A/N: Good morning. How is everyone?

Okay. Let's push Edward and Bella together. See what happens.

Edward pushed gently on Emmett's door, letting it swing open. "Hey, did you hear me calling you?"

Emmett crashed the two cars he'd been playing with together. Hard. He let them clatter to the bed and looked down, shoulders slumped. "What's the point? She's not even going to come."

The words had an echo effect in Edward's head. He blinked against the memory—Alice at the kitchen table in the Cullens' house, before he considered it his home. He could still see the pain etched on their foster mother's face as she put her arms around Alice's small frame.

He knew, now, how Esme must have felt all those years ago. He sat down on Emmett's bed, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder in an offer of quiet comfort.

"She was supposed to come last time, and she didn't," the little boy whispered. "She always comes. But she didn't."

Edward sighed. He swallowed down anger, remembering the devastated look on Emmett's face when he'd had to tell the little boy his sister couldn't make their first visit. Why was it so hard for some people to put their children first? Emmett's whole life had been turned upside down for the second time in less than a year. Why wasn't it the most important thing to show him he was loved?

"From everything you've told me, I'm sure your sister wanted to be there for you," Edward said instead.

"But she didn't have her shit together."

Edward almost choked. "What?"

Emmett kicked his feet listlessly. "Mommy said that. When Mommy would mess up, she said she was sorry she didn't have her shit together."

"Well, you're not wrong, but shit isn't a word we say."

Emmett rolled his eyes, some of his typical fire coming back. "It's just a word."

"I agree, but in this house, we don't say words that could get us in trouble at school."

"I don't say it at school."

"Emmett—"

"Fine." Emmett slid off the bed. "Let's go."

He was a hard kid to read sometimes, Edward thought as they drove in silence. So often in the week Edward had known him, the kid seemed to be easy-going. Many things just slid off his back. Edward had to tell the little boy since they lived in a different school district, Emmett would have to switch schools. Starting a new school in the middle of a semester would be hard under any circumstance, but Emmett had taken it in stride.

Still, there were these bouts of sadness and lashing out.

To be expected, of course. Emmett seemed to want to go with the flow, but that was a lot to ask of such a small child stuck in a tumultuous situation.

Many of the classes he'd taken to be a foster parent had stressed the need for compassion. The parents of children who ended up in the system, more often than not, wanted to be the parents their child deserved. They just hadn't been given the tools.

Edward's rational mind understood the concept. But to his core, he just couldn't fathom it. All Emmett's sister had to do a few days ago was show up. How hard could that have possibly been?

As he drove into the McDonald's parking lot, Edward took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was, in essence, none of his business. His job as the foster parent was to make sure Emmett showed up to these visits. What Isabella Swan was going to do was entirely up to her.

Lost in his own thoughts, Edward swung open his door without looking. The movement was followed by a thud and the sound of someone hitting pavement with an, "oof."

Edward stood from the car, wide-eyed and horrified. He quickly slammed the door shut, revealing a young woman sitting up on the asphalt, brown hair just long enough to shield her face. She wore jeans, a hoodie, and a stunned expression.

"I'm so sorry. Are you all right?" He offered his hand.

As she took it, she lifted her head to blink up at him. As his fingers curled around hers, recognition kicked in. Faces shuffled in his mind, trying to place her. He pulled her to her feet, and her eyes narrowed at the exact same moment it clicked.

He'd known Emmett's sister's name, of course. He hadn't known that she was the same Isabella Swan—one of the students from his first year of teaching.

"Miss Swan," he said at the same time she said, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Watch your language," he said. It was an automatic reaction; he'd had more than one conversation with Isabella Swan—his student—before about her tendency to curse. He regretted it instantly, as Isabella's features twisted in fury.

She yanked her hand from his—he hadn't even realized he was still holding it—and glared. "The last thing I need today is your bullshit."

"Miss Swan," he said, one hand out in a stopping motion.

"Oh my god, dude. What the hell is your problem?"

They were both interrupted by an urgent knock from the passenger window. "Sissy, stop! Stop yelling. You are going to be in trouble, and he's not going to let me come home ever."

"Emmy?" Isabella's voice was soft then, cracking at the end. She reached out, opening the back door of Edward's car so Emmett could scramble out and into her arms. She hugged the little boy tightly, lifting him right off his feet.

"You have to be good," Emmett said, clinging tightly to his sister's neck. "You have to have your shit together."

She sighed, eyes closed as she cupped the back of his head. "I'm trying, Emmy. I'm really trying."

"That's what Mommy used to say," Emmett grumbled.

Isabella winced, setting him back on his feet. Her eyes flicked back to Edward's. Red and watery with unshed tears, he could still see the deep irritation in them.

"So, it wasn't a coincidence? I thought the Cullen name was haunting me, but it's still just you. What happened? High school kids got to be too much for you, you had to try your luck bossing around younger kids?"

"I'm still a teacher, Miss Swan," Edward said, irritation thick in his tone. "But someone has to be there when parents can't be bothered to care for their own children."

He saw hurt flicker across her wide-eyed features before her expression sharpened.

"So you're still an asshole. Life must be so great up there on your high horse." She took Emmett's hand. "Come on. Let's go get you some nuggets."

Regret coiled in Edward's stomach, instantly cooling the spark of anger that had flamed. He knew damn well he shouldn't have said what he said. "Miss Swan—"

She whirled on him. "Bad news, dick. You can't drag me to the principal's office this time, and I know you don't have the power to keep Emmett away from me. I can take care of my brother. I have been doing it his entire life. It's not my fault the state won't let me take care of him. That wasn't my choice."

"Miss Swan," he tried again, his voice softer now.

"Spare me the lecture. I can already guess what it is. Blaming other people for my problems. Blah. Blah. I'm going to jump through whatever hoops they make me, but until they say one of those hoops is listening to you, I'm not going to. Deal with it, and stop bothering me. This is my time."

Edward glanced at Emmett. The little boy was staring at his sister, his eyes darting to Edward and back again. Part of him wanted to point out the trepidation on his face, to show her she was only confusing him more. But he recognized the need to deescalate the situation. He put both his hands up in a gesture of surrender, staying still and silent. She held his gaze another beat before she turned toward the door, tugging Emmett with her.

For a minute, he watched through the window, letting them order and sit down before he went in himself. He ordered a strawberry milkshake and a small fry—the ultimate comfort meal—and sat as far away as he could from them. The space, of course, was limited, and the place wasn't busy. He could still hear enough of their quiet conversation to get the gist.

"I don't get it," Emmett said, sounding cross. "Mike did the bad thing. If he's not your boyfriend anymore, why can't I go home?"

"Home is part of the problem." Isabella wiped a hand over her face. "That was his apartment, bub. We can't go back there."

"But if he goes to jail, he won't be there."

Isabella laughed, the sound soft. "I wish it worked like that." She sighed. "Look, I know this sucks, okay. But we have to look at the good things. You're safe. That's the most important thing. And Mr. Cullen… Edward isn't so bad with you, right?"

"He has a Nintendo Switch," Emmett said, voice bright. Then, more subdued. "But you don't like him."

"It's okay for you to like him, though. As long as he's being nice. You and I? We're going to be nice to him. It just might take a little work for me."

Edward couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. That was good to hear, at least. The family of origin always had an enormous impact on a child's experience. Bella could have easily encouraged an antagonistic relationship between Edward and Emmett.

"But you can tell me if he does something you don't like," Isabella told her brother. "If he's not listening to you or treating you with respect. He's not the one who gets to decide if you come home, okay? It's safe to speak up. I got your back. Always."

His estimation of Isabella Swan rose a few degrees.

Some minutes later, Emmett and Isabella made their way out to the play area. Emmett dove in, waving at his sister as he played.

"Miss Swan," Edward said, voice soft and controlled as she stepped out into the play area.

Isabella's shoulders went ramrod straight, but she didn't look at him. "Do you have to call me that?"

"What?"

"Miss Swan. Is that a rule? Just like school?"

"It wasn't a rule even in school," Edward said.

"So you could have called us by our first names but that wouldn't be snooty enough?"

Edward's lip twitched, but this time, he kept his temper in check. "Snooty, sure. Or I figured since you had to call me by my last name, I'd return the favor." He shrugged, very nonchalant. "What would you like me to call you? Isabella?"

She finally turned her head to look at him, sweeping chestnut brown hair out of her eyes. "Bella."

"Okay, Bella. And you can call me Edward, if you'd like."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, holding his gaze for a beat. Then, to his surprise, she laughed, ducking her head. "That feels weird," she muttered.

"Whatever you're comfortable with." He sat at a table near enough to her that they could speak easily, yet with enough room to give her space, so she didn't feel like he was trying to intrude on her time with her brother. He watched her for a moment, noting now that her ire had faded, she looked tired—world-weary exhaustion lining her otherwise pretty features.

"I wanted to apologize for before," he said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

Bella scoffed, not looking at him, but waving back at Emmett. "Shouldn't have said isn't the same thing as didn't mean." She wrapped her arms around herself. "The other day was the first time in his life that I ever said I would show up and didn't." She scoffed, shaking her head. "The cops pulled me over less than an hour before the appointment. My jackass ex had reported the car stolen rather than talk to me like an adult. And he had my phone turned off after that, so I couldn't even call."

"Everything was in your ex's name?" Edward asked before he could stop himself. He knew plenty of people lived like that. It just wasn't something he could imagine; being at anyone else's mercy.

She sighed in a long gust. "I never wanted to live off anyone." Bitterness tainted her words. "I never…" She shook her head. "Anyway. Never mind. I'm sure you think it could never happen to you, and I'm just a dumbfuck kid."

Edward rubbed a hand over his jaw. "You said you've been taking care of your brother his entire life? Even when your mom was alive, right?"

Bella didn't answer.

He nodded. "I think sometimes people jump without looking from one thing to another. Sometimes it's because they don't know any better. Sometimes it's because the ground beneath them is crumbling, and it's jump or sink. Which one it is really isn't my business, and it's not my place to judge." He paused and turned to her.

"So, here's my offer for you, Bella. I'm not your teacher anymore. I'm your brother's foster parent, and we both want what's best for him. If you'd consider letting us start with a clean slate, I will admit that if I sent in that whole scene from the parking lot to Reddit's 'Am I The Asshole?' forum, most of them would agree… I am, in fact, the asshole."

"Hey."

Both their heads whipped around. Emmett was standing there, arms crossed as he looked at Edward. "How come you get to say bad words?"

A/N: Well. That could have gone better!

How are we feeling?