A/N: Yeah, so it's almost Saturday, right? I really have no idea how my RL is going to go tomorrow so I wanted to go ahead and post this. To answer a question-No, I don't do Twitter. I can't figure out Twitter. I'm already freaking out about that stupid Facebook Timeline thing. I don't adjust to change well, apparently.
Also, I accidentally fibbed. We don't have any details in this chapter of Bella and Edward waking up together. That will come soon **coughcoughnextupdatecough** Sorry about that!
This chapter is dedicated to all of those who voted for me in TLS Fic. of The Week poll! I didn't win but damn, it was such a rush to be nominated. Thanks again, Six Dlbfive! You...*emphatically pointing at Six Dlbfive*...are fecking awesome! Thanks to everyone from TLS for so much support! You know who you are and I owe you! :)
Softragoo, you got mad prereading skills.
Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all things twilight.
Chapter thirteen
By the look of Esme and Carlisle's house, they weren't hurting for money. They lived in an upscale neighborhood in a huge white house, complete with a white picket fence. A large oak tree sat in the front yard where an old tire swing hung unmoving from one of the branches. Perfectly rounded bushes outlined the front porch which had a white swing on one side and a small potted orange tree on the other.
"Are you sure they don't care if the kids come? First chance he gets, Sam will probably toss something valuable and I'll end up having to wash their dishes or something." Rose's eyes were wide as we walked to the front porch. I grinned at her timid little steps as she held Sam's hand.
"Esme is amazing," I told her. "She'll love the kids."
"Are we having hot dogs?" Emily asked. "Because Gwen told me that hot dogs have chicken lips in them. Hot dogs will make me puke."
Rose rolled her eyes. "Chickens don't have lips, Em. They have beaks."
"Well, I still can't help but get sick when I think about eating one," Emily announced. "I'll refuse."
I knocked on the door.
"Emily Grace, if you refuse food from these nice people, I will bust your rear so hard that my handprint will be in 3-D on your butt cheeks for a week." Rose put one hand on her hip. "Got it?"
Emily blew out a sigh, clearly not impressed with her mother's threat but not willing to call her bluff. "Yes, Ma'am."
Rose narrowed her eyes. "I mean it."
The door opened and Esme stood on the other side of the screen door with a smile on her face. She looked excited as she introduced herself to Emily and Sam, kneeling down to their level. As Rose shook her hand and gave her that no-holds-barred grin of hers, I remembered something: I'd forgotten to tell them about Carlisle's leg. I knew it wouldn't be important to Rose but I couldn't imagine the looks on the kids' faces when they realized that they were meeting a one legged man. I mentally cursed my stupidity. This would be entirely embarrassing for all of us; especially Carlisle who I was sure didn't like attention drawn to his handicap.
"Come in, come in…Carlisle is in the back, firing up the grill," she said, waving us in. We walked past her and I stopped to give her a hug on my way in. For someone who relished her independence for the first 23 years, I had grown painfully attached to the people in my life.
"How you doing, kiddo?" she asked.
I smiled at her. It was only a question but the genuine concern in her eyes conjured up unexpected tears. "I'm good," I told her then corrected, "really good."
"Thanks for having us over," I told her as she followed me into the house.
"Oh, thanks for coming. He's driving me crazy, wanting to try out all his new internet purchases. I told him that he needed a new hobby so he bought a Wii." She rolled her eyes and I giggled. "Wants me to try out some bowling game."
"Emily would probably love it. She'd jump at the chance to play video games," Rose said.
Esme's eyes lit up and she looked at Rose as if she'd hung the moon. "That's a fantastic idea! Why didn't I think of that? Wait until he hears."
We walked through the long, seemingly endless hallway and into a kitchen with stainless steel appliances. The counters were marble. The floor was hardwood. Rose's eyes were wide as the expensive saucers that sat on the kitchen counter waiting to be stacked with vegetables and dip.
"You have an amazing house, Esme," Rose murmured. "It's so lovely."
That was the thing I loved about Rose. She didn't get bitter about material possessions. Rose didn't see what other people had and what she didn't have. If I had grown up with shitty parents and been forced into the stripping business to feed my family, I couldn't imagine not feeling a little resentment when I saw a house like this.
"Oh, thank you," Esme replied. "Make yourselves at home."
The three of us blinked at each other then shuffled our feet on the floor, nervously. Emily popped her gum and drool ran down Sam's chin.
"Uh, come out back and I'll introduce you to Carlisle."
We shuffled out the back door, and I held my breath when Carlisle came into view. He was standing in front of a large grill with a red apron on that read "Mr. Goodlookin' is Cookin'!" When he saw us, he waved with the spatula and pressed down on the crutch that kept him from falling. He looked remarkable for someone who'd recently won the fight for his life but the effects of the chemo were obvious: His hair was thin and blond, his skin pale and loose, and his frame was thin. The smile stretched across his face was glorious as we approached him.
"Hi! I'm Carlisle," he said to Rose.
She grinned and shook his hand saying, "I'm Rose McCarty. This is Emily and the munchkin' is Sam."
Carlisle held his hand out for Emily who was gaping at the space where his right leg should have been. Rose nudged her with her hip and Emily shook herself, slowly shaking hands with Carlisle. Sam was more interested in the smoke billowing out of the grill.
"You must be Bella," Carlisle said and walked toward me. His crutch cracked on the pavement with each step but I let him approach me, instead of going to him. His eyes were kind and his smile so genuine; it was easy to see Esme and him as a young, beautiful couple holding hands and walking along Lake Michigan. I could imagine him as a father to little Sarah, his first impression of her and the awakening that he had in the nursery when he first nicknamed her "Blossom".
"I am," I said, offering my hand.
Instead, he wrapped his free arm around me, spatula and all, and gave me a short hug. It was then that I knew that Esme had told him everything. I wasn't alarmed or angry that this stranger knew such intimate details of my past. The hug was reassuring me in what I already knew. This couple, with their expensive home and shattered dreams, was already part of a growing family for me. The short hug told me everything I needed to know about Carlisle and what I found out was good.
"Good to finally meet you," I told him, breathing away tears. "I've heard so much about you!"
His blonde eyebrows popped up and he glanced teasingly at Esme. "Knowing this one, it wasn't all good."
"Most of it was good," I offered. "There was something about you being a little grumpy in the mornings."
Esme let out a noise of amusement.
Carlisle sighed. "Well, we all have our faults. Spend some time with me and I'll share some secrets of my own. Your sweet and beautiful boss snores like a truck driver."
Esme gasped. "I do not!"
"Twenty five years of marriage and she still doesn't believe me," he stage whispered. "I hope everybody likes chicken and hamburgers!"
While the food cooked on the grill, we sat in lawn chairs on the back porch and chatted. As it turned out, Esme wasn't fooling when she said that she loved kids. She got along great with Emily, who went on and on about the quandaries of life as a ten year old. Carlisle made faces at Sam and was asking him what his favorite color was when Rose chimed in.
"He doesn't talk real well, yet," she told him. "His pediatrician said that he's behind. We were supposed to get some county program to give us therapy but since he's almost three, they told us we'd have to talk to the school district."
Carlisle stiffened. "That's ridiculous."
Rose snorted. "That's what I said but it wasn't as pleasant sounding as how you said it. I told them…" She glanced at Sam and Emily. "Well, I told them what I thought of their little rules."
Carlisle flipped a hamburger and turned back around, his face pinched up into what looked like anger. "If Sammy qualifies and from what I can see, he probably would, it's his legal right to get state funded therapy. It's their job to walk you through it, even if he is almost three."
"So, what they told me isn't true?"
He shook his head. "What county do you live in?"
"Cook," she replied. "How do you know all of this?"
His face softened minutely. "Oh, I'm a retired pediatrician. If one of my patients has a clear delay, I refer them to Early Intervention."
Rose looked like she'd just gotten to the cherry in her shit and cottage cheese sundae. "Really? Do you know anyone I can…I mean, if you don't mind, do you have anyone that I can call?"
"Let me make a few phone calls. Do you remember who you spoke with? They need to figure out who is telling people things like that so that it doesn't happen again."
She scrunched up her face in thought. "I think her name was Linda something…uh, Linda Taggert, maybe."
"Hmm…okay, make sure you give me your phone number and address before you leave."
"Thank you," Rose said, looking pleased as punch, "that would be really great."
Carlisle shrugged and grinned. "It'll feel good to do something productive for once."
"Oh but, honey," Esme chimed in, "who's going to buy useless junk over the internet if you're busy doing something productive?"
"You didn't think that new clay mixing bowl set I bought you was so useless, did you?" he teased.
She pressed her lips together into a frown.
"That's what I thought," he said with a grin.
The dinner was great and everyone retired inside as the air grew chilly. We groaned as we sat down in the living room, all of us holding our stomachs and doing great imitations of pregnant women.
"I shouldn't have eaten the second hamburger," Esme groaned. "All that bread is going to make me feel bloated for a week."
"Me too," Rose sputtered.
"There's no way I can run tomorrow," I mumbled. "Rose, are you with me in going on strike with Edward?"
"Oh, yeah," she said, "I'm with you all the way."
"How come he didn't come?" Esme asked.
"He was busy," I told her. "If it had been yesterday, he would have been here but he always has plans on Sundays."
She didn't make anymore inquiries about Edward's Sunday plans which made me feel relieved. I felt a sense of protectiveness toward Edward and I wouldn't divulge anything personal about him to anyone, unless he knew about it. The night that I'd slept in his apartment was a memory that I kept close to the forefront of my mind. I'd told him about certain humiliating things that I'd gone through in Oklahoma and while some would have turned their backs on me, not wanting to get involved with a twisted man like James, Edward did the opposite. He drew me in, held me close and offered himself up so that I would feel safe for just one night.
We'd slept in the same bed, platonically of course, but when I'd woken up the next morning, I'd never felt more rested. His presence to my subconscious was a sleep induced miracle. Just knowing that he was there beside me, his warmth and steady breath, was enough to let me sleep eight hours with no nightmares to jerk me awake or worries to keep me from sleeping. It had been two nights since I'd fallen asleep beside him and the nightmares seemed worse.
There was definitely something about Edward that made me feel safe.
"So, you want to play some Wii with me, Emily?" Carlisle asked.
She straightened on the couch, glancing at her Mom.
"It's okay, Em," Rose encouraged.
Emily stood up, next to Carlisle and took the little gadget he offered her so that she could control her player. She glanced down at the empty space under his right knee, indicating her concern for his ability to keep up with her.
"Oh, it won't keep me from winning," Carlisle said smugly.
Emily blushed and looked down at her shoes. Rose sat forward to scold her daughter for being judgmental but Esme put a hand on her knee, stopping the words from coming.
"In fact, this is the best part of playing the game," he said with a smile. Using the little devise, he turned on some bowling game and he quickly set it up. When his player got into position to bowl, Carlisle pointed at the TV. "See, I've got two legs!"
Emily giggled and the tension in the room vanished.
"Let's see what you got, little one," he told her.
"They're having him fitted for a prosthetic next week," Esme whispered as Rose and I watched him pick up a spare. "He's nervous about it."
"Why?" Rose asked. "It seems that he would look forward to it."
"He's gotten used to the crutch and…well, the crutch isn't similar to a leg. The leg he lost is gone and can't ever be replaced. When they fit a fake one on, he's afraid that it will make his life harder, not easier. He once told me that he had fifty six good years with that right leg and it would feel like he was cheating on it if he ever got a replacement."
I didn't know whether that last part was funny or sad but Rose let out a good snort. "Seems like a typical man. If it doesn't have buttons to press or titties, they have a hell of a time trying to make it fit into their lives."
My eyes went wide. Esme barked out a laugh.
"I'll have to use that on him when he starts arguing with the prosthesis."
On the way home, Emily dozed off immediately next to Sam's bobbing head. Rose glanced at them before a light turned green and she grinned.
"They're so sweet when they're asleep," she murmured.
"What are you talking about? They are always sweet," I argued.
She blew out a noise of disbelief through her lips. "I love Carlisle and Esme. Did you hear them offer to babysit for me? That would be amazing!"
"I told you that they were pretty cool people."
"I wish Edward could have met them. Carlisle seemed desperate for another guy to talk to. I wonder if they have many friends in the area."
I shrugged. "Maybe when Carlisle got sick, they grew apart from their friends. Going through something like that can change people's perspective—good and bad."
Rose nodded. The sun was already set but it wasn't completely dark. Twilight: My least favorite part of the day—when the natural light of the sun disappears for a good twelve hours.
"So, what do you think Edward would say if I asked him to sleep with me?" I blurted.
Rose didn't seem surprised by my question. In fact, she answered in stride. "I think that's a pretty darn good idea." She glanced in her mirror to check the kids' sleep status and looked pleased to see them still dozing. "Edward is wound up so tight that if you gave his dick a good yank, he'd probably spin on his toes for a good hour."
I was slightly pleased but mostly mortified by her response. My mouth fell open and I just stared at her for a moment while my mind tried to formulate some response that wouldn't pinpoint me as a scared, sexless freak.
"I'm not talking about sleeping as in sex, Rose," I hissed.
"Well," she sighed, "that's a shame."
"No, it's…" I stopped myself and realized how embarrassing this conversation would be later when I went back over it in my head. "Remember how I slept over at his apartment a few nights ago when the power went out?"
"I'm not senile," she replied. "It was only three days ago. Of course, I remember."
"Well, I slept really good."
She cut her eyes to me and winked. "I bet you did."
I let my head flop back and I rolled my eyes. "Can you just get your mind out of the gutter for ten minutes?"
"I'm a stripper, Bella," she said as if that explained everything.
"I'm afraid of the dark," I proclaimed. "To make a long story short, when the power went out, I freaked. Edward came over; I didn't really give him a choice but to take me back to his apartment. He started sleeping on the couch but, once again, I freaked out. He slept next to me all night—no funny business—and I slept like a baby. Now, I want to do it again. A lot. Like, every night."
Rose chewed on my words for a few minutes before answering, "What does Edward get out of it?"
"What? Rose, just never mind. I can't have a serious conversation with you—"
"I'm serious! Edward allows you to sleep with him every night, which I'm sure he will, and he doesn't get anything in return?"
I threw my hands up, exasperated with her question. "What should he get out of it?"
"You," she answered.
I blinked at her.
"I care a lot about Edward, Bella. That man has been through some serious shit and he has more shit to go through. He's decent, kind and hard working but he gets attached to people. He already cares for you and if you spend every night sleeping together, he's going to care about you even more. Edward doesn't do that. I've never known him to even go out with a girl once and here you come along and he can't get away from you."
"Gee thanks," I deadpanned.
"No, I don't mean it like it's a bad thing. I mean it as a good thing. You're good for him."
"I don't want…I won't ever, ever be with a man again, Rose. I care for Edward, too, but I can't go there again. I already told you that."
"Exactly," she sighed. "You are going to break his heart, Bella."
"You think I want to live like this?" I hissed. "Do you think that I wouldn't love to just be that girl for Edward? I'd love to help him chase his demons away but I'm too broken, Rose. There is nothing I can give to him in return. The security he would give me—that would allow me to sleep—would have to be on the house."
We sat in silence for a while, as the hum of the engine cut through the tension between us. It was stupid and selfish of me to ask about sleeping with Edward.
"There's no chance that you'll trust Edward enough to give him a chunk of your heart?" Rose finally asked.
I sighed. "If I were to ever give a chunk of my heart away, Edward would be the one I'd give it to. He really is amazing." I turned to her and furrowed my eyebrows. "How do you even know he'd accept a chunk of my heart?"
"Did I not just tell you, Bella? He has never, ever had a girl sleep over at his place."
"That was by chance," I explained.
"Yeah, and if you came to him about doing it again, he'd think about it for a whole two seconds before doing an internal happy dance and accepting. He takes you running. He's training you to fight for yourself."
"He trains Emily, too."
"Yeah, and he's been in her life since she was five years old. He loves her like he would a niece or, hell, even a daughter. I just want you to see how invested he is in you and how fragile he is," she told me.
"Big tough man on the outside and all mushy, gooey on the inside?" I asked with a smile.
"Exactly," she said, returning my grin. "Just know that if you lead him on and hurt him, I'm going to have to bitch slap you."
I thought about what she said and wondered if it was possible to lead someone on without even realizing it. I had kissed him. It wasn't planned and he seemed unfazed by the gesture. The kiss had been a thank you that I couldn't put into words. It wasn't unpleasant and I'd had many daydreams about doing it again. The feel of his rough stubble against my cheek, the warmth of his body pressed to mine—the thoughts made my toes curl in my shoes. But I wasn't the type of girl who guys fell in love with, not anymore. I was branded and ruined; another man's trash that had escaped the garbage bin in the middle of a windstorm. He already knew a little but once he knew it all, there wouldn't be a thing to keep him beside me.
"What exactly do you think Edward's internal happy dance looks like?" I asked, trying to break free of my self-loathing thoughts.
Rose raised her eyebrows. "Edward's forte isn't dancing but I imagine there are some cabbage patch moves and maybe a running man somewhere in there."
"And there's definitely some shuffling," I added.
"Oh, no doubt."
For the next several days, I ran with Edward and we did some additional training at night. The gloves became like a second skin for me and my knuckles adapted to the pounding they took each night. I'd started doing kicks and I'd missed Edward's crotch by narrow margins a number of times. Balancing on one leg had never been something I'd been talented at but I'd started getting the hang of controlling my projected kick.
He'd also told me to use every weapon I had. The back of my head could break a nose. My fingernails could gauge out an eye. I'd started looked around rooms, as soon as I entered them, looking for possible ways to bring down an attacker: A pencil, hairspray, and a gallon of bleach. In my head, I'd played a mini-movie about how I'd defend myself against a faceless attacker with just about everything in my apartment. At one point, I was sitting on my couch popping peanuts into my mouth, frustrated that I couldn't think of one way to disable an enemy with them.
It had become my obsession.
"Don't think about how much bigger and stronger they are than you, Bella," Edward had told me. "You have to be resourceful and quick. Don't give them time to think and don't run until you're sure they can't get you. Just keep kicking."
I felt stronger and bigger and less afraid of walking into my apartment every afternoon. When I shoved the shower curtain away from the tub, my stance didn't depict me as someone ready to crawl into a corner and go fetal. While I was stronger, mentally and physically, I had a long way to go before I'd survive an attack from James. The man was a trained and proven killer and I was still someone who had run from him.
Sleep was my biggest obstacle. If I didn't have nightmares that woke me up in the middle of the night, it was the glare of the lights that kept me awake. Most nights, I'd lay there awake with an exhausted body, wondering who I'd see in my dreams that night. Sometimes, it was my dad and other times it was James. On one occasion, I dreamt of blonde burls and lifeless blue eyes; that was the worst. I woke up, crying for the girl that had died for me and the possible countless others that I wasn't aware of. Guilt would run its course. Even though I didn't know her name, I grieved for her every day. That evening, I took it out on Edward's mitts.
"Easy, Killer!" Edward said with a small grin on his face. "You're going to put holes in your gel gloves."
Breath heaved in and out of my chest and I wiped my brow with my wrist. "Sorry, I'm just feeling it today."
He shook his head once. "Don't apologize. I like it. Just don't let your knuckles bleed."
"Can we do kicks?"
His eyes widened as he considered my request. "I'd rather stick with the fists. Keeping my balls intact is important to me."
I shrugged a shoulder and called him a chicken.
"Yes, but I'm a chicken who can procreate."
With a sputtered laugh, I continued pounding away at his mitts. My knuckles raged and throbbed but every time I thought about stopping, I'd see her face. Hear the snap of her neck. Where fear usually rooted itself inside my gut, anger took its place. I pressed my molars together and my lips formed into a sneer as I pounded away with my fists.
"Okay, so spill it," Edward said. "You're getting good, but today you're an animal. What's up, Bella?"
I ceased for a moment and then continued my assault. "Nothing."
"Come on," he urged, "that's bullshit."
"I had a bad dream last night and it refreshed my memory on how much I hate him," I explained. "That's all."
"What was it about?" he asked.
"The girl he'd killed and how cowardly he was to do that to someone who couldn't fight back." With my right fist, I connected it especially hard to the leather. "She was unconscious."
"It wasn't your fault, you know."
I scoffed and said sarcastically, "Sure, it wasn't." I stopped my assault on the leather and looked at him. "If I'd just called my dad and did what he wanted me to do, then she'd still be alive."
"How do you know?"
"So, you think he killed all those girls?" I asked, dropping my painful fists to my sides. "There had to have been at least seven or eight. If he'd killed them, there would be reports filed by families."
"How do you know that there weren't?"
"It would have been all over the news down there. We lived in a military community. The government would have been all over it."
"There weren't ever any reports on the news at night?"
I hesitated and licked my lips. He glanced at my mouth briefly before he returned his gaze to my eyes. God, he could see right through me. How did he do that? Those eyes that made me so afraid and so terrified before were now like a gateway into some deserted island. His soul was transparent through those eyes and it made me ache for him. The knowledge that his insides were filled with grief and misery was like a knife in my back. I felt helpless against that stare but I couldn't look away.
"He didn't watch the news when I was with him," I told him.
"You should research it," he advised.
"Why? So I can feel that much better about myself?" I quipped.
Several things happened at once. Edward's angry and argumentative expression told me that he was going to drop the mitts. It was too late to react appropriately since my fist was already making a b-line for his face. It connected with the side of his nose and he stumbled backwards, meeting the edge of the couch with the back of his knees. All I could do was watch as he toppled sideways, with one hand clutching his nose and the other catching his fall onto the floor.
"Fuck!" Edward's muffled scream sent me into action. "Christ on crutches!"
I ran up to him and knelt beside him, wondering how it was possible that I did that damage to his face.
"Oh, crap! You're bleeding!" I screeched.
He looked up at me. "No shit! You punched me in the fucking nose!"
I made him bleed. I made the big, man stumble and fall to his knees. I did that.
Without thinking, I pulled off my shirt, leaving me in only my sports bra and pressed it to his nose. For a moment, he just stared at the six inches of exposed pale skin that appeared with the absence of my shirt, but then he shook himself. He grabbed the shirt roughly and held it to his nose.
"It smells like—" He cut his own speech off as he narrowed his eyes at me. "Why are you smiling?"
"What? I'm not…" I put my fingers to my mouth and sure enough, I was grinning—teeth and all. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."
He stared at me for a few beats. "You're still doing it."
I couldn't help it. Giggling commenced and he rolled his eyes.
"I'm not laughing at you, I swear! I feel really bad about hitting you. I'm so sorry."
I helped him to his feet, well aware that the grin was still plastered on my face. He eyed me curiously as he held my t-shirt to his injured nose. It didn't seem to be gushing blood which was always a good thing.
"I didn't break it did I?" I asked.
"If I told you it was, would you still be grinning?" There was a light tone to his voice.
With force, I pulled my lips into a frown but I could still feel my eyes dancing with joy.
"You're awful proud of yourself, aren't you?" he asked.
I gave up on holding in the grin. "That was…empowering. I mean, I never thought I could hurt you and with one pop to the nose, I…God, it just feels amazing to know that I'm able to at least put up a fight."
He quirked an eyebrow and said, "Isn't that what this whole thing has been for? All these morning runs and shit?"
"I was running on blind faith that it was possible."
He blinked. "Huh," he remarked, "I should have let you sock me in the nose a week ago."
I laughed. "Do you want some water?"
With a groan, he sat down on the couch. "That would be lovely."
"I'll be right back, then."
As I made my way into his kitchen, I tried hard to wipe the grin off my face. Pride was something I hadn't felt in a while and it felt quite similar to an adrenaline rush. My blood pumped furiously through my veins and the newly acquired muscles in my arms felt solid and sturdy. I felt strong.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and turned to head back out to the living room when something caught my eye. There were a dozen knives sitting in a wooden holder on his kitchen counter. I closed my eyes and the pride that was so pungent just a moment ago, seeped out of me like black oil. I'd forgotten to cover my back. Surely, Edward had caught a glimpse of the message written there when I walked to the kitchen. What were the odds that his attention was focused on his feet or the bloody t-shirt in his hands? Even if he didn't see it, how would I get out of here without him seeing it with no shirt to use as cover?
"Stupid, stupid, stupid…"I muttered to myself.
"Just a minute ago, you couldn't stop smiling." His voice echoed off the bare linoleum floors of the small kitchen.
I refused to open my eyes and see the disgust written all over his face. It would tear me apart. I could manage it if it was anyone else but to have Edward know how damaged I was made my stomach twist. I swallowed and squeezed my eyes closed at the sound of his footsteps getting closer. It was cowardly; I knew this but the child in me was hoping that whole if-I-can't-see-him-then-he-can't-see-me thing would actually hold true. I could be invisible as long as I didn't have to look at him and see those eyes burning through me. I was so ashamed and humiliated. How could I have been so stupid?
"Bella," he whispered. He was right there; close enough to hug.
I shivered and wrapped my arms around my abdomen. Then something warm wrapped around my shoulders and over my chest. A blanket. He'd brought me a blanket. The momentary relief was replaced by grief. If he'd brought me a blanket then surely he saw what he was covering up with it.
"I'm so stupid. How could I forget?" I said, mostly to myself.
His hands rubbed my shoulders, tenderly and forcefully as if he was trying to bring me back to life. Then, as if he had made his mind up about something, he sighed and pulled me into him. I didn't fight it but instead, melted into his frame. He held the blanket in place as I wrapped my arms around him and stuffed my face into his chest. Even though he'd been helping me workout, he smelled so good. It was a smell I wanted to douse myself in. He felt good, too. I didn't want it to end. But, he pulled away and I followed suit, thinking that he'd already given me enough.
"Look at me," he whispered.
I opened my lids and looked into his eyes. As always, they burned and the green flashed as he stared at me. I felt small and incredibly insignificant when he towered over me and looked at me like that.
"You almost broke my nose," he told me.
And just like that, my pride had taken a u-turn and was scrapping its way back into my blood.
"Well, I'm glad that I didn't," I answered.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "You did good, Bella."
That was a hint of a goodbye and as humiliated and embarrassed as I was, I didn't want to go back to my apartment. I wanted to crawl up in bed with him and feel him hold me as I fell asleep. The thought of getting a full night's rest again was overwhelming any shame that lingered.
"Can I ask you something?" He shrugged and I took that as a "yes". "You can tell me to 'Go to Hell' if you want but I was wondering if…"
"If what?"
I cleared my throat and pulled the blanket tighter around me. "Last week when I slept over here, it was the first time in a year that I've woken up and actually felt good. I felt like a different person. I was just wondering if you would mind if I slept with you again."
His eyebrows shot up and then he ran his fingers through his hair. "Uh…so you want to stay over here because you sleep better?"
If my sanity wasn't at stake, the nervous fidgeting he was doing would have been endearing. "I sleep better when I'm with you."
A twisted expression crossed over his features. "You really shouldn't."
"I can't help it if I do."
"You just need someone to be with you. Maybe Rose would let you sleep over with her."
I shook my head. "It's okay," I told him and meant it. "I should just get back to my place."
"I'm sorry, Bella. I just…"
I grabbed his forearm with my hand and squeezed. "It's really okay. I understand."
"No, you don't."
"Maybe, someday I will," I replied with a small smile.
Jake met us in the hallway on his way out. He gave the blanket wrapped around my chest a double take and then narrowed his eyes at Edward.
"How's it goin', Bella?" he asked, still glaring daggers at my companion.
It was almost comical. "I'm good. What about you?"
Edward puffed out his chest and put an arm around my shoulders.
"Oh, ya know, off to work and shit. Have you thought about my invitation to come down to the club and hang?" He turned his attention to me and added, "I'd show you a good time."
The arm around my shoulders grew taut and I could hear teeth grinding.
"Uh, yeah, maybe sometime."
"Okay, well, have a good night," he said, smiling then returned to glaring at Edward. "Just call if you need anything."
It was a ridiculous thing to say, considering I didn't even have his phone number. Now, I realized that the animosity went both ways between the two men. They just didn't like each other and at the moment, they were using me as a pawn in their caveman game. It was almost laughable.
"Have a good night, Jake," I said, giving him a stiff wave.
He stomped past us and out the front door.
"You aren't really going to go to that fucking club, are you?"
The fact that his arm was still tight around my shoulders must have slipped his mind. I shrugged, making him aware of it and he quickly dropped his hand.
"I might," I lied, "someday."
His eyes twitched and his lips pressed together. "You won't go to that club without me, that's for sure."
Something flared inside me. While I should have been offended that this man was shouting orders at me with narrowed eyes, I wasn't; instead I was doing some sort of internal giggling that you only see at Justin Bieber concerts. I'd seen him shout orders at Rose on several occasions when he thought that her safety was at risk. So far, he was all bark and no bite.
Exhausted, I said goodnight to Edward and headed to my room to get ready for bed. Before dropping the blanket on the bed, I did something humiliating and smelled it. It smelled musty. Nothing like Edward, which was disappointing; I thought that perhaps the smell of him would possibly keep the nightmares away.
After I showered, I got dressed in my usual sweats and t-shirt and brushed my teeth. Just as I sat down on the mattress and prepared myself for another night of tossing and turning, a sharp knock came from my door. I stiffened and glanced at the clock. It was past eleven which meant that Rose was in bed, Jake wasn't home yet. I'd just seen Edward and he seemed to be in a rush to push me out his door so the second time a round of knocks echoed through my apartment, my stomach turned.
James wouldn't knock, I told myself. He'd just bust in and I'd be history.
"Who is it?" I called through the door.
"It's me," the voice said.
I sighed out of relief and opened the door. Edward's nose was beginning to swell and a bruise was sure to follow. I cringed when I saw it and he read my face.
He touched it with his fingertips. "Oh, it's fine. Nothing, really."
"I'm sorry again," I told him sincerely.
"Don't worry about it. I'm proud of you."
"Okay," I replied.
With a stiff hand, he tugged at his hair and it seemed to wave at me as it flopped back down on his head. He opened his mouth to talk but then snapped it closed and let his eyes wander to his shifting feet on the floor.
"Edward, just spit it out," I grumbled.
He looked up at me, looking almost afraid and said, "I was just thinking about what you asked and I think that…it wouldn't be…Christ!" The frustration in his voice allowed me to be patient with him. What he had to say was obviously difficult to get out. His posture snapped taut and he met my eyes with determination. "If you need sleep and I can help you with that, I'm inviting you over to my place."
A smile fought at my mouth but I tapered it into a neutral reaction. "You really don't have to, Edward. I'll be fine, honestly."
He pulled at his hair some more and wet his lips with the flick of his tongue. Little things about him were starting to get to me—burrow deep into my guts and create warmth and heaviness that I'd never felt before. His nervous habits tugged on everything that I was against and I couldn't let it happen.
For one, Edward wouldn't allow it and second, I'd been there before and it brought me nothing but pain.
With that said, I couldn't refuse an entire night of sleep in the dark.
"If you're sure…" I said.
He nodded stiffly and avoided my eyes. This wasn't easy for him, it was obvious but why? I knew Edward's nervous tics, his habits, hell, I even knew his work schedule but I felt like I really didn't know the real him. The base of his personality was everywhere: The kindness, generosity and bluntness. There was so much more to him than I saw. Jealousy swept through me as I thought of how much better Rose knew him than I did. It made me want to leap at him, shake him and demand some answers.
"Let me lock up, then."
I quickly grabbed my keys and the blanket he'd let me use and I followed him across the hall. Nerves made my hands shake and my stomach felt like it was crawling with snakes as we walked into his bedroom.
"Admit it," I told him, "this is really weird."
His mouth curved into a grin. "Anytime I have a girl in my bed, it's weird."
I tried to hide the shock that threatened to take over my face.
"You don't have to go to bed right now. I can lay here with the light on until you..." I trailed off, thinking about what I was doing and how insane the whole situation was. No wonder I'd made him panic. I was completely nuts.
"No, it's cool," he said. "We should get some sleep."
"Sleep sounds really, really good," I mumbled.
After we'd gotten comfortable in bed, Edward put a pillow between us and said, "Just in case."
"I trust you," I told him.
His eyes twinkled mischievously as he winked. "Maybe it's not for me."
He couldn't see my eyes narrow because he switched off the lamp by his bed. The dark was incredibly intimidating and for several minutes, I was afraid to blink. Shadows of a tree outside looked like a skeleton on the wall. The pipes under the floor in the hallway creaked. The old man above us moved around, thumping his cane on the thin wooden floor.
"You okay?" Edward asked. "I don't hear any breathing coming from over there."
I let out a whoosh of breath, realizing that he was right. "I just need a minute to adjust. Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask but I can't guarantee any answers."
"Fair enough. You said earlier that it was weird to have a girl in your room. So, you don't date?" I tried to keep my voice neutral, free of any jealousy but I could feel it in my voice as I spoke it. I hoped that it only existed in my head.
"I haven't been on a date in a really long time," he admitted.
"Why?"
"Well, first of all, I'm not much of a catch. An ex-con who takes out trash and sweeps floors for a living? Most women might think that I lack ambition," he said, then chuckled to himself.
"And second?"
He sighed. "Second, I don't want a relationship. It's too much trouble and I don't have the energy for it."
As much as I wanted to argue, I kept my mouth sealed. Why did I want to argue? It was because I felt like Edward was one hell of a man and that the entire species of females was missing out as he kept himself holed up in his apartment. So, why did the thought of Edward out, looking for women, make me want to gauge out my eyes with my fingernails?
I was attracted to Edward, I'd come to that realization weeks ago but that had been all there was. It was too soon after Oklahoma for me to be getting wiggles in my tummy every time I saw him smile or feel possessive over his dating life. It wasn't something that I wanted, not for a very long time.
A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters. I love the guilty power Bella feels after accidentally socking Edward in the nose.
I got a couple requests for EPOV. Since I'm writing so far ahead, I can only really fit in an EPOV in one spot-and have it make sense-which will be around chapter 19 or 20...something like that. I've only written EPOV once and that was for my AMS epi. Who's read it? *crickets chirping* Well, that was awkward. ;) Anyway, if you'd like to read an EPOV, let me know and I'll work on one. If not, I'll just keep truckin' along like usual.
So, what was your favorite part? What did you think about Carlisle? You think YOU have questions! Gimme some loooooove, ya'll!