A/N: Lots of people are upset at how far Edward went with Jessica just to even a score for Bella. He is definitely unhinged when it comes to protecting her. These are the overprotective tendencies I referred to in his character sketch (bottom of chapter one).

It breaks my heart, too, that he gave his v-card to Jessica. But he was too angry, and too young, to realize what he was giving away. It's only now, by Bella's reaction and hurt, that's he's beginning to realize it.

Something else? I'm not espousing incest, I'm just writing a story about it.

. . .

Rose is currently fighting with Emmett, so she and I are spending Saturday night with Alice while Emmett, Edward and Jasper go camping. It's almost Halloween, so it's going to be their last jaunt out there this year.

"I think we need to see other people," Rose tells me and Alice. "We're getting bored with each other."

Alice is sketching an idea for an ice skating costume. Last month it was fancy hair up-dos, but now her new obsession is girl's ice skating costumes. "You mean you want to see other people," she says.

Rose wrinkles her nose. "Okay, fine. I want to see other people. How'd you know? Did he tell you?"

"No. I dreamed about it."

Rose and I trade a look, but Alice is concentrating so hard on her drawing, her tongue is sticking out at the corner. I doubt she even realizes what she said.

"What do you mean, you dreamed about it?"

She looks up at Rose with a guilty expression on her face. "I don't know. I just saw you telling Emmett that you wanted a break, and him crying about it. He's pretty sure you're it for him, though."

"Emmett cried?" I ask Rose.

"Did he tell you that?" Rose asks Alice.

Alice looks back at her sketch. "He didn't tell me anything. I told you—I had a dream about you and him. I didn't think it was real."

"Well," Rose begins and stops. "He … only cried a little. But don't tell anyone, you guys. I hate that I made him cry."

"Weird," I say.

Alice's head snaps up. "What? What's weird?" She's angry again all the sudden.

"Uh, that you dreamed about it," I say slowly. "Don't you think that's weird?"

Her eyes narrow. "I also dreamed that you were going to trip going down the stairs and break your wrist. Be. Careful."

"What?!"

"Alice, take a chill pill," Rose says. "Bella didn't mean anything by that."

And then Alice rolls to her side and laughs her head off. Rose and I jump on the bed with her and hold her down while taking turns tickling her.

"What is going on with you lately? It's like you're PMSing seven days a week," Rose says.

Alice blushes. "I am not."

"Then what?"

She pushes Rose away and sits up, then cuddles in my arms. "I don't know what."

"Maybe you need a boyfriend."

"Yeah, maybe."

I kiss the top of her head and give her an extra squeeze. Whatever is bothering her, she doesn't want to talk about it.

. . .

Edward and I are at the dining room table doing our homework. I just finished writing my last question about how long the Berlin Wall was and why it was built, and now I'm concentrating on how long Edward's eyelashes are. Because he's looking down, they fan across his cheeks like a girl's. It looks absurd with the thick slashes of his eyebrows above.

He must feel my stare, because suddenly his eyes raise to mine. "What?"

"It's not big or small, or a liquid, solid or a gas, but it can be broken without being dropped. What is it?" I ask.

He sighs loudly and long, and sits up fully. "My heart, if you won't forgive me."

"No. That's not it," I tell him.

"Bella."

"I thought you were supposed to work today."

He folds his arms across his chest. "I have Tuesdays off for the next two weeks rotation."

"That's a weird day to have off," I tell him.

"Bella."

Now I sigh long and loud. "I just need more time, Edward."

"Time to do what?"

"To try and forget that it happened, that's what. Unless you think I should sleep with Jamie, so then you can feel what I'm feeling?"

He totally doesn't get that I'm joking. His green eyes turn black, his nose flares, and his face flushes. "Don't. You. Ever."

"Then back off. I'll let you know when I'm ready to kiss you again," I say coolly, and I'm mad because he thinks I would really do such a thing. I gather up my stuff, then turn to leave. I'm not five steps away, though, before I come storming back and slam my books on the table. Even though he sees me coming, he still jumps.

"You know what, Edward? I would never deliberately hurt you by mindlessly screwing somebody, let alone Jamie, who I like. And I can't believe you think I would. Stop judging me by your actions."

He looks like I've kicked him. "I know I hurt you, but I didn't do it deliberately."

"Yeah, well, it feels pretty deliberate to me. Not that you wanted to hurt me that way, but you set out to do a certain thing supposedly because of how Jessica was treating me. Now you have to live with the consequences, as you once said."

He groans and pinches his nose. "What if I gave you a foot rub for the next seven days?"

It's almost impossible to keep a smile from spreading across my face, but somehow I manage to do it. "That'd be a nice start."

"What else? Want me to cook dinner for the next seven days, too?"

"Hell no," I say and shudder. He's got no patience to make anything but spaghetti, popcorn, or pour bowls of cereal.

"Bathroom duty," I say. "The bathroom is all yours for the next month."

He looks pained . . . sexy and pained . . . and then cautiously victorious. "Darn. I was hoping we could have another water fight," he said.

I make a face at him, then sit back down at the table to finish my homework. Storming off no longer seems like a good idea. I hate being mad at him. Besides, I miss him when I'm not with him, even if we're in the same house. It's crazy ridiculous.

"Do you know anything about post-war Germany?"

Now he gives me a face, then points to my World History book. "It's all in there, pretty girl."

. . .

A week later, it's Halloween. The school is letting us dress up for the day, as long as our costumes don't interfere with our vision, hearing, or sitting at a desk. I'm going as Wednesday Addams, and I think I look pretty good. Scary, too. I'm dressed head to toe in black, except for the white collar of my button-up shirt. My dark hair is in two long braids, and I've darkened my eyes with eyeliner and dark blue eye shadow. Now I just have to remember not to smile too much.

Edward's waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. He's dressed as James Dean, which is a cop out as far as I'm concerned because all he's done is teased his hair up even higher than it normally stands and rolled up the bottom of his jeans legs. Everything thing else—the white t-shirt and the jean jacket—he already had. He looks good, though. And he'll probably get all sorts of attention from the girls, I think with a scowl.

"What's the frown for?" he wants to know.

"Wednesday doesn't smi—"

I slip on the edge of step and when I try to catch my balance, I somehow pitch forward and start doing the running man down the steps. Only I'm going way too fast and miss a bunch of steps at once. Edward tries to catch me and in the process, knocks me to the left and the side of my hand hits against the banister. I hear and feel my bone snap. The pain is unreal and I can't help screaming.

I suddenly realize Edward is calling my name. "Bella, baby, what is it?"

"My hand," I cry. "It's broken!"

He pulls me up by my good arm and hustles me out the door. "Let's get you to the hospital."

I don't remember much about the ride, except for the throbbing pain that radiated from my wrist to my arm and then every place else. I tried not to cry, but I'm pretty sure a couple of whines and whimpers escaped.

They put me in a hand split once they've confirmed what I yelled at them from the get-go: my pinky metacarpal bone is fractured.

So much pain from such a little break on my littlest finger. But I think I'm going to die until they feed me a Vicodin. Once that kicks in, everything is much, much better.

Dad arrives as the doctor is splinting all four of my fingers together.

"You can go to school now, Edward, I've got it."

James Dean looks crushed with a capital K. I want to kiss him. "It's okaaaaaay, James Deeeeeean. I'll be just fiiiiiiiiine." And I giggle at his grumpy, cute little facey-wacey.

I can tell he wants to kiss me, too. But he can't, nope, he can't right now, not in front of all of these people and Dad.

"I'll see you later, Bella," he says and squeezes my arm.

"I miss you," I call after him. "I mean, I willlll."

Dad's talking with the doctor. I'm staring at the tiled ceiling and trying to count the tiles, but they keep shifting and I'm afraid the ceiling is going to fall on us.

"Dad, I want to go to school now," I say.

But I don't get to go to school that day. Dad takes me home and I fall asleep in my Wednesday Addams costume and smear blue eye shadow all over my pillow.

And then when I wake up, I remember how Alice said that I was going trip on the stairs and break my wrist. Which is close enough to scare the poop out of me, so I call her.

"Bella?"

"Alice! Did Edward tell you what happened?"

"He said you hurt yourself on the stairs," she said slowly.

"Yes. I tripped just like you said I would. And I broke my pinky."

"Well, that's not your wrist."

"But it's close."

"But it's not your wrist."

"Alice, did you really dream that I was going to trip on the stairs and hurt myself?"

Or did I just have that idea in the back of my head and somehow make it happen?

"I wasn't … asleep at the time."

"You weren't dreaming?"

"Well, I wasn't asleep."

"So, you just had a thought that I'd fall?"

She sighs. "Maybe. I'm not sure what it was. It's probably just dumb luck, Bella."

"Yeah. Real dumb. Especially for me."

"Look, don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin. But Alice?

"Yeah?"

"If you see me getting in a head-on collision, or getting hit by a garbage truck, or getting poisoned by bad chicken, I want you to tell me."

"You got it, Bellabean."

. . .

Edward feels especially bad that he wasn't able to save me this morning, and is moody and grumpy and wearing a sad face. I climb on his lap and cuddle. We're in the basement and it's almost bedtime.

"It was just a dumb accident," I tell him and put my forehead against his neck. "You can save me the next time." His arms are tight around me and I feel safe. I'm also feeling the second Vicodin pill kick in. Wow, those things are potent.

"I'm hoping there won't be a next time," he growls.

"Well, knowing what a klutz I am, there's probably going to beeeee a next time. And a next time. And a nex—"

His lips on mine silence me. Which is cheating times two because I haven't wanted to kiss him—no, wait—I've wanted to kiss him, I just haven't wanted…

He's scrambling my brain. His lips are scrambling my brain.

"Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater," I breathe when he moves his mouth across my cheek and to the sensitive spot just below my ear.

And then I'm on my back on the couch and he's half on top of me and kissing back up my neck to my lips. His chest is against mine, but he won't stay, he keeps moving up and down back against me. It feels good. Like a fever spark everywhere we touch, and it goes off each time we come together again.

"You're so good at this," I tell him just before his mouth covers mine again.

"I was practicing," he breathes and drags his mouth slowly against mine. Whoa. "Just for you."

"No more practicing," I whisper.

"Only with you," he says and his kiss makes me feel like I'm spinning out of control.

I keep him with me that night because I can't let go of him.

. . .

Jamie is bummed because I want to take a break from running at six thirty in the morning.

"If you break the routine, you're setting yourself up to fail, Bella."

"It's just temporary, I promise. Just for a week or so," I tell him.

He shakes his head at me. "It's up to you. You know your body the best."

I do. And right now, my body wants to rest. Preferably, right next to Edward.

We're at lunch, so I look over at Edward's table to see what he's up to. Actually, I've done this repeatedly without realizing it until Jasper gives me a look.

Edward's still surrounded by a harem, but I notice he's sitting beside Emmett and is all but ignoring the girl on the other side of him.

Good.

When Jamie takes our trays up to the trash, Jasper's socked hand raises.

"Jasper wants to know what's going on with you and Edward," he says.

"Just the usual," I tell Sprock and pull his tongue.

Jasper moves Sprock out of my reach. "Jasper doesn't believe that anymore."

"Well, you can tell Jasper he can believe whatever he wants."

Sprock looks at Jasper, then back at me. "What if what Jasper believes is something that could get you both in trouble?"

What?

I raise my eyes to Jasper's face and my heart starts pounding at the knowing look in his gaze. He looks heartbroken. And suddenly I want to cry.

"What's wrong?" Jamie calls as I run past him.

"She'll be fine," Jasper says. "Just give her a few minutes."

In the restroom, I lock myself in a stall and fall to the toilet. I'm shaking.

I keep replaying the look on Jasper's face—the depth of sorrow that I hadn't seen since his father had died.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to tell him. Or how.

. . .

Bella's riddle question answer for Edward: Silence.

Also, I seriously doubt any doctor would prescribe Vicodin for a child with just a broken pinky, but it suited my evil purposes.