don't worry about finding a job; that would only put you at risk. You'll just have to lay low while everything is investigated."
"Dad, you just can't expect me to pause my life."
She heard her father let out an exasperated sigh, "Bella, for once, can you trust me? I'm sorry this has happened, but I'm doing this for your own good," his voice suddenly softened, "Just look at it as a vacation. Take a break; enjoy life."
"Enjoy life while a pack of criminals are seeking me out, you mean?"
Charlie sighed, "Bella, just trust me, and this will all be over soon."
And he hung up before she could answer.
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It was two days since her father's accident, and Bella had somehow packed her entire life in that time. Her father had called her yesterday to give her the new address, and that was it. No details or updates other than where she was moving.
362 North Lake Drive, Good Harbor, MI.
Bella was moving to Michigan.
As much as Bella wanted to distance herself from her family, and now more than ever, she would miss the hustle and bustle of the city. Boston was her second love, but New York was her first. And the last thing she wanted to be was cooped up in some country house.
But she had no choice.
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The drive wasn't a short one. Even cutting through Canada, it took eleven hours.
She was exhausted and annoyed from the two days of travel, and when her phone notified her that the destination was on her left, she let out an audible sigh.
But all she saw were trees. So many trees in fact, that Bella couldn't see the house at all. The property was also set on a hill; a massive one at that.
From what she could tell, most of the property was in a steep incline that loomed over the tiny town and overlooked Lake Michigan.
Only when she pulled in, did she realize the moving truck wouldn't be able to make it.
They were off to a great start.
The truck couldn't get more than 10 feet up the driveway, due to both the steep grade, and the overwhelming foliage that blocked everything. They ended up having to park at the bottom and carry the boxes up to the house by cart, and Bella was using the word 'house', lightly.
The place was a monstrosity.
It was so bad that she doubted that her father had given her the right address. The siding was so moldy it was falling off. The roof seemed to be on the verge of caving in; most of the shingles long gone. The windows were dingy and dated. And that was just the exterior. There was no telling for what was waiting for her on the inside.
When Bella crossed the threshold, it was so musty she needed a gas mask to breathe. Not to mention how dated and disgusting the brown paneling and carpet were.
"No, this has to be wrong." She had driven two days for this?
But the movers just kept bring boxes in, "Where do you want all of this?"
She winced just looking at the place, "Just over there, please." Bella pointed to the dining room. The cleanest space in the entire house.
"Quite the fixer upper, eh?" One of them chuckled as they stacked box after box.
Ignoring the urge to vomit, Bella dialed her father.
"Hello?"
"Dad? Hey, its Bella."
"Bells! How did the move go?"
"Well, uh, that's why I called. I'm at the house now, and it's a little different than I imagined."
"Yeah? Do you like it?"
"Actually, its kind of a mess to be honest."
"Really? I mean, it was small when your mother bought it. But I wouldn't say it was a complete mess. You know, that area is quite profitable in real estate."
She scoffed, "Well I'm looking at it right now, and trust me, it's not looking that way."
"Bella, I'm sure it's fine," he sighed, "Hey, at least you'll have some renovations to keep you busy since you won't be working."
"Dad, I'm not jobless by choice." She said tightly, "I got laid off in Boston, and then you and mom told me to come to Manhattan. And now I can't work because my life might be in jeopardy!"
"I know, Bells, but listen. How about you renovate the house with my money? I'm sure it's livable in the meantime. It could be your little project!"
Bella couldn't help but grimace, "The word little is not what I would use."
"Either way. Something to do. Bye, I have to run,"
And with a click, he was gone.
"Yeah, love you too," she grumbled.
For a moment, she just stared at the crumbling kitchen; the dust covered furniture and windows making her ill by just looking at them.
There was a very creaky looking set of stairs stuffed in the corner, which Bella seriously debated before eventually venturing up.
Bella was thankful to reach the top without falling through the floor, but she was only greeted with two more dusty and dated rooms, and one disintegrating bathroom.
The brown seemed to have traveled up there as well, which was disappointing. Actually, the whole experience was disappointing. Bella was expecting to be in a cute little bungalow that looked rundown, yet livable. Instead, it seemed as though she would be living in a condemned shack.
Downstairs, Bella could hear the movers huffing and puffing. Shit, maybe she should have helped, which was kind of a dick move on her part. But that would be a decision Bella would regret later.
As she rushed downstairs, she made the mistake of misplacing her foot, and it slid into the descending step. And apparently, it was all too much for the creaky old stairs, as her legs went straight through.
"Shit," She muttered, "Shit, shit, shit!," she said louder, wiggling her feet only to find no floor beneath her. She was royally stuck.
"Help? Anyone?" Her fall had been loud, hadn't it? No doubt the movers had heard and were going to rush to her aid momentarily. But after a few moments and hearing nothing but silence, Bella was starting to think they had left.
"Are you kidding me?" She whispered to herself in disbelief. What kind of movers just up and left?
Meanwhile she was stuck, and due to her lackluster upper body, Bella couldn't get out.
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It was an hour later, and Bella was pretty sure she would be stuck here the rest of her life.
She had spent too long trying to lift herself out, but only making herself sink lower. Shards of wood were poking her stomach and legs uncomfortably, and God knew this place probably had mice. And she was starting to panic.
That was when she heard a knock.
"Hello?" Bella heard an unmistakable male voice waft from the front of the house.
"Hello?" She yelled, her happiness clouding the fact that a stranger was at her front door, "Could you uh, help me? I'm upstairs, and this might sound a little strange, but I'm stuck!"
"You're what?" She could hear footsteps nearing the stairs, "What do you—" He started, but the question was silenced when the man turned the corner and saw Bella.
"Hi," she grimaced at the stranger. Not caring that she was sweating from the heat; not caring that her shirt had ripped from the sharp wood, and definitely not caring that the man looking at her with raised brows was breathtakingly handsome. Well maybe she cared a little bit.
He was tan, almost impossibly so; he wore a simple t-shirt that did nothing to hide a broad set of shoulders and too-perfect arms. A pair of well-worn jeans rested at his slim hips, and she sighed at his beautifully sculpted cheek bones and a jaw that could cut glass; his face covered in the perfect amount of scruff. And Bella had a hard time not staring at his green eyes as they surveyed her up and down.
"Hi," he said, his gaze widening as he took in her predicament, "Um, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just desperately need to get out before the mice start to get hungry. Can you help me?"
He wisely ignored the mice comment, "One second," He took a step forward, and the stairs groaned under him. She winced when he took a step back, "On second thought, we need to do this carefully or we'll both be stuck," he said.
She nodded.
"Can you lift yourself out?" the stranger asked.
"Uh, no. I already tried that," she suppressed a grumble. If Bella could lift herself out, don't you think she would have done it by now?
The stress of the move, her father, and this crappy house had turned Bella's mood sour. And even if Mr. Handsome was delicious to look at in every way, she was unable to handle stupid questions right about now.
He just lowered his brows, "What if I go under the stairwell and push you up, do you think that would work?"
"Yes," she gasped. "Just hurry, there's a piece of wood digging into my stomach."
He nodded, his eyes dropping to where her shirt had split just below her breasts, but he quickly corrected his gaze. "Stay there, I'll be right back," he said seriously.
"Not going anywhere," Bella answered.
She could hear some thudding and some splitting, which she assumed was him breaking through that awful brown paneling that concealed the stairs. Bella should have known something as hideous as brown wall coverings only brought bad tidings…
"So, um, yeah," he said, his voiced muffled from underneath her, "I'm in. I'm going to push you up now."
"Alright," She braced her hands before she felt his warm hands on her bare calves before he switched his grip to her feet.
"Ready?" he called.
"Ready," she answered. With a great grunt that Bella was embarrassed to admit came from her, she felt the unmistakable pressure of him pushing.
But nothing happened.
"Shit," Bella murmured, and she felt Edward release the pressure on her soles, but he kept his hands there as support.
"This isn't working," she heard him say through the layers of wood and carpet. No shit, she thought. "We're going to have to try something else," he said
She opened her mouth to suggest just leaving her to die of embarrassment and mauling by mice, but she heard him continue,
"So I'm assuming we can commence with the introductions after we get you out of here," he said suddenly, "But right now, I'm going to have to put my hands on your ass."
Bella sputtered a bit, but realized that he was right.
"Do whatever you have to do," she feigned nonchalance, but thanked the lords she was wearing her favorite pair of shorts. Her ass looked amazing in them.
And Mr. Handsome was about to put his hands there.
Her stomach fluttered when she felt his hesitant hands against her backside, and her fluttering turned into a churning when he gripped more firmly.
"Ready up there?" He asked.
"Ready," she squeaked.
And one moment, Bella was barely sprouting through the floor boards, her shoulders bunched uncomfortably as she sought to help; and then, the next moment, she was being pushed out of her self-made cage like she was floating on a cloud.
All thanks to Mr. Handsome.
"Wow," Bella breathed, stepping to the side, but too afraid to descend any lower. But Mr. Handsome only ducked out of his own self-made hole and outstretched his hand to her.
She took it hesitantly, and then he was wisping her over the pony-wall that separated the stairs from the rest of the living area.
Her own personal hero.
"Thank you," she breathed after he settled her on her own feet. Bella teetered a little, not used to being on her own legs.
"What were you doing climbing a pair of rotting stairs?" He asked.
Bella thought he was joking, but from the way his brows were lowered, and his mouth fixed into a firm line, he was absolutely serious.
"I was checking out the house. I'm sorry." Her voice was a little too sharp, and he noticed. She blamed her bad attitude on the move, but he was acting like an ass.
"Just call someone next time you want to play demolition. You could have gotten really hurt, you know."
A second ago, Bella had been flooding with gratitude, but right now, she was seeping with anger.
"I'm sorry, but who do you think you are?" She crossed her arms and he just stared at her, "I was just looking around, its not like I fell in on purpose. And I can hold my own, you know. I'm not some helpless woman."
Bella knew his type, they loved talking down to the opposite sex to make themselves look better, and she was not in the mood to take it laying down.
He scoffed, "Forgive me, but I heard you yelling from all the way across town. All you city women are the same; whipping through here without a thought about what it takes to renovate an old house. So I apologize if I came in uninvited to save you."
Bella ignored how he was able to tell she was the city and only said, "You weren't uninvited, but now you are. Thank you for helping, but I'd like you to leave."
He narrowed his eyes at her, before turning and waving over his head as he left, "Try not to wake the whole town next time you fall."
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After her long day, and irritating encounter with Mr. Handsome, Bella finally got the chance to relax later that night. She had been working the whole day, just trying to get the place in some type of order.
Looking around the living area, she was somewhat proud of how clean the kitchen looked, and the boxes were only filling up the dining room now. A big improvement compared to the whole house.
Even though her situation was unfortunate to say the least, she was grateful to have something to focus her energy on. Without work, and without being able to go out much, Bella was going to need something to keep herself busy, and this house seemed like it would do the trick.
Letting out a long yawn, Bella decided to make a loop around the house to lock all the windows and doors before bed. She thought about putting a chair in front of the main door just to be extra safe. But as Bella was about to do just that, something caught her attention from next door.
Something had triggered a motion light.
As Bella squinted through the grime on her window, she could only see an outline of a person. They were creeping alongside the next-door house. And the sight caused her heart to drop to her stomach.
She immediately turned the house lights off and snatched her phone, but her eyes remained on her might-be killer. Perhaps they had gotten the wrong house, and was searching for her, but whoever they were—the build suggested that the stranger was male.
He was dressed in dark clothing, and had his body pressed against the front door. Before glancing back towards the direction of the street, Bella saw him give a couple good shoves at the door with his shoulder but it stayed intact.
He obviously figured he wasn't going to break in through the door, because he proceeded to the windows.
Bella wondered why he didn't just break the glass, when she should have already called the police by then.
Bella, if not watching her own assassin, she was at least witnessing a break in. And even if no one did live at that house, she didn't want the man to get the idea that these houses were empty, and then break into hers when he found the previous endeavor a bust.
"911, What's your emergency?"
"Hi, um, I think I'm witnessing a break in?" she said.
"Ma'am, can you tell me what you're seeing?" They were already impatient.
"Oh well, you know, they're snooping around. They look like a bad character."
"Describe the bad character," the dispatcher said with a bored voice.
She winced at her words, but gave one more glance at the suspected burglar. But he was gone.
"I don't know, he's gone now. I think he's already inside. I'm on 362 North Lake Drive, and it's the only house next to mine."
"Name please." The operator demanded with a monotone voice. Bella hesitated, remembering what her father had once warned about giving her name and location out. But this was the police, and she might need them down the road.
"Isabella Swan."
"Okay miss, one moment." There was some beeping before they returned "So we have a squad car in your area and we just dispatched them your location. What exactly can you see?"
Bella peeked out the window again, checking to make sure the stranger's activities were still suspicious. But she only grew nervous when she couldn't see him.
"Right now, nothing. But he was casing the joint, you know?" Bella internalizing a sigh. She needed to cut back on the wine.
"What I mean is," she corrected, "Is that he was walking around, trying the windows and the doors. I don't think anyone lives in the house." There, that sounded better.
"Thank you ma'am. The police should be there in any minute, do you want her to stay on the line with you?"
"No, that's alright, thanks. Um, have a good night." But the dispatcher had already hung up.
Bella took one more glance to the house, but it seemed like he was finally gone. He either had gotten into the house and found nothing, or was somewhere she couldn't see him.
The minutes ticked passed, and still no sign of the cops. And she was suddenly regretting not staying on the line with the dispatcher. Maybe the thief would realize that the other house was a lost cause and instead come snooping over here looking for anything valuable.
Bella looked around her mostly vacant home, and suddenly felt very vulnerable. She knew she would feel safer if she had something to protect herself—but she didn't own a gun.
Figuring that was a good idea to be able to protect herself, she crept from the kitchen and started rummaging through boxes. It seemed hopeless after a few boxes, but then she found her old lacrosse stick from college; just begging to be used.
Sadly, there were still no cops, but there was no sign of the burglar either. Bella out a big sigh in annoyance, and actually thought about going to bed and letting the cops take care of it. More of the wine talking.
And just as Bella was about to get go to bed, she saw the white and black cruiser glide down the road.
"Thank God!" An instant wave of relief washed over her when there was a knock on the door.
"Yes! I'm coming, " With a spring in her step she opened the door for the Police, but standing in front of her was none other than the burglar.
It was the man from earlier, but he was not dressed in all black, instead he worse a button up and jeans, not the typical burling outfit. There was sweat dripping from his forehead, and she recognized those broad shoulders, she would anywhere. He had definitely been the one snooping next door.
"Can you—" he started.
But before she could stop herself, the titanium handle of the lacrosse stick had given him one quick whack upside his head. Her brain had come to the too-quick conclusion that he was here to rob her as well.
"Police! Hands up!" Despite her brain also telling Bella that she didn't need to put her hands up, the wine was more in charge.
"Shit, woman!" The man shouted, his hands going to cup his now hurt eye. "What the hell!"
"I'm sorry," she cut, "But you're not robbing me, not if I have any say it the matter!"
"Rob you? Are you insane?" He shouted, cupping his eye harder.
"Hands up!" The cops ordered from her drive way, and both her and Mr. Handsome put up their hands; her lacrosse stick clattered to the ground.
They restrained him first, and Bella watched as he automatically put his hands behind his back. But the whole time, he was scowling at her.
Bella was sure they were going to handcuff the buzzed woman with the lacrosse stick, but they didn't touch her.
"Ma'am, were you the one who called about an intruder?" The big burly cop looked to her expectantly, his slimmer partner just waited.
"Um, well," She stuttered quite beautifully, the wine rearing its big angry head, "I said he was burgling the house next door, not mine."
"So he actually hadn't stepped foot on your property?" The second one clarified.
"Well, no, not until you guys showed up." Bella was just now realizing how she might have jumped to conclusions a little bit. But the guy was still an ass. What man shows up on a woman's porch in the middle of the night after he scolds her for walking in her own damn house?
"I wasn't breaking into anything," The man stated from his seated position on her porch steps. "I just got into town when she did." He nodded towards Bella,
"I was visiting with family all night but forgot my keys. The house is mine."
Bella adverted her eyes just as he flashed her a rather sour glare. But when he turned away, she the time to really examine him.
He definitely was tan, his skin looking darker under the dim moon. But what she hadn't noticed earlier, was his hair. It was a glorious mess of coppery bronze that looked like he just rolled out of bed, but in a delicious, 'I just had sex' kind of way.
The sleeves of the button-down flannel were rolled up to his forearms and revealing more corded muscle there. He reminded her of a lumberjack. Or perhaps Bella was used to all the perfectly metrosexual men from New York City.
Mr. Handsome was anything but. He looked gruff and tough with facial hair like that,
But she was forced to stop staring when the cops asked him for his name.
"Edward Cullen." He forced out, obviously still angry, as he had a right to be.
"Alright sir, its seems like a plausible story, but we will have to bring you down to the station and double check for sure." They helped Mr. Handsome, or Edward, off the steps, and he went willingly. Not even an objection.
"Um, is that really necessary?" Bella stepped forward, and the cops paused. Edward only glowered at her. Even if he was an ass, she had a heart after all.
"I believe his story, so can't you just let him go?"
"Just doing our job ma'am, so we have no choice but check out his story and credentials." The first one said, "But you have a good night, now." And with that they were gone.
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A/N Tell me what you think. I'm so happy to be re-writing/ revising this and finally finishing :)