I'm so astounded. With the last chapter, we flew by 100 reviews, which has been my dream ever since I was just a little baby FF lurker. A huge thank you to everyone that has reviewed and given me extra-inspirational support. (You know who you are :P)

A/N Everything Twilight-ish belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just play.

"At least call to let me know you got there safe."

I threw a hand up without turning around. "Fine. Whatever."

Thirty seconds later, I was peeling out of the Cullen's driveway, Jasper and my knee be damned.

I was frantic on my way to find Alice, imagining the worst possible scenarios. Was she injured? Did she have an accident and hurt herself? Had someone broken in? If she was home, where was Dad? Did he know what was going on?

The questions were endless but somehow, during the twenty four-turned-eighteen minute drive from the Cullen's to my house, my mind kept drifting back to Jasper. Why had he said all that shit? It didn't bother him that my life revolved around him? He liked that I was his own personal cheerleader? What the fuck?

The way he said those things made it seem like only two options were possible. Either, one, he liked keeping a lapdog around to make himself feel better or, two, he didn't have the heart to kick me to the curb. Neither option sounded very appealing, but neither sounded like the Jasper I had known for the last three years either. He was supportive and selfless, or, at least, I'd thought he was. He listened endlessly when I was upset about something, and gave up going to parties he knew I wouldn't want to attend. It's like there was one Jasper I had felt lucky to know all along, and the Jasper that had started talking when Rosalie opened her big fat trap.

Fucking Rosalie. I swear, if she wasn't a girl…

At the very least, I thought Jasper and I were friends. Like, real friends. The kind that could tell each other anything and not worry about having it blurted out later just to impress some girl. The kind that could share classes and meals and hobbies and beds and still want to spend more time together. Didn't that make us at least friends? That's all I really wanted, anyway. I had decided to close the lid on the "or something more" box the moment I stepped out of that house.

My thoughts were cut short when I pulled onto my street.

I skidded the Volvo to a halt in the driveway of our one story fixer upper, the headlights bathing the peeling garage door. I had barely turned off the engine before I launched myself from the car, throwing the door shut behind me.

Then I realized that if there was a burglar, maybe I should be a little stealthier. Maybe I shouldn't have been so eager to come alone. Maybe I should have let Jasper come along, or asked Carlisle for help. Maybe I should have a weapon.

I climbed back in to fumble in the glove box, but found only a flashlight. That would have to do.

I ran on tiptoes across the grass to the front door but, as I fumbled for my keys as quietly as possible in the dark, I heard a faint nose.

Sniffling.

I whipped around, but couldn't see anyone. "Hello?"

More sniffling.

"Ali? Are you out here? Are you okay?" I whisper-yelled.

I moved toward the sound of her harsh breathing, closer to the sidewalk. With only the clouds obscuring the moonlight, I could just make out her petite form sitting in the center of the walkway. I was relieved to see her alone.

I ran to her. "Ali, are you hurt? Are you okay? Talk to me." I crouched in front of her and took hold of her arms, shaking her gently. "Are you hurt?"

She was still crying, wiping tears and snot away with the back of her hands.

I pulled her to me, letting myself fall into a sitting position on the concrete. "Jesus, Ali. I thought you were being held hostage or dying or something!"

"Sorry. It's just, just…" Her voice was muffled as she continued to cry into her hands. Her forehead pressed hard against my chest. I unzipped my oversized Forks High Track Team sweatshirt and pulled it down my arms before swinging it around to cover her. Instead of pulling her arms through it, I just wrapped it around her and zipped it up around her knees.

Then I leaned back to see her face. "Ali, you have to tell me what happened."

Her breaths were erratic as she sniffled and cried, but she raised her head to look at me. With each breath came the word, "He," over and over.

If she was okay, why was she this upset? What was she even doing here? Was someone else hurt? My eyes flickered to the dark house. "Ali, is Dad okay?"

She nodded once, still trying to get her breathing under control.

I had no idea what was going on. He? Who was he? If Dad was fine, I didn't know why she would be sitting in our front yard crying about a he. Maybe there was some boy I didn't know about that had broken her heart?

I sighed for the innocence of my poor baby sister. She had been pretty insecure ever since Mom died. Sometimes I feared the rest of the big bad world would be enough to break her.

"Come on, Teeny," I said gently, doing my best to maintain eye contact even in the weak moonlight bathing our front yard. "You gotta tell me what happened or I can't make it better."

After another low whimper, she blurted, "He hates me!"

Oh, boy…

"No one hates you, sweetie. I promise. No one does."

She rubbed one balled hand against her soaked eyelashes before looking back up at me, her face still wet and puffy. "He does!" she cried. "He does! He told me."

"Who told you?"

"Dad. He hates me."

"Of course he doesn't," I promised even as I felt the gravity of this seep in. I swept the palm of my hand across her back in large, steady circles. "Why would he hate you?"

To make out her mumbles, I had to lean in until my disheveled hair flopped over hers and we were just one big tangled mess huddling under the moonlight.

".. had a bottle out."

It was barely a whisper on a sigh, but it was all I needed to think the worst.

"Did he hurt you?"

It was that beat, that brief pause in between my question and her answer, where her eyes flashed up to mine and I could actually see her deciding to say 'no'. That moment was all I really needed to hear.

She couldn't even look at me. "No."

I had to grit my teeth to not raise my voice. Yelling gets me nowhere. It would do no good to yell, especially at someone who'd just been…

"Teeny," I explained in my most soothing voice, "you can tell me anything. It's okay. I'm not going to get mad. You can tell me. Did he hurt you?"

Her eyes were still glued to her hands which were wringing themselves free of feeling in her lap.

"He tripped."

Not getting mad. I'm not getting mad. Not now, not in front of her. That is not what she needs.

"Where did he hurt you?"

"He didn't," she insisted but, in doing so, hunched slightly to favor one shoulder.

Well, there was that answer.

I decided not to make a big deal of it, for now. We could address it when she was ready to talk about it.

"Okay. But, Ali, why weren't you at the Swans?"

She pulled the collar of my sweatshirt up self-consciously. "They had some thing to go to up at La Push."

The Rez? That was unexpected. Still, I should have known. I should have been spending less time worrying about what Jasper did or didn't know about this weekend, and more time with my little sister. I should have been there, to protect her. That's what big brothers are for.

"I'm sorry this happened, Ali."

Without warning, Alice reached her arms around my neck and was wracked by a fresh round of deep sobs. I wrapped both arms all the way across her back, my empty hands curling into fists. My teeth clenched and, for a moment, I had to remind myself not to squeeze the fragile girl in my arms with all the fury coursing through me.

"He doesn't hate you," I promised blindly.

I'm not sure that was the right thing to say. Was it better to convince Ali that our negligent, abusive father really loved us no matter what? I certainly didn't want her to think he hit her because he loved her. But I couldn't let the one parent we had left convince her she was worthless.

Really, I'd had no idea he was capable of this anymore. Of course, he had never taken a hand to me. I'm sure he knew that even back then I could hold my own weight against him. I don't know that he ever actually harmed Ali, even, but he'd come close a few times. I just thought that had all ended, when the drinking did.

And that brought me back to the root of the problem. Sometime soon I'd have to make a big show of turning up and confiscating his '2 Years Sober' chip.

A drunk Dad was a lonely Dad, who spent his numbed hours lamenting of all the things that were shit because she wasn't here. Like his sobriety.

Sometimes though, that Masen temper came out.

"He does! He said he hates me!" She took another shuddering breath. "He said, with eyes like these, how could he not hate me?"

Jesus. When would he forgive us for being related to a dead woman?

"Okay, Ali," I commanded. "I'm here. It's okay. Tell me everything that happened."

Through her heaving sobs and runny-nosed sniffles, she did. She told me about walking into the kitchen to get a cup of water and finding Dad with a glass of melty amber-stained ice and a half empty bottle of Johnny Walker. He demanded that she not look at him with those eyes, that she get those eyes out of his house this goddamned minute. He asked how she could stand to look at herself without fucking screaming.

I'd pushed her back when she said that, to really see her. She looked devastated, and exhausted. Her bed-hair was tousled and wispier than usual, mimicking more closely the slight curl that Mom's hair had had. Her eyes, I knew, were the same cut-grass green that both Mom and I bore. The point of her nose and quirk of her lips all spoke clearly of her heritage. And her pajamas—oh, damn.

She was wearing long pants and an oversized sleep shirt with little lacy ruffles that poked out above the collar of my sweatshirt. It was too dark to make out the exact color, but I'd be willing to bet money that the pale color I saw was periwinkle blue. I realized, in that moment, that Alice had never looked more like the central photo displayed in our living room. In fact, the more she grew and matured, the more and more she was a walking replica of our beloved mother.

No wonder that had set him off – and gone off he had, apparently for over half an hour, making sure she knew exactly how sacrilegious her existence was. It seems he felt he was being haunted by the image of his lost wife, and was never afforded any peace, whether she was around or not. He hated it. He hated her.

I, too, was a culprit, daring to look at him in his own home, but Ali had taken the brunt of it.

I wished it had been me, instead of her. I probably would have been able to fight back.

No, really, I would have been able to grab the bottle, pour it down the drain, hit him harder than he'd ever dared to hit Alice, and slam the door behind me.

But Ali, no.

"And that was when he… tripped?" I prompted.

She just nodded against my chest, her nose pressing awkwardly between my ribs.

Alice didn't remember as much as I did from life in Phoenix, only being eight when we left, but she remembered the loving father he had been. I knew she remembered him balancing her bike when she was trying to ditch the training wheels, and how he used to make up little songs before we fell asleep. How Mom would play the piano and he would dance around with Ali on Christmas Eve, telling us tales of Santa and saying the reindeer would leave tracks on the roof, if only it would snow in Arizona.

She still held onto those memories, that notion of being loved and cared for. I don't know why I didn't… maybe because I had to let them go in order to take over the responsibilities Dad refused to harness. Like making sure she still felt that way.

Maybe that was why she still thought that, underneath it all, Dad was just waiting to show her all the parental affection she had been starved of. I knew better though. And if I hadn't had my hands full with my devastated sister, I might have barreled in there to let him know exactly how shitty his parenting had become. With my fists.

I didn't really know what I could do for her, here, sitting on the wet concrete in the middle of the night, except shield her from the wind. I wished, suddenly, that they did have classes on parenting so that I could buy the cliff notes and figure out how the fuck I was supposed to make a fourteen year old girl happy and self-sufficient. All I could think of, though, was what Mom used to do. Ali had been very young, but it used to work.

I pushed the hair from her forehead, giving her a solid, brotherly kiss, and rocked her back and forth. I whispered that I loved her. I promised that it would all be okay and that I would take care of it.

In nothing but a long-sleeve shirt of jersey cotton, I wasn't sure how much warmth I could provide for her, but her tears finally slowed, and I started to think about where we would spend the night.

Not here, obviously.

I was annoyed when, before I had really reached a conclusion, a car approached our block. The headlights bathing each lawn in their obnoxious brightness were crawling closer slowly. When it pulled in behind my Volvo, I clutched for the flashlight I had dropped on the grass.

Momentarily blinded by the beams I'd looked into, I couldn't tell who was getting out of the car, but I heard several doors open and shut.

"Who's there?"

"Edward?" I recognized that voice.

"Carlisle?"

"Oh, dear, Edward, are you alright?"

Within moments, both Carlisle and Esme were peering down at us. They both looked disheveled, with jackets pulled on over their nightshirts. Carlisle crouched and reached for Alice, asking if she was hurt.

She turned her head towards him, still resting it against me. "I'm just cold."

I rubbed my hands up and down her arms to create friction, but looked to the shadow I could barely make out as Carlisle. "Why are you here?"

"I got worried," came a voice from behind them. "You said you'd call."

"I hadn't gotten around to it," I responded, defensively.

My night vision was returning and I could see Jasper, several feet away, toeing at the slick grass self-consciously.

"It's been, like, two hours man. You limped out of the house, and the roads are wet, and we had no idea if Alice was okay."

"We were all worried," Esme explained. "I couldn't believe Jasper just let you walk out without letting us know." She frowned severely at our lack of jackets.

I assumed he hadn't filled them in on the whole night, then.

"Come on, then. Let's warm you two up."

When I saw Carlisle's gaze flicker to the front door of our house, I whispered, "We're not going in there."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered. "But I'm going to help you to the car. You still shouldn't be on your leg that much yet. I wish you'd asked one of us to drive."

I thought of Jasper's offer, but ignored it immediately.

Esme reached to help Alice up and Carlisle offered me a hand. Considering I had only been off the crutches for a day, it was a welcome gesture. He was right, too. Without the adrenaline, my swollen knee was protesting having been used and abused. Damned leg. The last thing I needed was another weakness.

I loathed the idea of returning to the Cullen mansion, with all its fine décor and happy family photos, but I climbed into the back seat of the Mercedes behind Alice, fueled by the simple goal of getting her as far away from our father as possible.

Soon she was dozing against my shoulder, only stirring when we hit a bump. Carlisle and Esme whispered to each other in the front seat, and I could see them stealing glances at us in the rear view mirror.

Once Alice had been asleep for a while, Jasper cleared his throat softly. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine," I clarified, and didn't bother to elaborate.

He sighed, but turned to watch the foliage of Forks flash by under the streetlights.

Once inside the Cullen's oddly-bright home, Esme rushed off to find some blankets. I stood awkwardly in the large, open living room while Alice leaned heavily on me, muttering, "What're we doing here?"

"We're just gonna sleep here tonight, okay?"

All the commotion must have woken Rosalie, because she was loitering around the stairwell in some type of pink homage-to-butterflies pajamas, looking rumpled and nosy. She whispered something to Jasper, who glowered and gave a retort. I hoped he was telling her to mind her own business, but she just leaned against the railing and watched the proceedings like she was behind a one-way mirror and I wouldn't know she was a rubbernecking bitch.

Esme came bustling down the hallway, pillow in hand. "Alright, Alice. The bed's all set up for you. I don't know why we never put you in there, Edward, I'm sure it's much more comfortable than that old couch."

I just said, "Thanks for doing this Esme," as we followed her back down the hallway. I hated to rely on her like this, but I had to do what was best for Alice tonight.

"Of course. You know you're both always welcome here."

I made sure Alice was settled, telling her I loved her and everything would be fine in the morning. She accepted my vows numbly and curled up on her side, refusing to say anything more.

When I closed the door as soundlessly as possible, Esme was waiting for me in the hall.

"Would you like to talk about it, Edward?"

I shook my head, letting my wayward hair fall into my face in the hopes she wouldn't see my embarrassment. What could I say? That Alice now ranked below a bottle of scotch, because at least he handled that with care? That she and I were the certain shade of green that tainted all his nightmares?

"Do you think she'll be alright?"

"I don't really know. I'll have to talk to her tomorrow."

"Do you know exactly what happened?"

I tried to look anywhere but at her, anxious as a fly under a microscope, but I figured I would have to explain it sooner or later. "Dad just said some stuff that, you know, hurt."

She made sure to gain eye contact when she said, "As long as that's all. But you know, words aren't the only thing that can hurt."

I backed up, wary of her insight.

"Edward, sometimes there's a fine line between anger and abuse." Her voice dropped off as she finished her sentence, practically mouthing the word 'abuse' into the silent hallway.

I was mortified to know the Masen misfortunes really were that transparent, but my resolve hardened. I had to fix this, I had to make sure Ali was taken care of, but I would not lean on the Cullens to help me. I had already inflicted enough of the Masen household on them, and this wasn't their burden to bear.

Esme looked so worried, though. The way her eyebrows shot up and her lips pursed, the way her arms seemed caught between reaching for me and digging into her own pockets, her whole appearance spoke of genuine concern.

"She won't really say what happened, but I'm going to take a few… precautions," I assured her.

"Would you like Carlisle to take a look at her?"

My anxiety rose even higher with the thought that she might need to be checked by a doctor but, if she'd allow it, it might be a good idea.

"If she wants."

I moved to step past her, but the light touch of her hand on my arm stopped me.

"Edward, are you alright?"

I could barely manage to think about that question, the way the emotions just welled up within me, threatening to reach up and choke me. Anger and grief warred with each other – anger at what I'd let happen, and grief over what we'd become.

My dilemma must have shown on my face because suddenly Esme reached to pull me into a tight embrace. It caught me off guard, and I hesitated to return it.

My hands hovered behind her back until she started to pull away. The thought of even just a few seconds where I didn't have to pretend that Edward Masen could handle anything… I tensed with the fear of losing such an opportunity. Turning my head so I could rest it on her shoulder, just momentarily, I returned her hug.

I'd missed this: the idea that hugs were the first step to solving every problem. I'd forgotten their healing power.

With a supportive pat on my back, Esme pulled away. "Maybe you should think about staying here," she suggested. "Permanently."

"I… I couldn't."

In fact, that was the exactly opposite of what I should do. But Esme's concern and parental selflessness felt almost too valuable to walk away from. I wanted so badly to stay, just to know there was one place I was safe, and loved.

But I wasn't – not here, not anymore.

Again, Esme used that maternal sixth sense of hers to sense my uncertainty.

"You must be tired, dear. We can talk about it in the morning. If you need anything, just let Jas know. I already had him set up the couch for you."

And just like that, my dilemma was solved. I knew why Jas was helping: pity. They all did this out of pity.

The truth was ugly, and hard to face. Sure that I couldn't handle any more disappointing truths tonight, I pushed myself through Jasper's room to the faded couch, where I immediately started gathering up the blankets.

I refused to acknowledge him, but he inserted himself into my field of vision before he said anything.

"Edward, please stop."

I grabbed the pillow too.

"Please. I just want to talk to you."

Once I had all my stuff gathered, I afforded him a glance.

"There's nothing to talk about."

He held himself very still, but rolled his eyes up to look at the ceiling. For a brief moment, I thought he was trying not to cry, but he just sighed.

"I just want to know that you're okay."

"I said I was fine."

"Edward, please. Stop acting like I'm trying to hurt you. None of that crap Rose said was true."

I had no intention of opening up that conversation, so I headed for the door. When I heard his footsteps pad across the carpet, though, I pivoted to face him. "Seriously Jasper? You're gonna stand there and tell me you see this, see us," I gestured between myself and the guest room where Ali was feigning sleep, "and not feel bad for us? I call bullshit on that."

"It's not that simple, man."

"Yes. Actually, it is." I backed up until I had cleared his door frame, back out into the hallways. "I'll clear out tomorrow, okay?"

I pulled the door shut as I left, leaving him to fume or wallow or whatever the fuck he felt like doing now that the truth was out.

I didn't know what I'd tell the rest of the Cullens in the morning, but, starting tomorrow, there was no way I was spending another night in this house. And there was definitely no way I was sleeping in a room with Jasper.

I thought I'd never be able to sleep, given my desire to put my fist through something. These walls weren't mine for punching though and, I reminded myself, that's exactly the kind of thinking that got us here in the first place. It was not okay to equate anger and violence.

I would not be like my father. I knew I had his temper which, honestly, scared me, but I'd vowed that I would never let it control me.

The Masen men are strong, he'd say. We fight for what we believe in. Well, apparently, we fight for a lot of other reasons too, but I'd rather isolate myself from everyone I loved than inflict his particular brand of belief on anyone. I didn't want to be a monster, like him.

The Chesterfield in the living room was wider and newer than Jasper's old Salvation Army cast-off and I forced myself through breathing exercises that eventually brought sleep. Luckily, I don't think I had a single dream all night.

Something loud, high-pitched… it wouldn't stop. I pushed my face deeper into the pillow, but the sound was still there. I groaned and tried to roll over, only to be met with the loud creaking of leather. What the…

I opened my eyes, disoriented. Everything was so bright. The ceiling seemed like it'd take more than one ladder to reach, and it was reflecting a sharp, sunny yellow.

Why was… oh, the Cullen's living room. I was still here. For a second I contemplated just throwing Ali in my car and hightail it, leaving Jasper to get a ride with the Bitch.

I groaned again when I realized my car was still at my dad's house. Damnit! Why hadn't I thought to drive it back behind Carlisle? Well, I knew why…

That shrill noise sounded again. What was that and how could I serve it a painful death?

I forced myself into a sitting position, mindful of keeping the blanket bunched in my lap to hide my newly habitual state of early-morning arousal, only to find that it wasn't a problem today.

Well, what do you know?

I ran my palm against my face and tugged on my hair to wake up just a bit more. The house seemed unexpectedly quiet, so I wandered toward the only sound I had heard: that beeping.

It had come from the kitchen, where I found Alice staring into the microwave with a stricken look on her face.

She turned to me without preamble and pouted, "I was going for mac'n'cheese."

One look into the microwave told me that she did not, actually, get mac and cheese. She got pasta with … crunch?

"What did you do?"

"Their kitchen is so fancy-schmancy. I did the best I could."

I reached out to ruffle her bedhead a bit, and she was too slow to stop me. She was still in her pajamas, and kept pulling on the left sleeve of her top self-consciously. It was, indeed, periwinkle blue. I decided not to comment though.

"Where is everyone?"

"Umm. Carlisle went to work, Esme's at a meeting but she'll be back soon, and Jasper and Rosalie are at school."

School? I looked for any appliance with a clock. "What time is it?"

12:41 blinked the oven.

"Crap! Ali, why did you let me sleep in so late?"

She shrugged. "Esme called in for us. I didn't mind skipping."

"But I had a..." test. Oh well.

I grabbed the bowl from the microwave, scraped what I could into the disposal, and ran some water over it in the sink.

Then I stepped up to Ali and gave her a solid, big-brotherly hug.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

She shrugged out of my embrace.

"Not really. I'm fine. What's there to talk about?"

Umm…

"Uh. Well, what do you want to do about Dad?"

"Do? I don't want to do anything. Things are fine like they were."

Was she serious? Had she hit her head sometime between falling asleep miserable and ruining an 'Easy as 1, 2, 3' box of macaroni?

"Can you at least agree not to go home when I'm not there for a while?"

She picked at her fingernails. "That's fine. Whatever."

"You can talk to Carlisle, if you want."

"Why would I want to talk to him?"

I swallowed hard, but pressed on.

"Well, he's a doctor. And there's that patient-doctor confidentiality thing."

She leaned back, looking kind of pissed. "And why the fuck would I want to talk to a doctor?"

"Alice! Calm down, okay. I just meant, you know, in case there was anything you wanted to talk about. And I thought we were cutting back on the swearing thing?"

She rolled her eyes. "You were cutting back. I decided I don't care."

I reached for her to, I don't know, get a better look and find the real Alice somewhere in there, but she pulled back even farther.

"I'm fine, Edward! I just wanted some damn mac'n'cheese."

"Fine." Alice was the last person I wanted to fight with today.

I stood up, set the 'fancy-schmancy' microwave to cook on high for three minutes and said, "Try it again," before walking out of the kitchen.

I spent the first ten minutes wondering what the fuck was going on, and the next ten berating myself.

What was I doing wrong? Why was it suddenly Edward-Masen-sucks week? I lost to that fucker Black, somehow discovered that Jasper's not the best friend I thought he was, and now Alice resented any brotherly concern. Were things changing, or had I just been blind all along? I could have sworn things really were different a week ago. How could I get that time back?

The next ten minutes were spent halfheartedly hitting a pillow that couldn't fight back, and then I was back to berating myself.

Eventually, in a hopeless attempt to start the day over again, I showered. When I was dressed again, I found Bella and Charlie Swan in the kitchen with Alice.

"Hey there, Edward."

"Charlie."

"You kids doing alright?"

I peeked a glance at Alice, who was ignoring our little exchange, so I said, "As well as can be expected."

I figured that was up for interpretation, and he could think whatever he wanted. I guessed it depended on whatever Alice decided to tell him.

He stretched a bit and wiped his hands across the chest of his uniform, clearly restless. "Well, Alice, you ready to hit the road?"

Without another word she was up and by his side.

Charlie tipped his imaginary hat, and Bella gave me a little wave. "See ya, Edward."

Alice said another, and then they were gone.

Only about five minutes had gone by when I remembered, again, that I had no car. Charlie and his cruiser were probably already approaching the main part of town, and it'd be a real nuisance for them to come back and get me. Then again, I wanted so badly to get out of this house.

I reached into my pocket for my phone, but finally thought better of it. Alice obviously wanted to get as far away from me as she could.

I didn't know what was going through her head, and I wasn't done trying to figure it out. For now, though, if she wanted some space, I would give it to her. I just wished I could find some space for myself, too.

I could just run, I thought. Slip into some shorts, do a few stretches, and run.

I closed my eyes, truly contemplating it. The brisk air would feel good on my face, and I longed for the clarity that focusing on the slap of my feet against pavement would bring. It couldn't be more than ten miles to my dad's house and on a good day, if I pushed myself, I could make that.

But this wasn't a good day. I had already tapped into all my energy resources to be Edward the Independent and Edward the Guardian, and even the long night's sleep hadn't helped me refuel.

Plus, it's not like I was in a hurry to see my old man again. I figured I'd ask Esme for a ride home when she was back from her meeting, which should be long before Jas finished up with track for the day.

At least, I hoped it would.

In the meantime, I sat on the white leather couch and listened to the old grandfather clock against the wall tick away the day.

My time at the Cullens' was coming to a close. I had already tried once, and failed, to get out of here, but I couldn't stay knowing that all the happy memories I'd made here were based on a lie. While they had fed me and listened through the sob stories of my life, I had apparently given nothing worthwhile in return.

I propped my elbows on my knees and hung my head in my hands. I hated to think that Jasper had gotten nothing out of our friendship all these years, but I couldn't really think of one thing I'd done for him. I mean, we'd hung out and had fun. We did our homework and our track training together. I'd like to think I was a willing ear for him as much as he was for me. But then again, maybe I'd kept him from all the events and parties he'd wanted to go to. He might have just figured he'd have enough time to party once he went off to Cornell next year, and didn't have the heart to throw me out before then.

I guess, when you have as much as the Cullens, it doesn't take much to keep an extra person around, no matter how much baggage they carry.

Still, though. My time as Edward the Leech was almost over. All I needed was a ride home, and then I wouldn't ask for anything, ever again.

Reviews make Edward feel better.