Chapter 01

The bell signaling the end of the day blares monotonously throughout my classroom, effectively cutting off my lecture. My students quickly begin to shove their belongings into their bags, not seeming to care about the state of their books or notebooks in their haste. The ones who packed up before the bell, despite me verbalizing my distaste for it, spring up and head towards the door.

"Don't forget about tomorrow's quiz!" I warn as the teenagers dash out the door haphazardly. I doubt they heard me or even registered what I said if they did hear me. Shaking my head, I begin to gather my own belongings. It can be difficult to really get through to eleventh graders who are eager to leave what they call prison and I call school. They're always in a rush to get to their friends and their cars; their practices and after school activities.

I never pictured myself teaching eleventh grade English. I always wanted to be an English teacher, but I always thought I'd be teaching a younger age. When I took this position, I have to admit that the thought of teaching sixteen- and seventeen-year-old teenagers was daunting. I walked in on my first day about ready to puke with nerves.

I've grown to love it, though. Sure, my students aren't always fully attentive, such as now when I warned them about the quiz, but they're fun to work with. You can tell when they're really invested in a story through how passionate they get during their discussions. I also try to bring the story into a more modern perspective for them. Like with the book we're reading now, The Kite Runner, we've discussed how we can apply it to our current world. Overall, I haven't had to really work to get them connected with this book, they all genuinely enjoy it.

Heels clicking against the linoleum pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up and see Rosalie, my future sister-in-law slash current best friend strutting into my room. Yes, I do mean strutting. Rose only knows how to strut. There's no casual walking when she has supermodel worthy legs. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. The long stream of hair trails down to her purple blouse that frills in the front. The deep purple creates a beautiful contrast to her pale skin, but it doesn't make her look washed out. If I tried wearing a blouse that color, I would look deadly pale.

"They cleared out quickly," she notes, amused, as she takes in the empty desks and chairs that have been barely pushed in. I sigh and agree with her before walking around and picking up the few stray papers and a book that had been left behind.

"Well, someone's going to be failing this quiz tomorrow," I conclude as I open the book to find the bookmarker is secured two chapters behind where my students were supposed to be at today. "Can't pass a quiz if you don't read the chapters it's on," I continue.

"Well, you can, there are websites that give you summaries," Rose counters, grinning when I groan in response.

"What happened to actually reading? Is it really that daunting of a task?" I ask, bemused.

"For high schoolers? Yes," she nods. "Especially when it's school related reading. Give them Fifty Shades of Grey and they'll be reading all night," she continues on and I shake my head.

"I worry about any student who is able to get their hands on that series," I scrunch my nose. "That's raunchy even for us."

"I don't know," Rose muses, "Em seems to like," she starts but I cut her off quickly.

"I don't even want to hear another word of that sentence. My brother and Fifty Shades of Grey don't go together. Ever," I shake my head, trying to mentally scrub that image from my brain. Rose laughs as she leans against my desk.

"I'm just pulling your leg," she assures me. It doesn't make the mental image go away, though, unfortunately.

"Are you coming to Dad's tonight?" I ask, desperate to change the subject.

"Yeah, Em and I are bringing over dessert," she nods, smiling. Rose has been a part of our family since high school. She was originally my best friend but then Emmett swooped in and they started dating. At first, I wasn't sure I wanted my brother dating my best friend, but they ended up being perfect for each other. Her headstrong personality levels out Emmett's goofiness while Emmett's goofiness brings out the lighter side in Rose's personality.

When we were juniors, Rose ended up moving into our home because of ongoing to alcohol problems with her father. She'd dealt with it since she was a child but in junior year, things finally got out of hand and her father was issued a court ordered rehabilitation after getting into legal trouble. After moving in, Rose never looked back. She effectively became a part of our family and we were happy to welcome her.

When Jasper, my oldest brother, finished high school, he began studying at UCLA, which sucked for us, but he was happy there. Two years later, Emmett, the middle child, graduated and began studying at U Dub. When Rose and I graduated two years after that, she joined him and they moved into an apartment together there until she graduated. I started classes at Washington State, effectively making all three of the Swan children spread out from each other. With their children spread out, my mom and dad dedicated a weekend each month to each of us, as best as they could. Jasper and I were a little farther out than Rose and Emmett but they made it work as best as they could.

"Double fudge brownies?" I ask hopefully. Rose makes brownies that are absolutely to die for. She grins and nods and I moan exaggeratedly in my anticipation for them. I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder as Rose pushes herself off the desk.

"You ready?" she asks and I nod. We walk out of the classroom, my movements looking clumsy compared to Rose's. I lock my classroom door behind me and we head out towards the staff parking lot.

"How are you?" Rose asks, her voice quieter, taking on the counselor tone. I roll my eyes and give her a look.

"I'm not a student in need of counsel, Rose," I warn softly.

"I'm asking as your friend," she insists. "I worry about you; you know that."

"I'm fine, I swear," I answer her.

"Nightmares?" she asks.

"None this week," I answer, adjusting my bag on my shoulder nervously.

"You know you can always go see Dr. Greene, right?" she asks, referring to my therapist. I breathe in deep before responding to her.

"I don't need to see Dr. Greene. I'm alright, honestly. It's nothing like before," I say, hoping I'm sounding at least slightly convincing. Rose can see through all my lies and while I'm not technically lying, I know she can tell I'm not being entirely truthful.

In all honesty, I still can't spend an entire night without the anxiety becoming overbearing. I have anxiety medication I take daily but sometimes that doesn't fully help. I don't want to have to rely on going back to seeing a therapist, though. I've come far enough from that.

We're silent as we finish our walk to our cars, the only sound coming from the chatter of lingering students and our heels on the ground as we walk. Rose has been a major advocate for me to stay in therapy, saying she saw how much I improved in my time seeing Dr. Greene. While I really appreciate having Rose in my corner, I really don't think that I need to continue seeing a therapist. After reliving my problems over and over again, I just don't want to do it anymore.

When we get to my truck, I look over at her.

"I appreciate your concern," I say softly, hoping she realizes I'm being sincere.

"I know you do," she says, giving me a small smile. She reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze and I smile back at her. "I'll see you at Dad's, okay?" she asks and I nod, telling her I'll see her there. I climb into my truck as she walks towards her car. When my truck roars to life, I pull out of the school parking lot and head home.

My brother Jasper has been letting me stay with him since James and I separated. His house is a nice, modest two-bedroom with two and a half bathrooms. I'm eternally grateful to him for letting me stay with him. After being released from the hospital, the thought of going back to my house was terrifying. I knew he wouldn't be there, but I would still be able to feel him there through all of the memories embedded in those four walls.

I park in the driveway next to Jasper's Chevrolet Avalanche and get out, my shoes crunching against the gravel driveway. Walking in heels on the gravel is basically me asking to break my ankle. I'm not the most coordinated person around. I'm by no means clumsy, but I just lack a certain coordination that gets people through the day without tripping.

To make my gracefulness even more confusing, I was a cheerleader in high school. Never once took a major fall or caused mass chaos in our squad. Whatever higher power that was looking out for me during my cheerleading is sick for not continuing to do so in normal situations.

I carefully make my way to the porch, the stairs creaking as I make my way up. Rufus, Jasper's golden retriever, hears the creaking and bounds to the door, barking out his greeting to me, tail wagging rapidly.

"Hi Rufus," I grin as I open the door. He runs out and makes a lap around me before waiting for me to go inside. I walk into the house with him right on my heels. "Jas?" I call out, "I'm home." I lock the door behind me and set my bag down next to the door.

"In the living room," Jasper calls back. Leaning against the wall, I bend over to pull my heels off my feet before making my way to the living room, my feet relieved from the contortion they've endured all day.

"How was school?" Jasper smiles at me when I make it into the room. I drop onto the lounger, propping my feet up on the matching ottoman. Rufus jumps up onto the ottoman, placing his large body on top of my legs.

"It was fine," I shrug. "Nothing too exciting. Just a bunch of teenagers who couldn't care less about Khaled Hosseini and his writing."

"I mean, did you care at their age?" he asks pointedly. I'm about to answer but he waves his hand, cutting me off. "Actually, it's you, so I'm sure you did care," he teases.

"I did!" I laugh. "The Kite Runner is basically a masterpiece." He grins and shakes his head. Although he wouldn't admit it right now, Jasper loved to read, too. And I know for a fact that he read it in high school and loved it. It's just such a deep novel with complex characters, you can't help but love it. I mean, that's what I thought until I began to teach it.

"So, you can't get your students to like the book?" he asks.

"I mean, they like it, but it's hard to get them to discuss it. Those that have actually read it have liked it, that is. There're several students that I can't get to read anything I assign. There's some website that gives you a summary of the chapter," I explain.

"That's what Emmett used to use to pass all of his literature exams in school," Jasper laughs.

"Are you serious?" I ask incredulously, laughing with him. Jasper just nods and grins, his laughter dying out.

"I need to go get ready for dinner," I say as my laughter dies out too. I pick up my heels from by the front door and head up the stairs to my bedroom. Jasper's house is quaint but there's more than enough space for us and Rufus. It's a cozy little starter home. I took over the guest bedroom, my queen-sized mattress taking up the majority of my room. Most of my furniture is at Mom and Dad's house in my childhood bedroom. The only thing I'm able to fit into this room without monopolizing all of my walking space is my dresser. I'm not complaining, though; I honestly don't mind.

I unzip my skirt, letting it fall to the floor before pulling on a pair of yoga pants. My blouse is replaced with a baggy Queen t-shirt and I pull out my hair, letting it fall in loose waves down past my shoulders.

We have dinner at my parents' house every Wednesday night, without fail. Ever since all of us moved back to Forks, Mom and Dad have been a little attached. Granted, we've been back for anywhere between two and five years between the four of us, Rose included, but they're taking this dinner thing seriously. It's become a good constant for me. That's something my therapist said, at least. She was always encouraging me to make the most of these nights because my family is my whole support system. I mean, it's not like I was taking these nights for granted before, but seeing as we always had our sessions on Thursday afternoons, she always wanted to discuss how the prior night's dinner went and how I was feeling afterwards, as if a dinner was going to take away everything James had done to me. Again, not complaining, but still.

Kneeling on the floor, I reach under my bed to grab my classic black canvas and white rubber Converse chucks. I sit on my bed and pull them onto my feet, lacing them up. Once they're laced, I make my way downstairs.

"You ready?" I ask Jasper as I walk into the living room again. He gets up from the couch and walks past me towards the door.

"We didn't have to bring anything this time, did we?" he calls over his shoulder as he walks out with Rufus right behind him.

"No, Rose and Emmett were in charge of dessert this time," I respond, following him. Jasper opens the back of his truck and Rufus jumps in without hesitation. We take him to my parents' house every week. Mom absolutely loves him, even going as far as calling him her grandbaby.

I get in the passenger seat while Jasper gets in on the driver's side. He places his phone in the cupholder and starts up the car. I take this opportunity to pick a song from his phone's music app. One of the things that Jasper and I have bonded over throughout the years is our taste in music. I kind of have him to blame for my love of 70's and 80's rock. It's music from before my time but there's something about it that is just more appealing to me than today's music. I'll still listen to music that's been put out more recently, but I'll always make my way back to musicians like Queen, David Bowie, Elton John, Guns 'n Roses, and so many more.

At this moment, I'm in the mood for some Elton John so I put on Rocket Man, which is one of our favorites. I place Jasper's phone back into the cupholder as he turns up the music. We both sing along with Elton as Jasper drives. We won't make it through the whole song before we get to Mom and Dad's house but there's no drive too short for a jam session.

Jasper pulls into Mom and Dad's as Elton starts singing "I think it's gonna be a long, long time" over and over before the end of the song. He kills the engine and the music dies out too when he opens his door. Rufus anxiously paces in the back seat, excited to get out of the car. He knows exactly where he is and is eager to go see my parents.

I get out of the car and open the door to the backseat. Rufus leaps out, running happily up to the porch. He gives a little excited dance by trotting in place, waiting impatiently for us the open the door. Jasper and I walk up the porch steps and he opens the door for Rufus and me. Rufus runs into the house and straight to the living room, knowing Dad will be there. Jasper follows him while I head to the kitchen to see if Mom needs help with getting dinner ready.

"Hey, Mom," I smile as I walk into the room. She turns and smiles, returning my greeting before turning back to her pasta. I walk over and check out what she's making. "Looks good," I say as I stir the red meat sauce in the pot. "Need any help?"

"No, no, I have everything under control," she insists. "I have garlic bread in the oven and I've made a salad, too," she boasts, proud of herself. Mom was never the cook of our family. Dad knows his way around a grill but Emmett and I did most of the cooking. Looking at Emmett, you wouldn't even begin to think he could cook. He looks like the kind of guy to rely on other people to make his food for him, but he's a mean chef. He taught me how to cook and together we made sure our family ate food that actually tasted good. We didn't really mind; it was kind of something we could do together or switch off doing when one of us was busy.

I grab myself a beer from the fridge, popping the top off against the end of the counter. The laminate is chipped, exposing the wood underneath in several spots from years of bottle cap abuse. Mom's finally stopped complaining, but I think she's secretly waiting to use the chipped countertop as fodder for redoing the kitchen, or at least the countertops. I take a swig before leaning against the counter.

"How's work been?" she asks me as she strains the pasta. I watch as the steam billows up towards the ceiling.

"It's been okay," I shrug. "Nothing too stressful. We've started reading The Kite Runner, which I think my students enjoy. They just don't enjoy unpacking everything in our discussions. I mean, I'm paid to teach them their literary concepts but they're completely zoned out. It doesn't help that spring break is coming up, either. They're all on vacation mode with a week still left to go."

"You kids used to be the same way," Mom smiles at the memory. I remember itching to get out of school for a week but I also remember being very dedicated to my schoolwork, so I cock an eyebrow at her.

"I don't remember zoning out during school."

"Well, maybe not so much you as Jasper and Emmett. I swear, Emmett only kept his grades up for football and Jasper, well, who knows what motivated Jasper to keep his grades up," she laughs lightly. "But you're right, you never really dreaded going to school like the guys did."

"Jasper knew you'd take his guitars away if he failed," I laugh. Going along with Jasper's love for classic rock was his love for anything music. He spent his teenage years playing the guitar and bass guitar. While he still plays, it's not as frequent as he did as a teenager. He'll pull out the guitar every once in awhile, though.

"Your father hated the day we bought him that old amp of his," she laughs and I join in.

The front door opens and Emmett's thunderous voice booms throughout the house.

"We're here!" he calls as he walks in. Rufus bounds towards the front door, jumping up at Emmett. Emmett lifts the eighty-five-pound golden retriever into his arms as if he weighed twenty pounds instead.

Rose makes her way into the kitchen with the tray of brownies. She's changed out of her business casual school outfit into a pair of skinny jeans, a red long sleeved chiffon blouse, and a pair of brown suede booties.

"Hey, Mom," Rose greets with a grin as she sets the brownies on the counter.

"Hi, Honey," Mom returns the greeting as she finishes mixing the sauce into the pasta. I take this opportunity to check the bread to make sure she isn't burning it. When I open the oven door, the smell of burnt toast wafts out of it and I quickly grab an oven mitt before pulling the bread out. The edges are slightly charred but the middle of the bread seems to be fine.

"Oh shoot," Mom groans as she looks over. "Why does that always happen?" she shakes her head in distaste as he grabs some tongs to grab the bread slices off the pan.

"You don't set a timer so you forget about it," I tease. "It's not too bad. The edges are just a bit well done," I add. She nods unhappily as she plates the bread.

"Rose, would you mind going to get the guys? Dinner's ready," Mom smiles. Rose walks out of the kitchen towards the living room.

"Rose talked to me about going back to therapy again," I say in a quieter voice before taking another pull from my beer.

"She's worried about you," Mom muses before adding, "we all are."

"I'm fine, though," I insist.

"That's not what I hear from Jasper," she responds, turning to look at me after she places the pasta bowl on the table. "He says you're still having nightmares."

"I mean, who wouldn't?" I mumble pathetically, glancing at the floor and biting my lip.

"Bell, there's nothing wrong with seeing a therapist," she says in a soft, encouraging tone.

"I know, but I went for the time that my doctor enforced and I feel I'm at a point where I don't need to continue. I can't rely on therapy forever, Mom."

"Bella, you can go to therapy forever if you wanted to. Going to therapy isn't the same as relying on therapy, you know," she says.

The guys and Rose start to pile into the room and I give Mom a quick smile in hopes that she'll drop the topic for now. I don't want to have this conversation in front of everyone because I know I'll be the only one on my side. It's not that I don't appreciate them being concerned for my wellbeing but they all think they know me better than I know myself.

We all take our usual seats around the dinner table and begin to pass the food around, falling into the comfortable routine we had throughout our childhood. The main dish typically starts with Dad and makes its way around the table before ending with Emmett, who takes the biggest helping. Jasper tends to grab one of the side dishes first. I'm sure to an outsider it looks chaotic but we've worked up a rhythm with it throughout the years that we're no longer phased by the food being passed around and arms reaching over everyone to grab a dish from another person.

"How's it going at the gym, Em?" I ask before shoving a forkful of pasta into my mouth. Emmett is a personal trainer at the gym in town. He makes a decent living off of it because his client list is so large. Rose and I joke that his large number of middle-aged women clients is because they think he's dreamy. Rose tends to take it a step further by bringing in the idea of him getting a sugar mama to help foot the ever-rising bill of their wedding.

"Great, I've got this new client. He's so cool. He's a pediatrician out in Clearwater. Hell of a commute for every day but he does it."

"Uh-oh," I giggle, "does Emmett have a crush?"

"Oh grow up," Emmett laughs and throws a piece of his garlic bread at me, earning a sound of distaste from Mom.

"Too bad it isn't Mrs. Cooper," Rose jokes, bringing up one of his wealthier middle-aged clients. "Imagine the dress I could buy with the money Emmett would make off of being her sugar baby," she laughs, getting Jasper and I to join in.

"You all just can't have a nice, tasteful dinner conversation, can you?" Mom asks, frowning. She turns to Dad for help but he looks down at his plate, trying to hide his own smile by shoving some food into his mouth. "Charlie, honestly," she sighs exasperated.

"Sorry, Mom," Rose giggles.

"Edward happens to not be my type, thank you very much," Emmett crosses his arms. We all start laughing again, Dad joining in. Mom even cracks a smile, which she tries to hide with her hand.

After we finish dinner, I help Mom clear the plates. She rinses them off and I position them in the dishwasher. The dishwasher is actually a more recent addition to the kitchen. Back in school, we used to fight over who would have to wash the dishes. Emmett and I always argued that we cooked so Jasper should have to clean the dishes but Jasper would counter with us having to clean up our mess. When Rose joined our household, she did it for a while, feeling like she needed to do something to contribute seeing as my parents were letting her live with us, but after a bit of time she started getting in on the fights, too.

Now that we're grown, we don't fight over petty shit like washing the dishes anymore. Granted, we don't typically have to fight over it anymore, either. Whenever we have a meal at one of our houses, either the host cleans by themselves or, more often, the guest helps the host. Mom and I have fallen into a groove of her and I cleaning the dishes, which isn't a problem for me.

Rose sets the brownies on the table after we finish cleaning and my mom hands out small paper plates for everyone to set their brownies on.

"Do we have any ice cream?" I ask before making my way to the freezer. Answering my own question, I find a half gallon of vanilla bean ice cream sitting in the freezer. I happily pull it out before grabbing the ice cream scoop and several spoons. When I get back to the table, I scoop myself some ice cream before handing it off to Jasper. The brownies make their way around the table and we all start to dig into the delicious treat.

"Rose, you've outdone yourself," I moan as I take the first bite. "These are even better than last time."

"I may have added a few new ingredients," she grins.

"Non-drug ingredients, I hope," Dad says with a pointed look.

"If I was going to put pot in my brownies, I wouldn't waste it on all of you," Rose teases Dad. He rolls his eyes and takes a brownie. "Besides, it's legal, so if I wanted to add it in, I could," she adds with a grin. I watch as Dad hesitantly takes a bite, a look of satisfaction on his face when he doesn't taste anything he could assume is marijuana.

The chocolatey treat doesn't last nearly long enough for my taste but I refrain from grabbing a second brownie. I do make a note to swipe a piece to save for tomorrow before Rose leaves, though.

Mom throws away the plates and deposits our spoons into the dishwasher once everyone is finished. Normally after dinner, we spend some time in the living room, putting on a random station while we hang out. Today, though, we decide to spend it in the backyard because the weather is finally making a turn for the better, if you can call 55 degrees a turn for the better, that is. Compared to what we felt this winter, it's basically a heatwave.

We sit in chairs on the deck, each of us enjoying a beer, as we talk. Dad looks at me and I catch his eye before he motions with his head for me to follow him. Confused, I get up and follow him inside. He walks through the house to the front porch. Once we're out there, I sit on the porch railing with him leaning his forearms onto the railing next to me. He looks nervous, not making any effort to turn to me.

"What's up, Dad?" I ask after he doesn't speak for a minute.

"I want you to know that you're safe," he starts, but his tone isn't very reassuring. I furrow my eyebrows and look at him. "No matter what, I'm going to keep you safe."

"You're scaring me," I say softly. I can feel the anxiety bubbling in my chest, making its way to my throat. The constriction it causes is a familiar feeling, but it's by no means comfortable.

"James is being released this week. Friday," he informs me, finally looking at me. The stress in his eyes does nothing to reassure me. In fact, I'm not sure anything could reassure me at this moment. Panic mixes with my anxiety and I struggle to breathe properly. I try to remember some exercises Dr. Greene and I worked on to control my breathing when I feel panic attacks coming on but my mind is so jumbled that I can't seem to remember them. Instead, I gasp for air, gripping the railing so hard I can feel the old, jagged edge dig into my fingers.

"Bella," Dad says calmly, sternly. "Bella, deep breaths," he reminds. I shakily pull in a deep breath, trying to get my eyes to focus on something in the process. After a few moments I'm able to control my breathing, bringing in large breaths through my nose and letting them out slowly through my mouth. I look up at my dad to see worry creased in his forehead.

"Why," I ask, not sure I can get out more than one word.

"He's a first-time offender. His sentence was up to a year but he's getting out on good behavior. I'm going to be keeping a close eye on him. He's not going to be getting anywhere near you, Bella," he assures me and I nod. I give myself a few moments before speaking again.

"Does everyone else know?" I ask and Dad nods.

"I told them not to tell you. I wanted to be the one to let you know. They haven't known long, though. Just since yesterday," he explains. I hop off the railing, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to create some pressure on my body to help keep myself calm. I normally use a weighted blanket to help with my anxiety at night but that's not practical to carry around with me. The pressure isn't a total fix and it's definitely not a quick fix, but it does help.

"Thanks for telling me," I whisper, glancing up at him. He nods and rubs my back.

"How about we get back to the others," he suggests. He escorts me back through the house and out to the back porch. Everyone looks up at us and I know they're aware of what conversation just took place. I walk over to Jasper and sit in the chair next to him. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes just below my shoulder, pulling me into his side.

"So, tell us more about this Edward guy you're clearly into," I say, trying to get my family to pay attention to something other than me and James.

"I'm not into him!" Emmett groans. "This is the last time I bring up one of my friends in conversation."

"Oh, so he's a friend now," Jasper laughs. "I thought he was a client."

"Well, he is," Emmett sputters. "But he's become a friend now, too."

"You'll have to bring him around sometime," I smile.

"And give you guys the chance to terrorize him? I like the money I make training and I don't need to lose a client because of all of you."

"Oh, come on," I laugh. "We're not that bad."

"You most certainly are," Emmett retorts, laughing. "I'll see about bringing him to dinner next week. If he fires me as his personal trainer afterwards, you all owe me what he pays me weekly for at least two years," he threatens.

"Deal," I grin.

Alright, chapter one down! What did you all think? Do you think the Swan family is going to scare away Edward with their antics? Let me know what you thought about the chapter in the reviews! I'll update again soon :)

- Twilight What?