A/N: Oh boy, this one just did not want to speak to me. Talk about bleeding a stone! But I got there in the end. I hope you like it, and thank you for coming along this strange journey with me - where I inserted angst even when I said I wouldn't. I really need to amend my original AN.
Unedited because I made you wait long enough.
Hope you enjoy :)
Hoodwinked
Chapter 36
Christmas day in our house always starts at 5am on the noodle with my parents cosplaying Mr and Mrs Claus.
My mother wakes me up in her stilettoed costume with a plate of homemade brandy snaps.
"Merry Christmas, sweetie!" she choruses my little brother who immediately hauls himself to my bed and proceeds to jump all over me.
"Santa came, Bella! Santa came!" he screeches in the enthusiasm only a kid has who still believes a boomer from Norway breaks into your house to give out free toys and electronics.
"Great," I make a half-hearted attempt at excitement, before I crawl back beneath my sheet in hopes of five minutes more sleep. I didn't get near enough.
Edward and I had a late one last night. After the Christmas lights, we came back to his house, drank a little too much, and exchanged gifts. Edward bought me a personalised silver necklace with my name, and because I have no way of making money—my parents refused to let me get a part-time job during my final year of high school—I made him an origami bunny holding a "get out of jail free" card. Meaning, whatever he wanted I'd do for him.
He wanted to redeem it immediately for shower sex, so we did.
Drunk Edward is goofy and clumsy, but sweet and sappy all at once, and I swear to god he doesn't realise his own strength. Or maybe I didn't realise it, because all throughout, he held me securely in his arms and half against the tiled-wall of the shower. I expected it to be somewhat rough at the very least, but Edward was gentle and he went slowly, and with the amount of alcohol we'd both consumed it took him a lot longer to finish than it normally would. I definitely wasn't complaining about it, though, because the sensation of Edward's entirely too flushed face and heated skin dragging over mine as warm water ran down and between our bodies was indescribable. Not to mention the sounds he made, and the fact that those three words tumble so easily and carefree from his lips when he's drunk.
The shithead makes me feel like I'm the centre of his universe; it's both incredible and as equally scary. I think I'm starting to understand what he meant when he told me I scare the shit out of him, because I realise he has the same level of power over me to inflict pain, as well.
I can still barely wrap my head around it.
We made a lot of noise, and I thank God Carlisle wasn't home. Alice, I can't say the same for.
It was such a high, though, and before we went to bed Edward made me drink a litre of water with two Beroccas, promising me I wouldn't wake with a hangover.
I didn't. At least I don't think I did.
"Bella!" My father bangs the wall beside the door loudly, making me almost projectile out of my skin. "Up and at it!"
"Ew, these cookies taste like shit!" Jake exclaims.
My parents' reactions are the polar opposite. My mother laughs, while my father almost has an aneurysm and threatens to wash his mouth out with soap. I listen to the sound of them fade back down the hall along with my mother's heels click-clacking on the tiles with my smile growing wide as I pull myself to my feet.
I'm going to fault it on the lack of sleep, but I do feel a little woozy. My mother's remedy is a herbal tea and B12, and by midday it's gone.
Lunch is planned for inside in the air-conditioning—it's way too hot to eat outside—and Mum goes to great lengths to decorate the table. I help her make the seafood salad, swaying a little on my feet when she starts divulging details about the red snap-crotch teddy my father bought her for Christmas.
"See, sweetie?" She pulls down the sleeve of her shirt, revealing the red lace beneath it and giggling.
Alice, Edward and Carlisle arrive right on cue, saving me from the agony of it.
It's not the first time my family's hosted Christmas with the Cullens, but it's by far the most awkward. Just having Carlisle and my father at the same table is intimidating enough, but with my father present, Carlisle essentially ignores Edward. Of course, Edward takes full advantage and spends most of lunch feeling me up beneath the table; something I'm sure my father is aware of.
Around 2pm mum shoos me, Edward and Alice out of the room. I'm sure she was aware of exactly how hot and bothered Edward was very deliberately making me. The shithead actually got his fingers inside the elastic of my knickers and I was forced to pretend I was choking on Mum's Christmas pudding while I stealthily elbowed him in the ribs. He likes to constantly push the boundaries, but in front of my parents, not to mention his father and sister was too much.
"Jesus Christ, Edward!" I burst after closing my bedroom door behind me and shoving him square in the chest. It's all a cover, though. My skin's practically alight, and he knows it.
"What?" he plays innocent even as that smirk of his makes an appearance. "Fucking hell, Christmas day is boring." He flops down on my unmade bed and holds out his hand to me.
"We're not having sex with my parents two rooms away," I pre-empt him even as I curl my fingers around his and move toward him.
"Sex on the brain, boog, or what?" he teases me, and sighing heavily, I allow him to pull me against him. "Your old man gonna pitch a fit with me in here?" he asks, bending his head to plant his lips momentarily to the curve of my neck.
"He might make an exception for Christmas," I mumble, expelling a second breath and going almost fluid against him. The flame he sparked during lunch is slowly dimming within me and I'm not exactly happy about it. It's just the two of us; Alice headed home to meet Jas without warning us when she'd be back, and I kind of want Edward to finish what he started.
"You're all twitchy. What's wrong?" he asks after I attempt, and fail, to calm myself against his too-warm skin.
"Other than the fact you tried to get me off at the dinner table?" I remind him, raising my head and quirking a brow, but I'm terrible at pretences.
It's something else he's aware of with me and probably the reason why his grin jerks back into place, and by the notable burning in his eyes he's definitely considering it. "Got a lock on your door?"
"No."
"Well that's shit." He sighs, laying himself fully against my pillow and pushing his hair off his brow.
"My dad's going to catch us in the act one day," I say lightly, reaching up to grab his hand when he attempts another assault on his already chaotic hair.
He hums lazily in agreement, his grin returning "One day... Coming over tonight?"
"You're needy," I tease him, trailing my fingers idly along his chest, but I have every intention of it. I'm sleeping with him so much these days I'm finding it hard to sleep without him.
"You know you want to," he replies, closing his eyes and groaning half beneath his breath. "Fuck Christmas is boring," he repeats the same sentiment almost sounding like he's drifting off to sleep.
He's just as tired as I am, even if I do have sex on the mind.
I'm seriously contemplating giving him a two for one on his get-out-of-jail-free coupon, because his Christmas present felt a lot more like mine.
"What are you thinking about?" he murmurs behind closed eyes, and I'm beginning to suspect he can read my mind.
"How I'm going to give you an encore on your Christmas present," I admit, angling my head to kiss his neck just beneath his jaw. He smells crazy good, but he always does. I inhale deeply and close my eyes, forcing my thoughts back to those early days when we were only "pretending". It's something I often find myself doing; replaying every moment we spent together in my mind as I search for clues that he had feelings for me. Feelings that, despite all my objections, were more than reciprocated.
He clamps my nose between his fingers, pulling my thoughts back. "Not in the shower this time, Bell. I woke up this morning aching all fucking over." He groans again, but even behind my closed lids I can hear the smile behind it.
"Not as fit as you think you are," I jibe him, clamping his nose in return.
"Stop that," he says, his grin now broad across his face. He squints open his eyes. "Why do you look so shattered? Wear you out, did I?"
"You wish," I nudge him wryly. "Christmas day starts at 5am here. Without exception. I had to get up and watch my parent's schlep over each other for an hour straight."
He chuckles breathily. "What'd they get you?"
"New phone—see?" Grabbing it from my side table, I hold it out.
"Spoiled brat. These things come in white, do they?" He takes it from me to inspect it.
"Apparently. What about you?"
"Gift card for a hundred bucks at David Jones. Yeah, the asshole really put the effort in," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "What the fuck am I supposed to buy with it?—a toaster?"
"Hmm..." I hum, pressing my fingertips to his heavily ridged forehead. "Want me to make up for it later?"
His smile once again pushes through the storm clouds, and he scoffs gently past it. "That's a given. You've come a long way, boog. Makes me almost miss innocent snotface." He tugs my hair this time just as I elbow him.
"God, you're an arsehole! I wasn't innocent."
"Weren't you?" he continues to taunt me, breaking into laughter when I attempt to knee him in retribution.
"You're just lucky I'm fond of this dorky face," he adds, pinching several strands of my furrowed eyebrow between his thumb and index finger, "or you'd be a virgin for the rest of your life."
I brush his hand away and prop myself against his chest. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Little Miss Sweet And Innocent, you can't even make eye contact with anyone but me. It'd take you a hundred years to unhook your bra."
"Ha-ha," I say dryly. "I'm shy. Shoot me."
"I'd rather fuck you," he retorts, his wit lightning fast and his smirk as blatant as it's shrewd.
"Do you always have to torment me," I complain, but he has a definite point, and I've wondered the same thing on multiple occasions.
Who else other than Edward could I be so intimate with?
"You were with that deadshit for how many months?"
"Nine," I answer reluctantly. I know where this is heading. Edward likes to constantly remind me how only he was able to break through my defences.
"And you didn't let him touch you, but I got you topless that first day when we were pretending."
"That was Alice," I cover pretty unconvincingly, but I'm not exactly willing to stroke his ego by agreeing with him.
He quirks a dubious brow. "Would she be able to coax you into flashing pencil dick your tits?" His question is rhetorical because we both know the answer.
"I didn't show you—shut up!" I concede with a flustered huff when he once again breaks into laughter.
Planting his lips briefly to my temple, he curls his arms around me and pulls me flush on top of him. "I'm only messing with you, boog. You know that, right?"
"I know," I mumble against his chest, because I do.
"Like this, huh?" He slides his pinkie finger beneath the small silver chain holding my namesake out in emphasis.
"Of course I do. Sorry my present was shit."
"It wasn't shit," he immediately counters.
"It was."
"Would you shut up? It wasn't, you pain in the neck. I like that you do cute shit like that for me."
"Still... Now that I've finished school I can finally get a part-time job—"
With a pointed groan, he grabs me and flips me over until I'm wholly beneath him. "Shut up, or I'll make you scream my name for your old man to hear," he threatens with a cagey grin.
"That's so fucked up, Edward," I say, attempting to keep him at arm's length and failing miserably.
"That's so fucked up, Edward," he imitates me, his voice muffled behind my flesh as he bites and sucks on my neck.
"Stop!—I'm ticklish!" I protest as I squirm helplessly beneath him.
"God, get a room." It's Alice, and she nearly gives us both a heart attack.
On a side note, Edward can move in bone-crushing speed when he needs to. He was almost propelled into the ceiling.
"Jesus, Midget, do you ever fucking knock?!" he snaps, sounding more rattled than he does annoyed. "We are in a room." Sitting beside me on the edge of my bed, Edward drapes a heavy arm around my shoulders, and I swear, I can feel his hammering heart in sync with mine.
"In Bella's parents' house," she points out for reasons unknown. "Anyway, look what Jas got me for Christmas." She thrusts her left hand out, revealing a diamond chip sparkling from her third finger.
It takes a moment or two before recognition hits me and my mouth falls completely open. "Alice is that...?"
Edward openly snorts. "Geez, what a fucking simp Jas is."
"What?" Alice questions, appearing confused by our reaction.
"Als, are you...?" I'm not sure I can say it. I'm completely horrified, and for several moments Alice only gazes at me in obvious confusion.
"Huh...? Am I pregnant?" The light bulb eventually flips and her entire expression smooths out in surprise. "Bella!" she declares indignantly. "Of course I'm not!"
"Well, why else do people your age get hitched, bright spark?" Edward explains my reasoning; though, he's a lot more sarcastic than I would have been.
"'Cause we're in love," she stresses as though it went without saying.
"Where you gonna live?—gonna shack up with dear old Dad?" He snorts, pushing his laughter only half beneath his breath.
"Fuck off—he was really sweet, Bells," ignoring Edward, she turns to me and gushes. "God, I love him."
I smile, but I'm still not quite sure how to take it. Alice is sentimental at heart, and it seems like Jas is no different. Still, her head's always been grounded in reality, so she's unlikely about to do something stupid. "I'm happy for you, Als. When—"
"I'm glad someone is." She side-eyes Edward and scowls.
"What are you bitching about then? Get fucking married. Just do me a favour?—when you tell Dad make sure I'm home, okay?"
"Funny, arsehole!" Her expression hardens.
"Edward, stop," I whisper to him reproachfully.
"What would you think if I proposed, boog?" he turns it back on me for his sister's obvious benefit.
"Uh...I'd think you were high," I answer truthfully.
"See?" he asserts. "That's a normal response. This fangirling shit"—he places his finger point blank to the centre of Alice's forehead—"isn't."
She harrumphs and slaps his hand away. "Why do you have to be such a killjoy? You and Bella have been together for what?—a day and a half? I've been with Jas since I was sixteen."
"I've been with Boog since I was two," he mimics her like the complete shithead he is.
"You weren't fucking—"
"And I've known the both of you since birth!" I interject in an attempt to head them off. They're both as equally hard-headed, and their battle of wills can go on for days.
"Obviously, we're not running to the alter this week. This is a promise that we both belong to each other." Smiling wistfully to herself, she thrusts out her hand, admiring her new gemstone. "You gonna be my bridesmaid, Bells?" she asks, her eyes not deviating from the front of her hand.
"Sure," I say simply because it goes without saying no matter what age it happens. We made a pact when we were four, and during the five times I married Edward in her backyard she was always my dutiful bridesmaid.
"Don't fucking encourage her, boog," Edward murmurs, pressing his face to the side of mine and biting on my ear lobe.
"Stop it," I whisper, elbowing him away from me, and it's at that exact moment that my father barges into my room, making Edward almost jolt out of his skin for the second time in as many minutes.
"Edward!" he barks out, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Mr Swan?" Edward gulps, his voice losing volume.
"Come and have a beer with me and your father."
"Oh, yeah—sure!" Jumping to his feet obediently he follows my father from my room. He turns back just before he disappears around the corner, and when my eyes meet his he mouths "fuck my life" silently to himself.
I only flash him an encouraging smile, before turning back to Alice.
"What's that about?" she enquires, sounding only semi-interested, her eyes remaining glued to her diamond. "They bonding or something?"
"Yeah, maybe. It's a good sign, right?" I play along even as my stomach knots. I hope to hell I'm doing the right thing, here.
"Of course it is. So, we're thinking in three to four years after Jas finishes uni and starts working. What do you think?"
"And you're sure you're not pregnant?" I tease her in an effort to distract myself.
She only rolls her eyes and extends her arm in emphasis. "I got the implant remember? It's good for another year."
"Hmm," I consider it. "Think I should get one?" It would be a lot less hassle than the birth control pill, that's for damn sure.
"Totally. Anyway—come on." Rising to her feet she grabs my hand and pulls me to mine.
"Where are we going?"
"My place. Jas is waiting for me."
I immediately hesitate. "Als, you go. I mean, you don't want a third wheel hanging around, right?" And watching my best friend and her new fiancé feel each other up is the last thing I want to do right now.
"Just come and say hi first—and congratulate him," she insists, dragging me from my bedroom.
I oblige her, because it's Alice, I'd do almost anything for her. I last barely five minutes before returning home, though. It's just as well because she and Jas don't even notice me leave.
I pass Renee playing with Jake in the family room on my way to the kitchen. It's mid-afternoon, the weather's cooling, and my father took Edward and Carlisle to the back patio; the kitchen gives me the best vantage point to watch him.
Carlisle and Dad are seated while Edward's standing, leaning up against the wall of the house. Even with his back to me it's obvious how tense he is. He's slightly hunched, and during the several minutes I watch him, he reefs his hand rigidly back through his hair at least a dozen times.
That's when I realise I've made a catastrophic mistake; with his father around he's way too on edge, and no amount of alcohol can relax him. Not that he's drinking much, at all.
He lasts half an hour when he reaches out for help.
Boog, get me the fuck out of this and I'll be your slave for life. He pleads through text.
Kay, give me a sec.
"I'm heading next door, Mum," I say for pretences only, and after exiting the front door, I deliberately wait a couple of minutes before returning.
"Back so soon, sweetie," my mother notes.
"Yeah," I say, sliding open the rear doors to the back yard. Edward's now seated in one of the patio chairs beside my father, clutching a beer between both hands and looking miserable. As soon I step onto the tiled porch, he immediately looks up and catches my gaze; his eyes are beseeching and I feel like a right bitch.
"Edward, Emmett's here. He wants to see you," I lie.
He immediately gets to his feet just as my father plants his hand to his shoulder and forces him back down. "Stay where you are."
My father shoots a glance at me then, his brow furrowed as if to say "what are you doing? You wanted this". The only problem is, because nothing gets past Edward, he notices as well. I can only watch helplessly as his forehead quirks; the cogs turning in his brain as he comes to the obvious conclusion. That's when he looks back up at me, and while I attempt to hide the culpability from my expression, he only shakes his head to himself, his face clouding.
"Bella, go back inside with your mother," My father instructs me.
I don't argue, and without a word, I turn numbly and leave.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I mutter to myself as I make my way toward my bedroom. I practically toss my new iPhone on my bedside table, and the instant I hurl myself to my bed, it buzzes.
Edward texted me.
Be honest with me, Bella, did you set this up?
Groaning loudly, I grab it, and laying back over my quilt, I drape my forehead over my eyes and contemplate bursting into tears from my own stupidity. I have to answer, though, and knowing no good will come from lying, I tell him the truth.
Yeah.
You're fucking killing me. His reply comes not twenty seconds later.
I thought if it was Christmas and you were over here having a few drinks it might make it easier to talk to him. I'm sorry. I attempt to explain myself knowing it's futile. Edward asked me to stay out of his relationship with his father and I disregarded it. I also knew what the repercussions would be if he found out.
Pain in the fucking neck. You've got ten minutes to get me out of this.
Okay. I'm sorry. I echo, adding a sad face emoji.
Stop that shit. I'm not fucking happy with you.
My repeated attempts to get him out early all fail. My father's having none of it, and so I'm forced to watch as Edward steadily wallows in anger and resentment. For the first couple of hours at least. After that he appears to ease up, but then that could be wishful thinking on my part.
At six my mother serves Christmas lunch leftovers for dinner, and forces them back inside to the dining table. While Edward's clearly frosty, he's nowhere near as angry as I was expecting. He doesn't sit beside me, though. He sits opposite, his eyes locked to mine conveying too many emotions I can't quite decipher, but at the core is definitely exasperation.
Knowing it could have been a lot worse, I only smile timidly and full of remorse and again mouth the word "sorry".
In reply, he only arches a very pointed brow, and turns his attention back to his meal.
Mum made Pavlova for dessert, and that appears to cheer him up fractionally, but after, Dad drags him and Carlisle into his man cave to play pool. He doesn't send anymore messages, and I don't even attempt to convey my guilt. I know when Edward's going to be receptive to such things, and tonight, he clearly won't be.
I don't see him again until it's close to midnight, and while it's obvious he and my father have only had two or three beers, Carlisle is clearly drunk.
Like Edward, his nose and ears turn beet red, and he has a smile on his face I'm fairly certain I've never seen.
"Thank you for inviting us, Renee," he says, his voice hopelessly gravelly and coarse before staggering over to plant a kiss on my mother's cheek.
He almost topples over her, forcing both Edward and my father to right him.
"Sure you're all right, Carlisle?" Dad asks him dubiously.
Carlisle laughs disjointedly. "Fine." Then turning to shake my father's hand, he turns to leave.
Edward follows him, but as he passed me he bends down and says against my ear, "Follow."
There's no anger behind it; it's completely neutral, but it gives me no comfort.
I can only nod my head and expel a weary breath as my shoulders sag with it.
Sometimes I swear I am my own worst enemy.
My parents see them off at the door. My mother, stone sober, grabs Edward's chin and kisses him. I want to say it was on the cheek, but it was suspiciously close to his lips. After, looking like he's slightly reeling, Edward extends his hand to my father.
"Mr Swan."
"Edward," Charlie reciprocates, taking it naturally and slapping his back. There's no more suspicion or distrust in his voice, I notice. It appears to be the only positive in this venture of mine.
Carlisle stumbles down the single step of the front porch, and without another word, he and Edward make their way toward their house.
As Edward directed, I trail roughly twenty feet behind and watch in the shadows as Carlisle stops, turns to Edward and places his hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he slurs, and sways lightly on his feet. "Okay? I'm sorry," he echoes with more conviction this time.
Edward only nods and releases an audible breath as his father removes his hand and curves it around the back of his son's neck. Edward glances back up in obvious surprise, and the two of them share a silent moment without words.
It only lasts what seems like a few seconds, when Carlisle squeezes one last time and releases him.
While his father continues toward the house, Edward doesn't move. He sighs heavily and then again, before propping his hands on his hips and allowing his head to fall forward. He groans, only softly but enough for me to hear, and as if snapping his thoughts back to the present moment, he looks up and catches my gaze.
"You," he says silently, "come here." Rising his hand, he motions to me with his index finger twice, in tandem with the words he spoke.
Lowering my head in defeat, I make my way toward him, feeling like I'm heading to the electric chair.
When I'm within arm's length, Edward reaches out and places both his hands to my shoulders. "There was a method to your madness, boog. It reminded me that the old bastard is still there, deep down," he says, completely taking me by surprise.
I look up, the shock no doubt overrunning my face.
"What?" he quizzes simply.
A sound bursts from me; one steeped in as much disbelieve as relief, and suddenly tears are stinging behind my eyes.
"Why the fuck are you staring at the ground again?" he asks, ducking his head to see my face as I futilely attempt to conceal my tears.
"I'm not," I mumble stupidly.
"Fucking hell, Bell, are you crying?" With an affectionate-sounding huff, he slides his hand to my jaw and coaxes me to look at him.
"No," I sob, hastily wiping my eyes dry, and of course he only scoffs, full of amusement at my expense. "I mean...I thought you were going to break up with me."
"What?" His brow immediately knots. "Is that what you thought?"
I nod once meekly and half shrug a shoulder. "Yeah."
He gazes at me for a moment, his expression almost serious even as a ghost of a smile warms his face. "Are we ever not going to go around in circles?"
I open my mouth to answer when he quickly clamps his palm over it. "Would you shut up? I'm fucking amped and you owe me at least ten." He winks, and curving his arm around my shoulders, he hurries me in the direction of his house.
I wish I could remember how many times Edward and I have had sex, but I don't. Though, I can recall how many times it's been while his father has been in the house: four. Though tonight, he might as well be out of state considering how drunk he is. His snores vibrate along the walls, even over the volume of music Edward plays in an attempt to drown the two of us out.
"You were angry with me," I remind him, my voice losing volume behind my bated breath as he pulls his hot, hard, clammy body from over me.
It's a conversation that began as we were both being consumed by the rising peak we were climbing, no matter how breathless and incoherent we were. I apologised, and Edward told me I had nothing to be sorry about. It strangled from his throat both rustic and smooth, and did nothing to hold back the desire that was overwhelming me.
"I was for a minute or two, but I got over it," he replies, rolling to his back, his lungs heaving; the heavy tempo of his heart audible over it. "Besides," he turns and plants his overly heated lips to my sweaty shoulder, "I remembered how you were always doing shit like that—running to my mother if you thought it was in my best interest." He laughs gently through his nose and reaches over to clamp his fingers around mine.
"No I wasn't," I insist, brushing his hand away and grinning broadly to myself regardless. I feel like I've dodged a bullet, and have vowed never to put Edward in that situation ever again.
"Yeah, you were. Look..." Pulling himself suddenly upright, he grabs the silver twin, hinged photo frame from his side table and holds it out to me. "My Christmas present from midget."
I sit myself up alongside him, one hand holding his crumpled sheet to my naked chest, the other clutching the photo. "Oh my god..." I whisper. The picture on the left is of Edward and me on his first day of school, with him looking cuter than sin dressed neatly in his uniform. While we were holding hands, it's pretty obvious I was the one holding his. I was around three, my hair was golden brown back then, my pony tails pinkie-finger thick, sat unevenly on my head. Edward's hair was just plain red, his wayward spikes somewhat combed down, and his grin ear to ear for the camera as I smiled up at him. "Christ, I was in love with you even back then." I chuckle to myself.
"'Course you were," he says as if it went without saying. "Remember how you grabbed your SpongeBob backpack and tried to come to school with me? Then you threw a huge fit and started bawling when you realised you couldn't." He laughs, the timbre of it soft and husky; the grit of arousal still thick behind it even as it dims.
"I followed you everywhere," I say more or less to myself, my smile remaining soft on my lips. It's true, though. I did; with Alice as my wingman.
The photo on the right is one my mother took on the afternoon of the formal. Edward was leaning toward me murmuring something against the side of my head. Probably about fucking me judging by his cagey expression. The two pictures perfectly contrast the fifteen years of history between us; from me chasing after the boy next door, to him chasing after me.
"Bell..." he mumbles, after pulling me back against the mattress and against his chest.
"Hmm?" I answer sleepily.
"Baby, you can't fix my family," he says, his voice softening further, and there's not only uncharacteristic rawness behind it, but vulnerability. I glance up at him when he quickly adds, "It's broken. It just is what it is. When you lose one of your parents, shit can never be repaired. Dad's fucked up, and we always clashed, even when Mum was alive. But it's okay, Bell. You can't fix it, but it's...okay," he reiterates, even as his brow heavily bunches.
I let go of an enormous breath, even as guilt continues to nag deep within, and press my face against the side of his neck. "I'm sorry, Edward. I have to remember to stop interfering."
"Nah, it's okay. I like that you do shit like that. Just give me a head's up next time, okay?"
"Okay," I promise.
"Kiss me."
I do, before snuggling back contentedly in his arms. "I love you," I murmur.
"Love you, too, now shut the fuck up. You and your shower sex wiped me out last night."
I draw a muffled breath on impulse, but I'm not sure he even realised what he spoke, so I don't bring it to his attention. "You're really not mad?" I put to him.
He groans loudly but the shithead is feigning it, and in response, I wedge my elbow into his ribs. He laughs; it's husky smooth and the sudden urge to close my eyes and take in the timbre of it overtakes me. "Nah. Bell, listen..." his voice lowers seriously again, and after expelling a long, deep-seated breath, almost as if in resignation, he continues, "when I was twelve years old my heart shut up shop. It was fucking down, and I was okay with that. The only thing was you were still in it. That's why I was such an arsehole to you. I didn't want to lose anyone else. Then seeing you with Newton... It fucking wrecked me. I told myself when you dumped that loser—and you would because you're a smart girl who'd figure shit out eventually. I told myself I'd stop all the shit I was doing and make you mine. Thing is, boog, I don't do shit by halves. You're mine now. Forever." Placing his first two fingers to the centre of my forehead he nudges me gently, even as emotion glistens unmistakably from his eyes.
"Forever," I whisper in return, before doing his trademark act of affection; I clamp his nose.
He chuckles and grabs my hand, bringing it momentarily to his lips. "I'm not going to say it all the time, so don't get all screechy about it, okay?"
"Say what?" I ask, pulling myself up on an elbow, my curiosity piqued. It's not often that Edward's heart spills open like this, and I'm beginning to think he's drunker than I first thought. He's always going to guard it carefully, though; even around me.
"You know what I mean," he says ruefully, tugging teasingly on a strand of my hair this time. "You know how I feel about you, and you know what you did to me.
"What did I do to you?"
"You hoodwinked me."
THE END
A/N: Yep, this is it. I'm gonna miss this one. Thank you all for reading xoxo
