A/N
If you're still with me, THANK YOU.
I know Edward is ... difficult to like right now.
Trust me with this?
—
"What the fuck, Cullen?" she bellows as soon as we're in the street.
Edward spins, his hand leaving mine.
"Rose, please, don't." I move to stand between them, pushing Edward towards my car gently.
"Don't?" she snorts, shaking her head. "Did you see that, Bella?"
I try to plead with her silently. Edward is volatile, she knows this, she witnessed it. Her anger is going to achieve nothing but more chaos.
"I'll handle it," I tell her, but she sees right through me.
"How?"
"I'm getting him out of here, I'll fix this."
She scoffs. "You think you can fix him?" Pointing at Edward, she takes a step closer. Edward tenses under my outstretched palm, his chest rigid.
People start to spill out of the house, like rabid dogs on the scent of meat.
"And what if he decides to hurt you, huh?" she continues, her eyes narrowed in Edward's direction, though her words are meant for me.
"Fuck you, Hale," Edward spits, taking a step closer. I look over my shoulder at him, begging him to stay back.
Rose's laugh is maniacal. "I'm probably the only one in there you haven't fucked." Her thumb jerks back in the direction of the house. "But if you think, for one minute, that I'm going to let her disappear anywhere with you, you better think again."
"I'd never hurt her." Edward's teeth are clenched tight.
"Physically, or mentally?" Rose asks, raising an eyebrow, head tilted.
Edward has no answer.
"Okay," I sigh loudly, "get in the car," I instruct Edward, placing the keys in his palm before turning back to Rose. "Rose, trust me ... I don't think he'll hurt me."
"You don't think?" she snaps, looking at me in complete disbelief, throwing her hands in the air. "That's the problem, Bella. When it comes to him, you don't think!"
"I need to do this. I need this moment with him, okay?"
Her cheeks hollow as he purses her lips. Sighing when Alice joins us, putting a hand on Rose's arm, silently asking her to stand down. "I don't like it."
"I know," I offer gently. "But" —I look around at the faces gathered— "he won't hurt me."
Her shoulders slump as she gives in, becoming increasingly aware of the crowd gathered around us. "You'll text me, call me ... something so I know you're safe."
Nodding, I squeeze her arm softly before turning back toward my car, hoping I keep my nerve.
"Please make sure Tyler's okay," I beg, before turning towards the car.
Edward's waiting, sitting rigid in the passenger seat. He's removed his hoodie, looking too warm, his hands clenched tight on his knees like always, eyes burning holes into the windshield.
I don't speak as I drive, navigating through the deserted streets. He doesn't move a muscle, the car eerily silent and too calm in the aftermath. I can hear him grind his teeth, but I don't say anything.
In the driveway of my house, we sit in the dark for a long time before Edward breaks the silence.
"Why is your dad never home?"
I turn my head to look at him, his intense stare now focused on the dark house in front of us. I shrug, because truthfully, I don't know. I've never bothered to ask him.
Turning to face me, he smirks. "I've thought about scaling the fence and climbing into your bedroom countless times."
"You have?" I ask, raising my eyebrows, my mind instantly conjuring thoughts of late night visits. Desperate to keep the tone light.
He nods. "Had no idea I could use the front door."
I can't help but chuckle, though its forced. "Climbing through the window sounds a lot more romantic."
"For who?"
"Good point. Selfish thought," I concede, pursing my lips. "Come on." Opening my door, I make my way toward the house, praying —like always— that he's following.
I leave the door open, making my way into the kitchen, turning on the lights as I go.
Edward does follow.
As I'm filling a glass with water, I watch him as he looks around the modest space, craning his neck to look into different rooms.
"Here," I offer, holding the glass in his direction; he takes it wordlessly, drinking most of it in one gulp.
His eyes seem to be clearing, the green bleeding back into the darkness of before, exhaustion taking place of anger. Whatever it is, it's wearing off.
Pushing from the counter, I nod my head towards the living room, directing him toward the sofa; one of his hands gripping his hoodie, the other wrapped tightly around the almost-empty glass of water.
"You can sleep here," I whisper into the darkness, turning on the lamp.
"I can go home."
I raise an eyebrow in reply and he drops himself heavily onto the sofa. "Will your parents worry?"
He snorts, shaking his head. "No."
"They won't worry if you don't go home?"
His eyes meet mine, he shakes his head, the movement languid. "They're not my parents."
I swallow hard, unsure of what to say. I want to ask more questions, but I know as soon as I do, he'll close himself off. My only hope is that he offers the information.
"I didn't know ..."
Looking down at the glass in his hands, his voice is quiet. "No one does." He chuckles, his nose wrinkling. "It's so fucking obvious. I look nothing like either of them."
The thought seems to anger him. "Does that matter?"
"Not any more." He sighs, throwing himself backwards, stretching his long limbs over the length of the worn leather. "I don't care."
"I'll go get you a comforter."
Leaving the room, I remove my phone from my pocket and send Rose a text, letting her know I'm okay and asking if Tyler is. She texts back almost instantly, telling me Tyler is fine, though his hose is broken.
When I enter the living room again, Edward's eyes are closed, one arm across his chest, the other dangling towards the floor. I can't help but smile softly; he looks so peaceful, so unburdened, like he's been dropped there. Unguarded.
One eye cracks open when I cover him with the throw, pulling it up to his shoulders.
"I'm too hot," he tells me, fussing, freeing himself from the comforter.
"It gets really cold through the night, you'll need it."
He shakes his head, looking childish. "I need to" —he sits, looking around and grabbing the waistband of his jeans— "take these off."
Rolling my eyes, I reach over to remove his shoes. "These will need to come off first."
"Good point."
Once he's free of his clothing restraints, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and t-shirt, he lies back, huffing.
"Are you going to be okay here?" I ask, fussing with edge of the discarded throw. "I should get you some Tylenol."
I practically run to the kitchen, needing to put a bit of space between us both. The boy on my sofa doesn't seem to be the same boy who just beat another in a jealous rage. The lines are blurring and I need ... a moment.
Taking a deep breath and steeling myself for whatever version of him awaits me in the other room, I return to his side, offering him the medication.
"Are those fun pills, or boring pills?"
I narrow my eyes. "Boring pills."
He sighs, but takes them from me anyway, his fingers brushing my palms, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
His eyelids are drooping, his head becoming heavy. I want to reach out and touch his head -he looks flushed, too hot. I almost brush his hair back from his forehead, snapping my hand back when I think twice.
"Good night, Edward." I smile softly, looking at him over my shoulder, leaving the small lamp on, just in case he needs it. He's silent, and I think he's asleep.
Just as I reach the hallway, his voice halts me.
"Please don't go. Not yet."
—
A/N
Thank you for reading!
