3. AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT

WHEN DAD CAME HOME, I SAID NOTHING. Not when he asked what was for dinner, not when he asked how my day was. I didn't flinch when he pressed the back of his hand to my forehead and frowned, closing the door behind him as he left me to my misery.

Mom comes in and rambles about all of her theories on what has gotten me down. It would be sweet if she weren't so annoyingly accurate. I tuned her out after my face flushed and gave me away; her advice, no matter how well meaning, is terrible more often than not.

I don't come down for dinner, and I don't say a word for the rest of the night. Mom must have told Dad her suspicions; he's not giving me hell for ignoring them, as he would have just like when I was thirteen and rebelling.

The weekend past in a similar fashion, save for a phone call with Jessica asking me to come to Port Angeles soon. The dance was coming up, and Jessica wanted opinions on dresses. I agreed too quickly, eager to get off the phone. Jess didn't notice - or didn't care.

Monday rolled in with the black sky. The streets were covered in snow, icicles dangling from the tree branches before the sun even rose. I spent the night watching the storm manifest, and now, my body aches from the uncomfortable slouch and the dread from seeing Edward Cullen. Plus the possibility of landing on my face more than once today had me wrapped up like the Michelin man.

The truck didn't have any issues. Still, I drove slowly. I trusted the ice even less on four wheels.

When I pull into the school's lot, I stifle a groan. Edward Cullen and his family are standing around their cars, talking amongst themselves as they pointedly look at everything and everyone but me and my truck. I roll my eyes and pull into an empty spot farthest away from them.

Something silver caught my eye as I stepped out. Holding the side for support, I knelt down to further examine my tires. Thin chains crisscrossing into diamonds are wrapped around my tire, connecting to each other at the rim. Dad had gotten up early enough – or went to bed late; I didn't see him while I was perched at the window – to put snow chains on my truck. My throat felt tight. I don't think I will ever get used to being taken care of, and Dad's concern (for my safety or for the towns) caught me by surprise.

I was by the back of the truck, struggling to fight back the tears when I heard an odd sound.

There is a high – pitched screech. It grew painfully loud rapidly. I look up, startled.

I see several things simultaneously. Dad often describes events like these as fast paced, almost instinctual in the way you move to survive. Nothing and no one moved like the movies; everyone was rapidly trying to save the things important to them, no thoughts to overthink how one move could be detrimental to someone else. It's just you and what's right in front of you. Watching the van skid towards me, I realized just how right he is.

The adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster and I was able to look at several things to determine my next course of action. Edward Cullen was standing on the other side of the lot, watching with unashamed horror. I ignored him, and pushed myself away from the truck and towards the sidewalk. The blue van spinning wildly in the parking lot was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and had I sat frozen, I would have been pinned between them.

I stand as far away as I can. The van collides and there's a loud crash of metal slamming into metal, scratching and roaring with each other before finally coming to a halt. My heart is beating in my ears and my breathing is jagged.

And then the world came to life again. A wall of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at me.

"Bella? Are you ok?"

"Someone get Tyler!"

"Call the police!"

I stand frozen in my spot, looking at my mangled truck. I can hear the squeal of the door as a group of students try to pry it away to free Tyler. Tears well and I can feel myself shaking. Holy shit. Holy shit. What the actual fuck?

"Bella? Bella, it's ok. You're ok."

Cold hands press against my shoulders, firm and comforting. Edward Cullen stood in front of me, looking down at me. His lips are moving but I can't hear over the sound of my thoughts.

I could have died.

Edward pulls me closer to him. I can feel his breath against my ear. "Bella, listen to my voice. Listen to me, Bella."

I try, and I focus on the way his body feels against mine. It's solid, and the way his arms wrap around me to pull him flush against his chest catches me off guard. I gasp, and try to pull away but he only tightens his hold on me. "Relax, Bella. I've got you."

Somehow, I do. Wrapped in his arms, I feel myself start to relax against him. I feel safe, like he is my shield against the dangers of the world. It is in his arms where I finally stop fighting my tears and press my face into his sweater. I sob, ugly and embarrassing in any other situation but I could not care. I could have been crushed, injured or even dead had I not moved in time.

We stay like this until the ambulance comes barreling down the street. I pull away, keeping my head down and use my sleeve to dry my cheeks. Edward keeps his hands on my shoulders, watching me with a soft intensity that makes me blush.

The stretchers were brought to the van, and Tyler was lifted onto it. Blood dripped from his temple and onto the white cloth. His arm is soaked in blood too, and he is moaning as they fasten the neck brace on him and wheel him into the back of the truck.

Before the ambulance with Tyler pulls out of the school, the police arrive.

I can hear Dad yelling my name, panic constricting his voice when he notices me sitting on the ledge of the ambulance. The paramedic examining me clicks their flashlight and shines it into my eyes for a brief second. I have no visible wounds, but they assess me anyways.

"Bella!"

"I'm ok, Dad. Healthy as a horse."

Dad presses his hands to my face and kisses my forehead before turning to the paramedic for their opinion. I tune them out, instead watching the crowd of people soberly look on. I stifle the feeling of humiliation at the sight of me in – or on, in this case – an ambulance.

Satisfied with his results, Dad pulls me into a hug. "I'm so glad you're ok."

I smile weakly, and nod.

"But we're still going to the hospital."

I groan.

THE EMERGENCY ROOM HAS NOT CHANGED SINCE I WAS LAST HERE. The row of beds in one long room is still separated by dull and faded pastel curtains. I remember vividly yanking the curtain closed when I was thirteen and broke my arm; Mom was taking pictures throughout the visit to send to Dad, and I was so embarrassed at the thought of the whole police station arriving at the hospital and demanding to see me.

A nurse puts a pressure cuff on my arm and runs the thermometer across my head. Dad stood in the corner, watching the nurse take down my readings. She reassured him everything was normal, but the wrinkle in his forehead would not disappear.

There's another furry of people rushing past me. A second stretcher is brought in beside me. Tyler's head is wrapped in bloody bandages, his arm cradled against his chest as he stares anxiously at me. He looks a hundred times worse than I feel.

"Bella, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine. Are you ok? You look awful!" As I spoke to him, nurses begin unwinding the bandages from his head. It looked worse than what it is; only a few shallow scratches on his temple and left cheek.

Tyler ignored the nurses and what is going on. "I thought I was going to kill you! I went too fast, hit the ice wrong…" he trailed off with a wince when a nurse dabbed at one of the cuts.

"Don't worry. You still have a terrible aim."

He ignores the subtle jab at his aim and continues his onslaught of questions. Dad watches our interaction, visibly annoyed at Tyler. After the twelfth apology, Dad yanked the curtain closed and cursed under his breath. Still, I can hear his voice through the curtain. No matter how many times I try to console him, he continues to torment himself. I close my eyes and attempt to ignore him.

"Is she sleeping?"

My eyes flew open. Edward Cullen stood at the foot of my bed, a cookie in his hand and a paper cup in the other. "Hi," he says when his eyes meet mine.

"Hi," I reply.

My throat chokes up when I remember how nice he was. Suddenly, the anger I had clutched onto these last few days dissipated and all that is left is gratitude. I smile and motion for him to step in.

"Dad," I say, but he holds up his hands and steps out. I can see pink coloring his face.

"These are for you," Edward says. He places the cookie and the cup on the tray beside me. "I thought maybe you could use some sugar."

"Thanks."

Edward smiled and we fell into an awkward silence. After a few moments, Edward spoke again. "What's the verdict?"

"I'm fine, just trapped."

Edward smiled, wicked and charming all at once. "I can help with that."

"Wha –"

Edward is gone before I can even ask him what he meant.

He returns quickly, a doctor walking alongside him. He's young, blond, and incredibly handsome. I sent a brief thanks the universe for Mom not being here; surely, this doctor would become her new fascination.

There is a slight similarity between the two. They both exude exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes and a sallowness in the hollow of his cheeks. They're both at ease with each other.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen." He offered his hand and I nearly jumped from the frigid temperature of his hands. If he noticed, he did not show it. "How are you feeling?"

"Unharmed and annoyed."

Dr. Cullen smiles and nods in understanding. He looks over my chart and then briefly examines me. When he's done, he shakes my hand and tells me Dad is in the waiting room and to go home and rest.

I thank him and jump off the bed. I land on shaky legs, and reassure everyone I am indeed fine, just clumsy. Dr. Cullen seemed satisfied with that and turned to address Tyler.

I moved to Edward's side. "Can I talk to you?"

He nods and we walk towards the waiting room together. It is not a far walk, only a hallway and a set of heavy double doors separates me from my freedom. "I just want to thank you. For earlier." I stumble, and Edward nods along beside me.

"I'm glad you're ok, Bella." Edward says, softly and almost under his breath. I try to look him in the eyes to see if the sincerity I hear is true and not a figment of my imagination running loose. "Glad I could help." He adds.

We walk in silence and Edward pushes the doors open with ease. I thank him and say goodbye. Dad stands up immediately, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pressing me close to him once again. "I'm fine. Doctor released me and everything."

Satisfied, Dad released me. "Can we go home?"

Dad nods and leads me to the car before the whole town of Forks descends upon us. There will be time to answer their questions later. Right now, I needed to go home and decompress.

We drive in silence. I kept my eyes wide open, watching the tires of every car surrounding us. The ride from the hospital to the house is short, and it takes seeing the driveway to finally relax a little.

Mom opens the front door and rushes out. She wraps her arms around me and we sway for a minute before Dad ushers us inside and out of the cold. It takes a few minutes to convince her I'm ok. Finally, after several long minutes of hysteria, she calmed down enough to let me go to my room.

Dad did not return to work later that day and Mom attempted to cook lasagna. Every half hour they peaked their heads into my room to make sure I am still breathing. After dinner, I kiss their cheeks and say goodnight.

That was the first night I dreamt of Edward Cullen.