Sorry Long A/N Tonight..

I don't own these boys, shit I wish. But God knows I do like to have them play dirty for me.

I want to thank everyone who reads and reviews you guys are amazing. My alerts and being added to favs grows daily.

I need to give a few shout outs, I know a lot of you need something new and exciting to read, as a lot of our long time favorites are coming to an end.

So here are a few I found and am enjoying: FFreaderRW author off On The Roof- amazing writing her Jasper and Edward will keep you in awe and entertained and yes you will cry.

Also: Vampireisthenewblack author off A Madness Most Discreet- A wonderful story Edward and Jasper think they dislike each other but it doesn't take long for them to figure out that they don't. Love this story with a passion a very interesting read. They are both on my Fav check them out.

And as always my wonderful Beta Deβra Anne, have to thank her, 'she completes me.' And she tries her very best to make my sorry ass look good on a weekly bases.

Oh shit I nearly forgot! Thank you Jasper for reminding me, he smiles gleefully before rolling his eyes 'smart ass 'Anywho he wants me to remind everyone that The Best Part Of Me Was Always You has been nominated on The Twifestivals. for best comedy and myself for best comedy author and best new author. I don't get the comedy part, but Jasper seems to be impressed with himself. who would have thunk it, Hell not me for one. And I'd like to thank everyone who did the nominating I'm very humbled as is Jasper, 'well maybe not him.' But Edward is as humbled as myself he sends his love and thanks, as he blows kisses into thin air. MAWH! MAWH! MAWH!...

Now we are back to the main story people. And its not an easy step to take. The boys will have to struggle a little before they can totally get over the fucked up incident with Alec Volturi. So please bear with this...And I'm sorry if I piss anyone off...A few may not be happy when all is said and done...

So now go read and stop worrying...'Remember Jasper's got this.'

so lets go find out what Jasper Hale-Cullen and Edward Hale-Cullen have been up too:

I watch him sleep, cautiously and protectively from my perch in the chair off to the side of our bed. He's sleeping somewhat soundly - well for now anyways. As I eye him attentively, my heart breaks a little more with each breath he takes, just wanting to wrap him up in me and never let him go, wanting nothing more than to steal his nightmares and claim his fears.

But he won't let me touch him in his sleep. He won't let me comfort him in his sleep. He won't let me near him in his sleep.

His pale and now lightly bruised skin seems luminous as it shines under the filtered light from the dim street lamp outside our window. His brow is furrowed deeply and his eyes flutter from time to time as they play under his lids, indicating that though he may be sleeping, a peaceful and deep slumber, it is not. Then there's his glorious fucked up hair, all sweaty and sticky, fanned out and over the pillow that supports his heavily burdened head.

And even in his fucked up, heavily depressed,overly tired,heart breaking state, my boy is still downright beautiful.

It's been a month since the so-called "incident!" Fuck! I hate that word. And I don't think my boy's had a restful night sleep since. He tosses and turns, whimpering and crying softly to himself. Other times, hes scratching and clawing, kicking and screaming, most of the time waking me as he pushes me or whatever away, trying to fend me or whatever off him, trying to get away from me or whatever, yelling for me or whatever not to touch or come near him.

So most nights after having to desperately persuade him to come to bed and wait patiently for him to fall asleep, I brokenheartedly retreat to my perch and distressingly keep vigilance.

He always wakes uneasy,restless, on edge and angry. He does his best to overcome it and disguise his emotions. But he sometimes forgets who the hell he's dealing with, and that I've known him longer than he's even known himself.

God knows I've tried my best over these last few weeks to ease his pain, diminish his fear, and calm his weary broken heart. But he won't talk to me, and he pretends there's nothing wrong. He wont open up and let me help, and that scares me, because we've never held anything back from each other before. So I'm pissed cause everything I seem to do is fruitless. He pretends it's working, giving me a small smile and a tender kiss on the cheek from time to time, but nothing more. Nothing intimate. Our shower at the hospital and our sleep in his hospital bed that night was the last time I really got to feel my boy relaxed and close to my skin.

He has taken a leave of absence from work - well really Seth insisted upon it, saying it was necessary to his recovery and stating that he needed time. And as Edward yelled and cussed, Seth pleaded and begged, telling him it would be just a few weeks - or at the most, months - to relax and regroup. So after some time with them going back and forth, Edward submitted, and Seth released a deep sigh of relief.

I, on the other hand, was able to leave the pub in the trustworthy hands of Ben, just having to check in from time to time, maybe for an hour in person, or at the most a few phone calls a day. Now that I had given him his long awaited and well deserved substantial raise, I know he'll do everything possible and in his power to take care of my investment. Not that it wasn't going to happen sooner or later, I expected I would be counting and depending on him more when the babies come, knowing I would want to spend more time at home with my family. But Ben has always made it easy on me, picking up the slack and stepping up to the plate, and for that I will be forever grateful.

I watch Edward sleep wearily, and my heart hurts and breaks for him. The un-comfortableness that has settled in me scares me to death. I feel useless and worthless, unable to soothe my poor boy's soul, no matter how hard I try. I know he has a fear of the unknown. He keeps looking over his shoulder every chance he gets. When there's a knock or the doorbell rings, the boy nearly jumps out of his God damn skin. And when I hear the name Alec terrifyingly leave his beautiful lips in his sleep, I want to kill dead things! I want to rip things apart with my bare hands! I want to wish death on another human being.

But I know and have known that no matter what, that won't solve shit!

Don't get me wrong, Alec was taken care of in a way - well in Emmett's and my way. After getting Edward home from the hospital and putting his heavily drugged ass to bed, leaving him under the watchful eyes of our mothers, them both wanting to take care of him and show him some love and attention. Emmett and I paid a long awaited and overdue visit to one Doctor fucking Alec Volturi.

I rode shotgun as Emmett, knee bouncing, hands tapping the steering wheel eagerly, drove us to said doctor's apartment. I remember smelling the stench as I entered, repressing the need to laugh out loud at the thought that now Volturi was trapped in his own fucking hell hole, hoping and praying that he at least felt half the pain and despair he made my boy feel.

As I rounded the corner to the living room, I raised a questioning eyebrow at Emmett, and he just returned it with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick "Whatever." I placed myself in front of Alec as he sat in his own filth and sweat, slumped in a high back dining room chair. His head and shoulders hung heavily, nearly hitting his knees. I'm sure if we released his bindings, his weight would voluntarily roll him to the floor.

I eye him hatefully and with the utmost disgust, as he sits all slumped, shaking and naked. Yep! You heard me right - naked! Don't ask. For some reason, Emmett found it appropriate. I guess he felt the need to make Alec feel as helpless and degraded as he had made Edward, and to tell you the truth, I thought it was genius. The guy's a God.

Holding back the bile as I gag uncontrollably at his smell and appearance, I sink to my knees, grabbing him by the back of the head, pulling on his dirty hair, yanking it back roughly, as he groans deep in his throat. His eyes open slowly as a look of shock and fear show in his dead orbs, as I smile widely and evilly upon his face.

Yeah, Fucker! Be afraid. Be very fucking afraid!'

Rising to my full height, but still hanging on tightly to Volturi's hair, I use my entire body weight, and with full force, I draw my fist across his already broken face, not enabling it to bounce. As I grip tighter to his locks, pulling back again, I swing for the fences. Hearing the cracking and the sound of the slapping echo off the apartment walls.

I'm caught in a trance,wanting nothing more than to inflict harm on this monster, this freak, this asshole. As the animal in me takes over, I let loose, not giving him or his body a chance to react. Pulling on his hair, scratching at his skin and punching on whatever my fists can come in contact with. Then suddenly Emmett pulls me back, his voice hushed and low. "Easy Trigger! We want him to be able to drive his sorry ass out of town now! Don't we?"

And as I stand back catching my breath, my hands on my knees, my breath labored and heavy, I watch Emmett untie him roughly, pulling him to his shaky feet.

Ordering him to put some fucking clothes on, Emmett lets him know that if he had to look at his ugly, disgusting ass for one second longer, he just might be physically ill.

Volturi didn't say a fucking word or make a sound, and did his best not to make eye contact with either of us.

Emmett scornfully and harshly warned him that he'd messed with the wrong fucking family, and him laying his sorry eyes and dirty hands on Edward Hale-Cullen was like signing his own death warrant, and that he was God damn fucking lucky he wasn't dead.

Volturi dressed slowly, small grunts and groans releasing from his chest every so often, but as he struggled, Emmett and I did nothing but look on. Each time he fell, he had to pick himself up. Each time he stumbled, he had to reach and catch himself. And when he was done he just stood defeated with his arms by his side and his head hung low.

Emmett ordered him to the table, on which lay two neatly typed letters. Volturi picked them up to read them through swollen, squinted eyes. But Emmett snatched them from his hands roughly, informing him that the contents were none of his fucking business. All he needed to do was sign on the dotted line.

As we handed him his bag, jacket and car keys, he eyed us suspiciously. Emmett stepped up to him, in his face, and I watch as he bends slightly to look at Volturi.

The good old doctor did nothing but stare at Emmett's heaving chest, his own body shaking violently with the fear of the unknown.

Then Emmett said sternly and with conviction, "Your letter of resignation will be dropped off at the hospital today. You suddenly have a family emergency to attend to." Then reaching out, he grabs Volturi by the collar of his jacket before spinning him on his heels to face me.

And as I step up and stare at him with daggers in my eyes, I continue where Emmett left off, literally spitting in his fucking face. "As for the second letter. Well that, Fucker, that's your confession to the kidnapping, assault, and attempted rape of one Doctor Edward Hale-Cullen."

Volturi looked sharply between Emmett and me, his eyes wide and worried, fear tattooed on his frown brow.

"But don't worry just yet, fucker! Cause that card, we're holding close to our chests. Just in case your sorry ass decides to pay our sleepy little town or my God damn family a visit ever again." Emmett stepped away, releasing Volturi from his hold. And with that, Volturi turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Emmett and I stood and stared. Then looking at Emmett in relief, I informed him that it was time to get home to my boy, and as he agreed with a smile. He wrapped his strong arm over my shoulder, pulling me in for a side hug. With a playful wink he asked me shyly, "ANY COLD BEERS AT HOME, DUDE! I COULD USE ONE!" It made me chuckle as I slapped his arm. "Emmett, you're such a douche sometimes! I'm a fucking bar owner! Why wouldn't I have a cold beer in my fridge?" And with that, we both exited the apartment laughing. And it hadn't gone unnoticed that the fucker had done his job and done it well. The tension and anxiousness were gone. And it's because the guy's a God.

I'm taken out of my musing when Edward stirs. He's restless - twisting and turning, small moans and groans dropping from his lips. His brow furrows in anguish, and it breaks my heart. I need to fix this; I need to make this right. That's what I do - that's my job. And I'm racking my brain to figure a way out of all this shit. Cause it will break my heart if I can't or if I don't.

Jumping from the chair swiftly, I head for the closet, grabbing my duffle bag off the top shelf. I start to empty drawers - a few t-shirts, a couple of pairs of jeans, some socks and underwear. Rolling them all army style, I'm able to fit toiletries and a few odds and ends. Zipping it closed, I give Edward's sleeping form one final glance before heading for our office. I'm sure what I need can be found somewhere on the web.

And as I listen to my broken heart pound frantically in my weary chest, my ears hum from the tension. I eagerly set to work searching and browsing, the clicking of the keys and drumming of my heart being the only sounds to echo throughout the office walls. I pull up road maps and investigate accommodations, hoping my idea will work, clinging to the fact that maybe the space will do us good, give us both time to think, give us both time to put things back in order. And maybe, when all is said and done, we will know what to do and where to go from here. So as I print the pages, I map out my route, circle my stops, calculate my time... Then sighing deeply, I shove my findings into the pocket of my duffle.

I'm in the kitchen when I hear him enter, his heavy sigh letting me know his weary emotions are now securely under lock and key. I turn slowly, giving him the chance to compose himself. Placing a fake small smile on my face, I turn and gaze upon my bare-chested, barefoot, jean-clad beautiful boy. Shit! He looks so tired and unhappy, but still outright fucking sexy as all hell. My chest heaves, cause the thought that I might never see his glorious sparkling smile again tears yet another slice through my weakened heart.

"Hey, sweetness." I lean over, placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

He whispers softly and unsurely, "Hey, yourself," as he presses his flushed face harder in my direction. His body shudders under my touch, and I feel him melt a little into my moist lips. My brows rise, cause this is new. This is the closest he has tried to get, making me a little confused and overwhelmed, but hoping for the best. I take it one step further, wrapping my arm attentively around his waist, pulling him to me, flabbergasted as I feel him sink into my touch.

His hands glide lazily up under my t-shirt. I feel them shake and tremble as he follows the contours of my back with his fingertips. Once reaching my shoulders, he steps back. His eyes are dark and damp. His lips part as small breaths pant out to join the air around us. He gently tugs my t-shirt up and off, as we now stand bare chested - him in his jeans, me in sweats. He wraps his arms tightly around my neck, his fingers pulling on my hair, fingering my curls in passing.

I inhale deeply, and sigh low and hard as my chest tightens, remembering the first few weeks as the black and white pictures flicker brightly behind my heavy lids. It took a while, but my boy has regained his own scent and flavor back. His skin, once raw and ripe from the dirt and stench, has been washed and nearly bleached in hopes of removing his nightmare. It took some time to wash and scrub the remnants of his basement cell from his skin, but relentless in his task, Edward spent every waking moment for days under the scalding water of our shower wearisomely scrubbing and rinsing, and when he was done, he would repeat and rinse once more.

As my arms fold around him, I feel as he pulls his weight up and into my arms. Fuck! Please let this mean what I think it means. It's been way too fucking long. Way to fucking long. He tightly wraps his legs around my waist, all the time kissing and sucking on my lips. Our chests are heavy and heaving as my name for the first time in weeks leaves his lips in a soft hushed whimper. My hands cup his butt as my blunt nails nervously dig and scratch his jean-clad ass. He's rolling onto me, bucking hard. I feel him shudder and shake with each movement he makes.

I take this opportunity to walk us to the living room as I gasp into his neck "Fuck! Edward... Please! Edward... I've missed you so bad, sweetie... I've missed us... Oh God, sweetness!" His lips are everywhere: my neck, my cheeks, my ears. His chest's heaving heavy and strong. My name drops repeatedly from his moist lips, his hands grabbing and pulling while his fingers dig and scratch at my skin. The back of my legs hit the couch as my butt hits the cushions. My hands claw at his back. My sweaty palms slide easily over his roped muscles as he straddles me.

He's grinding and bucking frantically, his hushed, velvet voice whispering his desire, "Fuck, Jasper. I've missed you. I love you, baby." My lean fingers sneak into the waistband of his jeans, feeling his warm, supple flesh bend willingly to my touch as he grinds hard into my length.

His hold on me is strong and powerful. When I try to pull away, he jerks me back into him like he's trying to make us one, like he's trying to climb under my skin. His hands are eager, his kisses desperate. As I pull him into me, he pushes harder down as our engorged cocks rub deliciously in the most fascinating and overwhelming way. And because it's been so long since I've even got to make it this far, I can't think. I can't stay in the moment. Everything is spinning and reeling out of control. His fingers are in my hair. Tugging and dragging our lips, sucking and biting, the struggle for dominance engulfs us, overpowering us. The air around us is heavy and thick, dense and impenetrable. Our weighted breaths dampen and moisten our tingling skin. Sweat trickles like raindrops around and along each tense and burdened muscle.

Rolling him on his back, I release myself from his hold. My heavy, hooded eyes stare lustfully into his dark orbs as I watch him come undone. Chest heaving, abs contracting, wet hot breath gushes astonishingly from his wet lips. Nervously and anxiously, my shaky fingers play with the button of his jeans, wanting them gone, wanting him free. As I tug them loose, throwing them to the ground, his long, lean limbs fall, needing and desperate, off to the side. I take this opportunity to slide between them, my sweatpant-clad cock pressing urgently and severely down against his naked tight ass, wanting friction and release. As I roll and sway, he groans and moans, deep and heavy in his pounding chest.

And as suddenly as it started, it's over. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! God damn! Shit! And did I already say FUCK?

His hands are on my chest as he gingerly pushes me away, his eyes lowered unable to make contact with mine. And all I can do is stare in confusion and hurt. Fuck! Just Fuck this all to hell right now! And I'm unable to hold back my questioning whisper, hoping to all God that he understands and explains. "Edward?"

Once again, he's unable to meet my eyes, and it kills me cause he God damn knows how much I hate and loathe people who are unable to make eye contact, deeming them unworthy and distrustful in my eyes. I inhale a deep breath and repeat my question. "Edward?"

And as his sad, frightened, shy eyes meet mine, he tells me without a fucking word. He can't do this with me! He can't go there with me! It doesn't feel right to him! He's unsure of himself, and of my feelings regarding this whole God damn messed up fuckery.

As I stand on shaky, trembling legs, I straighten myself the best I can. My nervous hands and lean fingers run roughly through my dampened hair. My teeth grind as I tug angrily on my curls. My eyes fall sadly on my panting, weeping boy.

The chest that once heaved with lust is now expanding under his hate and anger at his own self.

Regaining my composure and praying to all that will listen, I kneel between his trembling thighs, rubbing circles on his smooth, soft skin, trying my best to ease his pain as I watch silent tears fall from his deep forest greens.

Bending to the side, I pick up his discarded jeans. I fold them and place them in his loose, shaking hands. As I lean in, I feel him tense, and my own heart freezes.

I tenderly kiss his dampened forehead, pulling back, running my fingers gently through his sweaty fucked up red hair. I sigh deeply, calming myself before I continue. "Edward, I have to finish up in the kitchen. ,Go take a shower and dress, and hopefully when you're done, we can sit and talk."

I watch as he leaves the room, his shoulders slumped, his head hung low. My heart breaks for him as my body yearns for him with every beat and breath. And at this moment, I'm feeling lost and defeated. My heart, mind and soul are heavy with the grief of losing my love, my one and only, the best part of me. And as I suck air deeply into my straining lungs, I thank God that Volturi has left town, cause if I ever get to cross his fucking path again, I'll fucking finish the job I had started. And even gorilla Emmett wouldn't be able to get me the fuck off him.

They'd have to bring the jaws of life - I tell ya, the fucking jaws of life! - to pry me off his fucking dead ass body as I pull him limb from limb before burning his God damn corpse. Then they'd have to use the big ass firefighters to stop me from dancing around the fucking flames so that they could put them out. It's my fantasy. I'm just saying let me be.

Returning to the kitchen, I set to work finishing what I had started before Edward sent me on my tail spin. I packed some drinks in a cooler - enough to get by on, I can always stop along the way if needed - placing it alongside the food I had prepared from earlier. If I didn't feel in my heart that we needed the space before my tail spin, I knew it now.

Hearing his shower coming to an end, and knowing it wouldn't be long before he came down, I frantically worked, rushing to get my plan in motion. Softly opening the front door, I pack my bike, tying all that I will need down to the back. When I'm satisfied that the cooler and my duffle won't be going anywhere, I grab my cell phone and proceed to make a few calls.

As if on a timer, and just having placed his breakfast and coffee on the table, and after placing my phone back in my pocket, he enters the kitchen. He eyes me warily, and all I can do in return is to present him with a small smile. As he approaches me, I tenderly wrap my arm around his slim waist, pulling him a little tighter to my side, needing to feel his heat and softness. As I feel him freeze, I tense nervously. My skin crawls as overanxious goose bumps curtain my entire body.

Kissing the top of his head and breathing him in deeply, I pull back and smile wearily as I whisper softly, "Sweetness, sit and eat your breakfast, and enjoy your coffee. I need a quick shower and change of clothes. When I'm done, maybe we can take a few minutes aside and talk for a little. Is that OK with you? Will you be able to do that for me?"

He nods gently into my shoulder as I feel him take a long, shaky breath. Kissing him once more, I leave him to his food.

As I'm showering and dressing, I find myself doubting what I'm about to do. I'm questioning my motives and replaying my plan in my head. This has to be done. I have to stand strong, cause I know there's no way we can continue with this the way we are. There are babies coming into this home within the next few months, and I'll be damned if my boy's not whole to greet them. I'll be damned if I let him stay unsure and uneasy and unable to give them the love and attention they deserve. I think to myself, What's that old saying? Children would rather come from a broken home than a home that's broken. Sighing deeply, I continue fighting with and doubting myself. He refuses to talk to anyone. He refuses to get himself some help, telling me that his talks with his father and our family friend Mel are enough for him right now. Informing me that my still standing by his side and loving him unconditionally, and the trust he feels in me is all the therapy he needs right now. Well, all I have to say to that is Bull Shit! God damn Bull Shit! cause the stupid boy won't even talk to me, for fuck sake.

As I enter the kitchen, he's at the sink, rinsing his dishes. As he places them on the rack, he senses my presence. I watch as his muscles tense and strain under his t-shirt as he brings his shaky hand up, running his lean fingers through his fucked up hair before he puts himself back under lock and key and turns to greet me.

"Hey," he whispers, his eyes darting nervously between mine. He knows I want to talk. He knows something has changed. He senses the tension and the charge in the air. And right now, I don't correct him. I don't take the opportunity to put him at ease. This talk has been too long in the making. It's about time we put our cards on the table, and if I can get him to listen and sit still for God damn long enough, I'm going to lay my cards out for him to examine.

As I round the table, I take his hand, feeling his warmth and softness under my touch, I sigh nervously and deeply before I begin, "Edward, take a seat. I need to talk to you, and I need you to listen and understand what I'm trying to say."

He nods as his brow furrows. I watch his bottom lip quiver. He's expecting the worst. And I get it, I really do. He's thought our lives through himself. I know how his mind works. I'm guessing most of his anxiety and confusion these last few weeks is due to the fact that he's been living in his head, thinking, rethinking, and over thinking us.

He sits across from me. Small pants of air release from his lips; his chest gently heaves under his shirt and his hands shake slightly.

I reach out, placing my hands protectively over his, tenderly rubbing circles on his knuckles.

He turns his palms under my touch, enabling me to entwine our fingers as I squeeze gently, giving him a small smile.

"Edward, I don't even know where to begin with this." My eyes dart between his stare and our hands. "Sweetness, my love for you is immeasurable. You know that, right?" He nods slowly, but I see the uncertainty in his eyes. "Babe, I understand what you've been through. I do. I swear, if anyone understands, I fucking do." His eyes are glistening with moisture as he chews down nervously on his bottom lip.

"So when I tell you that I've given what I'm about to say a lot of God damn thought, believe me please." A single tear slides silently from under his lashes, and I watch as it glides down his smooth cheek before being captured between his lips. His pink tongue comes out and catches it, and his lips tighten with the saltiness.

"Sweetness, we need some space - time away, so to speak. We can't be together, locked up behind these fours walls." His eyes go wide as it starts to sink in, but I have to continue. I can't avoid this anymore. It will be the death of us if I don't speak up and set this straight.

Rising from the table somewhat sheepishly, I fetch my leather bike jacket from the hallway closet. As I enter the room again, I watch as Edward sits with this head in his hands.

His shoulders shake softly as small sobs rumble in his chest. My heart breaks for him; my soul melts once more, cause there's nothing in this fucking world I wouldn't do for my boy, and there's nothing I wouldn't give him, and he knows it. He's just not in his right mind set right now to understand it.

Attentively making my way to his side, I pull him to his feet. He gasps when he catches a glimpse of my leather jacket. Now his eyes are everywhere. He's trying desperately to avoid my eyes.

Placing my fingers under his chin, I lift his beautiful face to meet mine. His forest greens are dark and damp. His cheeks are flushed, and his quivering lips are moistened as his nervous tongue swipes them after each unsure bite as his teeth pull them into his mouth.

I gaze at him sadly, my body trembling with emotion and uncertainty. Placing my hands on either side of his face, I pull him in, attacking his lips like a hungry man devouring them, sucking, licking and biting, pouring everything I have into our connection.

He pulls me tighter to him, his fingers now finding purchase in my hair. Our chests heave strongly as I wrap myself up in his warmth, and believe me, I haven't failed to notice that even though he's making small sad noises, he hasn't said one God damn word to question or stop me.

As I step back, placing my hands on his shoulders, I take a shaky deep sigh before continue. "Edward, I've packed my bike."

He tenses. His head falls heavily between his shoulders.

Once more, I place my trembling fingers under his chin and raise his gorgeous face to meet mine.

"Edward, I've packed some clothes and food - enough at least for a few days. I can't stay here like this. I can't be locked up in this prison of these four walls. I need space to think and regroup. This is killing us, sweetness. Do you understand?"

His head now rises slowly as his sad, unsure eyes dart frantically between mine, but he nods his head in understanding. Leaning over, I grab his denim jacket from the chair where I had placed it earlier.

As he stands frozen and confused, his body nervously vibrates under my touch. I move swiftly to dress him. As I button the jacket, his eyes fall, and he watches as my fingers work diligently, fastening him in.

He meets my stare one last time,and I smile tenderly in his direction. My chest pounds as my ears now ring from the tension. Tears are threatening to fall, but I fight them back. I rein them in. I know what I have to do. I have to make him understand and agree with what I'm about to propose.

"Edward, I've packed both our clothes." He eyes me warily. "Everything we will need is at this moment tied down to my bike. I've packed a picnic so we can take a rest stop." His eyes glisten in awe. "Sweetness, I've planned out our route, and I've made reservation at a beautiful, peaceful picturesque bed and breakfast up the coast, and baby, I want to know if you'll join me. I want us to get away. I want us to get some space between us and this God damn house for a while."

As I watch his dark orbs go from sad and unsure to overly excited in one split second, I take this opportunity to push a little further.

"Ya wanna take a road trip, Edward?"

And I'm God damn taking the wide eyed bright beautiful smile spread eagerly across my boy's face as my answer.

Thanks for reading, love hearing what you think, no matter what it is, good or bad let me know... so please review.