Chapter Six

You Were On My Mind

Edward walked into the Swan's living room with a strange heaviness about his shoulders. He stood under the arched entrance watching father and daughter. Charlie was seated in the wing back, eyes riveted to the screen where Marshall Dillon held sway over Festus. Although Isabella had her eyes glued to the screen, he could tell she was not similarly interested. Her eyes skittered sideways several times, as though keeping tabs on where he stood. If he didn't know better he would have said that she was nervous and maybe a little afraid of him. But he did know better and he knew that she was on edge because she wanted him gone.

Edward cleared his throat and Charlie looked over at him. "I'm sorry to eat and run, but I have practice in the morning. Thank you for the invitation to dinner Chief Swan. I enjoyed it very much. Thank you for dinner, Isabella. The lasagna was delicious; the best I ever had." The smile did not reach his eyes. He shook Charlie's hand as the older man got up to escort him to the door. Isabella trailed reluctantly behind them, her good manners demanded that she wish him farewell, but Edward knew she would have preferred not to.

They stood side by side in the foyer. Chief Swan clapped Edward on the shoulder. "You're welcome to dinner anytime, Edward. I'm sure Isabella here gets bored just having her old man around. It was nice to have young company. Stop by next weekend, or whenever you're in town."

"Thank you, but I probably won't be coming back to Forks for a while, sir. After next weekend's game, my father and I plan to stay in Seattle. Esme and Carlisle will be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner the following weekend. Then I have exams to study for, so I think I'll be staying close to home for a while." Edward glanced over at Isabella, who quickly looked into his eyes and then looked away. He noted her dismissal of him, how relieved she seemed when he spoke of his plans not to return to Forks. She understood, as he had intended her to, that he would no longer be coming to seek her out. He had been hoping to see a glimmer of regret, but there was none. His shoulder sank even lower.

Charlie caught the glance that passed between them, and while he was not aware of the conversation that had occurred between Isabella and Edward in the kitchen, he was wise enough to know that a change had occurred. "Oh. Well good luck with the game. I hear the championship trophy is yours for the taking. I wish you well."

"Thank you, sir." Edward replied as he turned to open the door and stepped onto the porch. At the top of the stairs he turned and smiled. Father and daughter stood in the doorway. Charlie had his arms thrown over her Isabella's shoulders and she had her arms tightly folded over her chest as she looked at the tips of her shoes. "Take care, Chief. Good luck with your art, Isabella. Good-bye." And he turned and ran quickly down the stairs.

Chief Swan closed the door as Edward's taillights disappeared down the road. He turned and went into the kitchen where Isabella was pouring herself a glass of milk. "So you gave him the brush-off. What happened, Isabella?"

"Nothing happened. I told you not to ask him over here. I don't like him."

"He seems like a nice enough young man; certainly too nice and too good looking for you to decide that you don't like him after just meeting him once or twice. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want you to date him. But he is Carlisle and Esme's nephew, and an intelligent boy. He might turn out to be a good friend, if you gave him half a chance."

Isabella snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh Charlie please. Do you actually think Edward Cullen wants or needs another friend?" She could have told Charlie exactly what Edward Cullen did want but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Had she told Charlie about the words they had exchanged in the kitchen, god knows what he would have done. For certain, he would not be thinking of Edward as a possible best friend for his only daughter.

"Did he say something rude?" Charlie questioned with a frown.

After a sip of milk she replied. "No, I just told him that I didn't want him here."
"That was not nice, Isabella."
She shrugged and turned to put the milk bottle back into the fridge. "Yeah, well, it solved my problem, didn't it? He won't be coming back." She said coldly as she slammed the door of the fridge.

"So you give him marching orders so that you can go around with that idiot James Anders?"

"James may be an idiot. But guess what? I couldn't care less."

"I told you, you're not to see him. He's dangerous." Charlie spluttered.
"Pfft! He's about as dangerous as a piece of lint." She said airily as she walked toward the kitchen door.

Charlie stopped her with a hand to her arm. "Listen to me, young lady. Two things make him dangerous. One. He's an idiot with a big ego. Two. His family's got lots of money. Izzy, in this world, money talks."

"Dad, please do not call me Izzy, you know I can't stand that nickname." She patted her father's cheek. "Dad, please don't worry. I don't like James, not even a little. He's a cretin. I only tolerate him because he's useful to know. Without him pushing it, there was no way I would have gotten on the cheerleading squad. And I need that for my extra-curricular activity to show that I'm well-rounded. Plus, Vicky likes him, and I would never hurt Vicky, even if I liked him. Which I don't."

"Well, see that you make that clear to that dimwit. Vicky Jensen can do a hell of a lot better than James."

"I know, I know. I've been trying to steer her towards my lab partner, Alec, but she's determined to win James. Apparently, he's the prize every girl at Forks High wants. Go figure."

"Oh well. Who can figure out girls and the way their minds work. I sure can't. Girls like Vicky grow up to be women like your mother; headstrong, never accepting the good that's right in front of them. Always reaching for something else, something they think they need."

"Mom's not like that Dad."

"She's exactly like that. You're her daughter, you don't see her the way I do. And truth be told, I should not be talking to you about her this way. So, forget I said anything. I'm sorry. She's your mother, and she's been a great mother. I know that, and I thank her for it every day. I see the young lady in front of me and I am so proud of you. And that's one hundred percent due to Renee. She has been there, in your life, day in, day out, and doing a great job raising you."

"She is a great mom. I couldn't ask for better. But you know what? You're a wonderful dad. And I've been very lucky to have you both." And with a hug Isabella told her father good night and went to bed.

As she climbed the stair, she spied Esme's mums and remembered the look on Edward's face when he had given the simple bouquet to her. He had looked a little nervous, and if she didn't know better she would have said that he had looked at her as though she was someone special. She briefly wondered if he did indeed have a crush on her but she quickly dismissed the thought. She had heard more than enough about Edward Cullen's womanizing from Vicky and her cousin Jessica. As she got ready for bed, she remembered how Vicky detailed how Jessica had cried and cried over him. Apparently Jessica had thought they had something special, but Edward had just used her for sex and then discarded her callously afterwards. According to Vicky, Jess had not been the first girl to suffer a broken heart from Cullen. Isabella seethed when she thought of just what a callous wretch Cullen was. Her mother had always warned her about boys like him. She settled under her snug cocoon of blankets, happily reminiscing about how she had told him off. "About time, someone did." She muttered to herself.

#

While Chief Swan and his daughter were talking in their kitchen, Edward was speeding his way out of town. As he flew past the turnoff to Carlisle and Esme's house, he briefly thought about stopping by and saying hello, but then changed his mind. He just needed to get far away from Forks, the sooner the better.

An hour later, Edward's father looked out the front window and saw his son pulling into the driveway. Two hours later Edward Sr. opened the front door to see his son still sitting in the driver's seat, staring through the windshield at nothing in particular. Concerned, Edward Sr. walked over and tugged at the door and peered inside. "Son, are you all right? You've been sitting out here for quite a while."

With a stunned expression, Edward turned to his father. A faint grimace appeared on his face and it was barely discernible in the dim interior light. He lied and answered his father. "I'm fine dad. Just thinking, you know, 'bout the practice tomorrow and the game next week."

His father's hand grasped his shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. "The game's a big deal for you. But don't worry about it too much. Whatever the outcome, just be happy doing your best. Just having made it this far is a great accomplishment. Whether you win or lose the championship next week, I want you to know you're a good quarterback. One game won't make that any more true than it is now. You know what I mean?"

Edward heaved himself out of his car as though he was a much older man, with the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. He closed the driver's side door and leaned back against it, turning his gaze up into the dark starlit sky. "Yeah, I know." He sighed. "All the same, I guess I'm just wondering why I'm doing it. I don't really want to do it forever, you know? I don't see myself playing football on a professional level. As a matter of fact I don't even want to play too much longer. Don't get me wrong, I liked the challenge of pushing myself, but I guess I've learned that I don't care too much for the rest of it."

"Hell, I know how you feel. I remember being told how my throwing arm was my future. People said it so much I believed it. I thought I had nothing else. But when I broke my arm it was the most liberating thing. Suddenly I HAD to find other options. My old man had his heart set on me playing for the Yankees so he grieved more than I did. To tell you the truth, I was relieved. I no longer had this expectation of greatness hovering over me like a cloud. Finally, I could just be."

As his father spoke, Edward stared off into the middle distance, his face still stone cold and so weary. His father was not even sure if he was listening. Edward Sr. noticed the droop of his son's shoulders and he wanted to alleviate whatever imaginary burden sat so heavily on him. In that moment, half hidden by the dark night, his father could see his wife's features etched into every line of Edward's face. He looked so much like Elizabeth that his father's heart tore a little at the sight. If only Elizabeth were here, he thought to himself, she would know exactly what to say. A lull settled around the two men, both of them thinking about the women who had captured their hearts.

Soon enough, the father shook himself out of his reverie and took another look at his son. Edward Sr. had worked hard every day of his existence so that his son and namesake would never feel the harsh sting of want nor the ache of yearning for something that was not his. Somehow his best laid plans had come undone and his handsome son was feeling an ache that his father could not seem to alleviate.

Looking back on his own past, the older man mistakenly felt that his son's sadness stemmed from the burden of being the star quarterback on a team hell bent on repeating the success of the previous year. He knew a lot about the burden of carrying others' hopes and aspirations around like a heavy weight in your pocket and he never wanted his son to feel that stress.

Edward gave his son a one-armed hug and tried his best to put his mind at ease. "Son, I don't want you to think that your throwing arm is all you have. It's a talent, sure; and for what it's worth it can get you far. But your intelligence is far more important. If you were to decide to never pick up another football again in your life, that's okay with me. As long as you're happy, I'm happy. You have a lot going for you. Don't worry about the game. Do your best, that's all you can do. Afterwards, you'll still be Edward, the son I love."

Edward nodded. "Thanks Dad." And he shoved himself away from the car. "I think I'll go to bed and rest up good. Practice in the morning."

"How did the dinner with Isabella and the Chief go?" His father inquired quietly.

"Okay, I guess. I won't be going back though."

"Hmm. Why is that?"

Edward shrugged and lied again. "She's not my type, a little young." He silently marveled at his ability to lie so easily.

"Oh well. I'm glad about that. I wouldn't want the Chief to take a shotgun to you." He joked.

Edward forced a laugh that sounded almost genuine. " I wouldn't want that neither." And father and son walked into the house.

#

Edward was blessed with a mind that could focus regardless of what else was going on. He used that focus and blocked all thoughts of Isabella. The next morning as he went for his run through the woods behind his house, he thought only of the upcoming practice and the big game next week. He spared not a thought for Isabella, until night fell.

There in his bedroom he lay in quiet repose, still as a statue, wondering in the darkness. He asked himself over and over again, "Why?" Why was he was cursed? Why was it his destiny to long for someone who so clearly despised him? And he wondered, "Why?" Why did she despise him? He remembered how she stood next to James, holding his hands, eyes barely looking up at him. He remembered her surly expression, the disdainful curl to her lips, when they talked in her backyard. He remembered the roll of her eyes when he presented her with Esme's mums.

#

Bella Swan spent her nights similarly, lying in the dark, in the upstairs bedroom, thinking about Edward Cullen. She had no idea why she had difficulty falling asleep; heretofore she had always fallen directly to sleep. But something changed that Saturday when Edward left. There was niggling discomfort roaming in her tired brain. And the discomfort was only acknowledged in the dark of the night as she tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. Her thoughts strayed to how he looked standing on the porch as he told her good-bye. Each night she lay in the dark remembering how he had held her in his arms in the kitchen. Remembering how he had run his tongue over her lips. Remembered his whispered words of wanting to taste her and she melted all over again. Part of her wished that she could erase that scandalous memory, but a larger part of her wanted to remember it forever.

He was on her mind, in her thoughts in her brain and in her body. The tight sensation she felt in her belly was deliciously decadent and she only felt it when she thought back to Edward in her kitchen. She wondered to herself, "What?" What would it be like to have him in her kitchen again? "What?" And what would it be like if she allowed him to taste her everywhere. Her feet moved restlessly under the cool sheets as she thought about him. And for the next week that was the way she spent her nights.

#

EPOV

What a fool I was! She never liked me, not even a little. She barely tolerated me. And for what? For who? For dickhead James Anders, that's who. "Isabella Swan is an idiot!" the whispered words came tumbling from my lips and it felt so good to hear them.

If she wants James, then she is an all time fool. James is a pompous asshole and if she wants him she was welcome to him. "I'm not going to waste another minute thinking about her."

A week went by and every spare moment was spent practicing. I had no time to think about her even if I wanted to, and I truly didn't. So many girls out there were prettier and smarter and a hell of a lot easier.

Saturday came and to say it was cold would have been an understatement. It was colder than the proverbial witch's teat. The last quarter of the big game was played in a steady drizzle. Marcus Brent was a formidable opponent. He was on his game that day. But we were better. The Panthers trounced the Tigers and we were presented with the trophy. I clutched it in my right hand and shook it in victory and the crowd erupted in whistles and applause.

As the team lifted me I searched the crowd for my father. I knew exactly where he was sitting and he was easy to find. I gave him a wave and I spotted Carlisle and Esme next to him. I quickly trotted over to the seats which were right on the sidelines. "Dad." I showed him the trophy. "I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks."

My father beamed with pride. "Thank you, son."

Carlisle and Esme both reached over to ruffle my hair in congratulations. "Great game, Edward."

"We're so proud of you."

"Yes, Edward. Congratulations, you were spectacular." And my heart stilled for a half second and then it beat double time. Isabella was sitting next to Esme. Her fuzzy knit hat was drawn down low over her hair and her big brown eyes softly peeked out. Her nose was pink from the cool drizzle and her cheeks were flushed. Her pouty garnet lips were turned up into a smile, and yes the smile finally reached her eyes. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. But then I reminded myself, I no longer cared.