BPOV
Maybe it's time to change
And leave it all behind
I've never been one to walk alone
I've always been scared to try
So why does it feel so wrong
To reach for something more
To wanna live a better life
What am I waiting for?
'Cause nothing stays the same
Maybe it's time to change
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned my attention away from the plane's window to look at Charlie. He was motioning for me to take my headphones off.
"We're getting close. Pilot says we should be landing in about thirty minutes," he told me.
I nodded, turning off Sick Puppies, and tucking my iPod and headphones into my rucksack. We were close.
So close…but still so far.
I couldn't help the soft sigh that slipped past my lips. Over the past month and a half of meeting and greeting with Charlie and Emmett, his son, I'd been trying to keep my more…depressing thoughts at bay.
Depressing? Please. More like soul-sucking. I mentally snorted.
It couldn't be helped. At least, not really. I mean c'mon! My brother/ legal guardian fucking died for me.
I had the scar to prove it.
There was no way I should have survived. The force of the impact should have sent the glass (or whatever the hell I'd hit my head on) through my eye, and into my brain, effectively ending my seventeen-year-old life.
But it hadn't.
The crash had taken Travis's instead.
The sound of shuffling feet snapped me out of it. Charlie had unbuckled his seatbelt, and was now reaching into the overhead bin to grab his duffel bag. I followed suit, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and following Charlie out of the plane.
Charlie stopped at a payphone (to call Emmett, I presume) while I trudged over to luggage claim to collect Riley, my Great Dane. He reached to about my waist, and had a soft gray coat. He hated men, except for Travis. But with him gone, he had to readjust to the male presence all over again. He tolerated Charlie, maybe even liked him a little, but Emmett…well, let's just say that Em's testes had become an endangered species. But Riley was just looking out for me, the way he always had.
I quickly led Riley out of the airport; I didn't like it in there, the place made me uneasy and on edge.
And then there's the whole seeing-some-random-stranger-giving-me-the-stink-eye-every-time-I-turned-around thing. I swear to Christ, I am thisclose to fucking snapping!
Yes! I'm not wearing shoes, and my dog isn't on a leash! So fucking what? I hate shoes, and he hates the damn leash. So why don'tcha mind your own damn business, and get on with your fucking life!
Yep, that's pretty much what me snapping would sound like.
I sighed and pulled out the old tennis ball I kept in my bag. The odds were that those people hadn't even noticed my bare feet, or my leash-less dog. They were all too busy staring at me face.
At my scar.
Riley whined and head-butted my thigh. I gave a slight smile, and lightly tossed the ball out a couple of yards. I couldn't really throw it, what with being in a crowded airport parking lot and all. Riley trotted over the short distance and retrieved the ball. He handed it over without a fight. I bounced it up and down against the black tar. Once. Twice. Three times. Then I threw it up in the air and caught it. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times. Six times. I continued to play catch with myself. In the beginning, the bitch I got to call my social worker tried to get me to talk to any number of shrinks. Pfft. Those quacks were the ones in need of therapy. One even spent the whole session crying over her cat that her ex-boyfriend had taken with him when they'd called it quits. It got so bad that an officer had to come in and escort her out. But that's Vegas for ya.
"Ready to go, Bells?"
I turned to find Charlie watching me. Unlike every other adult, Charlie didn't treat me like I was a cornered animal. Back in Vegas, everyone had been on their toes around me, like they were waiting for me to do something. What, I don't know. But it always seemed to revert back to embarrassment. Like when one of them caught me playing catch by myself, with no one around watching but Riley. They actually expected me to blush. For what? Because you saw me toss a ball in the air? Big whoop.
They had actually told me this. My social worker had said, and I quote: '"It's perfectly natural to blush. It's also natural to be embarrassed when a person is watching you. No one is expecting you to play the hero. You can show your feelings around us."'
What. The. Fuck.
I was not embarrassed at all. Nor was I "playing the hero", and bottling up my emotions. I'm just not an open book. I'm not the diva, I'm not the eccentric and egotistical prat that exaggerates everything, and I'm not the average martyr.
Which made it one hell of a relief that Charlie doesn't stare at me, expecting a breakdown.
And with that in mind, I smiled and answered, "Sure Charlie."
He returned it with a grin of his own, and we strolled over to the cruiser.
Charlie's the Chief of Police in Forks. This fact had relieved me some when I was first getting to know him and Emmett. Emmett's attempt at hugging me, on the other hand…well, Riley got between us before he could touch me. It's not like I have anything against him, but I had only just put a face to the name, and he wanted to hug me. I'm not a touchy feely kind of person. I like my personal space, always have.
Plus, Emmett being the big, burly dude that he is, sent off some warning bells in my head. As I said, it's not his fault. I'm just oddly wired.
Riley hopped in the back, Charlie slid behind the wheel, and I rode shotgun.
Riding shotgun! Best fucking expression on the face of the earth. Right up there with cussin' like a sailor.
The hour long drive went by rather quickly. I loved long car rides. Travis and I would go driving all the time, and sometimes Jamie went too. ("Jamie" was my nickname for James, Travis's partner). Despite our living in Vegas, they couldn't legally marry. But that never mattered; marriage was seen as an institution, and nothing more.
They had still referred to themselves as being one another's partner though. Effectively avoiding the implications brought upon by words such as "boyfriend" or "husband".
The cruiser lurched as the front tires bumped up onto the brick driveway, followed by the back tires.
Well that's one way of snapping back to reality.
Riley snorted in annoyance; I couldn't help my snickering that followed. Charlie casted me a sideways glance, but quickly looked away with an eye roll as he got out of the car.
Yeah, I'm the crazy one.
Charlie walked up to the house and unlocked the door. Riley was getting restless, so I exited the car, and let him out.
Charlie stood just inside the doorway. Apparently Emmett had his friends over, and Charlie was backing up Emmett's warning to be wary of Riley.
"The only reason he hasn't made me an entrée, I think, is because I've had my uniform on this whole time," Charlie chuckled.
Riley gave a short bark of annoyance, and, once again, I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me.
"Emmett! Go help your sister." I heard Charlie snap. I already had my rucksack over my shoulder, but I listened and silently laughed as Emmett whined about my having one bag, and therefore not needing any help. (Not that I'd have needed it regardless). However, when he started in on Riley again, I decided it was time I said hello.
"Keep talking like that, and your testicles will become Riley's new chew toys," I called, sauntering into the house; Riley on my heels.
I stood in the entry way and smirked at my audience. Charlie stood off to my right, and Emmett stood slightly farther back. A girl with long blond hair was curled up in the recliner, and on the couch, a bronze-haired boy sat with his arm slung over the shoulders of a petite girl. She had short black hair, and a remote sat loosely in her hand; the TV forgotten.
Riley stood at my left, and as he shifted his weight slightly, I turned and was captured by a pair of deep, dark blue eyes.
Jesus Christ.
His skin held a light tan. His honey blond hair fell in tousled curls over his forehead, offsetting his eyes beautifully. His were the kind of eyes that a girl lost herself in.
As my gaze wandered down his body, I saw that he wore a pair of dark-washed jeans; they were distressed a lot like my mine. Not fake and store-made, but naturally, like they'd been worn a lot.
His shirt was grey, long-sleeved, and had the ACDC logo on it. Niiice. It clung to his well-defined torso like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Am I drooling?
Apparently not, because, amazingly, I'd managed to keep my smirk in place. However, as the Cowboy (I had just noticed his boots) noticed I was thoroughly eye-fucking him, he returned my smirk with a sexy one of his own.
Hawt dayum.
A/N:
So very sorry for the delay. These chapters are gettin' harder and harder to write. Although, I must say, if you're waiting on chapter 10 for REDO, that one's a REAL bugger. But I'll get on its ass ASAP. Swears.
Drop me a line, tell me what'cha think.
Until next time, my darlings.