Edward

That fall, for the first time, maybe ever, I'm truly unhappy. I've had flashes of unhappiness before, but I was usually able to shake it off with a night out at the bar, fucking some girl in a bathroom, or an alley, or a car. This time, though, nothing numbed the unsettling feeling. It actually makes it worse.

It doesn't help that Emmett is flying back and forth from L.A. almost weekly. He's gone the days that we don't have games, practice or class. When he's here, he talks constantly about Rosalie and her family. He mentions Bella often, laughing about things she says as he talks about their movie nights and the accompanying meals. I try to feel good about the fact that she's okay, because I think I'm supposed to, but instead it makes me feel shitty.

This season my game suffers, which is another first. The coaches are riding my ass constantly, alternating between yelling at me and trying to build me up. My teammates tell me to go get laid, get drunk, do whatever I need to get my head straight. I'm entirely half-assing it, though, and it's obvious.

I'm aware that when things that used to make you happy don't anymore, there's a problem, but I don't know what to do about it, so I put it out of my mind.

I draft about a thousand emails to Bella, but I don't know what to say, so I don't send them. It sounds like she's happy, and I wonder if she's forgiven me. I suppose I'm supposed to apologize at some point, but that's not my thing, so I don't.

A few weeks before Thanksgiving, when my mom calls me from the lobby of our apartment building, I'm not surprised. She drops in unannounced on a regular basis to check up on Emmett and me and do our laundry. I think it makes her feel needed, and I actually enjoy hanging out with her.

I unlock the door and walk into the kitchen, quickly throwing the errant beer cans in the recycling and stacking up pizza boxes before I hear the elevator ding.

"Edward, I wish you'd stop smoking," she says as she enters, waving her hand in front of her face to illustrate her distaste for the odor lingering in the air.

"Sorry, mom. Coach would agree with you."

She kisses my cheek, smoothing away the lipstick mark and looking into my eyes.

"What's wrong, beautiful boy?"

She always knows. She can read me like a book.

"Nothing. Just busy. Tired."

Her raised eyebrow indicates that she doesn't believe me.

"Well, I dropped by because I want to talk to you about something."

"What's up?" We move into the bedroom and she is sorting my laundry into piles according to color and throwing it in a basket.

"I met someone. Carlisle Hale. Jasper and Rosalie's dad."

I stop for a second, considering what this means.

"Carlisle is cool," I shrug.

"He is 'cool' I guess, but more than that I think he's a really great guy, and I really like spending time with him." She finishes sorting and picks up the basket, looking almost giddy. "We're going to spend Thanksgiving with them in L.A. Emmett had already planned to be there, so we figured it would be a good way for everyone to get to know each other better. I know you have a game, so I bought tickets to fly out that night after you're done."

I'm a little disturbed by her easy use of the word "we". She seems happy, though, so I keep my mouth shut.

I must be making a face, because her next words are soft. "I'll email you the itinerary, all you have to do is get on the plane, sweetie."

"Alright," I concede, slumping on the bed.

"Edward. Are you okay?" she put the basket down and sits on the bed next to me, looking intently at me.

"Yeah, mom. I said I'm fine," I lie again.

I am okay, though, I guess. Nothing is really wrong, and nothing is really different. When I say I'm fine, I guess I mean that I'm the same.

Then I realize that I'm going to see Bella in a week, and I can't stop my genuine smile.

She isn't there, though, and I don't ask, but everyone keeps alluding to her being in Washington with her dad. I don't understand how I feel then. Disappointed I guess, but I'm used to associating that feeling with losing a game, having a shitty practice, or my father. He does nothing but disappoint, unless we're talking trust funds. I guess I can thank him for that, if nothing else.

Jasper, Rose and Emmett and I go to a sports bar one night. I suppose I'm in my element, but it quickly gets old, with one girl after another approaching our table, propositioning me and slipping me small pieces of paper with phone numbers and room numbers scrawled in girly script. I hardly glance at them.

Emmett and Jasper are playing darts, so it's just Rose and I at the table. She ignores me, until with a sigh she turns and looks at me coldly. I get the feeling I'm not going to enjoy this conversation.

She deflects another female approaching our table by putting a hand in the air in front of the chick's face and saying "NO", not even turning to look at her. The girl turns and walks back to her girlfriends, who huddle and gossip, glaring at Rose. She silences them with one look. I try not to smile.

Rose is hot, but scary, and kind of an enigma. On one hand she's a straight-up feisty bitch, but on the other, she's a nurturer, and is a maternal figure for all of us. Well, maybe not me, but mothers don't usually despise their children.

"So, it looks like we're all going to be at the lake for Christmas." Her voice is deceptively friendly.

I focus on anything but her, hoping to come off polite, but casual. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"You know, Bella's going to be there."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," I say, looking up at one of the ten TVs mounted on the wall behind her, hoping that's the end of the conversation, because frankly she scares the shit out of me.

"You know you really hurt her," she says quietly, but bitterly.

I'm jarred from my half-drunk state and my eyes snap to her face. She's looking at me expectantly. Everything that I've heard about Bella for the last few months has been from Emmett, and he never once alluded to her not being okay. I feel like I'm showing up to a movie that started an hour ago.

"What? I mean, I guess the last time I saw her it ended ... badly, but-"

"Ended badly?" she interrupts, her voice sharp. "What a great euphemism for you fucking someone else while you two were together. Un-fucking-believable," she huffs.

Shit.

"We weren't really together ... I mean, we kinda were but it was just-" I stop at her glare.

"Listen. I love your brother, and we are going to be tied together for the foreseeable future, so I don't want to hate you, but what you did to her? So fucked up. If it weren't for Emmett, I would have clawed your eyes out that night after the threesome story. So this is me, saying to you, that you had better not do anything to make it worse. Or I will fuck you up. No joke. Emmett or not, that girl is my family."

She is right in my face, and I have no doubt that this girl will castrate me if I don't comply.

No doubt.

I nod, eyes wide, hoping she can see my sincerity.

"Babe! I just kicked your brother's ass!" Emmett roars as he strides toward the table. Rose sits back in her chair as he wraps his arms around her from behind, but she gives me one last meaningful look before turning her face to him.

The two of them kiss and whisper to each other, making me look away.

"Looks like we're going to need another round," Jasper smirks, meeting my eyes.

I get the feeling that he knows exactly what Rosalie just said to me.

My father lives in L.A. with his new wife. Emmett hasn't seen him since the wedding last year, despite all the time he's been spending here. They've talked on the phone a few times, he says, but I haven't had any contact with him at all. But he did call after our game on Thanksgiving, wanting to have dinner while we're in California. Emmett must have told him we'd be there.

Emmett picks me up at my hotel, where I opted to stay for the holiday, although Emmett tried to get me to stay at Rose and Jasper's house. Thinking Bella would be there, I thought it would be a bad idea.

Our father lives in the hills, and Emmett and I are quiet while he takes the corners on the winding roads too fast. He's as uncomfortable as I am with seeing him, though he has always dealt with these situations better than I do. We're both wearing suits and ties. I don't think my father has ever seen me in a pair of jeans, insisting even when we were kids that we be dressed "appropriately". If we arrived at his house in anything less, one of the maids would rush us upstairs to change before he could see us.

We stop at the gate leading onto his estate, which immediately opens.

Emmett exhales loudly when he stops the car. "You ready for this, brother?" he says, both of us looking grimly at the extravagant house.

"Not at all," I mumble.

He laughs and gets out of the truck, walking towards the door, which swings open, revealing the latest in a string of very young women that my father has dated. She is the first that he's married, though. He must trust her, or have a rock solid prenup.

Irina, a tall woman with silvery blond hair stands in the entryway, her capped teeth showing in a wide smile.

"It's so great to see you boys again!" she says, gesturing for us to follow her. Her heels click on the Spanish tile as she leads us into the living room. She seats us on a couch and comes back with two beers, sitting down across from us. She sips a martini and follows our eyes around the room, telling us where she got a painting or a sculpture. She's actually got okay taste, compared to some of the preceding women that filled her role.

"Your father should be down any minute, he's just finishing up a meeting," she says, sighing.

Emmett Cullen, Sr. loves to make people wait. Most of the time my brother and I spent with him as children consisted of us waiting in rooms like this one, with nervous, twittering women making excuses for his absence. Irina doesn't seem nervous, but she could very well already be loaded, judging from the way she's sucking down her martini.

I hear him before I see him, his expensive Italian shoes stomping down the stairs and striding around the corner. I'm always a little in awe when I first see him. People say that he and I look exactly alike, though Emmett is his namesake, so I have an idea of how I'll age. I'm going to look good, but wonder if I'll end up being as much of a fucking asshole.

Probably.

Another man walks next to him, briefcase in his hand

Emmett and I stand when they enter, and shake hands formally. Our father's sharp, green eyes take us in head to toe, not missing a detail, I'm sure. He's not drunk yet. The man next to him appraises us as well, but with a smile.

My father introduces us to the man, who is a state senator. I extend my hand to him, and we engage in polite conversation for a few minutes. My father is charming, and I can see that the man respects him. My guess is that he contributes generously to his campaign fund.

When the senator leaves, my father returns to the living room, his jovial mask gone.

"I see you remember Irina. Let's eat." He's abrupt, and turns toward the dining room. We trail behind, and Irina alerts the staff that we're ready for dinner.

It takes about two minutes and half of a scotch for him to lay into me. "Edward, I've been watching your games, and I have to say I'm disappointed in your performance this season. Haven't you been keeping an eye on him, Emmett?"

"Of course, sir. He's just having a rough couple of weeks. He'll pull it out," Emmett defends me. My father ignores him, appraising me coldly. I fume, but don't speak.

"You look like shit, Edward. It's embarrassing to watch you screwing up your life like this. You need some tough love, which I doubt you're getting from your mother," he sneers. I bite my tongue, hard.

Emmett is the best brother in the world, because at that moment he launches into a conversation about Rosalie, which sends my father on another rant, but distracts him momentarily from berating me.

"What are you thinking getting this involved with some girl right now, Emmett? You know what she wants from you, don't you? Don't throw everything away for some gold-digger," he bites the words out, closing the subject. Emmett is gripping his fork so hard that I think I see the silver start to bend, but he manages to nod and keep his eyes on his plate. He could tell our father that Rose is wealthy on her own, but it doesn't help to argue with him, so Emmett keeps his mouth shut.

"What about you, Edward? Any gold-diggers in your pocket?" His voice is harsh and accusatory. Irina hasn't spoken since we sat down, and it doesn't look like she intends to. The martinis slip down her throat quickly, and her eyes glaze over. I should be so lucky.

"No, sir," I say. I gesture to the woman serving us to come over, and ask for a scotch. Emmett's head pops up and he nods, indicating that he wants one too.

The conversation continues in this vein for the next hour. The more scotch my father drinks, the fouler his language and the more derogatory his comments become. Luckily, the more scotch I drink, the less I fucking care.

At some point, I start a drunken chant in my head.

Trust fund. Trust fund. Trust fund.

Putting up with this shit for an eventual payout is so lame, but the amount of money is beyond comprehension, and Emmett and I deserve it after the years of alternating absenteeism and verbal abuse.

When dinner is done and he's had his fill of us, we're dismissed with a wave of his hand. He doesn't bother to get up and walk us to the door, or even say goodbye. Irina lets us out, cringing slightly as he yells, "Don't do anything to embarrass me, you little fucks! Or you won't see a fucking dime of those trust funds! If you even fucking-" She shuts the door behind us with a soft click, muffling his voice.

I hope that she knew what she was getting into with him. He can be a magnetic presence, very charismatic, but underneath that he's practically a sociopath.

Our mom can hardly talk about him. They married young, before he started drinking. He was in med school, but was already extremely wealthy, coming from old money. I can't imagine them together. She left him right after I was born, refusing child support and alimony, though she deserved it. Her family was independently wealthy as well, so we were well provided for, but she probably wouldn't have taken it even if she had been destitute.

I hope he didn't treat her as badly as he does us. We don't tell her how bad it is, but after our visits I notice she bestows extra love and care upon us. When we were young our mother told us that we didn't have to see him, but twice a year we would fly out from wherever we were living at the time to visit. By the time I was 8, I knew the visits would be awful, but couldn't help hoping that just once he would say a kind word, or hug me, or give any indication that he loved me.

I leave L.A. feeling raw and agitated.

December passes quickly. I find myself at parties and bars, not really remembering how I got there, or caring. Time speeds up and activity buzzes around me, but I'm still, staring, waiting for something. I drink more than usual, but it only magnifies the feeling of isolation. Emmett is worried, even offering to stay in town for a few days when he has plans to visit Rosalie. I tell him to go, though. I spend those few days in a stupor, stumbling around the apartment while my idiot friends order pizzas and drink all of my beer.

By Christmas, I know I have to get it together, so I shower, shave and get on the plane. I'm inexplicably excited, but my emotions have been so out of whack lately that I don't examine them too closely.

Bella looks perfect, rosy cheeks and nose with her hair cascading down the back of her blue sweater. When she turns to hang up her coat and almost falls, I catch her, my hands closing around her small arms.

"Hi," she says, blushing. She isn't really looking at me, but over my shoulder.

"Bella," I say, hoping she'll meet my gaze, "good to see you again."

She meets my eyes before she turns, and there is a rush of blood to my head and dick. Totally inappropriate, but the girl gets to me like that. I feel good just being in her presence. I tell myself to stop being a pussy.

I watch her for the rest of the day. She ignores me. I undoubtedly deserve it.

After dinner, my mom, Carlisle and I walk back to our cabin. I smoke on the deck before bed, leaning on the railing, wondering how bad I fucked this up.

Seeing her again ... I didn't know it would make me feel something good for the first time in months. The second the thought crosses my mine I want to forget it, so I pour a big glass of scotch and drown in it.

However, two emotions pierce through the boozy haze, even after my second and third glasses of the amber liquid.

Regret and guilt, both of which are foreign to me.

I resolve to start over tomorrow.

I'm an ass, and when my mom grabs me by the ear and drags me out of the cabin I'm relieved to get away from the disapproving eyes. I can't see Charlie's face, but he is hunched over in his chair, his head in his hands.

"Edward Anthony Cullen," she starts, warning in her tone.

"Mom. I fucked up. I know."

"What did you do? Who the hell is Tanya?" She throws her hands up in exasperation.

I explain, leaving out the sordid details.

"Alright, this is how this is going to go," the woman has fire in her eyes, "you are going to be a gentleman, and you're going to find a way to apologize. I am so disappointed, Edward," she says, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry."

Normally a sincere apology will soften her, but she just looks at me, right in the eyes, and walks back inside. Charlie stomps by a few minutes later towards Bella's cabin, not looking in my direction. I smoke a cigarette, and then tucking my tail between my legs, I head back in and sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

When we start opening presents, I want to disappear. The necklace I picked out for Bella is probably too much, and under the circumstances I can't bring myself to watch her reaction to it, so I keep my eyes on my lap, where her present to me sits.

The scarf is knit unevenly; I can tell she made it herself. I fight the urge to bring it to my face to see if it smells like her while I'm sitting there, but do it the second I get back to my cabin and into my room. Her scent is all over it, sweet and spicy. A few things fall into place for me when I complete this completely pathetic action.

First, I realize that I am a deplorable human being. Not in the way that I've accepted it in the past, knowing that I was an asshole but feeling justified because I grew up with an asshole for a father. It's not because my mom just looked at me like I was the scum of the earth, though that cut deep. Instead, I see myself for the first time, and understand now that I'm not a good person in a true sense of the word.

Second, I threw away something with Bella that should have been life changing, because I'm a fucking coward. When our eyes met across the table while she told me off, for a moment I saw what it could have been. I know I probably deserve to lose it forever, whatever might have been between us.

Third, I think I love her, and am going to apologize, and if she doesn't accept it, I'm going to leave her alone. Either way, I can't put her through anything more than what I already have, and am willing to sacrifice my own happiness to protect her from myself.

I fall asleep with my face buried in the soft yarn of the scarf, the dark feeling that's been hovering over me for the fast few months crashing down, making it hard to breathe.