24

"What do you mean you're not coming home tonight?" I tried to keep from screaming — I really did — but Carlisle was supposed to be home two hours ago, but his flight had been delayed, and now, he was saying he wouldn't be home at all. Peter, who'd been staying with us for two days, looked over at me, his eyes widening with evident concern. He and the boys were watching a movie — Lego Movie again. Michael and Tyler had been so excited with their grandfather showed up at the house with an arm full of presents.

Giving him a soft smile, I walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. "You have to come home," I whimpered. "Please!"

"Trust me, I'd rather be there, but all flights out of the city have been canceled," he said, and I could hear the regret in his words. "It's just one night, Isabella."

"Yeah, one night," I whispered, but in my mind, it felt like a lifetime.

Especially since Gabriel Varner had been driving by the house numerous times a day ever since he grabbed me at the grocery store. Carlisle and I had called and complained, but were told that he had every right to drive on the public roads. Garrett had filed a suit against the district attorney for dropping his assault charges, but had been honest with us when he said that it wouldn't be an easy case to win. In the end, it turned out to be a matter of my word against Gabriel Varner's, even with Jasper's statement about walking in and finding the asshole groping me. Once more, I felt let down, used, and tossed away. I wasn't worth protecting, not in the eyes of the people of Forks, Washington.

"Dad's not gonna let anyone get to you," he murmured, almost like he could read my mind.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I cradled my phone between my neck and shoulder. "You can't know that."

"I can," he insisted. "He promised me before I flew out this morning that he would keep you and the boys safe, Isabella."

I nodded, though he couldn't see it through the phone. "That doesn't mean anything, and you know it."

"Maybe not, but it's the best I can offer right now. Jake and Sam said they were going to keep an eye on the house, and Gabriel Varner."

I snorted. "Because they've done so much for me, right?"

"It's better than nothing," he argued. "I want to be there, baby. Believe me, I hate this, but I can't make them fly me back to Washington, and it would take me much longer to drive back."

"I know," I said with a sigh. "We should have just gone with you."

"Probably," he admitted. "But now that we've closed on the beach house, we can move as soon as we're done packing. Shouldn't be more than a week, right?"

"I can't wait," I laughed. "Guess I should call the movers in the morning and confirm for next Saturday, huh?"

"I'll do it," he said. "You just focus on getting everything packed."

"Are you staying at the airport tonight or getting a room?" I asked.

"Just gonna stay here, I think. That way, maybe, I can get the first flight out. There are a lot of people waiting for flights, Isabella. Damn electrical storm."

"Call me later?" I asked. "Please?"

"Of course, but I should go charge my phone and grab a bite to eat." Carlisle paused. "I love you, Isabella."

I smiled. "I love you, too. Be safe, okay? Promise?"

"I promise. I'll talk to you in a bit."

"Bye," I whimpered before ending the call. Placing the phone on the table, I buried my face in my knees and tried my best to keep from falling apart.

"Everything okay?" Peter asked, and when I looked up at him, he frowned. "Guess that's a no."

"Carlisle's stuck in San Francisco for the night. They're having electrical storm, and canceled all flights out."

"Wow, that . . . that sucks," he murmured, leaning against the counter.

"That it does," I groused, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "Did you finish the movie?"

Peter smiled. "Yes. They wanted to watch it again, but I'm afraid I can only handle so much before I start to feel like I've lost my mind."

"I hear that," I scoffed, sliding my feet off the edge of the chair and standing up. "Guess, I should get dinner going."

Peter nodded and moved over to the table while I walked to the fridge and pulled the chicken I'd been marinating all afternoon out. "Are you ready to leave Forks?"

I paused and looked over my shoulder at him. "Ready is a bit of an understatement."

"You're not going to miss Forks at all? Not even a little?" he asked.

Turning so that I was facing him, I shook my head. "When I was little, this town was a good place to live. At least, I thought it was. My dad was the chief of police, and everywhere we went people would come over and shake his hand, then they would look down at me and smile and nod. They respected him, respected the way he took care of this town. But then he was killed, and suddenly, they refused to look me in the eye. Maybe it's because they didn't know what to say to me that would make life easier."

I turned back to the chicken, peeling open the bag and dumping into my casserole dish. "My mother turned into a drunk, and I was left to drag her off the floor. Left to be the adult while she drowned in her own personal hell. And nobody saw me, nobody but Alice."

"Not even this Rose and Emmett that the boys told me about?" Peter asked.

I shook my head. "They were there, but I learned how to hide my feelings around them, but Alice — she could always see through me. And then I met Carlisle, and when I was here with the boys, I wasn't the pathetic daughter of the town drunk, the pathetic daughter of the late Chief Swan. I was just Bella. Just me. And I found myself wanting to be a part of this incredible little family." I looked over at Peter. "I fell in love with Carlisle in this kitchen. He . . . he never treated me like I was a kid, never downplayed the hurt I feel every day. He's the only person who's ever looked at me and seen Isabella — the woman, not a child. So, no, I won't miss this town, because my family will be in San Francisco with us."

"You're a wise woman, Bella." Standing up, he walked over to me, placing his hand gently on my shoulder. "I hope that one day, you'll consider me a part of your family, as well."

"Me, too," I admitted.

He smiled before walking out of the kitchen.

—TB—

"The boys are finally asleep," Peter said, walking downstairs. I looked over from my position on the couch. He'd insisted on putting the boys to bed, telling me to relax since I'd made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and spent the majority of the last three days trying to get as much of the house packed as I could.

"They give you any trouble?" I asked, knowing how hectic bedtime can be with the boys, especially lately. The move was throwing them off their routine, and neither of the boys had made bedtime easy.

"Not any more than their father did when he was their age. Of course, I was a much younger man back then," he laughed.

"What was Carlisle like as a boy?"

Peter sat on the opposite end of the couch, turning so that he was facing me. "He was . . . Well, he was momma's boy. Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course, but he tended to stick real close to his mother. Much like Tyler does with you. I think it's because he's the youngest. Marcus and Garrett were more outgoing, and Carlisle was always a bit more reserved. His mother used to say it was because he was comtempletating the value of his actions. Maybe she was right."

"Do you miss her? Your wife, I mean."

Peter nodded. "Everyday. Siobhan would wake the boys up at the crack of dawn and drag them down to the water. Marcus and Garrett would jump without any hesitation, but Carlisle — he always took a moment to . . . I don't know . . . maybe collect himself? He's always been cautious in life." Peter paused and smiled. "Suppose that's why his relationship with you surprises me so much."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.

"I don't mean anything bad by it, I promise you that. It's more . . ." Trailing off, Peter shifted on the couch. "When Carlisle was sixteen, he took his SAT. He spent weeks fretting over the blasted test. What if he didn't study enough? What if he misspelled his name? What if he ran out of time? One night, about a week before the exam, Siobhan insisted that Carlisle go surfing with her. He argued about how he didn't have a second to lose, how he needed to focus, but she insisted and he rarely ever told her no. When they came out of the water, he was different."

"Different how?"

"More serene, relaxed. Like the weight of the world had been washed off his shoulders. And when he sat for his SAT, he was confident and ready."

"Did he do well?" I asked,

Peter laughed. "Oh, yeah. He had a perfect score."

My eyes flew open.

"Carlisle doesn't really talk about himself much, but he has a brilliant mind."

"That I did know," I giggled, shifting so that I was sitting with my knees bent up in front of me.

"I've watched my son with you over the last couple of days, Bella, and I see such a change in him. He's . . . he's happy. He smiles, and, well, I'm going to sound like a sappy old man, but I can't thank you enough for giving me this chance to be a part of Carlisle's life, of Michael and Tyler's life."

"I didn't allow anything. You made the choice to come to us," I disagreed, but before I could say anything else, I heard a loud crash come from outside. Scrambling to my feet, I looked toward the front door, almost expecting it to be thrown open as Gabriel Varner stormed his way into the house with the intention of taking what he claimed was his.

"What the hell?" Peter asked, taking a step toward the door, but stopped when my hand flew out and grabbed his arm. He looked back at me, his eyes widened. "Sweetheart, it's okay."

"Don't leave me," I begged.

Peter turned and faced me, bringing his hand up to my face. "I'm not leaving you, but I need to go make sure the door is locked."

Nodding, I tightened my grip on his arm. "I'll go with you."

With a sigh, he gave in and allowed me to hold on to him as we walked toward the front door. My heart was thumping against my chest, and it was taking every ounce of my control not to allow my tears to start falling. Peter reached for the deadbolt on the front door, but before he could turn it, another loud bang echoed from outside.

He looked down at me. "Go upstairs to the boys. Lock the door. If the door doesn't lock, then barricade it, but stay there until I come and get you."

"Peter," I whispered.

"Trust me, Bella," he murmured. "Please."

A tear fell down my face as I nodded. Somehow, I managed to pry my fingers from around his arm and hurried upstairs to the boys' room. When I threw open their door, they groaned and sat up, looking over at me.

"Bella?" Michael mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I told him, closing the door. Of course, there wasn't a lock on it. Carlisle had replaced his doorknob after Michael locked him and Tyler inside last summer. Looking around the room, I searched for something — anything — to block the door, but other than the boys' beds, there wasn't thing. The dresser was anchored to the wall, and the shelves were built. Leaning against the door, I braced my body against it, knowing that if someone wanted in bad enough nothing I did would stop them.

Another loud bang reverberated from downstairs, and I screamed, bringing my hands to my hair.

"Bella?" Tyler cried.

I looked over at him. There was a look of fear in his eyes, one that I knew was reflected back in my own. Reaching for him and Michael, I said, "Come here."

They scrambled out of their beds, nearly throwing themselves in my arms. As we waited for Peter to come get us, for someone to tell us it was safe to leave the room, I did my best to reassure Michael and Tyler that everything was okay, that nobody was going to get them, but even I didn't buy the load of bullshit that I was saying. Desperation made people do stupid things.

I'm not sure how long we were sitting on the floor when someone jiggled the doorknob, causing the boys to cry. "Bella? It's Sam. Are you in there?"

"Where's Peter?" I wept.

"He's downstairs. Open the door," Sam said, jiggling the doorknob.

"No, I want Peter!" I snapped.

"Bella, he can't come up here," he said, pausing before adding, "Honey, he's hurt."

Scrambling to my feet, I held the boys firmly against my body as I reached over and opened the door. Sam was leaning against the doorjamb, one hand on either side and a frown on his face. "Are you okay?"

"What happened?" I asked, ignoring his stupid question. Of course we weren't okay.

"Says someone attacked him with a knife. When we got here, the intruder was gone, but he has a long cut on his arm," he explained.

I closed my eyes for a moment before rushing past him and nearly sprinting downstairs. Peter was sitting on the couch with Jake next to him and a paramedic sitting on the edge of the coffee table, bandaging a cut on his arm.

"Oh, my God," I cried, rushing over to him. I pushed Jake out of the way as I sat next to Peter, grabbing his sleeve.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. It's just a little cut," Peter insisted, and when the paramedic scoffed, he said, "Okay, maybe more than little, but I'm fine."

Shaking my head, I brought my hand up to my mouth and shifted my eyes to Jake and Sam. "It was Gabriel Varner, wasn't it?"

They shared a look before Jake said, "Yes. Dr. Cullen has identified him as the man who attacked him."

"I knew he was going to come for me," I whimpered, wrapping my arms around my torso. In an instant, Michael and Tyler were at my side, their tiny arms wrapping around me, too. I shifted my eyes to those sweet boys, and knew immediately what we needed to do, for their safety and mine. "Go pack a bag."

"What?" Michael asked, his forehead crinkling.

"Go upstairs to your room and pack as much as your clothes as you can into the suitcases in your closet," I said, looking over at Sam. "Go help them."

"Bella —" Sam started, but clamped his lips shut when I stood up.

"I am not staying here," I snarled. "You claim that you want to help me, that you're going to keep me and the boys safe, then fucking take them up to their room and help them pack!"

"Bella," Tyler wept, turning and burying his face against my hip.

I took a deep breath as I placed my hand on his back, my eyes staying Sam. "Please, Sam, if not for me, then do this for my father. He might not have agreed with my choice to be with Carlisle, but he wouldn't have stood around while a monster put me or the boys at risks."

Sam sighed. "Fine."

"Thank you," I murmured before sitting back on the couch and placing my hands on Michael and Tyler's cheeks. "Please, go upstairs with Sam and pack as much as you can."

Giving me timid nods, the boys lead Sam upstairs, I looked over at Jake. "You can come with me."

Jake didn't say anything as he followed me upstairs to mine and Carlisle's room. I dug my father's duffle bag out of the closet, and for the second time in four months, I began packing as much of my clothes as I could fit inside. Once I had my stuff packed, I started on Carlisle's, grabbing him several days' worth.

"Charlie wouldn't want you to leave like this."

I paused as I stuffed one of Carlisle's tees into his suitcase. Looking back at Jake, I shook my head. "No, I don't imagine he would, but my father isn't here, is he? Someone killed him."

"And we've all grieved for him, Bella," Jake said. "But what you're doing with Carlisle, that's wrong."

"Why? Because he's older than me? Because he has two little boys?"

"Yes," he admitted. "You're just a kid, Bella. You've got a long life ahead of you, and you're tying yourself down to someone with an assload of baggage."

"Michael and Tyler are not baggage," I exclaimed. "They're my children, Jake, and I love them."

"But they aren't yours," he argued, stepping toward me. I automatically scooted away from him. "I'm not going to hurt you, Bella."

"Funny how many people have said that, yet they're the ones who've hurt me the most," I responded. "And I may not share the same blood as Michael and Tyler, but they're my children. I'm the one who feeds them, and makes sure they're clean and healthy."

"Because you're their babysitter," he groused. "You're supposed to be going to college and frat parties, not taking them to school!"

"Just proves once more how much you don't know me," I hissed as I zipped the suitcase with Carlisle's clothes in it, and placed it on the floor next to my bag. "What makes you think I want to go to frat parties? I've never been that person, Jake. And I'm going to college, and yes, I'll be taking those two little boys to school, too. And I'll go their school parties and field trips and anything else they need me to do, because they're mine. The fact that you accept that I'm living my life the way I want to is something I don't understand. It doesn't affect you, it's not causing you problems. Why do you care?"

Jake shook his head. "Because you're my friend. Because your father gave me a job when not many others would. See, Bella, I didn't have a dad like yours. My dad walked out on us when my mom got sick, and when she died, Charlie was there for me. He made sure I went to school, that I kept my head on straight. So, yeah, I do feel like it's my job to protect you."

"But you haven't," I said. "Jake, my mother spent her days drinking away the pain that my father's death left, but you weren't there to help me with her. You weren't there when she got so drunk she fell asleep on the stairs. You didn't have to hide her keys so that she wouldn't drive herself down to the liquor store and buy more booze, and you didn't lock yourself in your bedroom because when she realized that I hid her keys, she became really mean. Now, she never hit me until the morning she found out that I was dating Carlisle, but her words, they hurt. And nobody was there to protect me from that, were they?"

Jake shifted his eyes to the floor as he once again shook his head.

"If you want to help me, Jake; if you're so fucking worried about me, get Gabriel Varner behind bars before he finds me. Because when he does, I don't think I'll survive."

Grabbing the bags, I pushed my way past him and walked downstairs. Peter, Michael, and Tyler were waiting for me with Sam, who looked disturbed. Clearing my throat, I said, "Let's go."

"Where are we going, Bella?" Tyler asked, tugging his bag behind him as he, Michael, and Peter followed me to the front door.

"Somewhere safe, I hope," I murmured.

Sam and Jake walked us out to Peter's rental car, looking around for any sign that Gabriel Varner was still here, still trying to find a way to get to me. Bile slid up my throat at the thought of him watching us, waiting for us to be even more vulnerable than we already were.

"Hurry," I urged, feeling uneasy with being out in the open.

Peter opened the trunk and reached for my bag, but I gave him a look as I pushed his hand away. "I don't think so."

"I'm fine, Bella," he groused.

"If you say so," I quipped, quickly placing all of our bags in the trunk. Closing it, I held my hand out. "Give me the keys."

"I can drive," he insisted.

"No, you can't," I said. "Please, don't argue with me. We need to leave!"

Peter sighed, but placed the keys in my hand. "Fine."

"Thank you."

—TB—

"Bella, sweetheart, have you been awake all night?" Peter groaned.

I looked over at him. He and the boys had passed out the moment their heads hit the pillow when we checked into our hotel in Seattle, but I hadn't been able to sleep. Every creak, every noise had me on edge, and more than a few times, I imagined Gabriel Varner busting his way into our hotel room. So, I perched myself up in one of the chairs and did everything I could to distract myself from the monsters inside my head.

"Couldn't sleep," I murmured, pulling the blanket up under my chin.

He sighed, but didn't say anything as he scooted to the side of the bed, cradling his arm against his side.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and when he looked back at me, I added, "You're arm hurts?"

"It's fine," he said.

"No, it's not. Nothing is fine," I murmured, but before I could say anything someone started pounding on the door. I scrambled out of my chair, flattening myself against the wall as Peter stood up and looked back at me.

"Isabella! Dad! Open the door!" Carlisle yelled, banging on the door again. Before I could move, Peter had the door open. Carlisle pushed past him, his eyes shifting from his father to the bed where the boys were now sitting up and wide awake, to me. He rushed over to me, placing his hands on either side of my face. "Baby, are you okay?"

As I nodded, the tears that burned the corners of my eyes fell freely, and I began to sob. Everything came crashing down on me: Gabriel Varner's repeated attempts to get his hands on me, my mother's death, the fact that my father was really dead, and the way the town had turned its back on me. The only refugee I'd had was Carlisle and the boys, Alice and Esme, Emmett and Rose, Jasper and Edward, and Carlisle's brothers and father.

"No, you're not," he said, leaning his forehead against mine. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"Not your fault," I whispered. "I can't go back there, Carlisle. He's getting too close to us, to the boys. I can't . . . please don't make me."

"I won't," he murmured. "I've arranged for you and the boys to fly back to San Francisco with Dad. Garrett and Marcus are flying up to help me get the rest of the house packed and settled."

"Just come with us now," I whimpered, placing my hands on his chest. "Please?"

"I have to finish packing the house," he said, stroking my cheek. "A week. That's all we need to finish packing and get everything sent to the beach house."

I shook my head, because I didn't want us to be apart, but I couldn't go back to Forks—especially now. "You promise to be careful?'

"I do," he said, softly. "Marcus and Garrett are going to meet me here in Seattle, and then we'll drive back to Forks. I've hired a company to help us finish packing, and it'll take us a couple days to drive to San Francisco."

"And then we'll get married?" I asked.

Carlisle smiled and kissed me. "As soon as you're ready."

"I'm ready now," I whispered.

"Soon," he mused. "And then nobody will be able to take you from me, Isabella."

Sliding my hands up his chest, I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled his lips down against mine once more. However, the boys started laughing, causing us to look over at them. They were covering their eyes, but both of them were smiling.

"What time is our flight?" Peter asked, drawing our attention to him.

"One-fifteen." Carlisle pulled himself away from me and walked over to his father, gently grasping his arm and extending it toward himself.

"It's fine," Peter grumbled, trying to pull it back, but Carlisle held it firmly.

"You're lucky none of the nerves or tendons were severed. Would make surgery very difficult," Carlisle quipped.

"Hmm, yep," he chirped, pushing Carlisle's hands off his arm. "We should get moving."

An hour later, we were standing in front of the airport. Though I knew Carlisle needed to go back to Forks, that he there were things inside the house that he couldn't live without — pictures of the boys, memories of their first years of life — I hated that he was once again going to be away from us. Placing my hands on his chest, I struggled to find the words to express how I felt.

"The night we got together, I stood in the doorway and watched as you climbed into your truck, hating that you were leaving," he murmured. "My heart hurt, Isabella. I wanted you to love me. I needed you to love me, but I didn't think you would. And then, when your truck wouldn't start, I found myself rushing to you, needing to be your hero."

"You were my hero," I whispered. "You've always been there when I needed someone to talk to, or just to listen while I rambled on like an idiot. I've loved you since the moment you opened your door."

"Same here." Carlisle leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. "Be safe. Promise me that you'll be safe, that you'll keep the boys safe?"

"I promise," I vowed. "Just don't . . . don't keep us waiting, okay? We need you, Carlisle."

"You have my word." Carlisle kissed me again before he turned and knelt in front of the boys. "I need you to take care of Isabella for me. Don't whine, don't throw fits if she says no. Promise?"

"We promise, Dad," Michael said, wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning up so that his lips were next to his fathers. Though he spoke softly, I could still hear him as he said, "I'm a big boy. I'll keep her safe."

Tears flooded my eyes, because I knew Michael would do everything he could to keep his word. He was a sweet boy.

"Yeah, me too!" Tyler insisted, joining in the hug between his brother and father.

Carlisle laughed and kissed the tops of both of their heads before standing up and turning to his father. Without saying a word, they shook hands, a silent agreement and vow of trust in the other was understood.

As Peter and I led the boys into the airport and checked in for our flights, my heart was racing, and I hoped more than anything, that San Francisco would bring us nothing but happiness.

Thank you for all the reviews! That's the end of The Babysitter. Part Two of the series, The Wife, will be started tomorrow, I hope.