Chapter Six - Harper Hill & Glendale
-Edward-
"Okay," she said, looking at me warily. "What is it?"
I squeezed her fingers, but I was probably reassuring myself more than her. I didn't know how she'd react. "If you need something, you have to talk to me about it. You can ask for something if you need it." She looked like she was going to argue, so I made my case before she could. "I can help. I want to."
She sighed, looking down at the floor. "I'm just used to handling everything on my own."
"I know," I said. "Me too. But you don't have to do that anymore. Promise me."
She hesitated. She looked so vulnerable, and I leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"Promise me, Bella. Please."
"Okay." She looked up at me with wide brown eyes that made me weak. "I promise. And...I'm sorry I didn't handle this so well. My Dad always tells me I have a stubborn streak a mile wide. I was just so focused on paying you back that I didn't think-"
"Well, I walked by the cafe every day, and I never went in. I didn't want to push you."
"I saw you walk by the cafe every day, and I never came out. I wanted to. I missed you, I just..."
"Next time we fight, we'll do better."
"Next time?" she asked, her eyes narrow.
"Odds are it'll happen again." Hell even Carlisle and Esme fought once in a while. I'd never seen a perfect relationship. Not in an objective sense. I rubbed the back of her hand and then, hoping to lighten the mood, I winked at her.
"I guess," she sighed. "And when it does-"
"We'll do better. Promise?"
She smiled. "Promise."
The whole open and honest thing? That was new for me. Not that my parents and siblings hadn't expected it, I just hadn't always been good about giving it.
My head had been "shrunk" enough in my life to know I had trust issues. Then again, it wouldn't take a Ph.D. to figure out that a kid who lost his parents and wound up in foster care would likely struggle to let people in again. I'd put up walls, only letting people open certain doors at particular times. The idea that I would need to keep all the doors and windows unlocked, ajar even, terrified me.
Still, I promised her.
I began to think I would promise her anything she asked for.
I used to think love was a pretty stupid concept. I know now I just didn't have a clue. You can't until you've been there. You can date, maybe have a relationship or two, but until you've been knocked upside the head by the kind of love that makes you dizzy and crazy and unbelievably happy at the same time, you're going to think love is dumb.
This kind of love makes it impossible to think about anything but the girl, and you're not even sure why she's so important. You've walked by thousands of girls in your life—some could be on magazines; others could solve world problems in the blink of an eye; a few might have even told great jokes. But only this one catches your eye and holds it. Only this one makes you smile in the middle of a history class just because you know you're going to see her in fifteen minutes. Only this one makes your heart thump faster and harder every time she walks on the bus.
Only this one gets you to make promises you now have no choice but to keep.
"I really hate seeing you work so hard," I told her, in the spirit of open and honest communication. It was about a week after the initial conversation, and as had become typical, I visited her at work. We spent her breaks holed up in a back booth. "It's hard to sit back and do nothing."
"You can't fix this, Edward. Things will get better. It's temporary. Besides, you might be able to go to school easily, but it's not like you're loaded either. I've been to your apartment," she teased.
Of course, the difference between us was that if I got desperate, I had my parents to turn to. Not that I ever wanted to use that option, but it provided a level of security she didn't have.
"Okay, fine, I can't give you money. I get that, but maybe I can help in other ways." The look on her face clearly said, 'now what?' But I forged on anyway. "How about time? Can I give you that?"
"Edward, you know I would love to get together in the evenings more, but I just—"
"No, I didn't meant that. I mean, I can free up your time. There must be things that drag on you. Like groceries and laundry and I don't know, other errands? I could help with that."
She looked at me for what felt like several minutes, but it was probably only a few seconds. Then, she laughed. "You want to wash my clothes? Seriously?"
I really hadn't meant for it to be funny, and admittedly, her reaction stung a little because I honestly got excited just thinking about being able to help without hurting her pride. It hadn't occurred to me that she would take it as a joke. She must have sensed my disappointment, because her tone changed.
"Hey, I'm just surprised, that's all. But then, I guess I shouldn't be. I figured you'd be looking for a way to get in my pants soon. I just didn't expect it to be at the laundromat."
I smiled and then laughed at myself. "Hmm, yeah, may be a little too soon for me to be sorting through your underwear?"
"Just a bit. But you know, I really don't like grocery shopping, so I might take you up on your offer. Of course, it might not be as fun as playing in my underwear. I guess you'll just have to find another way to do that."
She left me with my mouth hanging open as she returned to work. The girl blew me away.
Since I'd been upfront like she'd asked—open and honest—I figured I was safe with a small surprise.
A couple of days later, I ate a sandwich at the café while she filled me in on her day. "I won't see you in the morning. I have to get to campus early to print out my paper on cultural relativism." She told me more about the paper, but I admit I wasn't listening to much after that. My mind was one step ahead.
Late in the evenings, as it got slow, she sometimes pulled out her bag and studied in the back booth with me. While she refilled coffees, I took my opportunity. I opened the small side pocket of her bag, where she kept her flash drive.
"Hey, I forgot a few things I need to do at home. I'm going to take off early," I told her, after I gave her a kiss. "See you after class tomorrow?"
"Yeah, sure," she said, though she was clearly disappointed.
With my treasure in hand, I practically ran back to a campus computer lab. I pulled up the paper, and gave it a final proofread, though it was pretty clean. After I hit print, I checked the clock in the lab. The café was already closed. It was better if I just headed to her apartment building.
My nerves didn't kick in until I got there. The building had no security, so I could go straight in, but I couldn't quite remember her apartment number. I slipped into the front door. The old building had three levels; the small landing area just inside the doors held mailboxes and a single chair. Someone had propped a bike in the corner. My memory kicked in when I saw the names on the mailboxes. Swan, #6.
I wandered down the hall, not knowing what floor that would be on, since I never made it past this point when I did the recon to get the info to give to the electric company in order to pay her bill. There were three apartments on the first level. I was just about the head up the stairs when I heard a small crash. I listened closely, and the sound was coming from downstairs, so instead of going up, I followed the noise.
Four steps into the hallway, the stairs turned. He was sitting about halfway down, leaning against the wall. The laundry basket had fallen back down the stairs, the clothes strewn all over.
"Are you alright, sir?" I asked, rushing to his side. "Do you want me to call nine-one-one?"
"No, no, I just misjudged myself, that's all. If I can get back to my apartment, I'll be fine."
When he looked up, it was so obvious, I nearly gasped.
"Mr. Swan?" I asked. I immediately wondered what he was thinking when his eyes narrowed, and he adopted a defensive posture and made an attempt to stand. "I'm a friend of Bella's. My name is Edward."
He looked me up and down. I froze, not wanting to insult him or to do anything that would cause him to move too quickly. I could see the pain still on his face.
"So, you're Edward, huh?"
I nodded. "Can I help you, sir?"
"No, I can get it." I wanted to laugh. Just as proud as his daughter. That's when it hit me, and I knew how to get him to comply. "Is Bella here yet?"
He shook his head.
"How about we get you upstairs before she gets home? I imagine she'd freak out if she saw you here."
His eyes flickered an acknowledgment. He sighed, obviously deflated. "I hate to ask it, but I don't have much choice. I can walk myself, if you can get the laundry for me."
I scrambled to get each piece off the stairs and off the floor below, then threw it into the basket. I hoped had hadn't missed anything. I quickly made my way up the steps, not wanting to leave her dad to walk alone.
"Dad? What's going on?" I heard her say.
"I was doing some laundry."
"But why? We agreed. No more steps without help until your ankle heals."
"I'm fine, as you can see," he said dryly. I could tell they'd had this argument before.
I had made it to the landing, and I had a split second decision to make. I considered running back down the stairs and stashing the laundry in the dryer, but I hit a stair that creaked, and she turned and caught sight of me.
"Edward?" She looked at the basket and then at her dad. "Okay, who's explaining."
"It's not a big deal, Bella. I took care of printing your paper tonight, and I came to drop it off, found your dad carrying the laundry, and offered to help him. He's pretty fast through, and beat me up the steps."
Her dad shrugged and turned to keep walking, taking advantage of Bella's distraction.
Her brow furrowed. She didn't believe me, but she didn't say anything. She walked the few feet over to me, grabbed the laundry basket from my hand, and sighed.
"You printed my paper?"
"Yes. I was being helpful, and you are not allowed to get mad."
"I'm not mad," she said, leaning down to kiss me. "Thank you for doing that. Is my dad okay?"
"I think so, but he looks tired. Keep an eye on him."
"I will."
"By the way, I like the yellow lacy ones," I whispered.
Her eyes flew wide in shock, and I winked at her.
She shook her head and turned to march up the steps, but she stopped after two and looked back at me.
"It's time, Edward."
For a split second, my mind went in a very different, very pleasant direction. I couldn't have been more wrong.
"I know you want to help me with my problems, but it's time to work on a few of your own. Just like you want to help me, I'll be there for you. I'll hold your hand. I'll listen, whatever you need."
I swallowed hard. She was right. I couldn't possibly argue with her.
"Well, can you get off work next Saturday night?"
-Bella-
I agreed to give Edward next Saturday night in exchange for this one, where he'd have the pleasure of being interrogated by one of Washington's finest: Former Chief of Police, Charlie Swan.
"He's not one of your suspects," I said, glancing over my shoulder to give my father my best warning look.
"Bells," he said, clutching his heart as if I'd wounded him. "You act like I don't have any manners."
"I know you have manners, I'm just afraid you aren't going to use them." I walked over to the table and straightened the fork that belonged to the place setting in front of me. "Are you planning to wear that?" I asked, pointing at his plain white t-shirt that was frayed around the collar.
"What's wrong with it?" Dad asked, brushing his hands across it like he was trying to get all the crumbs off.
"Everything."
Dad's eyebrows knit together, and he waved his hand. "Who's trying to impress who here?"
"I don't know," I said, teasing. "It's a toss-up."
Just as I was getting ready to order him back into his bedroom to change, there was a knock on the door, which caused an even bigger knocking in my chest.
"Shit," I said under my breath as I smoothed my hand over my hair. "He doesn't like to talk about his time in the Army. Be nice. Don't embarrass me." Dad rolled his eyes and looked so above this whole thing.
My fingers trembled as I unlocked the locks, and when I opened the door and saw Edward—all six-foot-two-inches of him—in a fresh white shirt tucked into navy pants, I knew that not even the kitchen going up in flames could melt the huge smile off of my face.
"Hi," I said, smiling as I stretched up to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his warm cheek. My desired target was about two inches over, but with my dad in the other room, I didn't want to chance it.
"You look pretty," he whispered, as my hand slid across his shoulder and down his arm, until my fingers twined with his.
"Thank you. You're looking good yourself." And he smelled good, too. I almost couldn't take it.
"I brought this," he said, moving closer so that Dad couldn't hear. He held up the pink box he had in his right hand, and I smiled. That was exactly the bakery I told him to go to.
"C'mon." I led him into the kitchen, where Dad reluctantly stood, looking more than a little put out.
"I'd like to formally introduce myself," Edward said, reaching his arm out toward my father. "I'm Edward Cullen."
I couldn't help but smile. Even though I'd seen Edward be formal before, I'd never noticed it to this extent. I half expected an, 'I've come to court your daughter,' to follow.
They stiffly shook hands, and my Dad sat down. Edward kept standing, looking at me for guidance.
"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," I said, smiling. "Have a seat."
He pulled a chair out, but hesitated. "Don't you need help with something?"
"Nah, I got it."
So, he sat. And once dinner was ready and hot on the table, I did, too. For a few minutes it was all high praise for the meal I'd made, and small talk in between bites. As our bellies became fuller, our mouths moved the conversation along.
Proving that he'd paid attention, my father never brought up Edward's time in the service. For most of the meal he kept things topical, before he delved a little deeper with questions about Edward's family that clearly made him uncomfortable. I didn't know much about them, other than the fact that Edward liked to keep his distance, and I managed to steer the conversation away from them when I could.
"What are you going to school for, son?" Dad asked.
"I'm majoring in Criminal Justice, sir." Edward looked down at his empty plate when he answered, and I could tell he didn't want Dad to think he was just kissing ass.
"That's an honorable field." I could practically hear the encouragement in my father's voice.
"I have another year 'til I graduate, then I'd like to go to law school."
"Defense?" Dad said suspiciously.
"Prosecution," Edward replied.
Dad clapped his hand on the table in agreement. "Those are the kinds of people we need more of in the world. Keep creeps like that guy outside of Bella's café off the streets."
Oh, no.
"What guy?" Edward asked, clearly trying not to sound too alarmed. His face, though. His face showed me everything I needed to know.
"Just this guy that was hanging around outside a few weeks ago. Jess and I closed up, and he was leaning against his car. Waiting for her or me, I don't know. Maybe neither of us. He was just a bit of a creep." I hadn't wanted to tell him anything about it, specifically because I knew how he'd react. I didn't want him worrying about one night of trouble out of hundreds that were perfectly safe.
"You didn't tell me about that." He sounded more hurt than angry. Well, he did sound a little angry.
"We had just started to see each other when it happened. It was before..." I almost mentioned that it was before all of our promises, but I didn't want to rehash all of that in front of my father. "We called the cops, and it was okay."
"Mmm-hmm," Dad hummed. That was his way of saying, 'bullshit'.
"What if he'd tried to break in?" Edward asked.
"The alarm was set," I said, trying to reassure him. "And I have mace."
Edward laughed bitterly, and mumbled under his breath.
"I'm not going to stop working there because of one weirdo," I said.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to ward off the stubbornness. I could feel it tightening inside of me, ready to come out, and I had to keep it at bay. We'd promised to make this work, and I wouldn't be holding up my end of the bargain by acting like a jerk when Edward was only worried about my safety.
Dad watched intently as Edward and I went back and forth, and I wondered what was going on in that head of his.
"No, I wasn't going to suggest that you quit," he said, taking a long, deep breath in through his nose. "The can of mace is full?"
I laughed. "Yes."
"Okay," he said, nodding, sliding his hands back and forth across the table. "I'd feel better if you knew some self-defense."
"You do, don't you?" I asked.
"From the service, yeah."
"Maybe you could teach me? After classes or something, next week." It was the first time I'd asked him for help, and it wasn't at all like I thought it'd be. I felt good about it. Strong.
"Really?" He sounded surprised. "Okay, yeah. I'd like that." His smile was so bright. I wasn't sure whether it was the prospect of teaching me hand-to-hand combat or the fact that I'd reached out to him that made him look like that, but it didn't matter. I never wanted that smile to leave his face; it made my heart feel so warm.
"Well, I guess you're stuck with me now, Cullen." I stood, and reached over for Edward's empty plate, putting his on top of mine, and my father's on top of both of them. "I'm just gonna get this cleaned up."
Edward was on his feet before I'd even turned to the sink.
"Don't," he said, taking the plates from me. "You cooked. I'll clean it up."
"You're our guest." I took the plates back. "You're not cleaning up."
"I'll help you then," he said, plugging the sink before he turned on the water. "We'll do it together."
That's exactly what we did.
And when the dishes were drying in the rack, and the leftovers were all put away, I brought the pie to the table, along with three small plates and one very sharp knife.
"Edward brought dessert," I said, in a light, airy voice that was just begging my father to give him praise. "Apple pie."
When the knife crackled through the crisp crust, my dad looked over at Edward, apprising him, trying to figure him out.
"Did she tell you this pie was my favorite?" Dad's eyes were narrow, waiting for the lie.
"Yes, sir. She did," Edward said. Didn't even take a second for him to spill it.
"You're not a bullshitter, are you?"
"No, sir."
Dad smiled. "Call me Charlie."
Edward smiled back. "Okay...Charlie."
Those smiles lasted through the rest of the night, and carried Edward and me down to the front steps of my building, twenty minutes before the last bus of the evening was scheduled to pick up a few blocks down the street.
"I had a good time tonight," Edward said. The porch light shone on his face as he ran his fingers through my hair, and it made his eyes look so green. "You never told me you could cook."
"I'm full of mysteries," I teased. He was standing one step down from me so we were closer in height, but I still had to reach up to wrap my arms around his neck. I had to stretch to kiss his jaw, his cheek, his chin, and his soft lips. It was a good thing I liked to stretch.
"I love mysteries," he said, gliding the back of his finger across my cheek before his mouth found the place it belonged. "Do you think your dad likes me?" His forehead rested on mine, and his arms slid around my waist, pulling me so close that I thought I could feel his heartbeat.
"Yes. Very much."
He breathed a relieved sigh across my skin. "Good. He wasn't as bad as you said he'd be."
"I'm hoping the same goes for your family."
"We'll see," he said, pulling away from me as he took one more step down. "I'll be there with you, so it won't be so scary."
"You make everything less scary." It was true. He did.
He leaned forward to kiss me one more time before he left. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Call me tonight when you get home, just so I know you got there all right."
That lopsided grin I loved so much made an appearance, and I wanted to scream for him to stay. To pull him back into my arms and walk him upstairs; have him follow me into my room, and onto my bed.
"I will," he said, walking backwards as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Goodnight."
I smiled. "Goodnight."
I watched him until his body became a shadow, then I ran upstairs to our apartment, where my father was waiting for me at the kitchen table.
I walked over to the sink, where I fiddled with the positioning of the plates in the drying rack.
"He's a keeper, Bells," Dad said, before taking a sip of his beer. Someone had made an offer on my broken-down truck, and he was going back to work on Tuesday, so a six-pack was one of his small splurges this weekend.
Things were looking way up in the Swan household.
"What makes you say that?" I was curious, because while I knew Edward was a keeper, I never expected my father to think that, too. At least, not yet.
"He's head over heels for you, baby girl. He's an honest kid, not pushy. And I've never seen anyone make you look like that."
He was right; I'd never known anyone who made me feel like Edward did, who could put this smile on my face. And the truth was, even though he didn't think I noticed, someone had been putting a similar smile on Dad's face recently, too.
"You really like him, don't you?" he asked.
No, I wanted to shout. I really loved him.