Hi there. So the holidays are over and now I'm back to normal… okay, I'm never normal.

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I'm glad you're reading.

Thank you to SunflowerFran3759 for her beta skills. Any mistakes are mine for deciding to add at the last minute!

Chapter 2- Stand

"Mase! Over here!" Emmett shouts across the crowded bar. He's sittin' at a table with plenty of beer bottles in front of him.

I chuckle and head over to where he stands with his arm wrapped around his beautiful blonde wife, Rosalie McCarty.

She's a crazy nut. She's got the prettiest face and bluest eyes in West Texas, but the most dangerous right hook in the damn state. I guess workin' at a bar for so long teaches you a thing or two about fightin' and not puttin' up with shit from crazy drunken hicks.

I shake Eli's hand, and laugh, as Garrett dances all by his boozed-up-self on the dance floor to All My Ex's Live in Texas. His white, beat-up cowboy hat is crooked on his head and his shirt is undone. He's havin' fun.

"That asshole already had four beers, Mase. Want one?" Emmett asks.

"What kind?" Rose waits for my answer. She's an impatient woman. She taps her snakeskin, boot- covered foot, and raises her sculpted eyebrow at me.

I see her once in a while when she visits Emmett for lunch on her days off, but we don't really talk. She's a little reserved, but when she does decide to say somethin' it's always blunt and sometimes even rude. She can be a mean bitch. She's ain't a bad person though. She's just honest and that's why Emmett loves her. Even though he loves her, that don't stop her from being scary and intimidating. She's got a few tattoos and always wears cowboy boots. She sleeps most of the day because of her night job, but she'll spend the afternoons gettin' her hair and nails done, driving Emmett nuts. But he really don't care. He loves that crazy, money spendin,' blonde.

"I'll have a Coke."

"Like hell you are, Masen! Get em' a Bud, babe," Emmett tells her, then kisses her cheek and slaps her ass as she walks away. She sure does love the damn goof. She would have ripped a new one to any other asshole for doing that. Instead, she winks at him and continues on her merry way to the bar.

"You're such a bad friend, Emmett," I tell him, hollerin' over the loud, country music. "I'm tryin' to clean myself up, and I drove here."

"Calm your redneck tits, Mase. It's just one beer. You can have your Coke on the fuckin' rocks after you're done with it." A new song starts playin' and suddenly Emmett raises his beer bottle and "woohoos" louder than the damn music. "I love this goddamn song!"

Crazy fuck.

"You better drink this, Edward," Rosalie says as she hands me the cold beer. "I don't like walkin' for nothin.' So make me happy."

I give her a smile, but she doesn't return it. Instead, she walks back to give some thirsty fools more booze.

I take a small sip. Goddamn, that hit the spot. I haven't had a beer in a long time. I take a long swig and sit next to Eli.

"Where the wife?" I ask him.

"She's with her mama. I came here to take care of Mikey," he says, and nods over to a happy lookin' Mike Newton. There are a few empty beer bottles in front of him. He's tappin' the table to the beat of the song and by the look in his eyes, he's high as fuck.

"I thought he had stopped that shit?"

"I thought so too, Edward, but he said he's celebrating because he just found out he's having a baby boy," Eli says.

"Dumb fuck," Emmett mutters. "Hey pussy face!" He shouts in Mike's direction.

Mike glares at him.

"The hell you want?"

"Don't drink all the booze. There are a lot of us here tonight, and your baby's mama needs ya' alive to help with the stinker you is about to have."

"Fuck off, Emmett," Mike slurs and gets up. He slowly walks over to a girl who looks like she don't know where she's at and takes her out to dance.

"Why do we always have to be babysittin' that moron?"

"He's just a kid. He don't know better. Someone has to knock some sense into him," I say, and take another small sip of my beer.

"Well I'll be more than happy to do that task," Emmett hollers.

"I'm sure you would."

Garrett comes back, sweaty as hell from his dancin.' He grins and downs another beer before roughly patting my back.

"You got a cig, Edward?"

I loan him a smoke and light one for myself. I drink half my beer while I stare at people dancin' and havin' fun. The night is still young, and maybe I'll ask a pretty gal for a dance if I get brave enough. I haven't tested my prancin' skills in a long while.

"How does it feel to be the only beaner in the bar," a loud voice shouts.

I turn and see James Hunter wrapping an arm around Eli. His face is red from all the booze, and his sweat stained shirt is half tucked into his jeans.

"You know this could be dangerous. If they see your brown skin, shit might get real." he slurs into Eli's face. "I'm fix'in to go dancin' and I won't be around to protect ya.'"

Eli just pulls out of his grasp and continues staring at the dancing crowd. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"You beaners always bein' brave."

"James, why don't you go screw your cousin Sharla? You always have the hots for her." Emmett suggests. "And wrap it well. We don't want another blonde asshole like you runnin' around with his small dick caught in his zipper."

The table rumbles from everyone's laughter, including my own.

I smirk as James angrily walks past Emmett and back into the dancin' bar.

I push the rest of my beer away, not even wantin' a buzz, and drink the Coke Rose eventually brought me. An hour later, after dancin' with some redhead Emmett threw on my lap, and arguing about how the Dallas Cowboys need a new quarterback, I say my goodbyes and head outside.

I take in the cool night air. The lack of buildings and trees leaves the sky open to my greedy eyes. It's covered in stars and the big moon shines down on me. Its nights like these that make me thank God that I'm alive and I stopped being stupid.

I pop my cigarette in my mouth, wonderin' how I'll give up the habit. In the meantime, I enjoy the smoke as if it's my last. I might go coldturkey and quit soon enough.

Like I did with everything else.

I finish my cigarette, but before I can start walkin' to my truck, the rusty bar door slams open. I turn around to see what the hell is goin' on when Mike rolls out, holding his stomach, and bent over, just a few feet away from the door.

"You motherfucker!" A very drunken James shouts and hovers over Mike, who agonizes in pain. He kicks the dumb kid in the ribs with his steal toed boot, and pulls him up to shout in his face. "If you ever touch my bitch again, I'll fuckin' kill ya! Ya hear! I'll kill ya!" He lays a loud jab into Mike's face, causing for him to fall.

He continues to beat the shit out of Mike.

He's gonna kill him.

Before James can throw another punch, I run over and tackle the son of a bitch. He loses his breath as we land on his back, but that don't stop him from aiming shots at my face. He tries to fight me off, but he's drunk and I'm not, so I have an advantage. I shove my forearm into his neck, causing him to choke and gasp.

"That's enough, you goddamn snake!" I shout.

"Get the fuck off me!"

"You best run off, fucker."

"He touched my woman!"

"And you already gave him what he deserves, now back off."

"Fine! I'll let that pussy go, but let me be, you son of a bitch!" He shouts.

I give his neck one last shove and lay off. I take deep breaths to help me calm down. I've always had a short temper, especially with assholes. It don't take me very long to want to punch one in the damn throat. I've been workin' on fixing that, but I'll do that later, when James Hunter ain't being a goddamn pest.

He slowly stands, using the parked truck next to him, to hold on. When he looks calm enough, I start to turn the other way, when suddenly I feel him pull my shoulder back, causin' me to turn and face him.

When I manage to do so, my left eye meets is right fist.

Motherfucker punched me.

And he punched me hard.

I fall on my ass and while I'm groanin' and holdin' my face in pain, he starts to walk the other way. I decide to let him go. I ain't goin' to jail again for some dumb fuck. And then there's the fact that I can barely see anything. He slowly makes it into the dark parkin' lot of the bar, and I know someone should stop him because he's drunk as hell and he surely can't drive.

Maybe I should go after him.

"James!" I shout.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Mike asks, spittin' out blood from his mouth, and distracting me from James.

"What? Defend you?" I ask as I try to stand.

"Yeah! Now I look like a damn pussy!" He rushes to his feet and heads to his own shitty truck. The rusty piece of shit screeches out of the parkin' lot.

"Go fuck yourself, Mike," I mutter, deciding now is a good time to go home. Maybe God is punishin' me for having that half beer.

But hell, it was good.

James' truck passes by as he leaves, and I glare at his back lights as they disappear into the distance alongside Mike.

A part of me hopes James crashes and gets hurt for being such an evil fucker. But I ain't wantin' to be like that anymore, so instead I look up and ask the man upstairs to help him get home, even though I want to kill him myself.

~RN~

"Mama!"

"I'm so sorry, baby."

"Mama, please I'm hungry."

"If I open this door, you know he'll get mad at both of us."

"But my belly hurts…"

"You've been a bad boy, Eddie. You know your father only wants you to learn. God has to punish you."

"I'll be good, I promise! I won't chase Rocky into the mud no more! I'll be a good boy."

"Think about your sins, Son. Think about them. Ask the Lord for forgiveness, before you drown in your wicked ways and die a horrible death in the arms of evil."

I don't sleep very well. The goddamn nightmares are back. They go away and then come back. It had been the longest I've gone without one. But I guess the night at the bar which I thought would turn out fun, didn't do any good.

I get up at five in the mornin' to get to work at six. I curse at Emmett for convincin' me that going out last night would be a good idea. Sure I had fun, but now I feel like death from stayin' up so late. And my left eye ain't completely shut, but it's purple, bruised, and it hurts like a fiery hell. I swear if I see James today, I'll return the favor.

But I don't wanna get fired.

I sigh and make myself breakfast. I can cook a mean scrambled egg with jalapeños. Livin' alone for so long makes a man do crazy things, like learnin' how to cook and clean.

I run out of time so I stuff the scrambled egg into a tortilla and head to work.

Even at this unholy hour of the early day, the roads are jammed and people are already pissin' me off with their shitty drivin.' We're really overpopulated in this town.

I barely make it to work on time. I stamp my timecard and when I turn to say my awkward hello to Angela, I find her cryin' and comforting Mandy, the payroll lady, who is in worse condition.

"What's goin' on? Everything alright?" I ask. The women don't say anything and continue whimpering to themselves.

"Edward?"

I turn and find a gloomed face Jasper with his trucker hat tightly held in his hands.

"Hey, Jasper. What's goin' on?"

He sighs and nods towards the door. I follow him, worried as hell for what might have happened. The way his head bobs down with every slow step gives me a bad feeling. He finally stops; I'm guessing he wanted to get away from hearin' distance from the ladies in the office.

"What the hell happened?" I ask, impatient with his silence.

"Carlisle will be off for a while," he finally answers. He rubs his red neck and looks down at the ground again.

"Why? I thought his vacation was gonna be in a few weeks."

"Somethin' bad happened last night. His son Peter and his fiancée Bella were a horrible car accident. It was a hit and run."

"Damn, that sucks. Are they okay?"

"Bella is in critical condition in the hospital, but Peter…" Jasper pauses. I had never seen him this distraught. Jasper is always a cool and collective guy. "Peter died. It looks like he died instantly after the crash."

I don't know what to say. I feel horrible for Mr. Carlisle. He's been nothin' but kind to me. He's a great man. Nobody deserves to lose a child like that, but knowin' him makes it worse.

Jasper pats my shoulder and tells me we gotta move on and work. That's what Carlisle would want.

"Charles Swan is puttin' Billy Black in Carlise's command spot for the meantime, meanin' the leads will have to work extra. Can I trust you to help me out? You're the only responsible man I know and trust."

"Of course. I'll help ya, Jasper."

"Thanks, Edward," he says and places his hat over his blonde hair. "I used to hang out with Pete all the time. We got distant for a while, but it still hurts to see him go. He was a nice kid. Smart and dedicated to the church, his schoolin' and his family, that's the way everyone knew him. We really don't know how long we have in this world, Edward. We gotta make it count while we're here I always say. May God rest his soul."

As Jasper walks away, I can't help but agree with him. I just hope I have enough time to take back every wrongful thing I've done. If a nice person like Peter Cullen had the fate he had, what's stopping the Lord from taking me, a sinful and broken man.

~R~

BPOV

"She's been asleep for a long time!"

"Mr. Swan, this was to be expected. The surgery went fine. Now we have to wait for Isabella to wake up."

"But for how long?"

"Hours. Days, even."

"But the funeral will be in three days!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Swan. I have no control. It's up to Isabella now."

"Lord help you Dr. Medina if my daughter doesn't wake up."

The pain is agonizing. I just wish someone would put me out of my misery. I'm cold. I can feel the shiver rocking my sore and broken body.

There is a beeping sound in the background and it won't let me rest. I think it's a reminder that I'm still alive. I can hear and feel someone speaking to me. The vibrations of the voice keep pulling me from the abyss of my dreams. There is a hand holding mine. The warmth of it mixes with the coldness of mine, sending a chill up my arm.

I think I hear myself groan.

I'm trying so hard to let go of my sleep and come back into reality. It's a tug of war in between my mind and my soul. I pray for strength.

Suddenly the screeching sound of that truck, and the image Peter's bloody face make my heart race and make me gasp for air.

"Bella, baby, you're going to be okay. You're gonna be just fine," my mother says as she holds me down.

I open my eyes and after I'm momentarily blinded by the brightness of the room, I find her face staring down at me.

"Mom?" I hear my thick voice ask. I try to clear my throat, but it's too dry and it hurts.

She nods and with the movement of her head, the tears in her blue eyes fall on my face.

"Yes, baby. It's me, your mama. I'm not leavin' your side."

I lick my dry lips and beg for water. She makes me suck through a straw and I'm so relieved when the cool liquid hits my tongue and especially my sore throat.

"What happened to me?" Though I remember the accident happening, I don't remember anything else.

"You were in a car accident, sweetie. Your leg is broken and some ribs too. You had a nasty head bump, but the doctor says that was the least of your worries and that it's over now. You had some internal bleeding they had to stop. But God is great and you're gonna be okay."

I nod, not really believing I could get out of this horrible pain. I really feel like crying because it hurts so much. I moan and complain, hoping she'll do something like she always did when I had a fever or a scrape when I was a little girl.

"Mama, it hurts," I whimper.

"I know, honey. I'm gonna call the nurse. Maybe they can give you some pain medication." She starts heading out the hospital room.

"Mom?"

She stops and turns to face me. "Yes?"

"Where's Peter?"

I can see how my question had made her nervous. She shakes her head and fidgets with her hands. She looks at everything in the room, but me.

"Mom? Where's Peter?" I repeat my question.

"Honey, how about I go get the nurse and we can talk later."

"No! Where is Peter?"

Her lip quivers and her eyes, once again fill with tears.

"No!" I shout. I can see the answer in her face, but I refuse to believe it.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. They did everything they could, but he didn't make it."

"No!" I shout. "You're not real! What you're sayin' isn't real! No!" I can feel how painful each of my movements and hollers are, but I don't give a damn.

I continue to shout and grab at things. I pull at my bed sheets and at tubes and cords, until I feel multiple hands holding me down.

"You don't understand!" I shout at the medical staff. "You don't understand!"

They don't understand that I've lost him. I've lost Peter.

I continue to sob until I know I've fallen into a deep sleep again. But not even the sleep can make the pain of my reality go away.

Thoughts?

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NLG will have an update this weekend. So stick around.