A/N: ***PLEASE READ***

I don't give away plot spoilers, but I just need to clear something up: Eli DOES NOT know that Edward is part of the crew working on his property. He didn't request the pipe change just to mess with Edward, but because he's just generally an asshole. I just wanted to clear that up.

Alright, thanks so much for the reviews guys. You all have no idea how much I enjoy reading them.

This was thrice-betad (LOL) by Michelle Renker Rhodes, who's a saint to put up with me. :)

Most characters belong to S. Meyer.

Chapter 9 – Let Me In

BPOV

"Ay, Bendito, I think I need a cigarette and a change of panties!"

It's the day after the latest epic disaster between Mel's Uncle Edward and me, and I'm filling in Angie on all the sordid details.

"Ay, que papi mas chulo!" she fans herself. (What a hot daddy).

Apparently, Angie sees the scene very differently from the way I see it.

"It's not funny," I scowl, shoving her hard and almost knocking her off her chair.

"You're right; it's not. It's hot as fuck is what it is," she chuckles. "Chica, it sounds like you were one point five seconds away from being slammed against that truck and tongued down to within an inch of your life!"

I roll my eyes. "He wasn't going to tongue me down, Angie. He was too busy letting me know that I need to mind my own business."

"Mmhmm," she purses her red lips. "Tell me again what he did when you told him he wasn't listening to you," she pleads eagerly.

"I told you, he grabbed my face in his hands." I frown as I say it, but a shiver runs through me from the top of my chest right down to where my belly meets my ovaries.

"And what did you do?" she questions, even though I already told her.

"Well, he grabbed me so I had to grab him," I reply defensively. "I fisted his shirt tight in my hands," I whisper, "and held him hard because he was holding me hard…and then…he locked me in his gaze so I had to lock him in my gaze…" I breathe, unable to keep at bay the memory of how intense his eyes looked…how hard his abs felt against my knuckles, the heat of his chest so close to mine…

Angie leans in and wipes off the left edge of my mouth with two fingers.

"What are you doing?" I hiss.

"Just wiping off some drool," she says casually, and then breaks out into hysterical fits when I push her again.

"Nena, that right there is called foreplay. Trust me, next time that man gets you alone, he'll be grabbing a lot more than your face, and you'll be fisting a lot more than his shirt."

"Vete p'al carajo." Go to hell.

"Ooh, the Spanish is coming out!" Angie giggles. "When the Spanish comes out, that means that Bellita is hot and bothered! How 'bout you curse out Papi Chulo in Spanish next time; that should help move things along."

"You know, you're supposed to be my best friend, but you're really not helping me here."

She continues her chortles for a few more seconds, but then sobers up. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Look, seriously, Bella? He's a guy. Guys don't know how to fucking communicate unless you drag the words out of them. Next time you speak to him-"

"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "He dissed me, Angie! Not only did he assume that Eli was my boyfriend, but he implied that he gave me what I have!"

"Well, that was shitty of him, I agree," Angie concurs, yet while I'm nodding smugly she adds, "but…you never cleared up that boyfriend situation after Eli got handsy with you in front of him a few weeks ago,"

"Fine! But he also said-"

"And…" – she leans forward – "while he shouldn't have said that, you also assumed that the Puta Plastica was his girlfriend…"

"Because that's what she said!"

"Oh yeah, and she's obviously real trustworthy," Angie snorts, leaning back against her chair. "Besides, you dissed him right back by calling him an irresponsible, fucking uncle."

More than a prickle of shame runs through me when I recall those words, making my shoulders sag under the heavy weight of remorse.

"All I wanted to tell him was that we needed to figure out something regarding Mel. I just wanted to help. I don't know how it got so…heated."

Angie reaches out and smooths back my hair, running her fingers through its length. "It got heated because there's obviously a whole lot of fire burning between you two and neither one of you knows how to handle it. Look, Bellita, take a few days to calm down, and give him a few days to calm down. Then talk, for real."

I draw in a lungful of frustrated breaths while I consider Angie's advice.

"Alright, but I swear to God, if he disses me one more time-"

"Then you grab his face and tongue him down to within an inch of his life. That ought to shut him up," Angie snickers.

OOOOOOOOOO

On Wednesday, Mel gets picked up by Heidi again. The Puta Plastica may not be Edward's girlfriend, but she's obviously someone close enough to him that he entrusts her with the care of his niece. She knows things about him, about both Mel and Edward that apparently I have no right to know.

On Friday, Heidi is late, so Mel and I fall into what's become our routine over the past few weeks.

"Alright, Princesa, now when I move my right foot forward, you move your left foot back, and when I move my left foot forward, you move your right foot back. So basically, just copy what I do with my feet; keep your hands on my hips, and swing'em to the beat the way I do. Got it?"

"Yeah," she grins.

I hit play on the remote, and when Marc Anthony starts crooning in that velvety voice of his, trumpets, violins and bongos all purring and throbbing in the background, I move my right foot forward and her left foot follows. Guiding her hips back and forth, Mel and I spin and sway until she starts getting a feel for it and moves on her own.

"Don't just count the steps, Princesa, feel the music. There you go!"

"I'm almost as good as you!" she jokes.

"Almost," I smirk.

Soon, the music takes over, and we're singing out loud while we move around the room. She's got rhythm; she really does because real rhythm isn't something that can be taught. You either feel the music in your bones, or you just memorize the steps.

So she's singing out unintelligible gibberish because she doesn't know a lick of Spanish. Then we switch over to tap and jazz and Chicago, and then to ballet and Tchaikovsky and she says she wishes she could take ballet lessons too, and I promise her that I'll give her ballet lessons, just she and I. And she gives me this…really great grin.

"You're a great teacher, Miss Bella."

"That's only because you're such a good student, Miss Melody," I tease her. "And you've got rhythm. Who'd you get it from, your mom or dad?"

And just like that, Mel stops dancing. She shrugs and turns her back to me, walking away, but the room is full of mirrors, so I clearly see the sudden pain in her beautiful features.

"Mel?"

"I'm tired," she says tightly. "When is my uncle's stupid fuck buddy going to get here already?"

I'm startled into silence by the complete and drastic change in Mel, as well as the language that's erupted – and yes, this clarification for Heidi's role in Edward's life shocks me as well. For a few seconds, I can't respond. But apparently Mel isn't done.

"She's probably pissed off at him or something. That's why she's so late. She wants to be his girlfriend, but my uncle's not about that life. He tells his friend Emmett that he doesn't have time for-"

"Mel," I say quickly, recovering my speech, "that's enough. I can tell that you're upset right now, but the language has to stop as well as the extra information about your uncle. Whatever the situation is, it's your uncle's business, and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate you discussing it."

She shrugs while her back is still turned towards me, but I see her through the mirror. I see her bottom lip start to tremble, and I see the first tears fall before I can rush over to her. When I do, I wrap her in my arms.

"Oh, Princesa," I tell her, running my hand down her long, beautiful hair. "It'll be okay, Sweetie. It really will." But she cries on and on, shaking her head while my own eyes sting something fierce.

"Mel…do you want to talk about it, Honey?" I murmur.

She keeps shaking her head. "No," she says shakily. "I just want to go home. I want to go home."

"Okay. Okay," I agree patiently, only I get the feeling the home she's referring to isn't actually one she can go back to anymore.

When I glance up at the clock again and realize how late it's gotten, I'm pretty sure that Edward's fuck buddy isn't coming at all tonight.

"Look, do you want to come home with me? You can call your uncle and let him know that his fu-, uhm…friend was a no show and that he can pick you up at my place," I offer.

She stops crying and looks up at me through those sky blue eyes of hers, full of more sadness than a girl her age should ever have, and at that moment I vow that no matter what, no matter how much her uncle tries to push me away, I'll do whatever I can to help ease that sadness.

She nods. "Okay, that sounds like a good idea, but Uncle Ed had to work pretty late tonight. I'm not sure what time he'll be able to come get me."

"It's okay," I smile softly. "I'll make you some dinner, and then we can hang out and watch TV and just…talk. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," she smiles a bit wider.

"Good. Go get your phone, and give your uncle a call."

She walks over to her bag to retrieve her phone, and I let out a few uneven sighs because here I am, back to square one, sticking my nose where it apparently doesn't belong. But it's as if I have no choice. No matter what he says, I have to be here for her, and I can't help feeling upset and…irrationally hurt by the fact that he'll trust Mel to her, to a woman who can't even be relied on to pick up Mel when she's supposed to, yet he refuses to even give me a chance?

Full of indignation and sudden nerve, I reach for my own phone.

"Actually, Mel, give me your uncle's number and I'll text him, okay? You just get your stuff together and do me a favor by locking all the studio doors. The keys are out on the counter."

"Okay," she smiles, and I smile back at her while she calls off her uncle's phone number for me, and then I compose my text to dear old Uncle Edward:

Your fuck buddy was a no show again. I'm taking Mel home with me. 356 Montague, Apt 2B. When you're ready, that's where we'll be.

A bit petulant? Maybe, but fuck it, he was a real asshole the other day. With a deep inhalation, I go ahead and hit send before I can chicken the hell out. Despite what Angie says, I do have big balls.

Sometimes.

OOOOOOOOOO

Okay, thanks.

That's the two word response I receive from Edward letting me know he received my text.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Wow!" Mel exclaims, turning around in a circle and taking in my space. "This is so cool!"

Her mood has shifted again on the way over here. I've made a mental note to give Sue a big hug next time I see her because if my teenage mood swings were anything like Mel's at that age…man oh man.

"You like it? It's an old, converted warehouse. They used to make toys here two decades ago!"

She chuckles while her eyes sweep over the loft. It's really just one huge space with red and brown exposed brick walls and wood floors. I've got the kitchen in one corner, the bedroom off to the back in another, and my living space is right in the middle. Right before the bedroom is a spiral staircase with no banisters that leads up to a walkway that leads to another smaller, loft area. It can be a bedroom too, I suppose, though right now I just use it as storage space: dance shoes, costumes for the comp classes, props and such. My talents don't lie in decorating or interior design, so I haven't really done much to this place in the couple of years I've been living here.

"Make yourself comfy, Princesa," I offer, jerking my chin towards the black sectional. "Or you can come help me get a quick dinner ready?"

"I'll help you," she smiles.

So I teach Mel how to cook rice and season beans, and half an hour later, we're eating them both with a roast chicken I picked up on our way home. And Mel is scarfing it down as usual.

"I think white rice and pink beans are may favorite food now," she says in between mouthfuls.

"Spoken like a true Puerto Rican," I grin with a wink. "We'll have to make you an honorary island girl."

She laughs.

After dinner, we wash the dishes together, just talking and stuff.

"I love the way those pants and that shirt look on you, Miss Bella. I wanted to wear an outfit like that to school the other day, but Uncle Ed wasn't having it. He's such a pain in the ass sometimes."

I'm wearing yoga pants and a cropped tank top, so yeah, I kind of see Edward's point of view here.

"That's because you're twelve."

"I'm almost-"

"You're twelve," I cut her off. "I'm twenty-four. My father wouldn't have let me out of the house like this at your age either; or at thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen or seventeen. And I don't dress like this to take a walk around the neighborhood," I chuckle.

"Well, Uncle Edward's not my father."

Something's happening here. The anger mixed with pain is back in her expression. It almost feels like a test; like she's struggling to let me in somewhere, but she's not sure how, and there's an entrance exam that'll determine whether I'm allowed in or not.

I think back to the way her uncle talks to me with that same uncertainty, that same struggle, that same cockiness that sometimes borders on disrespect, and Jesus, I still have no idea what their situation is or why Mel never mentions her parents, ever. They're dead, I'm pretty sure of that, but she's never actually said so.

Why is it so hard for them to let me in?

Regardless, respect is respect. Mel needs to learn that.

"No, he's not your father, but he's your uncle and your guardian, so you have to listen to him because he's just trying to do what's best for you. There's no reason why at your age you should be showing skin in school."

She's silent for a few seconds, her pretty face impassive, but then she gives me a small, tight nod.

After the dishes have been taken care of, we sit and watch TV for a while, but then Mel starts yawning.

"Tired, Princesa?"

"Yeah," she confirms languidly, stretching her arms over her head. "I still have to study for a test when I get home. I didn't bring my books to the studio because I figured Heidi would be picking me up early."

I can't help frowning. Fucking plastic bitch. And damn Edward too.

"Is it anything you can look up online?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I guess. Polynomials and shit."

I raise a brow.

"Sorry," she says sheepishly. "I meant Polynomials and stuff."

"Well, why don't you use my lap top, and at least get some studying done that way? Then when you get home later, you won't have so much to do."

So Mel ends up lying across the sofa on her stomach, studying polynomials and shit – excuse me: stuff - on my lap top while we sort of watch TV in between and eat baked plantain chips from the bag. She's got her feet on my lap, and we're both pretty comfy while we watch Adam Levine, and I tell her that I'm going to meet him someday.

"You're so lucky," she says as if the statement I've just made is an actual fact. "Can you introduce me?"

"Sure, and I'll introduce you to Beyonce too...and to J. Lo. I'm going to dance for them. Well, that is, while I wait for one of the Rockettes to be up for replacement." I laugh and look at Mel.

Her head is down over the laptop, jet black hair curtaining her entire face while she snores quietly. I lean forward and swipe her hair out of the way, so she can breathe properly and then carefully remove the laptop from under her, laying her head on the couch. Then I cover her with the throw hanging over the back of the couch. She curls up, and I mute the TV volume, resuming my munching while we wait for Mel's uncle.

OOOOOOOOOO

When the doorbell finally rings, the bag of chips flies out of my hands, spilling all over the floor, and I curse myself internally as I walk to the door.

Why do I have this reaction to him? He's made it painfully clear through both words and actions that he has little to no respect for me, and besides, Mel informed me just a short while ago in her quite blunt, almost thirteen-year-old way that her uncle just fucks around. And as if that's not enough, right before I reach the door, I remember the short text I sent him, calling him out on his fuck buddy situation, as if that were any of my business, and fuck, my hand is shaking as I reach for the doorknob.

Angie's right; I do tend to believe my balls to be bigger than they actually are. Shit.

When I open the door though, he's standing there without a trace of anger or hostility. He's dirty; his strong arms are streaked from forearm to wrist with mud and compound. It's in his hair as well, along with his pants and in his boots. I stare between his face and his boots, watching as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

And then I notice that he's holding out a bunch of red roses wrapped in clear, plastic cellophane.

"A peace offering?" he says with a crooked grin.

My heart thumps in my chest. I stare at those roses as if they're his own personal invention, as if he's holding out the entire world for me in his hands, as if no one has ever given anyone roses before - at least not roses this beautiful, this red or this perfect.

Call me a fucking push-over, but any lingering anger I may have felt quickly dissipates. I'm not even sure when I reached out for it, but the exquisite, immaculate bouquet is suddenly in my hands, and I draw in a deep breath, inhaling its flowery scent.

"They're gorgeous, thank you," I murmur, fanning the flowers out tenderly, adjusting the delicate baby's breath.

"Uhm…they're just from the corner store - nothing fancy. They'll probably die on you by tomorrow…."

"No, they won't. I'll put them in water right now," I decide out loud, gazing at my wondrous roses because they will not die.

When I look up at him again, he looks so…painfully relieved that I just want to throw my arms around him.

"Come in?" I offer in lieu of the hug.

"Yeah, thanks."

Still playing with my roses, I walk towards the kitchen, but it takes me a couple of seconds to realize that I can't hear Edward's boots behind me.

When I turn around, he's still by the door, and his eyes quickly shift from my ass to my face.

If nothing else, he sure does like that ass.

He clears his throat. "I've got mud all under my boots. I don't want to get your place dirty."

"That's alright." I smile faintly. "I told you, my Dad's a contractor. I'm used to all this. But if it makes you feel better, just take your boots off right there and come meet me in the kitchen."

He nods slowly and kneels down on one leg, undoing his boots. I stare at his long, sock-covered foot for a second before remembering that my roses need water and resuming my walk to the kitchen to search for a vase.

"Mel's asleep?" He whispers behind me, most likely after seeing her laid out on the couch.

"Yeah," I confirm, filling the clear vase I've found with tepid sink water and gently placing my roses in it, arranging them prettily before placing the vase over the middle of the counter. "She was studying for a test she says he has tomorrow and knocked out."

"Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that test."

I look up at Edward again. He's standing on the other side of the counter island, looking nervous once more as he rakes a hand through his hair.

"Edward…I was hoping you and I could…talk."

Again, he just nods, his Adams apple bobbing up and down. He's so far away though, and I have no walls. I don't want to wake up Mel, so I walk over to him, coming to a stop next to him and leaning up on the counter, facing him.

The scent I've come to associate with Mel's beautiful yet mysterious uncle surrounds me, and suddenly it's all I can do to resist the urge to inhale him as deeply as I inhaled the roses a couple of minutes ago. He's so close that I can see the dirt in the small creases of his forehead, the dry paint on the light hairs along his jaw. I can tell that he's naturally very light-skinned, but working in the sun all day has given his face and arms a golden glow, even in the fall.

He runs a hand through his hair and swallows.

"Bella…" - the way he says my name makes me shiver – "I want to apologize about the other night. I'd had a long and…rough day. I was exhausted, but that's no excuse. I was way out of line, and I know it, and I'm very sorry."

He exhales heavily, as if the words have been burning a hole in his throat, and he's beyond alleviated to have them out there.

"Edward-"

"As for today, Mel was supposed to be picked up on time. I don't know what happened to my friend," he emphasizes, "why she never showed up. If I could've left work to pick up Mel, I would've, but-"

I put a hand out to stop his apologies. "Edward…let's just…forget about the other night. I'm sorry too. We both said things we probably shouldn't have. As for tonight, of course I know things happen. Things don't always go as planned; I understand that, and as I've told you before, Mel is no trouble at all. I actually enjoy her company."

He shifts his gaze to the floor between us, and before I lose my nerve, the way Angie tells me I tend to do, I dip my head and move in closer, forcing him to look at me, and now the distance between us has shrunk even more. Damn, those are some beautiful, green eyes, and they're so close…so, so close, and if I'm not careful, I can easily get lost inside them. I think I half am.

"But for Mel's own sake, Edward, there needs to be a routine here. That's all I was trying to say the other night. Mel needs to know when she's going to be picked up and by whom. She should be finishing her homework early and having dinner on time."

"I told you," he hisses, an edge to his tone, but then he closes his eyes, apparently reigning in a temper which tends to escalate quickly. "She was supposed to be picked up early. Something went wrong, and-"

"Well, you need to have a back-up plan for when something goes wrong."

His square jaw clenches tightly, and he glares at the floor again, but before he looks away, it's not anger that I see in his expression, but a deep shame.

My heart lurches. Without any thought whatsoever, I reach out and rest a hand on his arm, only meaning to soften any unintended harshness from my words, but the heat produced from the contact between us catches me by surprise; though, it really shouldn't at this point. It's there every time we touch. I draw in a deep breath through narrowed lips because my hand is suddenly melded to him.

But Edward misses all this because he still has his head down, and he's shaking it back and forth, raking a hand through his hair again.

"They trusted me, and I'm fucking this up so badly…so badly."

He says it so low. I'm not sure if he's talking to me or to himself.

"Look, I'm sure that's not true," I say softly.

He simply snorts, eyes still on the floor between us.

"Edward, I'm not trying to be a bitch to you here-"

His eyes find mine again quickly. "I'm not saying that you are. I'm an asshole sometimes, Bella, I know that, but I would never say that to you."

And just like that, he's disarmed me again, taken away all my false bravado.

"And I'm not trying to be…difficult," I continue, though now I'm the one who can't meet his gaze. My hand is still on his arm, but now it's my eyes that drift to the space between us, to his boots. When I see them take a step closer, my heart stops, and suddenly it's so hard to breathe…to think.

I force myself to look up again, to look into those eyes that feel like they're searing into my soul, seeing everything, and I can only hope he can't see my shame because unlike his imagined mistakes, mine are all too real.

"I have no idea what your situation is…" I trail off, waiting, hoping he'll finally throw me a bone here and let me in: let me know why he's in charge of a twelve year old girl, and why that twelve year old girl can't even bring herself to mention her parents, much less discuss simple facts about them.

But though he holds my gaze, though our faces are only a handful of inches apart, he says nothing and damn it, something deep inside of me aches because I think I've earned at least a bit of the story.

"Like I said, I have no idea what your situation is, and I'll admit that I don't know about being anyone's legal guardian, but I'm around kids all day, and I know that they need structure, or they start going wild."

A short, humorless chuckle escapes him. "Being around kids all day isn't the same as being personally responsible for one twenty-four hours a day. It's not always that easy to provide that structure."

"I'm sure it's not," I acknowledge, trying to remain cool and in control despite his sometimes shitty attitude. Still, I drop my hand from his bicep, and he looks from me down to his bare arm, smirking back up at me. "And you're right, I've never been personally responsible for a kid twenty-four hours a day, but I was once a kid being brought up by a single man. I was once in a situation similar to Mel's, and I do remember my Dad having it hard at times. Luckily, he had people willing and able to help."

The wariness in his expression suddenly shifts to confusion as if I've caught him off guard.

Once again, I wrap my hand around his arm, holding on tight, more than a little exhilarated by how firm and strong he obviously is.

"I've been thinking, and…I think I've come up with a solution. On the days when Mel comes to the studio, she can just stay with me until you can pick her up. If we make it official, she'll know to bring her backpack and finish up her homework after class. She'll know we'll eat when she's done with class. She can help me out a bit: clean up some, organize paperwork, and send out messages and such. And if we're done with everything before you're ready to come get her, I can bring her home with me until you're ready. It can be a routine for her…for all of us, and in return for her help, I'll knock fifty dollars off her monthly tuition."

I blurt the entire speech out in one breath, and throughout the whole thing, Edward watches me with no indication of what his thoughts are - until I get to the end.

When I'm done, his green, green eyes darken; blaze even. He starts breathing hard, and I know I've said something wrong when his nostrils flare, and his lips twist up into a scowl.

"Knock fifty dollars off…" he repeats after a few seconds, trailing off and glaring at me incredulously. Shit, maybe I should've offered to knock off a hundred bucks. Yes, that would've been more reasonable.

I'm about to tell him that when he dips his head low, moving in again, and I take a step back because he suddenly looks predatory. But I'm trapped by the counter and there's nowhere to go. We're eye to eye, only an inch of space between us. I inhale sharply, and my eyes fall to his mouth, but when it moves, it doesn't move closer - or murmur words of gratitude, appreciation, or even negotiation.

"Knock fifty dollars off? What do we look like, some kind of damn charity case to you?"

"What?"

"Do you think I can't pay the damn tuition?" he hisses.

"No! No, of course not! I know you can pay! I'm just trying to help!

"We don't need your help!" he seethes, so close I can almost taste his breath; cigarettes and mint. "Just because I was a bit late with the fifty bucks doesn't mean you weren't going to get it! It doesn't mean I'm a man who can't pay his bills or who needs some damn woman to show him charity and bail him out of-"

"What the hell is your problem?" I whisper shout now. "Why do you always purposely misunderstand me? I'm not trying to show you charity, Edward! I'm not that fucking nice! I just want to help! I know what it's like not to have a mom around, and to have a dad that works fifteen hours a day just to pay the bills. I just want to help!" I repeat.

"We don't need your help!" he reiterates, sticking a finger in my face so that I'm forced to jerk my head back. "Don't compare yourself to Mel because you have no idea what her situation is, what our situation is," he says, digging that same finger into his chest.

I grab his finger and wrap my hand around it. "Then tell me what the hell the situation is!"

His green eyes blaze, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts, and his eyes veer restlessly between my eyes and my mouth, and I know he wants to kiss me. I know he does. And I'd be the biggest fucking liar on the face of this planet if I pretended I wasn't dying to feel his mouth on mine regardless of the fury in his words.

My lips part involuntarily, inviting, allowing, and waiting as the seconds pass…

He snorts. "You want to help. You're so damned ready to help when you have no idea what's going on, no idea what my situation is, no idea what kind of man I am, and obviously no idea what's good for you and what's not!"

He makes to move past me, but I grab his arm and force him to turn around because I'm either braver than Angie gives me credit for or stupider.

"Damn it, why are you making this so hard? Why won't you accept my help? Why do you keep pushing me away? This isn't about just you or me, Edward! This is about Mel! She cried in my arms for almost twenty minutes today!" I say shakily.

His eyes grow wide. "What?"

"Mel needs someone," I choke, "and I'm not saying she needs me, but…I want to be here for her, and you won't let me, and I don't understand why. I don't understand what I ever did-"

Suddenly I'm surrounded by an all-consuming warmth; a heat almost violent in its intensity, and it takes me a couple of seconds to breathe, to realize that I'm in Edward's arms and that he's holding me tight against his chest, with my own arms wrapped around his waist, hands splayed along his unyielding back.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He runs his hands up and down the length of my hair. Holding me tight. So, so tight.

For a few minutes, we simply stand there, holding each other while he repeats his muted apologies. When he finally pulls away from me, his hands grip my hips firmly.

"You said you wanted to be there...for Mel," he says.

"That's because I do," I confirm.

He searches my eyes, and as I hold his gaze, it's as if I can almost see a wall crumbling, one small layer peeled back from the complicated mess that is Edward Cullen.

"I need help with her, Bella," he says, his voice thick and rough. "Jesus, I need help."

I swallow and hold his gaze despite the fact that I want nothing more right now than to bury myself in his strong embrace, to beg him to hold me like that again because for those few minutes…I'd never felt so safe and protected in my entire life.

Yet I fight through my needs and bewilderment and reach up, cupping Edward's rough cheek in my hand. He leans his face into my touch.

"Then let me help, Edward. Let me help."

A/N: Thoughts?

Translations:

Ay, Bendito – Bless me

Ay, que papi chulo – oh, what a hot daddy

Chica – Girl

Nena - Girl

Vete p'al carajo – go to hell

Puta plastica – plastic bitch

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.

See you all on Monday!