A/N: I loved reading your comments to the last chapter. Just to clarify something though, Bella was NOT raped in this story. I don't write rape stories.

To those of you who've sort of started to figure out what Bella was being so cryptic about regarding her past in the last chapter, Kudos. ;)

As for Bella, yes, she's half Latina, on her mom's side. Charlie is not Latino.

And regarding the Spanish…it'll be minimal, and I'll continue to try to make it easy to understand.

Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer.

Chapter 4 – Sign Up

EPOV

When the bell over the door chimes, Bella looks behind me, and I turn around.

There's a guy walking our way, dark-skinned, of medium height, wearing a black fedora and one of those short-sleeved shirts that are cut tight around the arms and chest to make it seem like there's more there than what's really there. His way-too-tight jeans should never be on any self-respecting dude.

The guy looks down at Mel, who's sitting on the bench scribbling away, music on so loud I can hear it from here. Then he looks from me to Bella, and then his eyes trail down to our hands - which are still joined.

He continues his casual walk, moving in behind the counter and wrapping his arms around Bella's hips before dropping a kiss to her neck.

"Que pasa, Nenita? What's going on? Sorry I'm late. Fucking dancers couldn't get their shit together."

Bella smiles, her eyes still on me, but the sizzle seems to have completely left those dancing dark eyes of hers. She drops my hand.

And since that's apparently how the shit goes, I resume my paperwork.

"I hadn't even realized you were late. I was just finishing up some stuff myself."

Out of my periphery, I see her squirming in his arms.

"You ready to practice?" he asks.

"Yeah." She responds, untangling herself. "Just give me a few minutes. I'm signing up a new student."

Ah, so that's what we were doing.

"A little late in the evening for a new registration. Isn't the studio closed for business?"

"We're almost done," she answers. "Why don't you go wait for me in Studio One?"

He doesn't answer, but I feel eyes burning into the top of my head, and so I look up.

Five months and twenty-nine days ago, the way this guy's looking at me would've had me asking him exactly what the fuck his problem is.

But five months and twenty-nine days later, I just hold his gaze steadily to let him know that I know he's marking his territory and that I couldn't give a shit. What the fuck would I want with a girl who openly flirts with a guy while already having a boyfriend?

Maybe I'll tell him what I'd want, I muse wryly, just to give him a reason to look at me hard.

But I've got Mel here, and I don't have time for any trouble.

"Let me make a couple of phone calls first," he says, dropping his eyes.

I snort quietly because he's not being fucking obvious at all. So I shift my eyes back to my paperwork, more than a bit pissed off at myself for all the time I've just wasted when I've got more important shit to do; pissed off that this girl just took me for an asshole, pissed off because the guy that I'm trying to be for Mel can't start shit with this guy.

Then I get to the hourly rate for these bullshit classes.

Closing my eyes, I mentally curse myself for letting a pretty face make me forget why I was opposed to this shit when I first walked in.

"Are these rates correct?" I question, because she can't really be charging this just to teach kids to shift their feet back and forth.

"Yes," Bella answers. "Melody's class meets three times a week for ninety minutes each session, so you just have to multiply the hourly rate by…."- she pauses to do the math – "4.5."

"Fuuuck," I rasp out quietly, calculating the monthly rate in my head.

"If you'll give me your credit card," she continues, "I can set up your account while you finish with the forms."

My fucking credit card is loaded to the max to pay for shit my lousy income won't allow, and now I have to add dance lessons to the mix?

I turn around to tell Mel that I'm sorry, but we're not going to be able to do this, even if her teacher is gorgeous, even if she can dance her ass off, even if she did flirt that ass off so I wouldn't catch on to how ridiculously overpriced her shitty lessons would be.

But Mel is already walking towards me, bouncing really, with a huge smile on her face.

"The form's all ready, Uncle Ed."

And damn, I haven't seen her this excited in so long.

With a heavy sigh, I take the form from her, pull my wallet out of my back pocket and slide everything over the counter.

Bella takes it all and offers me another smile – which this time, I'm not stupid enough to return.

"Are we almost done? We're really in a rush here."

Her smile falters. "Oh…yeah, I'll get this done quickly."

I tap an irritated finger over the counter while I wait for her to do her shit. Now I'm the one glaring a hole in the guy's head, mentally daring him to look at me because my anger is growing by the second.

"Uhm…" Bella turns back towards me, looking downright uneasy now. "Edward, I'm afraid your credit card was declined," she says really quietly. "Do you want me to try swiping it again…? Or do you have another one you'd like me to try?"

Despite the way she's dropped her voice, I can tell her friend hears every word because he picks his head up from his bullshit perusal of his phone and pauses, his back still to me, and I wait for one word to come out of his mouth. Just one. Fucking. Word. So I give him a few seconds to think over his next move, to see if he wants to keep his teeth.

When it appears he's decided that not commenting might be in his best interest, I turn to Mel.

"Look, Mel…"

"Uncle Edward, please," she pleads in a whisper. "We can use the money the State gives me from Mom and Dad."

"Hell no. Every last penny of that's for college, and you know that," I hiss lowly. "We're not touching that money for some bullshit dance classes."

"Fine! Then I'll ask my grandparents if they can help out! I'll get an after school job! Please, Uncle Edward!"

"You're not asking your grandparents for a dime. And you're twelve. No one's going to give you an after school job."

"I'm almost thirteen! Uncle Edward, please," she pleads once more, her hands laced together over her chin, the corners of her eyes glistening.

Damn. Damn.

Shit, hell and damn.

I draw in a deep breath and think through my options; what if anything I can actually work out here, partly because Mel's about to have a breakdown, and partly because there's no way in hell I'm walking out of here giving this girl the impression that I can't even afford my niece's dance lessons.

Today was pay day, and though I've been needing a new pair of work boots and pants and was going to use a big chunk of my earnings towards that…I suppose if I have to, I can make what I have last a few more months.

What I won't do is touch Mel's college fund. What I won't do is ask Alice's goddamn parents for help; admit to them that I'm having a hard time, give 'em an excuse to try to take away Mel. What I won't do is look up at the pretty flirt here and let her know that we basically live paycheck to paycheck and that her shitty classes are gonna put a strain on me.

"Do you take cash?"

"Sure we do," Bella smiles brightly.

And now the asshole turns around.

"No, Buddy. We don't deal in cash back here. The system is only set up for electronic transactions."

"What the hell happened to the value of the almighty dollar, Buddy?" I sneer his way.

"It got replaced by plastic, Homey," he sneers back.

I drop my head and let out a chuckle, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"God grant me the serenity…" I recite in my head.

A few months ago, I'd be lunging over this counter right about now.

When I look back up, Asshole and I glare at each other. Out of my periphery, I can see how uncomfortable the pretty flirt is, and I kind of feel bad about that.

But it's when I feel Mel's small hand wrap around mine, her fingers curling around mine anxiously, that I remember…

I remember why I can't lunge. Why I won't.

"Uncle Ed…"

I breathe in deep through my nostrils, breathing out through narrowed lips.

"So who exactly owns this place so I can settle this with that person?"

"I do," Bella says.

"We both do," her prick boyfriend clarifies, throwing an arm around her shoulder as if I'd just asked who owns her.

Before I can say anything else, she rounds on him, jerking his arm off her shoulder.

"Yeah, we both do, but I run the place, Eleazar damn it, and I say we take cash!"

Fuck, she's even hotter when she's pissed. Her dark eyes are fucking burning now, delicious chest heaving, hands angrily gripping those perfect hips.

"Listen, I don't want to cause a lover's quarrel," I chuckle sardonically, and throw an arm around Mel's shoulder, turning her around. "Mel, we'll find you another dance school where they fucking remember that good old American cash is better than credit."

"Uncle Edward, I want this dance school! Becca goes to this one, and so do some of my other friends! And Miss Bella is the best; everyone says so!"

"Mel…"

"Look, we do take cash," Bella repeats. "It's not a problem, I promise you."

I should just pick up Mel and carry her out of here whether she wants to go or not. I shouldn't turn around. I should keep walking.

I turn around.

Bella's face is flushed. "He doesn't run this place, I do," she smiles shakily.

There's an edge to her voice that makes me think she may be as close to losing her shit as I am. The way she looks at me…like she's pleading with me to help her make her point.

Meanwhile, her idiot boyfriend just stands there, scowling and fuming, but quiet.

"They'll take cash, Uncle Edward. Okay?" Mel says next to me.

I smile coolly at Bella and walk back towards the counter, pulling out my wallet yet again. I count out the first month's tuition and the registration fee, and hand them to her.

"May I have a receipt?"

"Of course."

There's none of the playfulness in either of our tones anymore. She prints out a receipt and hands it to me, avoiding my gaze.

"Here you go." She looks at Mel. "Melody, we'll see you on Wednesday, alright?" she says a bit too cheerfully.

"See you on Wednesday, Miss Bella!" Mel calls out, walking to the door.

I walk backwards to the door, keeping my eyes on Bella until she's forced to look at me.

"I'm sorry for any…confusion," she murmurs.

"No problem," I smirk, and then purposely let my eyes trail down her body salaciously, resting on her full tits. "I enjoyed every second of the…confusion," I wink.

Her eyes flash angrily, and for a fraction of a second, I feel like an asshole, but I turn my eyes to her boyfriend, and I'm not sorry anymore. This time, he's the one who seems ready to lunge over the counter.

"Take care…Buddy," I grin, waiting to see if he'll actually make that jump.

When he remains in place, I snort and turn around, whistling as I stroll through the door.

OOOOOOOOOO

With less than ten minutes to spare before the cemetery closes for the night, I'm full of grins and winks for the girl at the gate. After promising her that I'll take her number when we have more time, she raises the divider and lets us through.

"Un-fucking-believable," Mel mutters.

"Watch your language. I had no choice. I had to turn on the charm."

"Yeah," she snorts. "The way you turned it on at the studio? You're a charmer, alright."

I don't respond to that, and we drive silently through the darkened cemetery until we arrive at the side by side lots.

Side by side – even in death.

The headstones were just erected a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, it takes a while to have headstones made. I wanted to make them myself, but the cemetery wouldn't allow that.

Anyway, the headstones are nothing fancy or long-winded. Neither one of them would've wanted that. Moonlight reflects off of the dark granite, illuminating their names and those few words that do such a poor job of summarizing their lives:

Jasper Adam Cullen (1982 – 2013): Devoted brother, husband and father.

Mary Alice Cullen (1983 – 2013): Faithful wife, mother and friend.

Gone too soon, but never forgotten.

Gone too soon, thanks to a fucking piece of drunken garbage…just like me.

Mel and I stand quietly in front of the headstones.

"Do you want a couple of minutes alone with them?" I ask Mel. "I can go take a seat at the bench there while-"

"No, I don't want time alone with them. I'm not five years old, Uncle Edward. I know that they're not really here."

She's back to being the flippant, wise-ass I've been taking care of for the past six months; reverted back to her new, standard attitude on the car ride over here.

"It has nothing to do with being five or twenty-five. Jesus, Mel, talk to them. Let 'em know how you're doing; what you're feeling. Let someone know how you're feeling since you won't talk to your school counselor or to the-"

"I don't have anything to talk about!" she yells. "They're dead, and that's all there is to it! Stop trying to get me to talk to them when they're dead!"

"Alright, calm down. We've only got about five minutes here. Let's not waste them-"

"Five minutes to what? To talk to headstones that can't hear shit? This is stupid! I'm going to wait in the truck!" She storms off towards the truck.

"Mel! Mel, get your ass back over here! Damn it, Mel!"

But she doesn't listen. She stalks back to the truck, hauls open the passenger side door, and climbs in, slamming the door behind her.

"Shit," I mutter, raising both hands to grip the back of my neck tight. "Shit. Shit." I stare after her for about thirty seconds before turning back to my brother and sister-in-law. With a deep breath, I drop to my knees in front of them, hanging my head.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying. I swear I'm trying. What's going on…let me see…I think she's doing better in school…got an eighty-five on her last math test…so…you know…that's good. Been hanging out with a new friend; Becca, her name is. Rose says that's good. She should be making friends. Oh yeah, I signed her up for dance classes today," I smile. "She's really excited about them. I know it doesn't seem like it," I smirk, "but she is. She'll be taking hip hop classes three days a week. Don't know how I'm going to manage it with the monthly tuition and having to leave the AA meetings early, but I'll figure it out. Don't worry about it. Did Rose come see you earlier today? She said she was going to try, but you know she doesn't like bringing the little ones to the cemetery. Thinks they're going to have nightmares. Well, you know how uptight she is, Jasper," I smile. "You and I had to grow up with her. Al, Mel's looking so much like you lately. This morning, I looked at her and she looked just like you…she's getting so big…no, don't worry; I didn't let her out of the house in those jeans. Matter of fact, I'm gonna burn 'em as soon as we get home." I chuckle.

Then I chuckle some more. Before I know it, I'm full out laughing. I've got to hold my ribs from the force of the laughter, press down on them really tight because it hurts. I'm laughing, but it doesn't feel good, and God, when is it going to feel good? When is it going to feel alright?

"I don't know what you two were thinking leaving her to me. Seriously. I mean, yeah, Rose has three kids and an asshole for a husband, and Al, your parents are probably the biggest jerks on the planet, but me?" I swallow thickly. "I'm trying. Jesus, I'm trying," I choke, squeezing my eyes shut. "But every morning I need a fucking drink, and every night…"

I make myself stop. This isn't what they want to hear. This isn't what they need to hear. So with a deep breath, I fill my lungs with the night air and look up, staring at grey headstones and trying to picture their faces instead. My hand reaches out and touches Jasper, blond hair like our mother instead of copper like our father. Both of us got the green eyes though, the same jaw and cleft.

I trace his name on the headstone…it's not Jasper, but I see him. I do.

I see him smile at me, that lazy, careless grin he inherited from Dad I guess, because I've got it too I've been told.

…

"I met this girl today." He sounded so damn excited. I remember that. "She's got hair as black as ink, and blue, blue eyes, like the sky."

"You're in love again, Jass? What else is fucking new?" I scoffed, not even bothering to take my eyes off of the Xbox screen because Jasper and some pretty, new girl were nothing new.

"No, Ed. This is different. This one's different. She's the one."

"Yeah," I snorted. "Whatever. Hey, pick up the other remote and let me school you, unless you're too chicken shit to-"

"Hey, Edward."

I dropped the remote and turned around quickly, because that was a girl's voice, but it wasn't Rosalie's. It was sweet and strong at the same time, not whiny and tired like our older sister.

It was a girl. And she wasn't just pretty; she was beautiful. Her hair was so dark it was almost blue, and her blue eyes were so brilliant they looked like that glass you found in church windows; radiant.

"I'm Alice," she said, grinning at me while I sat there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot. And then Jasper threw an arm around her shoulder, and she looked up at him like she was sure that the sun would rise and set in his eyes.

She looked back at me. "Jass has been talking about you all day, so I figured I might as well meet my future brother-in-law."

"Brother-in-law?" I snickered. "Moving kind of fast there, aren't you? You don't know my brother."

Alice laughed, and so did Jasper.

"I guess we are moving fast, but you know what, Edward?" she said, "Jasper and I are going to be together forever, so why waste time? So yeah, little brother, you and I will be bonding."

And she laughed again, but even though she was laughing at me, I couldn't be mad. Not when my brother already looked so happy. Not when she sounded so sure that they would be forever; that their forever would last and last.

"Uhm…" I raked a hand through my hair. "So what should we bond over?"

She chuckled. "Let's see. What are you playing? Damn, I love that game! Move over, Edward." She bumped me with her hip. "Let me show you how this is done!"

"Uh…I don't think so. This is a guys' game."

"Yeah? You think so?" She picked up the remote and got comfy on the floor.

When I looked over at my brother, he was giving me a shit-eating grin. "Told you she was the best thing ever."

And for the next few hours, Alice Brandon proceeded to beat the hell out of me…

…..

My big brother and Alice. The only love story I've ever known - and what a fucking ending.

"We'll be fine," I tell them now, my palm pressed flat against Jasper's headstone, ignoring the moisture seeping from my eyes into my mouth. "We'll be fine. I'll take good care of her; I promise. Don't worry, okay? She's going to take these classes now, and she's smiling more, and her dance teacher is really talented and…so beautiful, Jasper. I wish I could talk to you about her…"

I snort to myself because I don't even know where that came from.

"Anyway, she's a bit upset right now. Mel, I mean, not her dance teacher. Even though I think her dance teacher might be upset too. Not at Mel, at me. I kind of acted like an asshole, but…whatever. I'm sure you guys don't want to hear about her; about that. And I'm sure that Mel will be ready to speak to you both next time we visit. In the meantime…"

In the meantime, what?

I pat the headstone with a callused hand full of dirt and paint, as if I'm patting my brother's shoulder.

"Love you guys," I murmur and then stand up and walk back to the truck.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm locked in my bathroom that night, performing my morning and evening ritual. The bottle is in my hand, fingers curled around the bend, tips tapping against cool glass. It's the last bottle I ever touched. The one I was drinking when I got the news. Now it's just a reminder; a warning.

Because every night it calls to me. Every night I bend my head to the dark god in the bottle and sit there, begging it not to take me, craving a fucking taste so badly it physically hurts because there's never anything I want more than a taste.

The thing is, as I sit there staring at the clear liquid sloshing inside the bottle, for the first time in a long time, it's not the taste of the white liquid in the bottle at the forefront. It's not an image of that bottle raised to my mouth that fills my mind the most.

It's dark hair…and dark eyes…honey skin…a beautiful grin…spinning…and swaying…

A/N: Thoughts?

TRANSLATION:

Que pasa, Nenita? – What's going on, Girl?

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