18+

LVII

'You haven't been going to school again?' Charlie asks.

He's sitting at the kitchen island, bent over some papers and his laptop. The kitchen light shines bright, glaring off his computer screen as the keys tap, tap, tap.

I grab a tray from the cupboard and put two large bowls of pasta on it.

I don't bother hiding anything.

Don't bother trying to be secretive.

He hasn't looked up once in the whole twenty minutes I've been standing here making it, why would he now?

Part of me wants him to look up, to stare at me long enough to notice that I'm making food for three people, not two.

There's no risk of being found out.

Even if he did ask why, he wouldn't care enough to question my lie.

'I had a cold. I'm fine now, going tomorrow.' I state, pouring two glasses of water and placing them on the tray too.

I drop his bowl next to him, the fork clattering to the marble with a slight ring.

Charlie doesn't even blink, and I grab the tray and walk off.

That's the most conversation we'll probably have all week.

When I get upstairs, Edward is lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He does that a lot.

Has been doing that a lot.

It's been four days since his dad hit him, four days since he said those words, four days since we've had a proper conversation.

We speak, but we don't talk.

Not with our mouths anyway.

I've been waiting for him to say something about what happened with his parents, but he hasn't.

I don't dare bring it up first.

It's my fault after all.

We both know it, even if he refuses to know it.

Edward sits up and offers me a half smile. He raises an eyebrow, 'thought your dad was home?'

I nod, handing him the bowl of food.

He stares at me, but I don't say anything.

His frustration with me grows silently, his fingertips twitching against his thigh, a crease appearing above his left eyebrow.

I try to read him, but I only ever know half the words.

'So…he didn't notice?' He finally says.

I shake my head.

Edward breathes out slowly. 'Fuck Bella, can you just talk to me, please.'

I tilt my head back in frustration. 'And say what? You already said it Edward. Is he home? Yes. Did he notice? Clearly fucking not. What more do you want from me?'

Edward sighs wearily, 'I'm…sorry.'

His green eyes look so defeated.

I swallow at the sudden ache in my chest. 'No…I…' I shift uneasily, sitting on the bed next to him. 'I don't like…talking about…that.' I mutter.

'Then we won't.' Edward says softly.

I nod, taking a bite of the food and chewing slowly.

It doesn't taste of anything.

'We can talk though, can't we?'

My fork clangs against the side of the bowl and I lift my head up to him.

Finally.

'Of course. You can always talk to me.'

Edward's jaw jumps, 'I don't want to talk to you, I want to talk with you.'

My heart sinks in my chest.

What does that even mean?

'I don't know what that fucking means.' I voice, frustrated.

Edward slams the bowl on the bedside table and lies back on the bed, running his hands roughly down his face.

I stare at him, my fork hovering in the air for a moment as I swallow. I place it in the bowl and set it down, moving across the bed and straddling Edward's hips.

Green eyes meet mine and that's all it takes.

Our mouths crash together in a hungry, wanting kiss and I whimper, my hands tangling in his soft hair as he rips my t-shirt off my body, rolling on top me. He's already shirtless and my hands trail up and down his back, feeling the smooth muscle tensing under my fingertips. He rips my joggers off and flings them behind him, then shoves his underwear down, pulling mine to the side as he plunges into me in one deep, hard thrust.

We both groan and my nails tear into his back as he starts to fuck me. When the mattress squeaks in protest, he picks me up off the bed and presses me into the wall, burying his face in my neck as he pounds into me.

We fuck until both of us are shaking, then lie back on the bed, lapsing into silence again.

It's become our pattern now.

Talk a little. Get frustrated. Fuck. Silence. Talk a little. Get frustrated. Fuck. Silence.

Repeat and repeat.

We eat cold pasta and smoke a cigarette out of my window, then fuck on the floor. It's softer this time and our eyes stay on each other as we crash and burn.

Both of us laugh a little as we lie on the floor, breathing heavily.

My legs refuse to work so Edward carries me to the bed and pulls me into his warm chest.

I rest my head on his heart, listening to the steady thump.

His warm hands gently run up and down my back.

Guilt swarms like a tornado in my belly again, everything flying around and tearing apart.

'I'm sorry.' I say quietly, squeezing my eyes shut.

'What for?' Edward asks quietly.

My voice is barely above a whisper. 'For being…me.'

Edward cups my cheek in his hand and tilts my head up to his. 'Bella…' he sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. 'I…just…I lo…fuck.'

My eyes burn, the words slipping from my mouth before I can stop them. 'I'm so fucking scared.'

'I know baby.' Edward murmurs, kissing my cheeks as I start to cry. 'I know.'

'Are you okay?' I ask him, choking on the words.

He kisses my lips softly, 'I'm always okay when I'm with you.'

It's a lie.

The first one he's ever told me.

I add lying to the pattern.