This was my contribution to The Fandom for Mental Health Awareness, an amazing compilation that raised much needed money to support mental health organizations. Thank you to the ladies that put it together, and the wonderful people that supported it. Because it is quite long, I've broken it up into 2 chapters. I hope you enjoy it.
Summary:
The blinds came down with a thwacking sound.
Moving from one room to the next, the small brunette pulled curtains and tugged on cords, sending white plastic blinds cascading down. She checked each window, and jiggled the locks on the front and back door. When she was satisfied, she marched to the bathroom and stripped off her sweaty clothes.
As the bathtub filled with hot water, steam rose and curled in the air above the old claw-foot. The mirror began to fog; Bella leaned over the sink, extended her index finger and wrote:
S A M
Warnings: Though no graphic violence, the topic of domestic violence is prevalent.
Beta and Pre-reading support provided by: Cejsmom and Lynzy Lee. Thank you ladies!
There's a house at the end of the street. It borders the beach. The curtains were always drawn and that poor car never seemed to get much action. The signs of life were slight; garbage at the curb every Tuesday morning, food delivery from the same expensive Greek place downtown, and even the odd visitor. Mostly women. But never, not once in the year since he, maybe she, moved onto Kissling Lane had Bella Swan seen someone that actually appeared to live there.
Bella's modest, yellow brick home at 14 Kissling Lane was inherited three and a half years ago when Bella's mother passed away. It gave her the perfect opportunity to start over. Life in Detroit had been a bit of a roller coaster ride, and not the thrilling fun kind. Jobs came and went, boyfriends too. She'd never felt settled or safe, so when Martin Floss, estate attorney, called with the news that twenty-two year old Isabella had been gifted a two bedroom home more than two hours away, she packed her bags and left the smog of the motor city in her rearview mirror.
The small harbour town, nestled into the banks of Lake Huron, was the polar opposite of Detroit. It was quiet and friendly, and the taste of industrial waste wasn't the first thing that hit her when she stepped out on to her porch each morning.
"Good morning." Tossing her earphones into her backpack, Bella greeted the receptionist, and friend, huddled behind the big darkwood desk.
"Mornin', Bells. First appointment is at nine. Jonathan Keel. Chipped his tooth chasing his sister around on a pair of old roller skates." Angela smiled and shook her head. "Boys."
Attaching her ID badge to her scrubs, Bella said, "Roller skates, they still make those? Ha!" She pulled her hair back in a messy bun and told Angela to send the rambunctious nine year-old to room three when he arrived. She went about her morning, setting up her station and reviewing files. It was what she'd done five days a week for three years now. Sterilize, organize, review.
From the outside, it seemed a humdrum existence, but to Bella, this was perfection, or something very close to it. Her love life remained something of a bad joke, though.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
No one worth opening the door for.
"Going for a run tonight?" Dr. Yorkie asked, gesturing to the clothes Bella had changed into.
"Yup. Beautiful night, may as well take advantage." She switched off the computer at the front desk and pulled her backpack from the floor, stuffing a crinkled ball of bright blue material into it.
"Have a good weekend, Bells."
"You too, Eric. Oh, tell Mike those pumpkin tarts were divine. I want that recipe." Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she turned to the front door.
Eric chuckled, fishing his keys out of the desk drawer. "Will do."
Tucking blue buds into her ears, Bella hit play, and stepped out into a balmy evening. She could still smell the early afternoon rain lingering in the air. Starting off at a slow jog, Bella left Harbour Beach Dentistry behind her. Rounding a corner, she picked up the pace, Daft Punk thumping in her ears.
The feel of her feet hitting the pavement, the way her lungs pushed, and the warm sweat that rolled down her back gave her a rush. It wasn't one she indulged in very often, her prefered workout was searching Netflix and drinking white wine from a mason jar glass that had a Detroit Lions logo painted on it.
Running cleared her mind; let her organize her thoughts into manageable To-Do lists.
-Shopping
-Banking
-Birthday card for Charlie
-Send a kind, but firm, blow off text to Marcus, and maybe delete the Plenty of Fish Profile. Can you filter for cross-dressers?
Twenty-three minutes flew past, and as she came up on her street, she slowed until she worked her way down to a lazy jog. Two houses away from her own, Bella came to a sudden stop, nearly tripping over her feet. Her heart skipped sideways.
A tall figure, standing in the heavy shade of the waning sun, was peering into her bedroom window; his hands were cupped around his eyes.
"You've gotta be shitting me?" Bella whispered. "I leave Detroit for this?" She pulled her earbuds free of her phone and dialed 9-1-1.
"Police, ambulance or fire?" a husky voice said.
"Police." She watched as the man moved around to the back of the house.
The line clicked once and a new voice, a woman, calm and even said, "What's the nature of your emergency?"
"Yeah, there's some creeper peeping in my windows." Bella took a cautious step forward and then back again, an odd mix of annoyance and fear washed over her.
"Alright, stay where you are, and stay calm," the operator instructed.
Bella rattled off her address—the act leveling her heart rate—and kept her eyes glued on her house. The operator told her to call back if the man made any attempt to enter the house. She held her phone tight, shifting from one leg to the other.
Seconds later, Creeper emerged from the far end of her home and sauntered across the the narrow lane. Mentally, she took note of his approximate height and build. Shock dropped her jaw when the man ambled up to the house across the street, and walked right through the fucking door of 17 Kissling Lane.
Mystery solved, a creepy fucking peeping-tom lives across the lane. Great.
Less than a minute later, the county police rolled to a stop in front of Bella's home and she met him at the curb.
"Officer Riley Biers," he said, short and official sounding. "Got a call 'bout a peeping-tom." He held out his hand to shake Bella's.
"He lives across the street. Seventeen," she said, pointing to the house with drawn curtains and the mostly unused car.
"Have you had trouble with him before, Ma'am?"
"Nope. He's lived there for about a year now, and this is the first I've even seen of him."
Officer Biers still had his shades on, even though the sun was about to dip out of sight for the night. He looked over his shoulder at the house and said, "Go on inside, Miss … ?"
"Swan," she replied, taking a few backward steps toward her house.
"Go on inside, Miss Swan, while I talk to your neighborhood friendly." He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.
Bella shucked her backpack and collapsed on the first step. The cold concrete sent a chill up her spine. She watched Officer Biers knock on the metal frame and take a step back. Creeper opened the door, and Bella squinted to make out his features.
There were a few hand gestures and finally Officer Shades backed away from the door and made his way back. One hand on the wrought iron handrail, he said, "I think you should come on over there with me, Miss Swan." He pitched his thumb over his shoulder, pointing in the general direction of the Creeper of Kissling Lane. "You need to hear what Mr. Cullen has to say."
"Right, so he can ogle my goodies up close. Not likely," she said, crossing her arms over chest and pursing her lips.
Shades pulled his useless sunglasses down, peeking at her over the rims. He gave her a cursory once over, his gaze hanging on to her chest for a few seconds longer than necessary and shrugged. "I doubt that."
Bella's lip curled and she scoffed. Sweat damp hair, pulled back in a messy, smelly bun, boobs trapped beneath a sports bra … yeah she'd give him that one.
"Alright then, let's go talk to Mr. Cullen." She pronounced his name like a four letter word and pushed up off the stair.
"You're gonna wanna paint that porch," Officer Biers commented. "Paints chippin'."
"Noted."
As they approached the home, Bella pulled at the hem of her shirt and straightened her spine.
Shades snickered under his breath and shook his head.
Oh, eat it, Chips!
The man standing in the door did not fit the bill of budding sex offender. No squirrely eyes or wrinkled, stained button down. No disheveled mop-top. A little stubble, the sexy five o'clock shadow kind, not the I-haven't-taken-my-meds-in-three-days kind.
He looked to be a little over six feet, in his mid-thirties, if she had to guess. His build was thoroughly average and there was nothing ill-boding about him … except his eyes. His eyes—a dark green, maybe blue—scanned the length of her body. There was nothing wanton about it. Quite the opposite; he surveyed the woman as if she were a matter of inventory, which was a tad unnerving. Bella's feet danced in a nervous two-step, and when his eyes caught on the movement, he chuckled.
No way! Skeevie perv-man is hot!
He pushed the glass storm door open and extended his hand. "Edward Cullen." His voice was smooth and there was most certainly an accent.
She gripped his hand, opening her suddenly dry mouth to spit her name out, snapping it shut again when Edward Cullen let out a whistle. Not a 'how you doin' kind of sound, but more … bird like. Odd, she thought, but quickly dismissed it and introduced herself in a somewhat snarky tone. Snark ran through her veins just as surely as A-positive blood did.
"Mr. Cullen, would you mind telling Miss Swan why you were peering through the windows of her home tonight?" Officer Biers stood with his hands on his hips, thumbs hooked through his belt loops. He looked like something out of a 70s cop drama.
"Of course," Edward said, politely. He shifted, standing more fully. "I was bringing my groceries in, and I noticed a man across the way." He jerked his chin in the direction of Bella's house and whistled … again. "He was checking the locks. The windows. Looked … wrong. He buggered off when I called out to him."
She should have said thank you and been grateful that a concerned neighbor was brave enough to speak up, but what came tumbling out of her mouth was far from a thank you.
"So someone, maybe a friend, shows up and you chase them off? Who the fuck are you, the Neighborhood Watch?" Bella barked, feeling irrationally perturbed by his actions.
Shades stepped forward, face all serious and full of no nonsense. "Now, Miss Swan—"
Edward took a fast step toward Bella and put his hand up, effectively shutting out Officer Biers.
In a voice that was low, clear and held the edge of a command, he said, "A man, one I've never seen in this neighborhood, was creeping around the home of a single woman. My gut told me he was trouble. I don't know about you, Miss Swan—"
"Bella! It's just … Bella," she half shouted, her face flushing with embarrassment and maybe a dash of anger. "Why were you looking in my windows?" Her voice lost some of its kick when she looked up at him.
Edward blinked and amusement passed over his face.
"Bella. My apologies. I knocked a few times. When you didn't answer, I went around the house. No open or broken windows. Nothing left behind, that I could see. And, thankfully, no pretty brunette lying facedown in a pool of blood in her living room. I assure you, Bella, my curiosity was simply fueled by my concern. Nothing more."
It was Bella's turn to blink. "I, um, I'm sorry. I'm, well, I'm an asshole," she admitted with a shrug. "Thank you."
"Mr. Cullen, did you get a good look at him? His car perhaps?" Officer Biers asked, whipping out a small, black, standard issue note pad.
"Tall. Caucasian. Jeans and a white shirt. Wore a ball cap, but I'm not sure what was on the cap. Took off up the street to a car parked about half way up the block. Navy. Maybe an older model Buick. Can't be sure." He crossed his arms over his chest again, and leaned back against the door. He spoke to the officer, but his eyes stayed on Bella's face.
Suddenly, he inhaled, producing a sound much like a hiccup. He did this three or four times. Bella's head tipped and her gaze took on a look of scrutiny, while his eyes shifted to the officer. She watched him, really watched him, as he offered his personal information to the officer. The fingers of his left hand fluttered and Bella thought, spirit fingers.
"Stupid whore," Edward said, pushing the words out loudly.
"Pardon me!"
"I'm sorry that wasn't—" He whistled again and his fingers moved faster.
Right then, Bella had a ah-huh moment. "Tourette's syndrome," she said in a softer voice.
"Yes. Things often come flying from my mouth unbidden." He looked from Officer Shades, who was still wearing his ridiculous specs, to Bella. Bella simply nodded and offered a friendly smile, getting back to the questions the police officer was firing off.
Know anyone that fits that description?
Any reason for someone to be sulking around like that?
Having any problems with any family or coworkers?
Suggesting that she look into a security system, Officer Biers handed Bella the card of a local company and helpfully suggested that she give them a call this evening, to which she nodded. "Do you feel safe enough to be at home tonight, Miss Swan?" Officer Biers asked, pulling his stupid shades down again to look at her.
"Yes. I'm sure it's fine. You can pack it in, Officer Chips."
Edward's lips twitched, battling a grin.
"Its Biers, ma'am," he said without a hint of amusement. He turned to Edward, pushing the bridge of his sunglasses, fixing them back into place. "Well, if everything is good here, I'll be on my way. You have a good evening, Sir." Edward offered him a firm handshake, and they watched Officer Biers climb into his cruiser and pull away.
"He's ridiculous." Bella burst out laughing.
"Aw, come on, he's just really enthusiastic about his job." Each word he uttered bounced on a snicker. When the moment passed, he flashed Bella a small smile and apologized for scaring her. "That must have looked—"
"Creepy as fuck," she finished, eyes wide. "Yeah. And thank you. I … kind of chewed your head off. That was—"
"Bitchy?" Edward offered, a smug smile firmly stitched in place. "You sure you're okay?" His voice grew soft with a genuine concern for the girl across the street.
Looking over her shoulder at her house, she nodded. "Yeah. No worries."
Edward whistled again, and his back straightened as he took a half step back, as if retreating. "Good night, Bella."
The blinds came down with a thwacking sound.
Moving from one room to the next, the small brunette pulled curtains and tugged on cords, sending white plastic blinds cascading down. She checked each window, and jiggled the locks on the front and back door. When she was satisfied, she marched to the bathroom and stripped off her sweaty clothes.
As the bathtub filled with hot water, steam rose and curled in the air above the old claw-foot. The mirror began to fog; Bella leaned over the sink, extended her index finger and wrote:
S A M
"The hermit has a name." Bella tossed her purse behind the front desk and handed Angela a large, black coffee, pulling the lid off her own and unloading an unhealthy amount of sugar into it. Bella always ordered her coffee black, secretly piling it with six packs of sugar, lest she be judged by some coffee-slinging college student.
Watching the sugar disappear into Bella's cup, Angela asked, "Who?"
"The mystery neighbor across the street. No longer a mystery. His name is Edward. Edward is hot. And very non-creepy."
Angela reached under the desk, pushing the button on the front of the computer, listening as it whirred to life. "Did you expect creepy?"
Stirring the sugar/coffee concoction, Bella launched into the events that led to her meeting Mr. Edward Cullen from 17 Kissling Lane.
"So, hot, non-creepy neighbor aside, doesn't it freak you out a little that someone was poking around your house like that?" Angela spun in her chair, stood and rounded the corner. Pulling files from the shelves, she called out, "I mean, I'd be freaked, Bells."
"Security company is coming tomorrow."
Angela's head peeked around the corner, her brows furrowed behind her orange rimmed glasses. "That's not what I asked, Isabella Marie." Angela's mom game was showing.
"Yeah, it was … kind of scary." She shrugged and glopped down a mouthful of coffee, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.
"Did you call your dad?"
"On a Friday night?" she snorted, "On a fight night? Better chance of him skinny dipping in the Detroit river in February, than answering a phone"
"Saturday and Sunday?" Bella heard the eye roll in her friend's voice, and stuck her tongue out in Angela's general direction.
"It's no big deal, Ang. It was probably some high school kid. Edward scared him off," she mumbled. The shrug she gave was a false show of nonchalance.
Ang reappeared with four files in her hand. "Lucky."
"Alright, enough, Mom," Bella whined and flung an empty sugar packet at her co-worker. "Who's up first?"
"Karen Ellis." She handed the file over to Bella. "Check up, no complaints." Smiling, Bella took the proffered file and danced out of the lobby.
Karen was a spirited septuagenarian, with a silver tongue, always ready with a colorful anecdote about her family. Bella thoroughly enjoyed their chats; she'd reminded her of her Aunt Christina, honest with a healthy side of nuts.
Taking her gloves off and turning to the sullen teen in the chair, she reminded him to rinse his retainer every time he removed it, and to please, for the shake of his father's wallet, stop chewing bubble gum. The kid blushed and nodded, but didn't say a word.
"Good, now get out of my chair, Kyle," she said with a smile.
Kyle pulled himself upright and stammered, "See ya, Miss, uh, Bella."
As she waved him out the door and scribbled a few notes in his chart, her stomach let loose a mighty rumble. "Well, alright then." She closed the file and went in search of her co-workers.
"Go, feed your faces," Eric insisted, throwing a twenty dollar bill on his desk. "Just bring me back something horribly fattening."
Bella and Angela exchanged knowing looks. "You and Mike fight?" Bella inquired, her voice softening.
"No. Yes. I have no idea. We'll chalk it up to a difference of opinions." He bowed his head, looking over a chart. "Ya know, I think this kid needs surgery. Look at this," Eric said, standing up and slapping an x-ray on a light board and flipping the switch.
Bella walked over, inspecting the picture with careful eyes. "Is that a growth?"
"Yeah. Poor girl. Angela, when you return, could you call in the referral to Dr. Shelby?"
"Absolutely," Angela answered.
"Good. Now go on, leave me to my apologies." He waved them from the room, handing Bella the money.
Angela switched off the computer monitor while Bella flipped the sign, indicating the office would be closed for the next hour.
"I'll drive," Angela offered, jingling her keys. Her very new keys to her very, very shiny cherry red Kia. She'd been saving for a new car for the better part of a year now, and was more than happy to peddle her friend around.
"Don't mind if you do. Hubby's sound good?" Hubby's was a small, family owned pub that served up—in Bella's opinion—the best deep fried pickles she'd ever tasted.
"Mmm, pickles," Angela murmured in delight.
As the two climbed into the car, Bella stopped, hand gripping the open door. Her eyes followed a midnight blue Ford Fusion. A popular car in a popular color, and by all accounts utterly forgettable … accept the licence plate.
Bella's jaw clenched and her body pulled tight, a solid pit building in her gut, as she watched the car turn a corner and disappear.
Angela slipped into the driver's' seat and wiggled her butt; she inhaled the new-car smell, and a pleased little smile grew and died as she turned to her friend. "Bella?" Angela said, her voice soft, but concerned.
Bella slowly sat back and shut the door. Her brain whirled and spun, kicking out questions and offering up a host of terrible scenarios. "God damn it," she muttered. She turned to Angela, tears stacking in her eyes, "That was his car."
Needing no further explanation, Angela, nodded and put the car in drive, her teeth set on edge and her knuckles turning a deathly white. "Call Eric. Tell him we'll be a tad late with that Hubby's burger." She eased the car out of the parking lot, and rather than turning left, toward Hubby's Pub, she made a quick right toward State street. Before Bella could protest, Angela reached into her own pocket and pulled out her phone.
When the office voicemail engaged, she said, "Hey, it's Ang. We'll be late. And yes, it's an emergency," and hung up, placing the phone on a small stack of coins collecting in the console.
Hesitant feet took Bella through the front doors of the Harbor City Police Station. It was a small brick building that housed exactly four officers, one receptionist, and, at present, two drunks in the tank.
"Afternoon, darlin'," a round-faced woman greeted.
Bella looked around the station, took a deep breath and said, "My ex-boyfriend … he's here. He found me."
The receptionist's voice went from friendly to all business. "Come sit over here with me. I need a little information, Miss …?"
"Swan." She looked over her shoulder at her friend, and gave her a soft smile. "Go get your lunch," she insisted, moving around the desk. "Bring me back some pickles and a Greek salad." Bella reached into her wallet and pulled out the twenty dollar bill Eric had handed her, added her own, and offered it at Angela.
Angela snatched a single bill and tucked into her scrub pocket. When Bella waved the remaining bill at her, she shook her dark brown head. "Bullshit. You get what you need done, and I'll pick up the grub. My treat." Without another word, Angela sauntered out the front door, her new keys darlings off her finger.
Bella turned back to the friendly receptionist, who was ready with a pen and paper. "Have a seat, hon. You want a coffee or somethin'?" When Bella shook her head, she nodded once, and positioned the black pen on the note pad. "Just some basic information first. Name, address, date of birth."
"Isabella Marie Swan. I live at 14 Kissling lane. I was born September 13th, 1990 … in Detroit." In the hour that followed, Bella recounted her three-year relationship with Sam Uley, the beautiful bronzed boy that swept her off her feet, and then kicked them out from under her. She told Elma, the kind receptionist, how she'd fled in the middle of the night while Sam worked the third shift at a bottling plant, changing her number and moving clear across the city.
"Wasn't even months before he found me," Bella stammered, picking at the delicate skin around her fingernails. "He sat in the hall outside my apartment and waited for me." Her brown eyes flipped upward, meeting Elma's wise and washed out blues. "He broke two ribs."
She explained that he was charged with aggravated assault and served less than one year. Bella pulled out the old copy of the personal protection order she had filed weeks before Sam had been released. That piece of paper was like a security blanket a child might tote around with them. "I moved almost three hours away from Detroit, changed my number, my service provider. I bought a new god damned car, new plates. I use a fucking PO Box! How in the red hell did he find me?!" She was nearly shouting, and her hands shook.
Elma put her pen down and took Bella's hands in hers. "We can apply for a new protection order. That'll take 'bout twenty-four hours." Elma's voice was apologetic, soft. "This is a small city, Miss Swan, we'll flush him out and send him packing." The older woman winked and released her hands.
Bella nodded, comforted, if only in the smallest of ways by the receptionist words.
A familiar voice pipped up behind her. "Miss Swan?"
Bella turned in her seat, the old vinyl cushion sounding off as she twisted her body. "Officer Chips," she said with a smile. Next to her, Elma snickered and Bella knew she hadn't been the first to draw that association.
"Riley. It's Officer Riley Biers, Ma'am." He looked a tad annoyed as he moved to stand next to Elma. The comment only served to widen the grin on Bella's face. "What brings you here today?" He took the notes Elma scribbled, giving them a quick glance. He placed the pages back down on the tabletop and sighed. "This our peeping-Tom, Miss Swan?"
The grin crashed and burned. "Pretty likely."
"And why didn't you mention him when I asked about any possible suspects?"
The brunette blinked and straightened her back. She injected her words with steel, but somewhere deep inside, she always knew she'd be having this conversation."I didn't want to believe he'd found me again." Her teeth pushed into the soft tissue of her bottom lip.
"I've got this, Elma." He smiled fondly at the receptionist, scooping the pages off the tabletop and motioning for Bella to follow him into one of only three offices in the building. "Let's get this order taken care of, shall we?" Pulling out a chair, he looked over at Bella.
Signing the last page, she let go of a heavy sigh, hungry and oddly exhausted. "I'm a smart person, Riley," she declared in a quiet voice. "I'm not the girl that calls to trouble. I didn't have some rotten childhood that left me looking for love in all the wrong places. My father's an amazing man; no daddy issues here. I'm not the girl that needs a man to make her feel whole. I'm the girl that can't seem to dodge the assholes regardless of what I do. They find me."
Officer Biers snorted. "We'll get ya a shirt: "Assholes need not apply. Quota filled." He pushed back in his chair, taking on a more casual posture. "I'm sure someone's fed you this line before, Bella, but it's not your fault. Dicks like Sam grow like weeds. Nobody wants weeds, but the pesky bastards seem to find a way."
"Thank you, Officer. Listen, I'm sorry for the Chips comments." Her eyes shifted left and right and she shrugged her slight shoulders. "Kinda rude."
Leaning forward, the officer with dirty blond hair and a baby face rested his forearms on the desk. "I'd be lying if I said it was the first time I'd heard it." His face was stone. Unreadable. Slowly, he reached into the drawer of the cherrywood desk, lifted a pair of sunglasses, and with a lopsided grin, he pushed them into place.
Laughter rolled out of Bella like waves, one giggle crashing into the next.
"You want a little advice, Miss Swan? Get a dog. A big one. People think twice about messing with someone when their loyal companion has a mouthful of sharp teeth and no compunctions about usin' them."
"I'll add that to my shopping list."
Leaning forward, glasses still in place, he suggested that Bella have someone stay with her, or better still, she stay with a friend at least until the protection order could be served.
From the doorway, Angela piped up. "You're welcome to stay with Seth and I. The boys love having you there." In her hands were two brown takeout bags that smelled like deep fried heaven.
I bet, Bella thought.
Angela and her husband had two rowdy boys, aged four and two. They were messy, loud and snot-soaked children that loved to climb all over Bella and share their half-eaten treats with just about anyone that was fool enough to take them. Bella learned that lesson the hard way.
Memories of stitches, bruises and shouted words washed over her, and though she loathed the idea of tucking her tail between her legs and hiding, she couldn't deny that it was the smart play. She agreed, on the condition that pizza was on her tonight … and Tallulah the guinea pig be padlocked and placed as far from anywhere Bella was as possible. Tallulah was the devil's consort as far as Bella was concerned.
"Perfect," Officer Biers said. "I'd suggest you speak to Mr. Cullen again, as well. Helps to have a neighbor keeping an eye out."
"Oh, the hottie from across the street. I like where this is going," Angela jabbered.
Bella rolled her eyes and stood, extending a hand to the officer. "Thank you. Again."
Standing, he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, grinned a wide, cheesy grin and said, "All in a days work, miss," and tipped his head.
"You're ridiculous. Don't ever change."
"Tomorrow we're heading over to the pound," Angela announced as she tucked a blue Ice Age sheet over the corner of a seldom-used twin bed.
"Big dog." Bella nodded. "Preferably with some anger issues to work out," she joked. She grinned hearing Richard Dreyfus' voice saying, "Chopper, sic balls."
"Soooo, Officer Riley … kinda cute. Definitely has a thing for you." Angela's voice was pitched high and heavy on the school-girl.
"Married."
"What? No."
Bella smoothed a red comforter over the bed. "Ring," she said pointing to her ring finger.
"Well, shit."
From the hall the voice of Angela's husband, Seth boomed, "Streaker on the run!" Followed by a series of small giggles.
A tiny hand tugged on Bella's wrist, and she looked down at the naked, dripping two-year old. "I have wiener," he announced proudly.
"That's awesome, bud." Bella laughed, giving the kid a high-five.
"Ah-ha," Seth exclaimed, entering the room and scooping the dripping bundle into his arms. "Should have known you'd come to torment Aunt Bells." Seth was tall and well built, with broad shoulders, and dark head of hair, just like his sons. "Apologize to Aunt Bella for the gratuitous nudity, and say good night, Owen."
The toddler mumbled his goodnight and when Bella leaned in for the kiss he requested, he blew a sloppy raspberry across her cheek. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she said, "And that is why I take birth control."
Seth laughed. "Night, Bells." He took his son's small wrist and gently manipulated it, waving. He turned and vanished, presumably to find the kid's clothes.
"Night."
Angela just shook her head, watching her husband corral the squirming child from the room. "Don't have boys," she said warmly. "What time is the security company due tomorrow?"
"Three." Bella threw herself down on the bed and heaved a sigh.
"Short day tomorrow. Right?" Short days were common in a small town with three dental offices. "Then we'll go to the pound when the security guys are done at your place. I think they're open 'til six tomorrow."
"Sounds good. Now get out. I wanna strip these paint-snot splattered jeans off and go to bed."
"Turning in before the toddler. Sad." Angela's voice was mocking.
"Shit for sleep last night," Bella admitted, looking up and over at her friend.
She nodded once and laid a soft hand on Bella's for a quick moment before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her. "Ah, come on, kid! There's puddles all up and down this hallway," she heard Angela whine.
She pulled her jeans off first, smiling and shaking her head at the neon paint artfully splattered all over the front of her jeans. Owen and Christopher—affectionately referred to as Christi— insisted she paint with them. It'll be fun, they said; they just neglected to mention the messy part.
After cleaning up, she neatly folded and tucked her things back into the overnight bag she brought with her. She grabbed her Kindle, fired it up, and stretched out on the small bed. It wasn't long before the letters began to swim and her eyes fluttered, heavy and fighting the urge to slip shut.
Bella switched off the device, turned out the lights and tucked herself under the covers.
A shrill sound split the silence. Slowly, Bella came to the realization that the sound was her cell phone perched on the nightstand next to the bed. Blindly she reached for it, smacking her hand on the corner of the table. She cursed and groaned and groped around in the dark. When her hand grazed the cold, hard, vibrating cell phone she turned over and brought the phone to her face, sweeping her thumb over the screen.
"Yeah," she answered in a sleep-soaked voice, her eyes tightly closed against the bright blue glow the phone gave off.
"Not far enough, Isabella, baby."
Ice pushed through her veins, waking her with a sudden alertness. Her eyes widened and she sat up, the old bed springs protesting.
"How did you get this number?"
"Oh, we both knew it was only a matter of time, pretty girl." Sam's voice was smooth and menacing, and it wasn't difficult for Bella to picture the smug smile that surely graced his face.
Her nerves jangled and her heart thumped against her ribs. Clutching the edge of the comforter, Bella pulled it up higher, some need to hide taking over.
"You knew I'd find you. I always do. Close my eyes and I still see you there, dancing in that little blue dress." His voice was far away, caught in a memory before the blue dress was replaced by blue bruises and bloodshot cried-out eyes.
"Stop!" she shouted. "Just stop it! Go back to Detroit, Sam, and forget about me. Stop looking for me, stop calling, stop creeping around my fucking house!" The words sounded so brave and strong in her head, but as they tumbled out, she heard the fear hiding between the syllables.
A low chuckle drifted down the line and then the soft sound of static hummed in Bella's ear. Blinking, Bella pulled the phone away and looked down at the display: Unknown Number. Standing up, the brunette shook the sound of his voice from her head and crossed the room, turning on the lights. As she dialed the Harbour Beach Police Station, she paced the floor of the guest room, her teeth raking over her bottom lip.
"Harbour Beach Police Services, Deputy Jane Hallett, what can I do for you?"
Exhaling a shaky breath, she told Deputy Jane about the phone call and the protection order she'd filed with Officer Biers. Deputy Hallett sounded like a fourteen year old, but her voice was steady and confident. "Where are you now, Miss Swan?"
"My friend Angela's house."
"Good. That's good. Get some rest, Miss Swan. I know, easier said than done. A little whiskey always helps me along," she admitted in a light tone. "I'll swing by around eight and take a statement from you. No point in waking the whole house at this hour."
The thought of Christi and Owen waking at four in the morning made Bella cringe. "Eight o'clock is fine."
Easier said than done indeed. Bella sat cross-legged beside the bed, the comforter pulled from the mattress and wrapped around her. She stared at the her phone, waiting for it to ring again. Expecting to hear his voice again; hear the taunting laughter, but it remained silent.
Pale blue light sneaked between the curtains in the guest room. The house was still, the hum of the central air pushed through the vents, fluttering the curtains. Bella shrugged out of her cocoon and stood. She changed into the scrubs she'd brought with her, navy with pink ribbons decorating the top. She pulled her hair back into a loose pony and brushed her teeth. Looking perfectly exhausted—a lovely shade of violet coloring the bags under her eyes—she hauled her tired body down the stairs and rummaged through the cupboards in the kitchen in search of coffee.
"You and me are going to be good friends today," she said, tapping the Folgers can she found hiding behind a box of Captain Crunch—the original stuff, not the gross shit with the berries.
Coffee brewing, she sat at the kitchen table, munching on handfuls of dry cereal and leafing through a book about a kid named Mortimer. Mortimer sounded like a pain in the ass.
"Whatcha' doin' up so early, Bells?" Seth asked, pulling Bella away from her riveting read.
"Sam called last night." Her voice was weary.
Mid-reach, Seth stopped and turned away from the counter, abandoning the coffee mug. "Shit," he hissed. "How'd he get your number?"
"That's what I'd like to know. Deputy Jane … something-or-other will be here at eight."
His face was hard, jaw clenched. A hint of anger touched his eyes. "I'll drive you and Ang to work."
"No, no. It's fine. I'll be fine," Bella insisted, not wanting to inconvenience her friend.
"I'll drive," he said, leveling Bella with stern look.
Sighing, she conceded.
"So is there any sugar left, or should I make a run to the store before I pour myself a cup?" Seth turned away, finding a mug with tiny colorful handprints all over it.
"Ha. Ha."
When the doorbell rang, two dark-haired children made a run for it, excitedly giggling. One sporting the cutest pair of suspenders Bella had ever seen, the other refusing to wear pants. Angela chased a half naked Owen to the door, throwing her arms in the air when he dodged her and tore down the hall in the other direction. "He's all yours, babe!" Heaving a sigh, she opened the door and greeted the deputy.
"It's absolute chaos in here, come on in." Angela swung the door open wide, welcoming the petite woman. She couldn't be more than five-feet tall, with long mousy-brown hair twisted into a bun. She was milky white and her eyes were a startling blue. The uniform she wore was not kind to her.
Angela directed her to the kitchen where Bella was washing the last of the breakfast dishes. Drying her hands first, she shook the deputy's hand and offered her a cup of coffee. Bella was on her third. Angela ducked out, giving her friend what little privacy she could offer.
The soft-spoken deputy asked Bella a few questions, scribbled in her little black pad, and assured her they'd find him. "It's a small city," she said. Somewhere in the house a two-year old chanted "No pants, no pants" and Christi was looking out the window admiring the police vehicle parked in the driveway.
"I called Eric, gave him the rundown," Angela announced, re-entering the kitchen, a pair of pint-sized cord shorts slung over her right shoulder. Clearly Owen had won this round. "He cancelled our appointments today. Said something about having a camera installed in the parking lot."
When Bella began to protest, she added, "Oh, and he called Sam a dirty snot-fucker. Not sure what that all means, but I like it."
The two thanked Deputy Hallett and walked her to the door, promising to call should he contact her again.
The door closed with a rusty click, and Angela turned to Bella. "Let's get you a big ol' dog."
Jetta, a two-year old red Siberian Husky, happily jumped into the back of Bella's car, sniffed around a then lay down across the backseat, her tail gently wagging.
"Alright, let's get you home, Miss Jetta." Bella closed the door as her friend loaded the dog supplies into the trunk. She looked at the packed truck and thought maybe, maybe she'd gone a little overboard. Maybe.
Buckling her seat belt, Angela twisted in the seat, looking back at the dog. "Lucky girl, she doesn't even spend that kind of money on her own clothes."
Definitely went overboard.
As they pulled into Bella's driveway, Jetta popped up, looking around.
"Welcome home," Bella said, looking at the dog in the rearview mirror. The three of them piled out, Jetta jumping and turning in circles.
"Go ahead, bring her inside and I'll start in on this." Angela waved a hand at the truck and then shooed her away.
Inside, Jetta darted from one room to the next, nose to the ground; Bella followed with a funny smile on her face. "Alright, you explore, I'm gonna go help Auntie Angela with all your shit. Oh, and please don't pee in the house, okay?" Jetta jogged over to her, licked her hand and then went right back to sniffing out her new home.
From the back room, Bella heard Angela talking to someone and her feet moved faster, her pulse quickening.
"… And the dog wanted an … orthopedic bed?"
"Of course," she heard Angela answer.
Rounding the corner, a breath trapped in her lungs pushed its way out and she smiled wide at Edward, who was poking Jetta's new doggie bed, giving it a curious look.
"Hey, Seventeen." Stopping in the doorway of the living room, Bella gave a little wave, relieved to see her neighbor's eyes smiling up at her, and not the brown-black of Sam's.
Grinning wider, Edward answered, "Hey, Fourteen. I, uh, saw your friend …?"
"Angela."
"… Angela here, and thought I'd offer a little help." Edward pushed his hand through his hair. In the light of day it was a deep copper, and his eyes were most definitely green. Deep as a forest.
Her mouth went dry and she licked at her lips. The shadows and shades of the early evening had hidden away some of his features. Her eyes traced his jawline and took in the subtle muscles of his upper arms. She licked her lips again.
A cold, wet nudge on her left hand pulled her eyes away from the slope of his neck. She jumped at the foreign feeling. Bella's gaze landed on the Husky. "This is Jetta," she introduced.
Jetta zoomed around them, weaving, tail bobbing. Edward crouched down and cupped the dog's fluffy face in his hands. "Hey Jetta, nice to meet you." A whistle escaped him, and Jetta's head cocked, looking at the man. Not bothering with propriety, Jetta licked Edward's face and then trotted away.
"Thanks for the lovin', Jetta." He stood, catching Bella's eyes. His hand fluttered at his side like a rapid heart beat. "Listen, though I was glad to help, I wanted to talk to you." Letting loose a short string of colorful curses, he stepped closer to Bella, his voice dropping to a pitch laden with concern. His hand pulled through his hair again.
She'd heard it before and recognized it. Unknowingly, she took a step toward him.
"There was a car parked outside of your house last night. It wasn't the same one, though." He whistled again in that bird-like way. "Was red. I saw it pull up and park around one this morning. Didn't think much of it … but I … it felt off."
Bella and Angela exchanged bothered glances.
Sighing a shaky breath, Bella asked, "Your gut?"
"Yeah. My gut. Fuck, I should have called Officer What's-his-nuts!"
A flash of green and purple bruises across her cheek bones. A glimpse of ruby blood trickling from nose. Bella's eyes watered and she blinked, clearing the tears.
"I'm calling Seth. He can sleep on the couch." The tone in Angela's voice made it clear she wasn't planning on running that by her friend. "And call your goddamn father, Bells! He needs to know Sam's been sniffing at your door again."
Until that moment, Edward stood quietly, watching the exchange. "Who's Sam? Is he dangerous?"
With a heavy sigh, Bella invited Edward into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee. As she moved around the tiny room, looking for places to stash the ridiculous amount of dog treats she bought, she told him her story.
She fell in love with a beautiful boy with dark hair and dark eyes; eyes that gave the word mischief a reason for being. He had a wild streak and a passion for her so intense, it sometimes frightened her. She fell for a boy that held her close and pushed everyone else away. They lived in a bubble, just big enough for the two of them.
The bubble popped, and what seemed whirlwind and exciting became terrifying. She'd found herself alone, without a friend to lean on. No one to show her bruises to, no one to take her shaking hands and tell her it would be okay. No one to save her from the thing Sam had become.
The smell of coffee permeated the air, deep and rich. She inhaled. It smelled like comfort to her. It reminded her of her father, and brought her back to a small kitchen much like the one she stood in now. One that was safe and inviting.
In a route, vacant way, Bella filled three mugs, setting them down and turning to the window above the sink. In the yard, Angela ran back and forth with the dog, laughing at the dog's antics.
"I'm sorry, Bella. His apology was whispered. "That … I'm sorry." Lost for better, more helpful words, Edward looked up at the girl leaning against the counter. His eyes were sad.
Carrying a tin canister over to the table, she sat down and pried the rusting lid off with a grunt. She placed it in the middle of the table, picked up a tablespoon and scooped out a heap of sugar. "Thank you, I think. Is that the right sentiment for something like this? I don't even know." She shook her head and tipped a second large spoonful of sugar into her mug.
Watching her go in for a third scoop, he guessed, "So that's why you got the dog?"
"Yup. And the security system that should be here any minute."
"Good." Edward nodded and a few strands of hair flopped around.
His hair is an unholy mess, she thought.
"I'm going to give you my cell," he announced in a matter-of-fact way, but Bella easily picked up the nervousness that rattled the words. Pulling his cell phone out his pocket, he loudly suggested a poor farm animal do something rather impossible. He apologized quickly, an embarrassed blush creeping up his lovely cheeks.
Lovely? Really? Since when did you think cheeks were lovely? Bella grimaced at the thought and went right back to staring at those perfect, high cheekbones. Edward's tick barely registered with her. It was background noise.
"Or not," Edward said, seeing the strange grimace on her face.
"What?"
"Your face says 'No thanks'."
"Shit, no. I want it. I just … You have great cheekbones and I was just thinking how weird it was that I was thinking about your cheekbones. Like who the fuck thinks cheekbones are great? Right?" She stopped rambling when a slow smirk bloomed on Edward's face. "Give me your phone, Seventeen." He held her hand out and wriggled her fingers.
Quickly, she typed in her number and saved it under Fourteen. Taking the liberty, she also sent herself a text. "There." Bella handed him the phone and watched a beaming, mega-watt grin crack as he read the text she sent to her phone.
Fourteen, great ass, but she's got nothing on these cheekbones.
"I could stay," he said, a little uncertain.
Bella took sip of her coffee and decided it needed one more helping of sugar. Edward watched, shaking his head as the fine powder disappeared into her cup.
"I mean, I live right across the street. I can bring my laptop over, get some work 's really no big deal. It'd be nice to have the company," he added.
"It would save Seth the trip back and forth," Angela chimed in, as the backdoor bounced off the metal frame behind her. She winked at Bella, not bothering to hide the smugness.
"You, shut your hole," Bella advised, pointing a finger.
Angela chuckled and shouted over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall toward the bathroom, "She called you 'hot', Edward."
It was Bella's turn to blush.
"Hot, huh? And you like my cheekbones," he teased, raising his mug to his lips. It didn't hide the smile.
"I'm not above kicking you out, dude."
Snickering, he put his mug down and stood. For a second she looked shocked, and then he said, "I'll just go get my laptop."
Bella didn't say a word, just nodded her acceptance
Thanks for reading, see you in the next chapter!
~MissJanuary