The Twilight Series belongs to S. Meyer, no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just playing with the characters.


Chapter 28

Better Man

He pulled out of her and through her post-coital fog she heard the rustle of his clothing as he straightened it out. Moments later there was a soft tug—the bow holding the ribbon together was released and he gently unwound it from her arms. Her arms were tingling and slightly numb from being restrained so she didn't move from her position. She wasn't comfortable but she was too weak to move.

He picked up the tools of their play and she listened to his footsteps as he walked into the bathroom. The soft thud as he set them on the counter. Returning to the bed he pulled her back and up into his arms. The other side of the bed was turned down and he set her down on the sheets and pulled the covers over her.

She struggled to keep her eyes open but it was a fruitless task. Through hooded eyes she watched as he pulled his clothes off and laid them down on one of the chairs. She realized her eyes must have closed when she was startled by the mattress dipping slightly as he crawled in next to her.

Half asleep and half awake, she allowed him to turn her body so she lay on her side in his arms. The weight and warmth of his body lugged her to sleep. Within minutes her breathing was even and deep as she drifted into slumber.

Edward meanwhile was awake. He wasn't sure what was going on with Leah. And he hadn't lied when he told her friends she had secrets. He knew so many things about her but there was always a part she held back. He didn't push her—knowing for some reason if he did things would be over. But he wasn't sure what he wanted or needed anymore—he supposed his hesitation, his reluctance could be traced back to his parents.

Growing up he remembered his father, Carlisle seemed to be a super hero. He saved people—cured them of illness and disease. As a child, he understood why his father sometimes missed events in his life. People didn't stop getting sick or injured just because he had a tee-ball game or band recital.

Despite his hero worship of his father, he never wanted to do what his father did. That was his older brother Emmett's dream. And he didn't want to steal it from his brother. Emmett was three years older than him and his childhood playmate, best friend, and worst enemy all at the same time.

His early memories of his mother, Esme were faint. He was never sure what was real or imagined—probably because the memories that were so engrained in him were starkly vivid and frightening. So who knows when she turned away from Carlisle and started hating him—resenting him for his success, his hard work, and his long hours away from home.

And he wondered how much had to do with the fact she had a problem—though she vehemently denied it. That particular memory when he was eight and his father had decided enough was enough was burned into his memory.

There was a slamming of doors and loud voices. His mother screaming at the top of her lungs, "How dare you, Carlisle! You're going to leave me and your children? They'll hate you forever!"

"No, Esme," Carlisle replied, his voice firm and yet soft. "You need help. I can't sit around and watch you do this anymore. As soon as I can get everything set up in the new place I'll be back for the boys. Teresa will be staying here to keep an eye on them for now."

"Oh, I have a problem," she sneered. "What about you? How about the fact you missed Emmett's soccer game last week? Or Edward's conferences?"

He sighed, "I know I haven't been as good a father as I could be. The company is just starting to take off and I've finally found a couple partners I can trust. That alone will give me more time to be with the boys. Every time I miss out on something—it hurts. But this isn't about me—this is about you and your drinking."

"I'm not an alcoholic. Alcoholics are bums living on the street, people who sit in bars for hours on end—pathetic people. So what if I like to have a glass or two of chardonnay or merlot. That doesn't mean I have a problem."

Another soft sigh was heard and the words that followed were spoken so quietly that Edward didn't understand them or their significance. "It's a problem when it affects your relationships. Emmett's scared to have friends over. Edward told me you showed up drunk to his conferences—the teacher called me to make sure everything was okay at home. It's been months since we've been intimate and even longer since we've slept in the same room. I don't know what to do anymore but what we're doing isn't working. I have to do this for the boys—even if it doesn't seem like it—they are my first priority. Everything I've worked for is so they will have a legacy."

After he left, Esme decided to attend AA and try sobriety. A single night had his parents reluctantly reconciling when his mother found out she was expecting again. His little sister Alice was born a year after their one and only separation. It wasn't until years later that he learned the other half of the story of why his father had wanted to leave.

His father—his hero had a whole other family. He had a half-brother and sister-twins Jasper and Rosalie. And even though they worked at Cullen Pharmaceuticals—it was never mentioned. The twins were five years younger than him and four years older than Alice. And his father was stuck between two families—the one he wanted and the one he had.

FF_8560086 10/19/2012 6:41AM