Y'all have blown me away with your amazingly kind response to this story so far! Inspiration for it struck a while back, but it's only recently that I've really gotten the itch to pick it back up again. The chapters will be shorter than my usual chapters for other stories since that seems to be working for me right now, and I have a handful of chapters banked, so I should be able to keep up a regular schedule while I get the rest done.
Massive thanks to each and every one of you for coming on this ride with me, and of course to my wonderful team of ladies who keep me in line, annaharding, Maplestyle, and hotteaforme.
So...let's hear from Edward, shall we?
Someone Else's Baby
March 1st 2021
"Dad! Have you seen my basketball shoes? I need them for practice!"
"Crap. One second, Luke!"
Dumping his burnt toast on the counter, Edward jogs through the house, finally spotting the sneakers hiding in the one place he should have thought to check first. "Sienna," he murmurs, crossing his arms as the yellow lab's amber eyes find his, her sandy tail wagging slowly.
When Maggie passed three years ago, Edward wasn't sure he'd ever want to get another dog. Then Lucas had started asking, begging, and he hadn't been able to deny him. After being on a waitlist for a litter for six months, they'd finally picked Sienna up eight weeks ago. Now four months old, she's just as willful, mischievous, and loving as her predecessor.
And Lucas is going to be furious with her, Edward thinks, raking a hand through his hair as he takes the chewed-up shoes from her basket and holds them up to see if there's any chance they'll make it.
Lucas skids into the room just as Edward decides soles are probably necessary. The boy's excitement at the shoes being found evaporates as soon as he gets a good look at the state they're in. "Aw, man. Sienna!"
Hopping out of her bed, Sienna drops onto her back in front of Lucas, tail wagging on the hardwood floor and tongue lolling in a doggy smile Lucas has never been able to stay mad at.
"I'll run out to the sporting goods store on my lunch break," Edward promises, cursing when he catches a glimpse at the clock and realizes they're running late. "C'mon, Luke, we need to get goin'. Grab your lunch bag, I'll meet you out front."
After making sure the gate between the kitchen and the rest of the house is shut, Lucas runs out to join Edward on the driveway where they both hop into the car. "Got everything?" Edward checks, starting the engine.
"Think so, yeah. You forgot your lunch."
Grinning crookedly, Edward lightly tugs his son's ear before taking the plastic lunch box Lucas is holding so he can toss it into the backseat with his bag. "Thanks, son. What would I do without you, huh?"
"Be hungry, probably," Lucas tells him cheekily with a shrug and a smirk. "Come on, we're gonna be late. It's embarrassing enough being late without being the principal's kid."
"Yeah, you're probably right."
Eyeing the diner longingly as they sail past, Edward resigns himself to drinking the crappy coffee from the machine in the staff room and making breakfast out of something from the vending machine. When they roll to a stop outside Forks' combined elementary and middle school, Lucas is quick to clamber out and yell goodbye to his dad.
"See you later, Luke! I'll come find you after lunch!" Edward calls, waving before climbing out to get his things from the backseat. A wide grin spreads across his face when he realizes Lucas must have known he didn't eat breakfast. Sitting in the tupperware box containing his sandwich and apple is the breakfast muffin Lucas left this morning.
Edward tries to be a good dad, one who teaches his son manners and thoughtfulness. It's times like these that he knows he succeeds at least some of the time.
On the way inside, Edward is stopped over and over—by teachers, parents, and students. The latter are his favorite to talk to, always.
"Edward!"
He sets his bag on the ground and crouches to high-five little Taylor. He skips the reminder that, when they're at school, he's supposed to be 'Mr. Cullen.' The boy never listens. "Morning, champ. How are you today?"
"Good!" Taylor flashes him a big, gap-toothed smile as his mother hurries to catch up.
"Good morning, Nessa," Edward grins, straightening as she hurries over, raising the key fob over her shoulder to lock the car.
"Morning. Tay, what have I told you about running across the parking lot?"
Pursing his lips, Edward widens his eyes at Taylor and shakes his head before the boy can start arguing. Sensing that he's outnumbered, Taylor rolls his eyes and shoulders his backpack. It's far too big for his six-year-old body but he looks adorable with both straps over his shoulders, little hands holding them in place so it doesn't slip. "I'm supposed to wait," he finally grumbles.
"Damn skippy, you are." Nessa slips her fingers through the loop of Taylor's backpack to guide him to his classroom, shooting Edward a quick smile as the bell rings in the building at his back. "I'll catch you later, Ted."
"Catch you later," he agrees, ruffling Taylor's hair. "Be good for Miss Sue."
A few yards away, Mrs. Crowley stops Edward to complain about her son's detention. He reminds her that spitballs are absolutely not allowed and Tyler has already admitted he shot them at his classmate.
As he steps into the reception area, Mrs. Cope calls him over to deal with some invoices for end-of-year gifts for the teachers, and that's how his morning goes, one person after another stealing time he could be spending with the kids. Thankfully, it's rare that he loses so many hours to the parts of being a principal he finds boring, the paperwork and politics.
Shortly before noon, when he's tossing his lunch trash into the basket under his desk and debating running to the sporting goods store early, there's a knock on the door.
"Come in!" he calls, swallowing the last of his candy bar.
Mrs. Cope pops her head around the door, a worried frown etched into her forehead. It's an expression he's only seen a few times, but recognizes easily. His stomach drops to his feet. "Lucas is with the nurse."
~ oOo ~
"This is so unnecessary."
Rolling his eyes, Edward drapes his arm around Lucas's shoulders, plastic chair creaking under him. "It's not unnecessary, Luke. You know we need to see the doctor when you have an episode like that."
"It's dumb," he grumbles under his breath, picking at his nails.
"Did you feel okay when we left for school this morning? You didn't say anything."
Lucas shrugs. "No, I felt fine."
Cocking his head, Edward taps his son's arm until Lucas looks up at him. His chocolate brown eyes show no hints that he's lying, so Edward relaxes. "We'll just see Dr. Morgan and make sure everything's good, then we can go home."
"I wanna go back to school, though."
Edward's already shaking his head. "Not today, pal."
"But basketball—"
"Lucas Cullen?"
Lucas sighs, shooting his dad a look that says 'we'll talk about this later' and 'please don't make me miss practice.' Edward studiously ignores it and nudges him toward Dr. Morgan's office, shaking the doctor's hand. They know each other well after five years of dealing with Lucas's illness.
"Thanks for seeing us at short notice, Doc."
Dr. Morgan grins, shaking his head. "It's not a problem, you know that." Sitting behind his desk, he motions toward the seats opposite him, telling Edward and Lucas to sit. "I hear you had a funny spell at school today, young man. Want to tell me about it?"
"It was just the same as the other times," Lucas groans, bored of repeating himself after telling his teacher, the school nurse, then his dad already. Leaning back in his chair and facing the ceiling, he mutters, "It's not a big deal but Dad panics like a girl."
Flicking his son's ear, Edward chuckles. "Hey, I'm your dad. It's my job to worry about you, okay? Humor me."
"Fine." Sitting up a little straighter, Lucas aims his frustrated expression at an amused Dr. Morgan as he tells him that he was fine right up until the fuzzy heat settled into his brain and he felt his heart pounding in his ears. "I kinda know when it's gonna happen now, so I raised my hand but it was too late. When I woke up, everyone was staring at me and the nurse was waving some of those gross smelling salts in my face."
Dr. Morgan's loud laughter fills the room, but he's serious when he suggests that maybe it's about time they run some tests and update his file. As soon as the words leave his mouth, Edward knows he can expect complaints from his son.
When Lucas was diagnosed with Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome five years ago, a fancy name for an extra electrical connection in the heart that makes the two chambers race out of rhythm sometimes, it turned Edward's life upside down. Lucas's, too. In the years since, he's been subjected to a myriad of tests and procedures, none of which have been successful at curing him of the effects of the condition. His least favorite involve needles. Judging by Dr. Morgan's pursed lips, Edward guesses that today's check-up will also involve them.
"Really?" Looking between the doctor and his dad, Lucas's shoulders slump. "I'm definitely not getting back in time for basketball practice, am I?"
His dejected expression sours further when both Edward and Dr. Morgan shake their heads.
~ oOo ~
"Lukey, my man!"
Lucas grins, jogging over to lean into his cousin's side for a hug complete with backslaps. Lucas has always idolized his five-years-older cousin, Henry. He'll be heading off to UDub in the fall and Edward is already dreading it. He'll have one dejected boy on his hands, that's for sure.
"You wanna play?"
"Sure," Lucas shrugs, rolling his eyes when Edward calls out that he's got to take it easy. "Sure, Dad."
Dropping onto the couch beside his brother, Edward lifts a beer from the cooler at his feet and taps the bottleneck against Emmett's. "Cheers, bro."
"Cheers," Emmett murmurs, chuckling when Lucas dives right in with Henry and his buddies. "The kid was born to play sports, wasn't he?"
Grinning with pride, Edward dips his head in a nod even as worry flutters in his stomach. It's been three days since Lucas's most recent 'episode'; they're still waiting on his test results but Dr. Morgan has promised to call him the second they're in. "He loves it, but I always worry his heart won't handle it."
Picking up on his brother's mood, Emmett drops his smile and twists a little to face Edward better. "What's up? You look all broody and shit."
"Lucas passed out at school on Monday," he admits, shaking his head as he rakes his free hand through his hair. "That's the second time in two months."
Emmett hisses through his teeth. "Shit, that sucks. What was he doing?"
"Math, apparently."
"The boy's definitely my nephew. Man, I hated math. I'd have done anythin' to get out of it."
Edward rolls his eyes. Out of him and Emmett, the two Cullen brothers, he got the academic prowess while Emmett favored physical activity from the minute he was able to move. In fact, he distinctly remembers his brother faking sick to get out of a math final.
"What did the doc say? You took him in, I'm guessing."
"Yeah, we saw him the same day. He ran some tests. It just...fuck, it sucks, you know? He loves to run and play basketball, soccer, football...he wants to be on the go all the time, but he just can't, not until we get a handle on this."
"What do you think the doctor will do, up his meds?"
"Maybe," Edward shrugs. "We'll see, I guess."
Talk shifts to Emmett's job as high school football coach, his youngest daughter's upcoming ballet recital, and the fast-approaching summer vacation. They always spend at least a week of it in Florida with their parents, but this year they'll be minus Henry, who'll be busy moving himself into his dorm.
"It's gonna be weird around here without him," Edward comments, watching his son whip between Henry and one of his friends to steal the ball. "Great tackle, son!"
Lucas flashes him an embarrassed smirk before his focus is swallowed up by the game. Just seconds later, he hammers the ball into the back of the net nailed between two big trees, finding himself airborne as Henry and their other teammate swing him up onto their shoulders for a celebratory lap around the makeshift soccer pitch. Back on the ground, Lucas ducks into the net to fish the ball out.
"Lukey lucked out, dude," Emmett laughs, watching the boys goofing around.
"How's that?" Edward wonders, snapping a photo of Lucas as he kicks the ball to his cousin.
"Look at the kid," Emmett grins. "Ginger gene skipped right over him."
He's not wrong. Waving, Lucas flashes his father and uncle a distracted, dimpled grin, brushing his mop of dark curls away from his freckled face.
He's the apple of his dad's eye, even if he doesn't look anything like him.
~ oOo ~
The test results come back on Friday. After basketball practice, Edward drives Lucas over to the doctor's office where they're quickly taken back to see Dr. Morgan. He welcomes them with a smile, apologizing for the results taking so long.
"That's okay, it's no problem," Edward tells him easily, eyeing the paperwork on the desk. "Are those the results?"
"That's them. I'd like to run through a few other things with you if that's all right, we had a big system overhaul over the last couple of days so we've just got to check the basics when we input new results. Is that okay with you?"
"Sure."
"Great, thanks."
Dr. Morgan runs through the usuals with Lucas, asking how he's been feeling and what he's been up to while he checks off the basics like age, weight, and height.
It's when he casually mumbles Lucas's blood type that Edward frowns. "No, that's not right."
Dr. Morgan's eyes shift over from the screen. "Sorry?"
"Did you just say that he's type O?"
The doctor glances back at the screen, then at the print-out on the desk. "That's right."
Edward shakes his head, blowing out a big breath. "That can't be right, these can't be Lucas's results. I had him with a surrogate and she's got AB blood, I specifically remember because she has AB-negative and it's rare, so she opted out of having a planned C-section."
Dr. Morgan raises his eyebrows, and Edward adds, "I have type O."
For a few seconds, the doctor just stares at Edward. A frown slowly forms on his face. "Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure, yeah. I can call her and double check, but like I said, it sticks in my mind because she wanted a C-section but it made her nervous because she has a rare blood type."
Eyeing Lucas looking thoroughly bored and unconcerned, Edward tells him to wait there while he steps out to call Angela. "Okay."
When he walks back into the doctor's office a few minutes later, Angela's concern ringing in his ears, Edward's eyes are wide, his stomach knotted.
"I was right," he says, his voice faint. "How…" Edward pauses, licking his suddenly dry lips. "How is that even possible?"
He remembers studying high school biology. He remembers the blood typing class. He remembers his lab partner fainting at the sight of blood on the slide.
Dr. Morgan is white as a sheet. His eyes shift over to the oblivious twelve-year-old boy at the center of a puzzle neither of them have the pieces to.
Like Edward, Dr. Morgan knows that it's not possible for O and AB blood types to create a son with type O.
Dun, dun, dun.
I'll see you all next week!