Happy Monday, loves!

Going back to work wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be, but I'm still SO sore.

Here's the next installment of (Are We) Making a Murderer... ;)

Xx

Dani


-102-

APOV:

My heart races in my chest as some god-awful crashing on my front porch wakes me up. I must have fallen asleep on the couch—one look at the clock on the DVR tells me it's past one in the morning.

Which means, more than likely, someone is trying to break into my house.

I always keep my gun nearby at home for exactly this reason, especially when Ben is working nights at the factory, so the heavy steel in my hand gives me some confidence that I can handle whoever this bastard is.

Lord knows I've handled worse before.

I'm about to open the door when another crash sounds, and a deep voice breaks the silence of the night air.

"Motherfuckin' gnomes," it slurs.

I know that voice, and now that I know who it is, I sigh and wrench the door open.

Sure enough, Edward is sprawled out on my porch, knees bent and groaning.

"What the fuck are you doing, Cullen?" I growl, pushing the screen door open.

"She'sss...And, she's...she's gonna kill me." He rolls over, bracing hands and knees against the oak slats of the porch.

"She's not gonna get the chance; I'll beat her to it." Setting my firearm on the table inside the doorway, I rush to help him up.

He's all disheveled and dirty, smells like a distillery with greasy hair in every direction and a three-day stubble that's bordering on making him look homeless.

Getting him situated on the couch, I go to get him a bottle of water and some Tylenol, then make my way back to the living room to shove them in his hand.

"Here, take these and tell me what happened."

When he throws his head back to swallow the pills, he overcompensates and almost falls over, and I have to catch him.

"Edward," I groan, pushing him back up to a sitting position. "Tell me what happened."

"I went to the bar...ya know, to apologize. To fix things. And she was there, talking to Tanya...I think she decided to go through with the hit after all."

His words are running together, so I have to ask him to repeat himself a few times, but my mind is racing with the possibilities of what this could mean.

Her journals keep telling me it's Jake she's after, and Edward deserves to know his life isn't in danger.

"Edward…" I start. "I've been keeping an eye on Bella. I do think she's a hitman. Hitwoman, as it were."

"I knew it!"

"But you're not the one she's after. She's planning to kill Jacob Black. She's even been making questionable purchases and setting up new accounts. I mean, she bought a bone saw. What would a single girl in the city need a bone saw for? I think she's going to do it and then flee the country."

He's quiet for a long time, his green eyes trained on my ceiling. And I don't push because it's a lot to take in.

"I love her, Ang. I don't care what she is; I love her."

He says it so quietly I wouldn't hear him if I weren't close enough.

"If that's what she wants to do, I'll run with her. She's the other part of me. I'm not going to live without her." He shrugs, and I watch a tear leak from the side of his eye and down his cheek.

My heart breaks for him. I've spent so many years watching him avoid emotion like the plague, and now that he's let himself feel it, it's breaking my heart.

"Let's get you to bed. We'll talk about it more in the morning," I offer gently, standing so he can spread out on the couch. His legs are too long, so he folds them over the arm, and I remove his shoes for him, laughing when he slurs a thank you.

"You're a good man, Edward. We'll figure this out, okay?"

But by the time I'm ready to say my goodnights, he's already drifted off.


Drunk, lovestruck grumpward is the best grumpward. 3