"You got the sample, Doctor C?" Demetri stands up from where he was lounging on the hood of the Volt company car, and tucks his phone into the front pocket of his pleated trousers.

Dressed and pressed, just like every young exec at Volt. Demetri reminds me so much of Aro it's almost painful to look at him. I nod, and attempt to hand over the sample.

"Oh no," Demetri says, pushing my hand away. He turns to open the car door for me. "Only you touch the sample, boss' orders."

I assume he means Edward and my heart sinks at the thought of my son taking the mantle over so easily. Edward was such a gentle, compassionate child that I never could imagine him becoming like one of them. Like...Aro. Yet here he is now, sending out orders for a DNA test to verify the legitimacy of his own sister.

Caius probably has a dozen bastard children scattered across the country. It still doesn't surprise me that Gianna might be his daughter. She looks the part well enough, with her cold gray eyes, and emotionless response to the news of the test. She attempted to flirt with me while I told her what was required to take the test, and even licked her lips seductively before opening her mouth to allow me to swab her cheek.

I wish she could take the burden off of Edward's shoulders, but I doubt that he would allow anyone else to carry it; that has always been Edward's way. Nothing in his life has ever been easy. Esme and I have done what we could to try to change that, but now I worry that it was all for naught.

"Carlisle," Esme's whisper rouses me from my deep, dreamless sleep, and I jerk a little in the rocking chair.

I wipe the dampness from my chin, wishing that I could shake my childhood habit of drooling in my sleep. She just smiles, brushing her knuckles along my cheek, and turns toward Edward's crib. I quickly stand, straightening my pajamas, and move to stand beside her.

Little Edward squirms and thrashes, his tiny arms flailing free, even though I had placed them in a tight swaddle after his last feeding. His tiny face is red with anger. The sight leaves a familiar burn of guilt in my stomach.

When I caught Caius and Elizabeth kissing in a dark corner of the hospital parking garage, I was disgusted. Nothing in his behavior had changed, and worse, he was supplying her with drugs. He had given her a prescription bottle, and told her that it would help her. Clearly, Caius had no in interest in helping poor Elizabeth. I confronted him, telling him that he needed to leave the study and Elizabeth alone. He refused, spinning lies about trying to help her and how much he loved her. If he really loved her, he would leave her alone.

After I reported Caius, I left the study and Volt, believing that I had done the right thing. Afterwards, I assumed that Elizabeth was placed in a treatment facility, because the Volt executives had promised that she would be. I can't believe that I was so naïve.

I hadn't seen Elizabeth for months when she was brought into the emergency room; I wish that I had known about her condition before she arrived. She was in the third trimester of her pregnancy, and her body was clearly ravaged by drugs and from living on the streets. She was in labor, bleeding profusely, and her placenta was nearly detached. It is difficult to save a healthy woman from that kind of blood loss. Elizabeth's body, on the other hand, was already taxed and weak. There was no way she could withstand such trauma. I watched her fade away from hemorrhage,despite my best efforts to save her. Her newborn son, perilously close to death himself, was suddenly left all alone. My overriding thought was how I had caused all this.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, leaning down to scoop him up from the bed, gently cradling him in my arms while I follow Esme into the kitchen.

"Do you want to rewrap him now or should I grab the chart first?" She asks. She deliberately leaves the lights low for Edward's sake, but it only gives us the barest amount of light to navigate by.

Edward's withdrawal symptoms have been greatly reduced since he was born, but his sensitivity to light is still very acute. His tox screen at birth tested positive for cocaine, heroin and alcohol. As a result, his tiny, weak body has been going through intense drug withdrawal. He has been taking methadone and ativan to help him withdraw more easily. The medication has helped ease his tremors have subsided, but he still chews and sucks on his tiny hand. I report all my observations to my wife, and she quickly jots down notes.

I feel another twinge of guilt when I think of all that my wife has given up for me and for Edward. After Elizabeth's father relinquished all custody, we decided to adopt Edward. While Esme loved her work in the pediatric intensive care unit, she couldn't continue to work full time and help me with the baby. Her decision to leave was a hard one for her to make, but she is the one who proposed it to me. I have the most amazing wife, and I still have no clue what I have done to deserve her.

"How long was he out this time?" She speaks while still taking notes, and I check the clock on the microwave.

"Two hours, I think," I reply, and glance back down at Edward's small face, glowing as the dim light reflects on the surface of his skin.

His eyes are wide and curious, but his mouth is still working furiously on his fingers. I gently tug his fist from his mouth, and am rewarded with a cry of protest.

"I'll have the bottle ready in a few seconds," Esme announces, walking over to the refrigerator.

"I'm going to rewrap him now," I tell her, and walk back to the bedroom.

I carefully swaddle him in his blanket, making sure that his hands are securely pressed against his body, and try my best sing to him. My voice is shaky and off key, but it seems to soothe him a little. Edward seems to respond very well to music, and Esme has already set up a small stereo in the nursery to play classics for him. She is addicted to every new study that comes about child development, and recently read how classical music can enhance brain development in newborns. Despite her repeated scoffs at the mere suggestion, Esme was born to be a mother.

"Daddy?" Emmett's groggy voice draws my attention to the doorway.

He shuffles into the room, his pajama-covered feet making a soft shushing sound against the carpet. Poor Emmett has lost a lot of sleep, too, since we've taken in Edward. He bears it like a trooper, though.

"Hey, buddy, did baby brother wake you?" I ask, sitting on the edge of our bed. I move Edward into my other arm so I can lift Emmett up to sit beside me.

"Yeah," he sighs, leaning against my side, and yawns. "He hungry?"

"Yes. Your mom is making something for him," I answer, brushing his unruly hair out of his eyes, and make a mental note that we need to get it trimmed.

"Ice cream?" He gives me a hopeful grin, his face lighting up despite the puffiness beneath his eyes.

"No ice cream," Esme says, striding into the room and handing me the bottle. "Back to bed, my little con-artist."

Emmett grumbles, but slides off the bed, and shuffles out of the room. I chuckle, and give Edward the bottle, making sure that he is latching on before looking up at my wife. She knows me so well; if left to my own devices I would have given Emmett anything he wanted, even ice cream at three in the morning.

"I'll tuck him in, and be right back," Esme says, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Edward's tiny forehead, and gives me a loving smile.

"Thank you," I whisper, catching her lips for a quick kiss.

She pulls back, and looks at me for a second. "No need for thanks. He's family."

With that she walks out of the room, leaving me with our son. I wipe away the stray tears that escape from my eyes, and smile down at Edward who has devoured over half the bottle already. His appetite grows stronger every day, just as his symptoms are beginning to subside. Along with Esme's words, his growing strength give me hope that I've done the right thing, even if it feels selfish.

"Adrian said he would meet us at the lab," Demetri announces, his eyes still glued to the screen of his phone as he types out a text message.

"Good," I sigh, reclining into the limo's leather seat.

It is utterly ridiculous that we're riding a limo instead of driving in my Cadillac, but Demetri insisted on picking me up. Of course, he only uses company cars. He lets out a small chuckle, and I glance over at him to find him still staring at his phone. He is smiling, but his mouth is too wide, and it makes his teeth look sharp. My mind quickly replaces his sharp features with Edward's and my stomach lurches at the image of my son in this life, this world.

"Don't worry Doc, I'm sure everything will turn out fine," Demetri says, tapping his knuckles playfully against side of my knee.

I give him a polite nod, and turn to look out the window. He sighs heavily and I can hear his phone buzzing again. I wish his words brought me a semblance of comfort, but it's like being comforted by the devil.


"Ed," Emmett startles me, catching the door in his large hand just as I'm stepping into the foyer of our childhood home.

"Hi," I answer in a soft whisper, and drop my hand from the doorknob.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Alice said that he and Rose were furniture shopping all weekend, since he broke her recliners while wrestling with Chewie. I can't even wrap my mind around how the two of them fit into the chair together.

"Got a minute?" He gives me a friendly smile, placing his hand on my chest and pushes me back outside.

"Sssure," I stutter needlessly, and try to not trip over the doormat, while he closes the door.

"So, Dad's doing some Volt thing for you?" He phrased it like a question, but it felt like a statement.

"Yes," I answer with a slow nod of my head, while he stares at me expectantly, like he wants more details. "It's not something I can really talk about."

I don't want to talk to them about this, not yet. Carlisle understood, or at least he seemed to, when I asked for his help with the DNA test that Demetri had insisted upon. While I appreciate his concern for me, and it does makes logical sense, it still feels wrong to put Gianna through a screening to prove what I already know is true. She is my sister; I'm certain of it, just like I know that Emmett is my brother even though we aren't truly related. I wish I could explain it to him right now, but every time I try to speak about it, my throat tightens, and I feel the tears begin to gather in the corners of my eyes.

"Like you couldn't talk about fucking Leah?" Emmett's words jolt me out of my thoughts, throwing me off balance and making me afraid to look him in the eyes.

"Em...I didn't mean...it's complicated," I finally finish in a rush. My guilty conscience causes my cheeks to flush with heat, and makes my palms sweaty.

"Ed," he states with an eruption of air that startles me a little, causing me to jump.

He places his hands on my shoulders, pulling me closer to him, but I still can't look him in the eyes. I shouldn't have done this to him. No matter how I rationalized it to myself, I know how much Emmett loved Leah, and how much he still cares for her. I've crossed a line, and I don't know how to take it back.

"Look at me, Ed," Emmett whispers, bumping his head into mine. It doesn't hurt, but rattles me a little.

I look up at him, and discover that he is smiling. His eyes are pinched at the corners, but not out of anger or disappointment. My chest feels lighter in an instant as I realize that he doesn't hate me.

"I'm so sorry," I choke out, feeling like a little kid again.

"Aww shit, man," he coughs, and pulls me into his arms, his voice sounding a suspiciously strained.

"I should have told you," I speak into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. I take a deep breath to push back my tears before they start to fall; I've cried too much in the last couple of weeks.

"I just wish I had known so I could have warned you," he sighs, pushing me back and giving me a sympathetic smile. "Leah is one hell of a woman, but loving her is like sticking your heart in a meat grinder."

"I won't argue with that," I agree, letting out a shaky breath.

Our attention is directed back to the house when we hear the front door fling open. Esme is standing there, smiling at both of us as she puts in her earrings, and steps out of the door.

"There you are! Come on we're going to be late," she says, heading toward my car.

"You heard her," Emmett laughs, pushing me down the driveway.

"Thanks," I call out to him, but he's already walking into the house, his back to me.

Esme is tapping on the roof of my car impatiently, so I rush to unlock it for her. I quickly pull out my phone to double-check the time, then climb into the car.

"Why are you in such a rush? We have a half hour before Sunday service starts," I ask. I start the car, and begin to back out of the driveway.

"We're not going to church," Esme says, while checking her lipstick in her compact mirror.

"Where are we going?" I put the car into the drive, and slowly pull toward the edge of the driveway, waiting for her answer.

"We have a family counseling session with Jane," Esme answers nonchalantly, and then proceeds to tell me how to get to the treatment center.

Twenty minutes later, I'm sitting in a poorly-upholstered chair that smells like corn chips, in a room that is too white, and Esme is sitting beside me. She is nervous; I can tell by the way she keeps fidgeting with her purse. Jane is sitting across from us, wearing pale pink pajamas that make her look even more childlike. Her eyes are fixed on the ground, and her bottom lip is formed into a little pout. She has bright red hospital socks, and both of her feet are perched on the top of Jasper's worn army boot.

I raise my eyes to look at him, lounging in the chair next to Jane's. He looks completely at home, just like he does everywhere he goes. He gives me an encouraging smile that holds a hint of some other emotion that I can't place. I force my gaze away from my best friend, despite the thousands of questions that are swirling in my mind, because Jane is talking again and I need to understand her.

"I don't want to be a burden...on the Cullens," Jane speaks in a timid voice that sounds nothing like her, and she turns her body slightly away from us.

Jasper immediately straightens in his chair, placing a hand over her wrist, and whispers something to her. Something about how he does it makes me burn with anger. I want to charge across the small space separating us, and...do what, exactly? My initial urge is to push Jane away from him, but that is so ridiculous that I squash it immediately. Jasper would never hurt Jane. I can see it in the tender way that he touches her arm, and the way he inclines his head toward her when he speaks. There is nothing inappropriate about his behavior. It is comforting, friendly. Almost paternal.

That is what's striking me as wrong. I should be the one comforting Jane. She is my responsibility, not Jasper's. I have been the one taking care of her, and doing a damn good job of it. So, why is he interfering? I want to ask him, but this isn't the time or place, not in front of Jane.

Ethan, the counselor in charge of our session, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, while he turns to face us.

"Esme, how do you feel about what Jane said?" He asks.

He doesn't look much older than me, and something about that irritates me. I don't trust his opinion, especially since he seems to be supporting this whole situation. It makes me grimace to even think about what's being proposed.

"I feel concerned for Jasper as well as Jane," Esme replies in an even tone, her face full of compassion. "While it's very generous of Jasper to offer to take custody of Jane, I am not sure it is the best thing for either of them. Parenting is a full time job."

"I'm not a baby," Jane interrupts, though she doesn't look up.

"Jane, please give Esme a chance to speak," Ethan states in his infuriatingly even tone.

"No, you are not. You are a teenage girl that has a great deal of schooling to catch up on," Esme continues, as if Ethan never spoke. "You are also an addict who will need to keep attending meetings regularly."

"Jasper understands what I'm-" Jane stops herself mid-sentence, and raises her eyes to meet Ethan's, who gives her a nod.

"I would like to hear what Jasper has to say," Esme says, nodding toward Jasper.

"I'm here for Jane in whatever capacity she requires," he replies, gently patting her shoulder, and continues. "Alice and I have spoken about it at length, we know it won't be easy, but if it's what Janey wants, we will welcome her with open arms."

I hate it. All of it. The way that Jane smiles, Jasper's look of confidence, even Esme's resigned sigh. She is supposed to fix this; if anyone knows how to get kids to do the right thing, it's Esme Cullen. She made it look so easy when I was growing up, but now she looks so defeated. The sight of her shrug sends fear rushing through me.

"No!" It comes out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Ed-" Ethan is about to speak, but Esme waves him off, and nods at me. I don't know what else to say, but Jane picks up where I left off.

"No? Who the fuck are you to say what happens to me?" Jane finally looks at me, and all I can see is hate in her eyes.

"I'm the one who got you off the streets in the first place," I spit back. I let her anger fan the flames of my rage. "I gave you a home, food and safety. That's who the hell I am!"

"I'm not your mother, Edward!" Jane fires back, and for a second I'm confused.

"Jane!" Esme whispers in a scolding tone. I turn to see her shocked expression and suddenly I understand Jane's words. Esme told her about my birth mother. I look back at Jane who is staring at the floor again.

"How about we take a quick break?" Jasper says, giving Esme a meaningful look.

I stand up from my chair, and head toward the door. I can't stand to be in this tiny room a minute longer. The humiliation and betrayal are making me sick. I manage to get a few paces down the hallway before Esme catches up with me.

"Edward, please," she calls out, grabbing my arm.

"No," I shout, whipping around to face her, and pull my arm free. "You told her! Why? How could you?"

She straightens, catches her breath, and gives the same sympathetic smile she used to always give me when she needed to deliver some bad news. "I thought it was important for her to understand what you've been through."

"A lot of good it did," I grumble, feeling like a petulant child. I let her pull me over to a group of empty plastic chairs.

"You can't be completely surprised," she says, taking a seat and patting the chair next to her.

"Actually, I can," I counter, collapsing into the stiff plastic chair, and leaning my head against the wall. "At the funeral, you said that the paperwork was already being processed."

"It was," she sighs, digging in her purse and produces a peppermint. "I only learned about her changing her mind a few days ago."

"What changed?" I shake my head, and put my face in my hands.

"Edward," she sighs heavily, and places her hand on the back of my neck, gently rubbing at the tense muscles. "Sometimes the people who need love the most fight the hardest to keep it away."

I nod my head, but I want to scream. Her words used to bring me comfort, but now they only punctuate how powerless I am. How do you love someone when they won't let you? I haven't had any success with Leah. What hope did I have with Jane? Maybe it is better this way. Jasper does seem to care. He and Alice may be eccentric, but their relationship is as strong and unshakable as Carlisle and Esme's.

"Are you saying we should give up?" I ask, because I'm not sure of anything anymore.

"I'm saying that you need to decide if you want to fight for her," Esme replies, putting her hand under my chin and forcing me look at her. "Because you're going to have to fight Jane herself, not Jasper."

"Why is she making this so difficult?" I lean back and shake my head in frustration.

"Honey, her whole life has been difficult, that's the normal state of things for her," she chuckles, but she isn't smiling.

She looks so tired and sad, and it makes me feel guilty. All my life, Esme has seemed so full of energy and light. No matter how tough things got. she always had a smile and positive word for me. Lately, though, she seems worn down.

"Mom-" I choke on the words, and reach for her, feeling lost.

"Oh sweetheart," she pulls me into her arms, and I cling to her like a frightened child.

I want to apologize for this, for everything I have ever put her through. She has been the best mother any child could have asked for, and I have done nothing but taken her for granted. How could I ever feel like she wasn't my real mother?

"Don't worry," she whispers to me, her fingers combing through my hair just like she used to do when I was a child. "No matter what happens, Jane will be our family. Not because some paper says she is, but because we love her. That's how true families are made, honey. With love."

I nod against her shoulder, understanding what she is trying to say. I breathe in the sweet smell of her perfume sweeping over me; it makes my inner turmoil settle down instantly. Everything about her soothes me. I take a deep breath, and pull back from her embrace.

"Thank you...for everything," I tell her, cradling her face between my hands.

"No need for thanks. We're family," she replies, still smiling at me despite the tears that are sliding down her face.

I hug her again, a little tighter. We stay that way for a few silent moments, until she finally pulls free of my arms to fix her make up. I watch her wipe at her tears with a tissue, enjoying how much happier she seems.

"A word," Jasper walks up to us, a pained smile on his face.

"Of course," Esme rises from her seat, taking a quick moment to kiss the top of my head, and whispers to me. "We're all family, remember that."

As she walks away, Jasper takes her seat and lets out a heavy sigh. His sigh may as well be a match, because my anger reignites in an instant.

Fuck giving up.

Jasper's solution may seem like the easy answer, but can he really help Jane? He's not an addict—he doesn't understand how easy it is to relapse. Could he do what it takes to keep her truly safe? I want to say that he could. I've always trusted him to be there for me when I needed him, but this different. This is Jane, and I just can't trust anyone to keep her safe. That's my job.

"It's not going to happen," I tell him, leaning in to make sure that he hears the anger in my tone.

"Oh really?" Jasper raises an eyebrow, and reclines back in his chair.

He appears relaxed, but I can see his biceps flexing under the edge of his t-shirt. Jasper doesn't like being threatened; it sets him off and can lead to getting punched. I know it's stupid to antagonize him like this, but I can't help myself. He needs to understand that I'm serious.

"Yes," I answer, turning in my seat to face him. "We both know that Jane would be better off with my parents or with me. She needs me to help her with her recovery."

"Is that a fact?" He crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head to the side. "How are you going to help her when you're busy running a multimillion dollar corporation?"

His question stops me mid thought. How does he know? Carlisle is the only one in the family that knows about Aro and the estate.


"Ed, I'm not the enemy," I sigh, and unfold his arms. "I'm on your side."

Edward gives me a look that makes it clear just how much he doubts that I'm on his side. He also looks like I caught him with his cock out of his pants, and that's making him a bit deaf to my words. It's my own fault. I shouldn't have told him that I know about Volt, but I had to do something. My nuts have been in a twist since that fucker Demetri called me this morning to brag about it.

That little parasite's hate for me, and envy of my relationship with Alice knows no bounds. He couldn't pass up the chance to get a dig in, especially since he knows how much I loathe that fucking company and everything it represents. Edward isn't that kind of man, no matter his blood. We have that in common, but it's not my place to tell him that, but I can keep Jane safe while Edward sorts out his own life.

To make matters worse, Edward has to push my buttons by getting in my face. Goddamn me if it didn't take everything I have to not knock out his teeth when he leaned into me like that.

Time out, Jaz, I tell myself. He's lost a lot in the last little while, and you knew he wasn't going to handle this shit with Jane well. I need to proceed gently. Edward is as agitated as wet cat. One false step and he is going to blow things up.

"Ed, I know you've got obligations. You always do your best to live up to them, but you can't do it all on your own," I try to reassure him, and place my hand on his shoulder. "I'm here to help."

"By taking Jane?" He shrugs off my hand, and stands up, pacing in front of me. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but this isn't your problem."

"Jane is not a problem." I stand up and stop him with a hand on his center of his chest. "I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, Ed, but I'm also not going to stand by and refuse to help my family when they need it."

He looks at my hand and raises his eyes to meet mine with a stubborn expression on his face. "I don't need your help."

"I'm not talking about you," I growl, curling my fingers into the fabric of this shirt.

"Hey," Edward gives a weak protest. Maybe I just don't care how hard he fights me, 'cause I'm not letting go of him until this sinks in.

I find a door marked Staff Lounge, and drag him inside. It's an empty room with a couple of tables and vending machines—it's the perfect place for us to talk. Edward is trying to smooth down the part of his shirt that is wrinkled. His face is twisted in anger and confusion. I never intended to tell him about this. After telling Leah and finally coming clean with Alice, I thought that I had finally put it all behind me.

"I take it you have a reason for dragging me in here," his tone is arrogant and condescending.

He's already starting to sound like them and it makes my stomach turn. The man in front of me isn't Edward, my best friend. This man is all about money and power; it does bad things to good people. I should know.

"Maria was a late baby. My mother and stepfather thought they were done having kids after my brother Jackson was born."

My voice sounds strange as I start the story from the middle, but there's no need to tell Edward that I'm the bastard son from one of the richest oil dynasty in Texas. This story is about Maria and Jackson.

"I don't understand. You said you don't have any siblings," Edward says, shaking his head. I can see his anger quickly dissipating.

"I don't have any that are alive," I reply, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. "Maria was willful and just about as sharp as they come. My mother had a hell of a time keeping her under control, but I always had a way with her. We were like peas in a pod."

I'm lost in my memories, the images so clear in my mind—Maria's sparkling brown eyes, her short, punk-style hair dyed in just about every color under the sun.

"My baby sister loved to sing and play piano. She would serenade me while I worked on my homework, and tried to tutor her, but she had no attention for it. Whenever I would try to quiz her on her homework she would start to sing. Her voice could make the angels weep with envy."

"By the time I was twenty, I got tired of being my stepfather's whipping boy. Jackson was going to be graduating soon, and my stepfather was impatient for his real son to take over the business. There was no need for me to stay. At twelve, Maria didn't understand what it was like for me, and I didn't necessarily want to her know. I escaped the only way I could, by enlisting in the army.

"When my little sister got the news that I would be shipping out for boot camp, she sent her dinner flying across the table to collide with the dining room wall, and ran to her room., To say took the news badly was a great understatement. That's the Maria I remember, to this day. She was a small, petulant firecracker that couldn't be controlled."

"When I returned two years later, I discovered just how much she couldn't be controlled," I confess, realizing that my nails are digging into the skin of my palms, leaving deep moon-shaped cuts. "She got it in her head that she was in love with this shitbag drug dealer called Ray. He got her hooked on meth and had her turning tricks for him before long."

"Fresh from the battlefield in Iraq, I was determined to find Maria, then hunt Ray down and kill him. Jackson, being the good businessman that his father had taught him to be, talked me down. He tricked me into staying at our mother's ranch, insisting that he would have a better luck getting information on their whereabouts. When I didn't hear from him the next morning, I knew something went wrong. The authorities found his body on the side of the highway, with two bullets in him—one in his head and the other in his chest."

"When I finally tracked down Maria, she had overdosed days before I arrived. They had just left her in a filthy motel room to rot, like garbage," I told Edward, leaving it at that, omitting the rest of the story.

He didn't need to know that I tracked Ray over the next year, doing all manner of unsavory things, until fortune put us face to face. By the time the Lubbock sheriff's department caught up with me, they had a pretty solid case for the murder of Ray and four of his friends. Nana Whitlock refused to let her last remaining grandchild go to prison—despite the fact that no self-respecting Texas prosecutor would ever send a white veteran from a wealthy family to the chair. She paid the appropriate parties, and I was acquitted of all charges; not an easy feat in a state that still actively sends people to the electric chair.

"After that, I hopped the first bus out of Texas," I sigh, and finally allow myself to look at Edward. "I left my family defenseless when they needed me most, and I won't do it again. Jane is family, our family. I will do what needs to be done, to keep her safe. No matter what."


I'm stunned and a little shaken, by Jasper's admission. We have known each other for years, and he never told me about the death of his brother and sister. I understand why, but I wish he had told me sooner.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," I say, wanting to move, but I can't seem to move from my seat.

"I didn't want to burden you with it, but I need you to understand that I am not doing this to undermine you," he insists, his eyes glistening in the florescent light. "I'm doing this to keep Jane safe."

I reach out, and put my hand over his, because I feel I need him to understand that I mean what I'm about to say.

"We both want the same thing," I tell him, and look him in the eyes, trying to will him to believe me. "If I get to her agree to living with my parents, will you be okay with that?"

"Of course," he agrees. "This whole thing was her idea. I agreed to keep her close and prevent her from trying to run."

"Let me talk to her and we'll see what she says, okay?" He nods, then his trademark smile spreads across his lips.

Looking at me through his eyelashes, he licks his lips. "Hey, Ed, you've got a pretty mouth."

"Fuck you," I yelp, giving him a shove as he starts to laugh, and I can't help but chuckle a little.


Ethan's staring at his notebook, like there's some answer to all this in the shit he's been doodling. I shift in my seat, wondering if I should just ask to go back to my room. This whole thing was a bad idea. Sure, it was my idea, but I didn't really think it through. I just wanted to be out of here, and I don't want to keep burdening Esme with my bullshit.

She may tell me it's no big deal, but I also see how she grimaces and gets teary when we've been in sessions together, when I'm telling them everything that's happened to me over the years. At first, I thought it would be embarrassing to tell them the details. Somehow, having Jasper here makes it easier; saying it out loud helps, too. I've forgotten so much, or at least forbid myself to think about all the stuff I had to do to keep me and Alec going. You can talk yourself into doing a lot of crazy fucked up shit when you haven't eaten in a couple of days.

No matter how fucked up my story is, Jasper never flinches. He has this weird knack for getting me to laugh even when I want to punch someone in the throat. The idea of living with him doesn't feel as pathetic as taking charity from Edward's parents. That makes me feel like I'm some stray dog that he took in and forgot about when left for college.

Today was the first time I've seen him since the funeral. He looks so different. I think he got a haircut and he actually shaved. Edward looks like one of those slick Beltown fuckers with his black suit and air of superiority, like I should fell privileged to have even a second of his attention. I don't know who the fucking this arrogant fucker is, but he's not Edward, or maybe this is who he was all along. Maybe Alec and I were just a pet project to distract him. Now, he seems put out by even being here for this meeting. Sometimes it really sucks to be right, especially when deep down I was hoping I was wrong about him.

"Hey," Chelsea walks into the room, her casual smile in place as she walks over to Ethan. "Did I already miss the family session?"

"No, we're just on break," Ethan says. As he scrambles to stand, his glasses nearly fall off and I have to look away from his awkward little display before I start to laugh my ass off.

"Jane," Chelsea says my name likes she's scolding a dog for getting into the trash. "What happened?"

I take a deep breath, and turn to glare at her, "I did what you told me to do."

"Oh," she sighs, sliding into the chair beside me, Jasper's chair. "They didn't take the news well, eh?"

"Nope," I answer, looking down at my nails and try to resist the urge to chew on them.

"I think that they just need some time to adjust to the new situation," Ethan adds, like a fucking ass kissing tool.

"What do you think, Jane?" Chelsea puts her hand over mine, and lifts my chin with her other hand.

She has the brightest, clearest blue eyes. They make me feel small and awkward. I hate how she always wants to look me in the eye when we talk, like she actually gives a shit. Normal people don't look you in the eyes when they talk to you. They look past you, thinking of what they're going to say next instead of listening to you. Or they talk over you, because you're just a stupid kid who doesn't know what she's talking about, but this is different.

When I look at Chelsea, or even Esme and Jasper I feel like they really sees me, like I really exist. The first time I felt that way in a long time was when I first met Edward. Now, when he looks at me all I see is guilt and anger, like he's been called on his shit and he wants to runaway. I wish it didn't hurt to see that in his eyes. I wish I didn't care.

"I think that I don't give a shit," I reply, yanking my chin out of her grasp, and turn to look at the floor. "I've made my choice, and Jasper said yes. It's as good as done."

"Then why don't you look happy?" Chelsea keeps pushing, like she's picking a scab. "This is what you want, right?"

I nod my head, but still can't look at her. It's mostly right. Living with Jasper is a better option than living with the Cullens. Deep down, it's not what I really want, but what I really want would be impossible, especially now.

"Jane-"Chelsea is cut off from whatever she was about to say by the door abruptly opening.

"Can I speak with Jane?" I look up and see Edward slipping into the room. He looks sheepish, like a kid sneaking into principal's office. For a second, he looks like the old Edward—the one who would let me stay up late to read in his office while he worked, or would let us watch R-rated movies in the TV room as long as we didn't tell the rest of the staff. I miss that Edward.

"Sure," Chelsea says, standing up to greet him. "I'm Chelsea, Jane's regular advisor."

"Nice to meet you," Edward says, like a stuffy old man, and shakes her hand.

"Ethan, can you give us a moment?" Chelsea gestures toward the door, and takes the seat he had been using.

"Uh, okay," Ethan replies, making a quick exit, but still gets in a couple nervous glances at Chelsea's legs before he leaves.

Guys are such creeps.

Edward takes a seat opposite me, and gives me a little smile. He looks kind of sad; for some reason, that makes my chest ache. Suddenly, I start to think about Alec. I can still remember my brother's pale face, red-rimmed eyes and knowing smile. It's like he knew how much it hurt me to leave him in the bed, alone. Alec was always the stronger one.

"Why do you want to go live with Jasper?" Edward's question throws me off. It's unexpected, because I've already answered it.

"I told you. I'm more comfortable with him, plus I don't want to be a burden-" He cuts me off with the shake of his head, and talks over me, pissing me off.

"Nope. I've heard that bullshit answer. Now tell me the truth," he says, giving me that stern look he always does when he thinks he knows what I'm gonna say. Fucking know-it-all.

"Truth? You wanna know the truth?" I can't stop the words from coming out of my mouth. He's being a dick, and he's making me think of Alec. "I don't want your charity. I don't want to be your parent's pet project."

"I thought that we talked about this, Jane. It's not charity, and you know it," Edward sighs, combing his fingers though his hair. "Remember when we first talked about getting you clean, about how you wanted a better life. That's what you can have with my parents."

Now he's done it. He just had to bring out that first conversation, but he conveniently forgot about the most important part.

"I remember, Edward! I didn't say that I wanted a better life! I said I wanted Alec to have a better life," I'm standing, and I don't even remember moving, my finger is in his face, but I can't help it. "Remember the deal? You keep him alive and I keep clean?"

The tears are pouring from my eyes, and I hate him even more for making me cry. He's not worth my tears or this twisting, sick pain in my stomach. It's got to be the withdrawal, even though Chelsea says I'm through it. These must be residuals. Edward shouldn't matter for shit to me, because I sure as shit don't mean anything to him.

"That wasn't the only deal I made that day, Jane," he says it in a low rumbling tone. His face is down, so I can't tell if he's angry or sad. "Alec wanted a better life for you, too. He never wanted the surgery, but he did want his sister to be sober and happy."

"No shit! I knew that and I went along because you were supposed to him make him better, but now he's dead," I spit at him. I curl my fingers into the front of my shirt to keep from slapping his face. "Do you hear me? The good one's dead, so you can just leave me the fuck alone!"

"No!" He stands up in front of me, and wraps his hands around my face. "I'm never going to give up on you. I love you too, just as much as I loved him."

I try to shake my head, but his hands keep me still. Where is Chelsea? Isn't she supposed to keep him from touching me? I can't look at him, not when I'm crying. Why does he have to keep lying like this? What's the fucking point?

"It's the truth, Jane," Edward whispers, tilting his head up to kiss my forehead. "I want you to live with me. You're my family and I'm not going to leave you."

I open my mouth to call him a liar, but all that comes out is this horrible, rattling sob. My knees start to give out, and I cling to him to keep from falling to the floor. It's not real. It couldn't be, because I never, ever get what I want. Even as I try to deny it, Edward holds me in his arms, promising that he will always be there for me. He rambles on about paperwork, and private tutors, but all I can think is: This can't be real.


Hey, Edward. How have things been? Yeah, that's great. Well guess what? You're a daddy! I internally groan at the lame shit I'm coming up with for the conversation I've dreading all weekend. It's Monday, and I have fifteen minutes left on my lunch break. I shouldn't put it off any longer, best to call now and get it over it.

I sit there and stare at my phone. Edward's picture is from years ago. His eyes are rolled up, and his hand is at a very limp angle. I don't even remember when I took it, but I used to always get a laugh out of it whenever he called me about something. Now it makes me want to smile and cry.

I've seen this silly side of him. When I close my eyes, I can still remember when he accidentally snorted beer through his nose while we were watching Jeopardy. I made a crack about Lord Byron being a stoned ass raper. Edward's face was a hilarious combination of shock, amusement and discomfort. He is so beautiful even when he's acting like a total spaz.

Fuck!

"Hey there," Kim's voice startles me, making me jump a little and I nearly drop my phone.

She slides onto the edge of my desk, leaning over to give me a motherly look of concern.

"Hey," I answer, pressing my phone to my chest like a dork. I try to give her a relaxed smile.

"You doing okay?" She raises her eyebrows, and watches me closely as I flounder.

Let's see…I'm pregnant. The father hates my guts, and is possibly dating my best friend. The only thing I can keep down is crackers and ginger ale. Okay...yeah, I'm about as far from okay as you can get.

"Sure," I reply, trying to sound light and carefree, but my voice does this weird squeak thing that hurts my ears.

Kim stares at me in silence for a few long minutes, before taking a deep breath and sliding off my desk. She's a mother of a teenage son. I have a feeling she knows the smell of bullshit pretty well.

"Okay. If you want to talk about it, you have my number," she says, patting my shoulder, then walks back over to her own desk.

The other girls are looking very interested in their work, almost too interested. I resist the urge to groan out loud. I check the clock. Five minutes left before the end of my lunch break. It's now or never.

My phone suddenly comes alive in my hands, buzzing and blaring Florence and the Machine's Cosmic Love. Shit! It's Bella. I immediately take the call.

"Yo," I say, surprising myself with how calm I sound.

"There you are!" She yells into the phone, making me pull the phone away from my ear a little.

"Yeah, what's up?" I don't bother to keep the irritation out of my tone; it does a good job of covering my nerves.

"Nothing. Just wondering if you're alive or dead!" She sounds exasperated, but there's a hint of laughter in her voice, and I am so thankful to hear it.

"Sorry about that. I needed to take care of some stuff on the rez," I apologize, and smile a little as she snorts at my shitty explanation. "It sounds like you survived without me. The apartment didn't look too bad when I stopped by this morning."

"You were here this morning? Why didn't you wake me up?" She sounds so cute when she's pouty that I actually laugh a little.

"It was five in the morning. I figured you'd prefer to sleep," I reply, leaning back in my chair, and stretch my arm above my head.

"Fine, you have a point. Anyway, now that you're back, we need to make some plans."

Bella sounds excited, like she might have something to tell me, and my stomach sinks at the prospect of what it could me.

"That sounds great," I say. I try to swallow around the giant, bitter lump lodged in my throat, and remind myself that I don't really want to throw up at my desk. "How about tonight? We could make it a girls night, watch movies and eat popcorn."

I need to deal with this, rip off the bandaid, and let her spill her news to me. It's going to suck to pretend to be happy about her and Edward, but I can handle it. We're all going to have to learn how to deal with the fucked situation eventually, unless he doesn't want anything to do with the baby. I dismiss that thought. If there is one thing about the Cullens, they do not turn their back on family—ever.

"Oh, um..." Bella's voice suddenly falters, and she begins to hem and haw. "Well, I kind of have plans tonight."

Plans. I bet that is a code word for date. Fuck, she's got a date with Edward, tonight. I think I'm really going to puke now.

"Oh. Okay, well, how about Tuesday instead?" I try to keep the smile in my voice, and swallow a small gulp of air to fight back the nausea.

"Sure, sounds great," she replies, relief and happiness in her tone.

"Cool. I need to get back to work. I'll talk to you when I get home," I ramble quickly into the phone and hang up.

I run as fast as I can, and even then I barely make it inside the bathroom stall before I'm throwing up. With each spasm, my body curls in on itself, and tears pour from my eyes. My heart pounds in my ears, but all of that is nothing compared to the pain that's screaming through my mind. Bella has a date with Edward. How am I ever going to be okay with seeing them together?

Once I'm completely empty, I pull a bit of toilet paper off the roll and wipe my mouth. As I'm about to toss it into the toilet and flush it, a size six Converse All Star appears beside me. I turn my head to see Kim's sympathetic smile as she uses the toe of her sneaker to push the knob to flush the toilet for me. Without a word she helps me stand and walks me over to the sink. I'm sure we look ridiculous. She's tiny compared to me and yet she shoulders my weight like I'm a feather. We stand there, while the faucet runs, and she looks at me.

"Remember, I'm here if you need to talk," she says with another one of those motherly smiles, and walks out of the bathroom.


Author's Notes: I would like to thank Chele681 for being my confessor and shoulder to cry on. Also, Kimpy0464 for being the best beta ever, and so much more. I love you Noodle.