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Chapter Twenty-Four

"My mom said you called in sick," Edward said hesitantly, holding up a paper bag. "Soup?"

I only let him in because Renee was not home. And because I did want soup. And to see his eye-crinkling smile.

After the slap, Renee left the house and hadn't been home since.

I couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or not.

And I couldn't let myself care.

That wasn't the first time Renee had slapped me, but it also wasn't a common occurrence. It had only happened a handful of times, when I was brave enough to stand up to her. Which was also not a common occurrence.

"Without sounding rude, you look pretty awful, Bella," Edward commented. "Go lie down. I'll get a bowl and some crackers."

My body curled into a ball under the down comforter on my bed. A few minutes later, I heard Edward's feet shuffling against the carpet, then the clink of the bowl being set on my dresser.

The room was silent for a moment too long and I rolled over to see what he was doing.

"You were cute," he said quietly, staring at a framed photo on my dresser. "Is that your dad? The one that lives in Port A?"

"Yes. That'd be the one."

Edward shot me a playful glare as he sat on the edge of the bed, pretending not to inspect the rest of my room.

I rubbed my eyes, wishing I would have slept. Could have slept.

Insomnia was a horrible curse.

So was caring about my mother.

"You look tired. Have you slept at all?"

"No. I can't sleep."

"Have you been throwing up? Fever?"

"No. No."

Edward looked down at his hands and smiled for a moment. "You just missed me. Is that it?"

"Edward," I said seriously. "I need to ask you for a favor."

I focused on his Adam's apple as he swallowed and said, "What do you need?"

"If Renee asks you not to collect the rent again? Don't listen to her."

Edward silently regarded me for a moment. Maybe staring at the light purple circles under my eyes, or maybe finally noticing the slight red swelling to my right cheek.

Without answering me, he laid on the bed, pulled my body closer to him, and lifted the blanket to pull it over our heads.

"I know it's not my place..." he whispered in the cave.

"You're right. It's not."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I shook my head and he sighed. "Are you okay?" he whispered against my cheek. My right cheek.

"I'm fine. Just please? No handouts. Please."

Edward murmured his assent and told me to close my eyes; to sleep; that he was there.

So I did.

And he was.

A/N: No one ever brings me soup when I'm sick. Now I'm over here feeling sorry for myself. Thanks for reading. This is the last update for the day...