Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

A/N: I had been doing so well for a (short) while there. Unfortunately, even though it's summer, I started a new job which required me to move. To say that was a bit hectic is an understatement. And to top it off, real life hasn't been treating me the best lately. My sincere apologies for the delay. I'm finally starting to settle into a routine, though, so hopefully I'll be able to devote more time to writing. You all are truly the greatest for hanging in there and for always offering encouraging words. Enjoy…

Best Definition of Good Intentions

34 – While the House I Built is Breaking

In the middle of his black leather couch, Edward sat with his head back and eyes closed. He was breathing deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He sat still, straight and hard as a statue, as he willed the struggle to escape his mind. It had been a difficult evening for Edward and he wanted to wash his hands of the whole sordid affair.

It was a wishful though, one that would never come true.

Edward struggled with his thoughts, wondering if maybe he should have discussed the matter with Carlisle and Esme first. But would that have made a difference? His mind had been made up long ago, and nothing anyone could say would change that. And he certainly didn't it to.

Shaking his head, clearing the plaguing thoughts, Edward rose from the couch and went to change into his pajamas. As he lay in his bed, staring out over the forest through the window, he moved to shut off the light when his cell phone started ringing. Lost in his thoughts, he'd forgotten about the text message he'd sent to Bella. All at once, he knew it must be her calling to check in. She was the only one who knew, before Carlisle and Esme, and she must have understood what his text meant right away.

He climbed out of bed and grabbed the phone from its discarded location on the couch and answered.

"Hey," he breathed into the speaker with an audible sigh.

"Hey," Bella answered on the other side. She'd been worried about Edward and just hearing his voice on the other line was relief enough. Edward could hear the faint smile in her voice as she spoke. "You alright?"

Thinking before answering, Edward hesitated. It was a loaded question and he wasn't sure how to answer. "Define alright."

"Edward," Bella drew out with an anxious laugh. She didn't want to push him into talking if he didn't want to. "Want to talk about it?"

"I'm not really sure what to say."

"What happened? What'd Carlisle and Esme have to say?" She began to prod Edward, sensing that he did actually want to talk but he wasn't really sure where to start.

"They weren't exactly pleased with the decision."

"Edward." Bella's voice echoed her frustration. How could she help Edward if he didn't give her something to work with. She took a deep breath and started again – this time from the very beginning. "Did you bring it up to them first?"

"Yes, at dinner. I'm positive I startled Emmett and Alice, by requesting a private conversation. I was shocked they didn't insist on being present as well, especially Alice. She doesn't take too kindly to being left out of the loop."

Bella laughed. "They were outside the door trying to eavesdrop. They didn't hear anything though."

It was Edward's turn to laugh now and they were both surprised at how happy the sound was. It gave them the hope that whatever thoughts were currently afflicting his mind would pass. "Good to know, though I'm sure they'll find out soon enough."

"Did you tell them everything?"

"I hadn't meant to, but I did. I grew so frustrated in our conversation that I found the information about the tattoo spilling out of my mouth. Honestly, I think things would have gone a lot better if I'd kept that to myself."

"What do you mean?" Bella asked.

Edward thought back to his conversation with Carlisle and Esme. It was true that they hadn't been very pleased with his announcement about his name change, but they were working their way towards understanding. That had to be the thing Edward most respected about his care takers; they always did their best to see eye-to-eye with others, to understand where the other person was coming from.

Esme had been quiet at first. Edward believed it was because she wanted to first hear Carlisle's thoughts on the matter. While Esme had grown close to Elizabeth and Edward, Sr., it was Carlisle who'd had the true connection to the pair. She'd looked sad, but compassionate at the same time. Edward knew going in that Carlisle was going to be the harder one to convince. Esme had accepted Edward's decision as easily as she'd accepted him into her home after his parents had died. She was more upset over the fact that Edward hadn't trusted, or respected, his new guardians enough to talk to them about the matter first.

Carlisle had grown silent while Edward explained his thought process regarding the choice. He spoke firmly yet softly as he explained he didn't want to be tormented by the memories of his family for the rest of his life. He made the same arguments he'd made to Carlisle in Italy regarding adoption, to which Carlisle nodded emphatically. He recognized Edward's point. But Esme was concerned that Edward would later regret this decision because he'd be left with nothing to remember his parents by.

And that's when it had all gone downhill.

In words that were no carefully chosen because relief was coursing through his body due to Carlisle's acceptance, Edward rambled on about how he'd gotten a tattoo while in Seattle to commemorate his parents.

Neither Carlisle nor Esme asked a single question regarding the tattoo – not the location, the design or anything. They simply chose to believe that Edward was acting out, that he was rebelling after his parents' deaths. And nothing Edward said could convince them otherwise.

Eventually, things were at a stalemate. Edward left the room, not noticing Emmett and Alice lurking around the corner, promising to speak with Carlisle and Esme the next day, after they'd had the chance to speak with each other privately.

After recounting all these details, and then some, to Bella, Edward felt exhausted. He didn't want to think about it anymore. There was no way she could prepare for the conversations ahead. "I just want to forget about it," Edward sighed into the phone as he sunk back into the pillows on his bed.

"I'm sorry, Edward." Bella's voice rang true from her heart and Edward could hear her sincerity. At the same time, though, he noticed how heavy her voice sounded.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. I'm sorry I kept you up; you sound exhausted. You should get some sleep."

"I'm not sure sleep is what I need right now," Bella admitted quietly, not sure if she really wanted to mention her problems.

"What do you mean?

"Nothing really. I've just got a lot on my mind." She tried to speak up, keeping the distress out of her voice. She sounded fake in the attempt, obviously concealing what was truly bothering her.

"You can talk to me, Bella," Edward encouraged simply. Ever the gentleman, he didn't want to guilt her into opening up to him, even after he'd opened up to her, but he still couldn't understand why Bella reused to allow her friends to help and support her. Why did she try to keep everything bottled up inside?

"No, Edward…," Bella stammered, immediately feeling guilty for pushing Edward away. "It's just that…it's not…My mom called today," she finally admitted. "I answered the phone without realizing it was her."

"It's the first time you've talked to her since she moved out?"

Edward had no trouble speaking the words that had tormented Bella. The words themselves were easy enough, but Bella stumbled over their implications. Her mother had moved out – her parents were separated – her home was not the same. Could she even call it home anymore? Looking around, her room felt the same. In fact, her room was like her haven. Her own space where she didn't have to pretend. Bella didn't have to her strong here.

Stinging tears threatened her eyes and her bottom lip quivered. Fiercely, she pulled the traitorous skin between her teeth, biting back her tears. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. In and out. In and out.

She was silent on the phone, trying to compose herself. Bella didn't want Edward to become alarmed, but she hadn't truly let herself grieve over this though: she was alone.

"Bella?" Edward could hear her breathing through the line – he knew she was there.

"Yeah," Bella said sternly. "It was the first time I'd talked to her." The emotion drifted away from her body; her eyes stared at a single spot on the floor. At that moment, she was not herself. On auto-pilot, she continued to speak with Edward while she removed herself from the conversation. Everything that made her her was gone then. Her words were just words, there was no meaning behind them as she gave Edward the answers he asked for.

"What happened?" He asked slowly, unsure of the change he heard in her voice. He wished he could be with her then. It was clear she was upset and he didn't know how to comfort her through the telephone. The coldness in her voice reminded him of the time he spent in Italy with the Cullen's. He hadn't enjoyed a moment of the trip because he didn't allow himself to enjoy it. He was scared that if he left himself feel happiness that he wouldn't be able to avoid the sadness. If he could just exist without feeling, without thinking, then he might survive.

He didn't know how to broach the subject with Bella. After all, she was the reason he had finally gotten his act together. Conflicted, Edward wondered whether now was a better time to force Bella to talk or if it was worse. On the one hand, she was forcing the emotion from her body and mind. But on the other hand, he could push her too far.

Throwing caution to the wind, Edward began to question Bella.

"Why haven't you talked to her?"

"Don't know," Bella said as her eyes stayed locked on an invisible particle in the air. Edward's words were going in one ear and out the other. "Just haven't."

"What about your father?"

"We don't talk about that."

"Not at all?" Edward found it so hard to believe that a father could refuse to speak to his daughter regarding the current state of their family – even if it was just to inquire how she was holding up.

"Well, he talks about it."

"You don't?"

"I don't have anything to say," Bella answered quietly. Edward's words were starting to get together and she was having trouble keeping herself strong. She moved the phone from one ear to the other and leaned forward to look at the pale shadows the moon cast on the ground.

"You can't talk or you won't talk?" Edward pushed.

It was the last straw for Bella. She couldn't take the questions anymore. "What does it matter, Edward?" she bit. "Talking about it isn't going to change anything."

"Bella," Edward pleaded. "If you talk about it, you might be able to understand it better. Did you ever think that maybe there's something to this that you don't know?"

A sudden rush of memories flooded Bella's mind. It wasn't all that long ago that she'd been at the Black household for a dinner aimed at cheering Charlie, when Billy had trapped her, telling her that she didn't know the full story. She hadn't told anyone about that conversation – actually, she hadn't talked to anyone about her family in detail. Shed kept it all to herself, in hopes that she'd be able to figure it out.

But she'd been unsuccessful. And here was Edward, asking her the one question she knew the answer to yet refused to acknowledge. How could he understand this when she couldn't?

Her next words came out as a whisper. "What am I suppose to do?"

Her voice was broken and Edward knew he hadn't pushed her too far. "Talk to her, Bella," he urged. "Talk to both of them. You need to know. You deserve to know."

"What if I don't want to know?"

"You owe it yourself to find out the truth." Edward continued to sense her hesitation. "I'll go with you, Bella. We'll all go with you. All you have to do is ask."

Little did Edward know, asking was the hardest part.

***

After hanging up the phone, more exhausted than she thought possible, Bella continued to lie in bed. She searched her mind, anxious to uncover any hints of the truth. Whatever this truth was, she knew it was going to come as a blow and she wanted to be prepared. She feared that was not possible.

Charlie had already left for work in the morning by the time Bella made it downstairs. She fixed herself a bowl of cereal, lounging on the couch with the television on. She certainly wasn't eager to do anything. Alice, however, had other plans for her. What seemed like only moments later, there was a pounding on the front door as Alice let herself into the house.

"What are you doing?!" she shrieked when she saw Bella laying on the couch, still in her pajamas.

She was met by a blank stare since Bella assumed it was obvious what she was doing. On the other hand, she had no idea what her best friend was up to. She raised an eyebrow, silently inquiring.

"Bathing suit shopping, duh!" Alice said, pulling Bella to her feet and pushing her up the stairs. "Get a move on it! I want to get to Port Angeles before it starts to rain."

"Rain?"

"Yeah, a front moved through overnight. Today and tomorrow are going to be cold and rainy, but Wednesday's suppose to be beautiful weather. Perfect for the beach!" To emphasize her point, Alice clapped her hands together quickly.

Knowing better than to argue, Bella grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, throwing them on and then disappearing into the bathroom to brush her teeth and run a comb through her hair. She pulled her hair into a ponytail before going back into her room, grabbing her purse and motioning Alice towards the door. "Let's go."

"Don't sound so excited, Bella."

"Sorry," she said, flashing an apologetic smile. "I'm just really tired this morning."

"We'll grab some coffee once we get there. That'll perk you right up!"

Oh, how Bella wished that were true.

***

While Bella and Alice sped off towards Port Angeles is search of the perfect summer suit that misty Monday morning, Edward hid in the comfort of his room. In fact, he hadn't moved from his bed, other than to use the bathroom, since he woke up. It was nearing lunch time when Edward heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs, quickly approaching his secluded room. He knew it wasn't Esme or Alice – both woman walked too quietly throughout the entire house. He doubted it was Carlisle. Always an air of dignity and so poised, Edward couldn't imagine Carlisle making such a racket, especially inside his own home.

That left Emmett.

Edward closed his eyes, trying to lose himself in the classical music that was playing through his sound system. The remote lay against his open palm, resting on the comforter of his bed. He did not succeed before Emmett pushed his way into the room, without so much as a knock.

"Hey – what's wrong with you?" Emmett asked, keeeping his distance.

"Nothing," Edward answered gloomily, not doing anything to help convince the other in the room.

"Sure. Well, I'm heading over to Rosalie's with Jasper. I was going to see if you wanted to join, but you look pretty busy. Maybe later?" Emmett started to retreat and close the door behind him.

"Maybe."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Mom wants you downstairs."

The suppressed groan was covered by the loud sound the door made as Emmett pulled it tight against its frame. Edward sunk back into the pillows, but knew he couldn't stay there any longer – especially now that the classical sounds were anything but soothing. Instead of hearing the harmonious blend of piano and violin, he was hearing the clanking of keys and the screech of the bow against the strings. The cacophony was disturbing.

Preparing for the battle that he was sure would ensure the moment he arrived downstairs, Edward pulled on a pair of athletic shorts and t-shirt, completely the outfit with his running shoes. He figured that by the end of the conversation, he'd be so tense and riled up that a good run would do him some good. He'd already made peace with the fact that he wasn't going to be hanging out with Emmett, Rosalie and Jasper; there was no way he'd be in a good enough mood to be around people.

When the hardwood floor gave way to the tile of the kitchen, Edward spotted Esme at the counter preparing food. She flashed him a sweet smile – it almost unnerved him as he thought about it being the calm before the storm – as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured himself water.

"Some lunch, Edward?" Esme asked after Edward had sat down at the island across from her.

"I think breakfast might be more appropriate." Carlisle's voice grew louder as he walked from the living room and into the kitchen. He bypassed Edward and Esme entirely, not acknowledging either further than his already spoken words, and sat down at the head of the kitchen table. Only after sitting and folding his newspaper did he look pointedly at Edward and gesture to the seat on his left.

Edward rose from the bar, Esme following in suit to sit on Carlisle's right. "No work for you today?"

"I'd originally taken the day off because of the traveling for the conference, but then was going to go in. I wanted to chance to talk with you this morning so I thought I'd go in late." Carlisle stole a glance at his watch before continuing. "I don't see that happening now. I never expected you to be out of bed this late."

"Well, I've been up for quite awhile now. I didn't realize you were waiting on me," Edward apologized shyly. This conversation was already headed downhill and they hadn't even moved onto the main topic.

Carlisle drew a deep breath, giving Edward the chance to prepare himself for whatever was surely coming. "I find your behavior to be extremely irresponsible, Edward. Staying in bed till noon, running off in Seattle to get your name changed without talking to us first….getting a tattoo the moment you turned 18! You're acting like a child."

"I didn't –," Edward began before he was interrupted.

"I'm not finished," Carlisle reprimanded sternly. "Your parents' deaths are a tragedy, Edward. No one is denying that. And maybe we never allowed you to properly grieve; maybe you didn't know how…regardless, if this is your rebellion because of it, you should know now that I will not tolerate it. You will deal with this like a man, Edward. You will not run off and do whatever pleases you at that time; you will not hide in your room all day. Am I understood?"

"This is not me grieving. I'm over that now."

Carlisle cringed.

"Edward," Esme started softly, placing her hand over Edward's on the table. "I'm sure you don't mean it like that."

"What?" When comprehension sunk in, he corrected. "No, of course, not. I just meant that I've made peace with my parents' deaths. I know that there is nothing I can do to change things. There's nothing I could have done to prevent this. I know it wasn't my fault." He repeated the mantra he'd recited in his mind over and over immediately following his tragedy. He'd repeated the words until he'd finally come to understand what they meant to him. "I still miss them everyday – every second of every day. Which is why I did what I did. I had to. I wish you could understand that."

"I will never understand why you turned your back on your family by giving up your name." Carlisle stood abruptly and left the room, his paper long forgotten on the shiny surface.

Both Edward and Esme were quiet as they listened to Carlisle's angry steps on the stairs before they disappeared toward the end of the hall, followed by a slamming door. Carlisle had once again retreated to his office to sort through things.

Edward let out the breath he'd been holding and dropped his head to his hands. He felt like he could cry at the thought of disrespecting his family – disrespecting his parents, the two people who'd done and given up everything for him.

"He's just angry right now, Edward. He'll get over this. Just give him some time." Esme moved from her seat across from Edward so she could sit by his side. "I can't say I understand why you did you what you did, but I realize it's important to you, Edward, and I'd like to try."

"I'm not really sure what more I can say. I did not do this to disobey Carlisle; I just simply could not continue as a Masen, not without my mother and father. Part of me died when they died and I needed to make the appropriate change to commemorate that." Edward tried to remain calm has he repeated his words from the previous night. Once again, Esme seemed understanding as she nodded her head, listening to his words and really taking them in.

"Carlisle's just concerned that you're leaving your parents behind. He's right, Edward, it is a tragedy that your parents are no with us, but that doesn't mean that they are gone. You know as well as I do that each of us carries around a bit of them everywhere we go. Carlisle doesn't want you to lose sight of that. He doesn't want to replace your father. He respected your father too much to allow that to happen. You must realize, he's grieving as well. But he doesn't want you to see. He doesn't think he has as much of a right to grieve as you do."

Edward nodded, understanding, but not knowing what to do with that knowledge.

"Just be patient with him, Edward. Give him some time."

"Carlisle is a wonderful man, as you are a wonderful woman," Edward said as he stood and started to walk out of the kitchen. "I will never be able to truly express the gratitude I have for the two of you for taking me in – long before my parents died. You have always considered me a part of your family, and I am so blessed for it. Your generosity goes beyond words."

As Edward climbed the stairs, retreating back to his room, he debated stopping by Carlisle's study to further clear up the issues between them. Now that he'd heard more from Esme, he believed he understood where Carlisle was coming from. Edward paused on the second floor before continuing on, deciding to allow Carlisle time to think about Edward, Sr., much like Edward was now. They could grieve together – separately.

A/N: This chapter title comes from "In the Cold" by Acceptance.

In other news, it was just brought to my attention (literally as I was about to post this) that I've been nominated in the Indie Twific Awards. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you who take the time to read this story and believe it's worthy of an award. It does mean a lot to me that there are those of who you still think so highly of this story and me, despite my erratic updating schedule. This story is up for Best Alternative Universe Human.

The first round of voting begins on July 8th and you can vote at / There are a ton of great stories up for these fantastic awards, so please be sure to check out some of the stories you may not know about.

So tell me, what'd you think of the latest chapter? How were you all expecting the conversation with Carlisle/Esme to go?

And, lastly, happy 4th everyone! This is one of my favorite holidays, because we simply get to celebrate being. So I hope everyone has a grand time tomorrow…enjoy those fireworks shows! For those not in the States, make your own fireworks shows…it's a glorious summer and I think that deserves some celebrating!