The walk back is awkward and quiet, with a sullen, glowering Isabella and a dead-on-his-feet Edward. They're both bruised and dirt streaked, the scrapes on Edward's palms are stinging, and several times during the walk one or the other forgets about the handcuffs and makes some sudden movement, jerking the other's arm and causing them to nearly trip.
Edward just wants to go back to sleep.
When they get back to the house, Edward doesn't even consider trying to go back through the window. He finds the spare key and lets them in through the front door. He practically drags Isabella—as quietly as possible—up the stairs and through the hallway to his room. He barely pauses to kick off his shoes before he marches to the window, pulling a reluctant Isabella along, and slides it shut. Then he flops facedown onto the bed, not even caring that the arm connected to Isabella is up in the air. "Lie down," he mumbles into the pillow.
Isabella pulls on the cuffs, jerking Edward's arm from side to side. "Dude," she says, "this does not work for me." Edward suppresses a frustrated whine.
"Just go to sleep already. I'm not taking them off so you can run away again."
He can feel the motion through their connected arms as Isabella huffs. "I'm not sleeping like this. I like to sleep on my back."
Edward buries his face farther into the pillow. "Yeah, and I like sleeping on my stomach. So, tough. Now get in." He tugs on Isabella's arm.
Isabella tugs back. "No."
"Fine," Edward groans as he sits up. He leans over to the foot of the bed—nearly pulling Isabella down on top of him—and reaches for his bag on the floor. After a few moments of digging, he finds it: the key. "C'mere."
Isabella comes just close enough that Edward can reach her wrist, keeping the rest of her body angled away from his, and Edward has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, fed up with Isabella's attitude. He's too damn tired to feel sympathetic and guilty right now.
The handcuff releases Isabella's wrist with a click, but before she can so much as pull back her hand, Edward grabs her other one, snapping it on that wrist instead so they are cuffed on their left wrists. "There," he says, smiling. "Now you can lie on your back while I'm on my stomach. And you get the wall this time." He stands up and stretches his hand to the ceiling, placing the key on one of the blades of the still ceiling fan there. "So you can't get it while I'm sleeping," he says brightly in response to Isabella's glower, visible even in the poor lighting. "Now, sleep."
He doesn't allow Isabella to object, practically shoving her onto the bed, crawling in after her. He pulls the covers over both of them and buries his face in the pillow once more. Beside him, Isabella is shifting and twitching, trying to get comfortable while putting as much distance as the cuffs will allow, but Edward just lets out a soft sigh, ignoring her.
For the second time that night, Edward slides easily into sleep.