Author's note: A the point of writing this, my story is one away from receiving 100 follows! Also, I have to thank a guest who gave me such a lovely review, that I've found it hard to fit my head through any doors since reading it. I can't PM them, as they're a guest, so I'm thanking them now. Also, thanks to all the other reviews I've had, they're all lovely and the main motivation for my enjoyment of writing. Anyway, on with the story :)

Chapter eighteen

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, undressing one-handed was hard. Second, not a single item of clothing in Alice's closet came with a price tag lower than a hundred dollars. And, third, Carlisle was waiting downstairs to talk.

I froze halfway through towel-drying my damp hair as I considered that last fact. He wanted to talk, to know why I had arrived on his doorstep bedraggled and distraught, and I felt tremors of apprehension run through me as I thought of what I was going to say. I may have stomped all the way here with the intention of talking to someone, but I hadn't expected that someone to be Carlisle and wasn't sure I could open up that easily to him about it. It wasn't a slight against him in any way, I just knew I'd probably be more comfortable talking to Alice, first. She was a fellow female, for a start and, during the past couple of months, I'd come to think of her as one of my closest friends, if not the closest. With Carlisle, it was different. Although I was pretty confident I could call him a good friend by now, he still retained a kind of unattainable quality, like some creature destined to exist above all others. Whilst I could never imagine him to be the judgemental type, I was still terrified of losing his favour and hated the idea of him thinking ill of me.

With those thoughts circling my mind, I rifled through the expansive closet, having to perform a thorough search for anything that might fit me. I wasn't tall by any means, but my friend's petite frame meant most trousers and tops were immediately out of the question. Eventually, my efforts were rewarded and I managed to find a plain grey dress and indigo blue cardigan. Putting those clothes on was marginally easier than taking my others off, but the protesting jolts of pain running through my right hand told me it had reached its limit of usage. Scooping up the used towel and my wet clothes in my left arm, I apprehensively made my way back down the stairs. For the first time ever, I wasn't looking forward to seeing Carlisle Cullen.

Descending the lower staircase, I felt tendrils of warmth caress me and looked down to see the flicker of newly lit flames dancing in the fireplace. Opposite, Carlisle perched on the edge of the sofa, with an assortment of medical supplies spread out on the coffee table before him. My stomach twisted, wondering just what he'd have to do to fix my hand and I decided to pull my attention away from the terrifying items. Next to them was a mug full of what I guessed to be coffee, the steam rising out of the cup like a ghostly hand, beckoning me towards it. When I reached the sofa, Carlisle stood and stepped forward, taking the clothes and towel.

"I'll put these in the wash and be right back," he said and raced up the stairs before I could protest.

For a few moments, I simply stood there, not really focusing on anything. When I heard the soft padding of his returning footsteps, I looked up and he gestured towards the couch, asking me to sit. I obeyed and he took the seat beside me, both hands reaching for my injured one. He was in full doctor mode and his brows creased a little in concentration as he assessed the damage. My pulse quickened, wondering just how bad it was. His frosty fingers were a shocking contrast to the feverish heat, but I soon found it to be rather soothing. After a thorough examination and extensive prodding and poking, he carefully lowered it, without releasing it from his grasp and looked at me.

"From what I can see," he began. "No serious damage has been done. You've fractured a few of the bones in your ring and little fingers, but it's nothing a splint and pain killers can't remedy."

I frowned. "How...how can you tell? Without an x-ray, I mean."

"Experience," he replied, shifting to lean towards the table and select the tools needed.

I couldn't argue with that. His career spanned, at least, a couple of centuries, so there couldn't be many medical conditions he hadn't come across. A stinging sensation ran along the skin of my fingers and I let out a hiss of pain. He apologised as I looked back down at my hand to see him carefully cleaning away the blood and grime with antiseptic, and sudden realisation hit. I was bleeding in front of a vampire and hadn't even given it a second thought! I studied his face, which was entirely focused on the task at hand, and saw no sign of struggle whatsoever. He looked no different to any human doctor performing the same task and a wave of admiration washed over me. I remembered Alice's description of the allure of human blood and was amazed at how easily he ignored it. My staring didn't go unnoticed, as his eyes soon flickered up to mine.

"S-sorry," I mumbled, swiftly lowering my gaze. "I just..." I trailed off.

"What is it?" he asked, softly.

"It's not bothering you at all?" I asked, but had to elucidate when his brows knitted in mystification. "The blood."

"No," he replied with a small smile. "To be honest, there is very little here, but even it was gallons, I've resisted long enough for it to barely effect me."

I began to understand Alice's admiration for his level of restraint. Would she be as calm as he was in this same position? I was pretty sure Jasper wouldn't. "Do you ever struggle?"

"It has been a very, very long time since I felt tempted to drink from a human. From the start, I set myself challenges to help build up my resistance." He gave a quick chuckle. "Funnily enough, the Volturi also helped-albeit unwittingly."

"How?"

"They couldn't understand my choice of lifestyle, so decided to 'test' me," he explained, reaching over to pick up a plastic finger splint. "They would often place profusely bleeding bodies outside my room to see if I would crack."

I sat open mouthed, appalled. What kind of person would do such a thing? "What a bunch of assholes!" I gasped, before realising I had just sworn in front of him. "Sorry," I apologised. "But that's a nasty thing to do."

"There was no true maliciousness behind it," he claimed, something I found hard to believe, but didn't say so. "It was more curiosity than anything; they couldn't understand my choice. To most vampires, telling them I do not drink human blood is like you saying you'll no longer breathe oxygen."

He began manoeuvring my fractured fingers into the splint, which caused a twinge of pain and I winced, before he applied tape to keep them in place.

"There is going to be significant swelling," he said, wrapping the hand in a bandage. "So you'll need to keep it elevated in a sling for the next few days. The splint will have to be kept on for a couple of weeks, whilst the bones repair and then we'll see how it's healing after that. I'll give you some extra bandages, so you can redress it if and when you need to."

I nodded in understanding as he secured the end of the bandage with more medical tape and I was ready to pull it out of his grip when he finished, only to be met by his refusal to relinquish it.

"Bella," he said softly, in a milder form of the authoritative tone he'd used earlier. "I need to know how you hurt your hand."

I bit my lip, dreading the conversation we were about to have, knowing there was no way of evading it. That didn't stop me trying, though and the silence stretched on as I clawed for a way out of answering.

"Isabella," he requested, his tone growing firmer.

"I-" I paused as hesitation caused my words to falter. "I hit a tree."

He didn't answer right away, but I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my head as I stared into the fire. "Why did you do that?"

"I had a fight with my mom," I admitted in a mumble.

"Was she there when you did this?" He was still holding my hand in his and his thumb had started gently running back and forth across the knuckles. Again, he seemed to do it without realising and I wondered if it was a habit of his.

I shook my head. "She was still at the house, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, I left her at the house when I stormed out after the fight. She tried following, but I ran away."

"What were you fighting about?"

I bit my lip again. He wasn't a nosy person, so the fact he asked such a personal question showed the depth of his concern. Could I really tell Carlisle? It was partly about him, after all and I didn't want him to feel like he or his coven had caused any trouble for me, which I was pretty sure he would. A worrying thought occurred to me: what if he decided they should back off to help the situation with my mother? I really didn't want that. Another call of my name informed me he wouldn't let the topic go easily, so I was forced to relent and answer.

"You," I eventually replied, still not looking away from the fire.

"Me?"

The surprise and worry in his voice had my eyes darting back to him, as desperation to offer reassurance filled me. "Not specifically you," I insisted. "But she heard I had made some new friends and wasn't happy about it."

"I see," he murmured and the tone of his voice sent panic coursing through me.

"It's not your fault," I asserted as a flash of anger flared in my brain. "Jacob Black just can't keep his goddamn nose out of my business!" I could tell I wasn't making a whole lot of sense, so attempted to explain better, without getting too specific. Hopefully, a quick explanation would be enough and we could move onto a different topic. "My mom's come down from Phoenix and saw him on the way. He told her I was hanging around with some bad people and she immediately blew it out of proportion, not even bothering to ask for my side of the story first. So, we argued, I walked out and ended up here."

He listened, before his gaze left me, along with the grip on my hand. I immediately mourned the loss of contact and it only increased my worries. He swivelled round to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together as his features morphed into a thoughtful expression. I wished for the ability to read minds as I watched him. After an extended period of uneasy quiet, his head turned and those golden orbs met mine once more.

"It must have been quite a heated argument for you to end up doing that," he remarked, pointing to my bandaged hand. "I do not mean to pry and will respect your privacy if you do not wish to tell me, but I cannot deny I'm worried. You have never struck me as an aggressive person, so for you to resort to such violent self-harm makes me apprehensive about taking you home."

What was he saying? Did he think I was going to do even more damage when I left or was he worried about Renée? His words were beginning to confirm all the fears I'd had upstairs about tarnishing his opinion of me and, despite the fact I'd done more than enough crying that day, I could feel my eyes grow moist. I needed to say something, anything, to ensure he wouldn't write me off as a waste of space.

"I didn't mean to do it," I said, my voice, against all efforts, betraying my upset. "It's the first time I've ever done anything like this. I'm not one of those Emo kids, I swear, I just needed a way to vent my feelings. I know it's stupid and I'm sorry for doing it, for coming here and invading and-"

"Bella," Carlisle interrupted, scooting closer. "I'm not angry with you and, of all the places to go, I'm glad you chose to come here. I only ask because you are clearly very upset and bottling it all up inside. There is nothing wrong with talking to someone and, if you'd rather not speak to me, I am happy to take you to whoever you wish to speak to." His left hand rested on my shoulder. "Whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it alone."

His kind eyes, gentle voice and reassuring touch were too much for me. The tears were unleashed as words tumbled out of my mouth. "I never meant for it to become a fight," I explained, my voice quivering through the sobs. "We were talking fine, to begin with. She asked how I was and I did the same. Then she started talking about Jacob-" I couldn't restrain the bitterness that accompanied his name. "-and that was when the argument began. I don't know what he said to her, but she was terrified of me making the same mistakes all over again. I tried to tell her he was wrong, but she wouldn't believe me. We were shouting at each other and then I said something awful and..." I wasn't sure whether to share the next piece of information. He was already worried about me going home, so how would he react to her slapping me? His face was expectant, waiting patiently for me to continue, so I braced myself, before carrying on. "...she slapped me."

I studied his face to gauge his reaction. Not a muscle moved. He was still as a statue, except for the eyes. Despite the warmth of their golden hue, they lost all congeniality and turned to ice. I instantly put a restraining hand on his free arm, terrified he might suddenly fly out of the room.

"It was my fault," I stressed. "I basically called her a gold digger. It was completely out of line and her reaction was out of character. She's never done it before and she was apologising straight away. She's had a lot to deal with because of me and was bound to snap eventually."

I waited, hoping it would be enough. Still, he didn't move, but I was learning how stoic his face and body could be, so focused on the eyes. It took a moment, but gradually the iciness decreased and some of the warmth returned. Once I was sure he wouldn't leap to his feet, I loosened my grip on his arm and continued talking.

"She's just worried about me," I said and realised how true that was. As I mentally rewound to that afternoon, I saw how quickly I had jumped into defensive mode. We could have quite easily carried on talking in a mature, calm way, but, one mention of Jacob and I'd become an unreasonable, stroppy teenager. Of course, Renée wasn't one to back down from a fight, so things had quickly escalated. "And I guess she has good reason. Like I said, she doesn't want me repeating past mistakes."

"What mistakes?" Carlisle asked, his voice indicating he had returned to a more relaxed state of mind. I was surprised by how angry he had become at the mention of my mom hitting me, but remembered what he'd said about him and the others feeling protective over me. Nothing had proven that more than when he'd stopped that guy attacking me. It was a little scary to think of what could happen to anyone on the receiving end of a Cullen's fury, yet I couldn't help but also find it quite...sweet. It was heart-warming to know anybody cared enough about me to react that way and it almost brought a smile to my face. Then I remembered Carlisle's question and knew he was waiting for an answer.

"They're quite numerous," I replied, my voice growing quieter as the topic delved further into uncomfortable territory. "And they're the reason I'm in Forks, to begin with." I took a deep, deep breath and prepared to tell him a tale only those directly involved knew. Even Charlie wasn't fully aware of everything that had happened. It felt like a gamble, revealing the details of my unsavoury past to Carlisle, but I'd already started, so there was no turning back. It also felt like returning a favour, as he'd already revealed so much about himself to me.

"I got kicked out of college in Arizona," I blurted, before I lost my resolve, my eyes fixing on his to witness the response. So far, so impassive. "I was hanging around with a rather objectionable crowd, at the time. I hadn't started off that way, I was an insufferably model student to begin with. Always studying, rarely going out, I didn't actually make any real friends until I reached the end of my first year. Given that I practically lived in the library, my first friend-Rafael-ended up being a fellow bookworm."

I took a moment to pause, the memories and emotions still fresh and raw. Carlisle didn't say a word or make a move, but, simply sat there beside me, offering his full, undivided attention. It was terrifying telling him my past, but also liberating to finally share my side of the story with someone.

"It took a while for us to become good friends, but, when we got talking, we'd be there for hours, discussing everything from books to movies and I pretty soon got integrated into his social circle. That was when I finally started to leave the house for things other than lectures and actually enjoy myself for the first time." The ghost of a smile graced my lips for a moment as I privately reminisced, before a cloud of gloom threatened to douse me. "Of course, it didn't last..."

My eyes turned glassy and voice became distant as I relayed the next part of the story. It had to be done that way; I wasn't able to even think about what happened without creating a certain amount of distance between myself and the memories. "We were out one night, a small group of us, to see a movie. I can't remember which-" I wasn't sure why the movie's title might be important, but focusing on the little, insignificant details seemed to help talking about it. "We'd just got into the car, when..."

My voice took on a more robotic tone, as I began describing the accident. The sound of screeching tyres, the screams of terror coming from my fellow passengers, the deafening crunch of metal as the truck collided with us. The way the world blurred and span as our car rolled over and over along the street, the howling of sirens and flashing blue and red lights. The garish brightness of hospital lighting and the thunderous footsteps of the doctor, coming to deliver the news that would completely alter the course of my life.

"Rafael didn't make it," I finished, my voice cracking ever so slightly. No matter how much distance I attempted to create, the memories still attacked with as much vigour and vividness as if I was back there, reliving the entire experience all over again. I needed to keep talking, to distract myself, before it all became overwhelming. Now that I had started, I desperately wanted-needed-to keep going. I needed someone to finally know, to see, to realise just what it had been like for me all those months ago when everything had started to fall apart.

"We'd only known one another less than a year, but it felt like a lifetime," I said. "I didn't speak to anyone for weeks, and, when I finally did, it was to the one person I hadn't expected. He was a friend of Rafe's, but different to all the others. The two had become friends purely by chance and hadn't let the fact they shared barely any common interests deter them. They simply liked each other's company. Johnny was a nice enough guy and, I guess, like he and Rafe had done, we just started talking and took it from there. With everything going on, college started to take a back seat and I joined Johnny's group of friends, who were very different to the others I'd once hung around with. They were what my mom liked to call the 'dregs of society'. They liked drink, drugs and lots of fun. At first, I was able to burn the candle at both ends, but that only worked for so long. My college attendance soon started to suffer, as did the grades."

I took in a deep breath as I thought about all the stupid things I'd got up to during my time with the 'dregs'. Getting so wasted I woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, with no recollection of how I got there the night before. Turning up for the lectures I actually bothered to attend so high, it was a lesson in futility. Letting my temperament alter so drastically, most people-including myself-had no idea who I was anymore. I told Carlisle all of this, but the words were no longer simply for his benefit. I was barely aware of my audience as the words continued to tumble out of my mouth. It was like therapy, without the stigma and price tag attached.

I didn't even look to see his reaction to the two arrests I'd had-one for drunk and disorderly, the other for possessing pot on college premises, leading to my expulsion. Although I was under no delusions about my stupidity during that time, listening to myself now just reiterated and magnified my shame and regret. At the time, it had all happened so fast, that I'd been blind to the warning signs, but hindsight was such a beautiful thing-if only humans were capable of foresight.

"Being kicked out of college should have been an eye-opener, but it wasn't. If anything, fuelled by rage and spite, I got worse for a brief period of time. I remember what it was that actually snapped me back into reality, though." I braced myself again as I began detailing an event that could've done irreparable damage to all involved, had fate not decided to offer me a second chance.

"I was driving after an extremely heavy night out. It was absolutely stupid, I know, but I was having one of my then-common pig-headed Emo moments." The acidic bitterness at my own idiocy rolled off my tongue. "I was still off my face from whatever I'd drunk or taken the night before and got to a crossing, where a kid and his mom were about to walk. He can't have been any more than five or six years old. I didn't see them until it was almost too late, but swerved just in time, barely missing them and crashed into another car. I ended up in hospital and my mom had a lovely insurance bill on her hands. That was when she decided enough was enough."

I had done well up until that point. No tears whatsoever. The moment I mentioned my mother, however, I could feel them building up inside. There were no words to describe the look she'd given me when she arrived at the hospital after my crash. She didn't shout, or cry, or say anything, really. She just sat there and watched me for a while, listening to the nurse who explained what had happened. Then, without even a goodbye, she left and I spent the next few days recovering.

"She didn't even get mad," I murmured quietly, finally looking back at Carlisle for the first time since beginning my tale. "You know when people make that joke and say they're not angry, just disappointed? Well, it was like that...except, it wasn't funny." My eyes watered and I impatiently rubbed the tears away. "And that was when she decided I should come here for a while."

Absolute silence permeated the room. My eyes fell to the floor as I considered the ramifications of what I'd just done. I had no idea what he would think of me now, but couldn't take back anything I'd just said. Whether I liked it or not, Carlisle Cullen now knew exactly who I was and what I had done. Would he still be so eager for me to continue a friendship with Alice? Would he even let me into his house again after tonight? My heartbeat raced at the thought of never seeing any of them again. Besides Charlie, they were all that made Forks bearable. I panicked as I realised Carlisle's arm was no longer wrapped around my shoulders, terrified that it was proof of his rejection. My earlier desire to flee, to not have to talk to him returned and I was already pushing myself off the sofa, regret wrapping around me like a blanket. Yet more tears started to fall. Would they ever stop? I stood and raced for the stairs, but his arms caught me and brought me back to him, holding me tightly as I cried.

"You don't need to run, Bella," he cooed, rubbing those comforting circles on my back once again.

My grip on the back of his shirt tightened and my good hand fisted the fabric, like it was clutching to the compassion his words offered. I'd been ready to run, but he wasn't kicking me out, he was asking me to stay. He wasn't angry, wasn't berating me for all the idiotic shit I'd done. Could it be that he actually understood? Was this perfect God-like specimen actually able to empathise with a severely flawed, lowly mortal like me? I wept openly, letting out every bit of pain that had emerged by reopening the wounds I desperately wanted to ignore.

We stood like that for an indefinite amount of time, before my sobs receded and I took in a few deep breaths. His scent entered my nostrils as I did so, filling my senses with sweetness and calm. I was manoeuvred back to the sofa and we switched seats this time so that he could hold my uninjured hand as we continued talking.

"Have you spoken to either of your parents about any of this?" he asked.

I shook my head, the familiar back and forth motion of his thumb against my skin becoming a rather invaluable comfort. "Charlie was never a big talker. Mom was always the one to offload my worries to, but, after Rafe's death, I clammed up. She'd just started working a second job at that point to earn extra cash, as well as meeting her current boyfriend, Phil, so wasn't around anywhere near as much. Seeing her find happiness just when I'd lost mine was hard to reconcile. At the time, I used it as an excuse to not talk to her, to wallow in my own misery-I still do, I think. Looking back, there are probably a million things all of us could have done differently, but either didn't realise or didn't want to."

"There always is," Carlisle said, "And, after what you've told me, I am beginning to understand her reaction towards you, although I will never condone a mother hitting her daughter." A little of the chilliness returned and I didn't like it. I wanted the warmth back, I needed that warmth back. He seemed to sense it and quickly patted my hand, before continuing. "As you said, I think it is very much fuelled by her worry for you and desire to see you safe once again. I also believe you need to finally talk to her. Let her know exactly how you feel about everything that has happened. She may start to show a little lenience and trust when she realises how much you regret the destructive path your life took."

I nodded, knowing he was right, but dreading having to go through with it. Would I be able to simply talk to her, or would my defences go up and force the conversation into another screaming match? I'd have to, at least, try. Nothing would be solved if I didn't.

"If only I had a time machine," I remarked quietly, finally feeling up to injecting a little humour into our talk. "Then I could just erase all the mistakes."

"I think everyone feels that way at one point or another," he replied. Then he leaned forward, sombre chocolate irises ensnared by glistening gold. "You should never dwell on mistakes, Bella, you could drive yourself insane in a day thinking about all the alternate twists and turns your life could have taken. However, you should never forget them, either; they will be the greatest learning tool you'll ever possess."

I stared into those enchanting orbs, letting my brain absorb the wisdom just bestowed upon me. In that moment, I was glad Alice hadn't been home.

As the seconds became minutes and minutes became hours, we filled the time with talk. I'd never spoken about myself so much in all my life. I pretty much gave him my entire life story from beginning to present and he listened, asked questions, offered advice and even made jokes. My first cup of coffee had gone cold by the time I even remembered its existence, but he was making my third by the time my bizarre situation struck me. Vampires were the only creatures to prey on humans, as far as I was aware, yet, here I was, alone in a house with one, situated in a secluded part of town. And I had never felt more relaxed and safe.

000

I had no idea how long I'd been at the Cullen house, all I knew was that it was daylight when I arrived and dark when I left. The drive home was quiet, but surprisingly pleasant and angst-free. I would have expected myself to be a nervous wreck at the prospect of possibly facing my mother when I got into the house, but Carlisle's presence beside me was reassuring and provided a boost of confidence. He'd even offered to come inside with me to meet Renée, but I reluctantly declined, knowing it'd be best to work up to that sort of thing slowly. Her opinion was severely tarnished by the local gossip, so I needed to find the right moment to introduce her to my new friends. Repairing my relationship with her had to come first.

He parked just before my driveway and I turned towards him to ask the time. After a check of his watch, he informed me it was almost ten. Holy cow, I hadn't realised it was that late! And what had Alice, Jasper and Esme been up to that kept them out so long? Gazing out the car window, I checked to see if the house lights were still on. From what I could see, only the lounge lights were and I wondered if Renée had decided to head back to the Webers' for the night. Now that I was about to leave Carlisle, some of the nerves returned and I contemplated reconsidering his offer, if only for a little moral support.

"You'll be fine," he encouraged, before exiting the vehicle.

I followed suit, clutching my bag of freshly washed and dried clothes in my good hand and found him already waiting by the passenger door. I threw a panicked gaze around us, wondering if anyone was around to see.

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "There's nobody around."

"How do you know?" I asked, my eyes still scanning the landscape.

"The radar in my car," he replied.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." I retorted, dryly, before looking back at the house and chewing the inside of my cheek.

Carlisle took a step closer, resting an arm against the top of the open car door. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?"

Oh, don't tempt me, I thought. I let out a deep sigh, before replying. "No, I have to talk to her alone first-if she's still there, that is."

Carlisle was quiet for a moment and, when several moments passed, I looked up at his contemplative expression. He tapped his fingers against the door a couple of times, before speaking. "I have a suggestion, but there is no obligation on you whatsoever. If your mother is home, but it gets too much for you, you are more than welcome to stay at our house for the night."

"Really?" The level of his kindness never ceased to amaze. "But, it's-"

"Perfectly fine," he finished for me. "If you wish to, that is. I'll wait out here."

I didn't say anything, just stood there and looked at him, trying to work out exactly what I had done to deserve such a person's presence in my life. After bearing my prolonged silence for a minute or so, he placed his hands on my shoulders and slowly spun me around to face my driveway.

"Go on," he urged, gently propelling me forward.

I unhurriedly walked forward, apprehension building with every step. As my hand rested on the door handle, I glanced over my shoulder at Carlisle to see him stood exactly where I had left him. With a few a deep breaths, I pushed the door open and entered. To both my dismay and relief, Renée wasn't there. The creak of the door's hinges alerted my dad to my arrival and I saw him rushing into the hallway.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he admonished, although his expression was far more worried than angry. "Did letting me know where the Hell you were not occur to you?"

My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped at my selfishness. God, I hadn't even considered it! I'd been far too wrapped up in myself to ring him at some point during the evening to inform him I was at the Cullens'.

"It's alright," he said, holding a hand up to stop me before I could speak. "I called Alice and she said you were at hers." Then, he threw a glare my way. "Some advance warning that a pissed ex wife was pacing my kitchen would have been appreciated, though."

"I'm so sorry, Dad," I apologised, moving forward to give him a consolatory hug. "I wasn't thinking. I promise not to do it again."

He accepted the embrace, patting me on the back a couple of times."Yeah, I know. Your mother has the same effect on me too, at times." He was quiet for a moment, before pulling back and looking at me. "She told me about your argument."

My eyes suddenly found the carpet absolutely fascinating as I bit my lip and wondered how much detail she'd provided. "Yeah..." I mumbled.

"You don't have to talk about it tonight," he began, then saw the bandaged hand. Panic immediately flooded his features as he reached for it. "What the Hell happened?"

I had to think fast. "I fell over on the way to the Cullens'," I lied. It wasn't a farfetched notion, which was a little depressing when I thought about it. "Carlisle patched it up, but it's not as bad as it looks. Just a fracture."

"Only you, Bells," he tutted, with a sigh and weary shake of the head.

"Talking of which, he's still outside."

"Who, Carlisle?"

"Yeah, he offered some 'moral support' if Mom was still here," I explained and Charlie started chuckling.

"He's a brave man." He rubbed the back of his neck and I could almost feel his tiredness. I didn't need to ask if he and Renée had ended up in a blazing row, it was a certainty. "Does, he, um, wanna come in for a drink, or anything?"

I could tell the offer was only made out of politeness, but appreciated his efforts. "It's okay, Dad," I said, heading back to the door. "You look pretty tired and he's got work tomorrow, I think. I'll let him know you offered, though."

"Alright, Bells," he agreed. "And tell him I said thanks for fixing up your hand."

"I will," I promised, walking out the door.

I left it ajar as I couldn't be bothered with having to unlock it again to get back in. It wasn't until that point that my own exhaustion registered, but, I soon realised the depth of my weariness. It had been a long, emotional day and my hike up to the Cullen house wouldn't have helped matters. Carlisle was waiting, his back leaning against the passenger door that was now closed, his arms folded across his chest. As I approached, he straightened and took a couple of steps to close a little of the distance between us.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

I nodded. "Mom left a while ago, but I got a telling off for not calling Dad to tell him where I was." Something occurred to me then. "Did you tell Alice I was at yours?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I sent her a quick text whilst putting your clothes in the wash."

"Oh," I replied, thinking that had probably been the case. How else would she have known?

"So, I take it you'll be spending the night here?"

"Yes," I confirmed and was surprised by the trickle of disappointment I felt upon answering. "I'll see if I can talk to Mom tomorrow. If you find me in a sorry state on your doorstep, you'll know it went badly."

"Just remember to call, first," he joked, but, for some reason, his smile didn't reach the eyes. I was about to comment, but he beat me to it. "I hope it does go well. Just remember what I said."

"I will," I vowed and could feel our time together was coming to a close.

Although it was under less than ideal circumstances, I really had valued my evening with him. He'd been so supportive, kind and helpful and a part of me wanted to return to his house with him, simply to talk some more. It didn't even have anything to do with my fascination with him, either; I simply enjoyed his company. I hoped he reciprocated the sentiment and wasn't just being polite, but, from what I could tell, he'd enjoyed it as much as I. Well, maybe not quite as much, but, nearly.

Carlisle took another step forward, leaving only a foot of space between us. His arm extended and he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Will you be alright?" he asked.

I considered the question for a moment, wanting to give an honest answer. "I think so," I answered, slowly. "At least, I will be for tonight. Dad's far too tired for talking. Tomorrow, however, might be different story."

"Well, you can call, should you need to," he offered.

I peered up into his eyes, those beautiful, enigmatic, utterly beguiling eyes that offered a glimpse into the compassionate soul residing within. I knew I'd never be able to tell him just how much I appreciated all he'd done that night. He was like a guardian angel, sent down to help me right when I needed him most. I wanted to tell him that, to offer at least something just to let him know his efforts were recognised, but I was stumped. I tried anyway.

"Carlisle, I..." I started, frustrated by unusual limitations of the English language. My eyes left his, the man's distracting beauty doing nothing to help me. It was futile, as his smell was equally diverting. "I..." I exhaled in frustration. "Thank you," I finally said. "I can't think of anything else to say..."

"You don't need to," he assured. "I know."

I moved forward and wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight hug, willing every ounce of gratitude I possessed into the embrace. He may have said he knew, but, I needed to ensure I'd done all I could to prove my appreciation. His arms wrapped around my back and we remained quietly in that position for a couple of minutes. As much as I enjoyed it, it wasn't enough. I needed to do more, but what? A flash of courage ignited inside me and I did something I never expected to have the guts to do. We pulled apart and, before my resolve wavered, I reached up on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on his left cheek, the skin cold, hard and wonderfully smooth. I was glad of the dim, night-time lighting that covered my furious blushes, although his heightened senses probably meant he could still see it, anyway.

A small amount of space was then created between us and he gave me a smile, one so dazzlingly beautiful and full of genuine affection that I felt my heart leap into my throat and stomach jolt, as though hit by a bolt of lightning. I couldn't move or say a thing and the hand that remained resting against my shoulder seemed to thrum with an energy that sent my nerves tingling. I couldn't explain or understand the sensations running through me so suddenly, but I...I liked it.

"Sleep well, Isabella," he requested, softly, before moving away to the other side of the car and climbing into the driver's seat.

I didn't reply, but managed to give a small wave of farewell, which he returned as the Mercedes pulled away. I stood and watched as the vehicle grew smaller and smaller, before disappearing completely. I was still reeling from the events of our last few moments together and wasn't entirely sure where my senses were at that point. I was vaguely aware of the need to re-enter the house and my body indolently followed the need, but there was only one clear thing running through my mind right then. It was both surprising, yet expected. Sudden, yet something that had been slowly building over the past few months. It wasn't scary, though, which was probably the most bizarre thing of all. It attracted, rather than repelled, pulling me like a moth to a wonderful, wintry flame.

About one thing I was absolutely positive. I was falling for a vampire.

A/N: So, now you all know her story it should go some way to explaining everything going on with her. I hope the little moment at the end temporarily sated any impatience people have had with their slowly developing relationship. I'll be back ASAP with the next update :)