Playlist: Little Wonders by Rob Thomas, No Rain by Blind Melon
Chapter 4
2008
As I reach the stadium, I laugh. It looks smaller than it did when I was kid. It holds so many memories. Good and bad. Full of laughter and sorrow. I pay for my ticket, my stomach tensing as I realize I'm about to see people I haven't seen in years. Ten year reunions are lame; I don't know how Alice convinced me to come here.
Then again, Alice can convince me to do anything.
1996
Alice and Jasper sit in the kitchen at the island, chatting with Esme and eating snacks. He's in my chair. The table seems too far away to sit at, so I stand by awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.
"You should've seen it, Mom, he corrected her grammar in front of everyone. Her face turned red and everything."
"I thought she was gonna throw me out," Jasper says, then pops a strawberry into his mouth. Esme put those strawberries out for me. She knows they're a favorite of mine. And he's eating them.
"And lose face? No way. Not Mrs. Stole. She's always been that way. She must be 1001 now. I can't believe that old bat's still there. Carlisle used to . . . well, he should tell it. Carlisle!" she yells, calling behind her toward the garage where he's tinkering with a car, no doubt.
There's no movement, so Esme catches my eyes. "Will you get him, honey? You guys have got to hear this story."
"Sure," I say. I'll go anywhere to get away from this horror movie where Jasper has stolen my life.
The heavy door squeaks open, and the stagnant smell of men and oil makes my nose wrinkle.
"Edward, can you hand me that—"
"Nope. Not Edward," I say. Does no one want me around anymore?
"Oh, sorry," he says, lifting his head from the hood and smiling, the fond smile I get when we haven't been around each other in a while.
"Esme wants you to tell some story about a bad teacher from Forks High. Jasper has to hear it." I roll my eyes. I can't help it. I'm so over Jasper.
"I don't want to go in there. That boy's trying to do things with my daughter I can't think about." He ducks his head under the hood, and I walk around the back of the car, taking a seat on the dusty concrete.
"Do you like him?" I ask. I know it's wrong, but I want him to say no.
"I, uh, there's no right answer here. But know what I would like? For all my boys to be at home and tell him what's what. Intimidate the hell out of him, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know. You know Edward's doing his best to fill in for them, right? He's pretty protective of her." And me.
"Yeah?" He sounds genuinely surprised. "Well, good."
He works on the car, cursing under his breath when he drops a tool. I pick at the grommets on my Docs, then re-lace them. "How long do you think he'll stay?"
"Not long, I hope. The less time they're together, the less likely I'll have to kill him."
I laugh. I love Carlisle, even if he misconstrued my question. "Alice would not be happy about that," I say, "but that's not who I was talking about."
"Oh, Edward. Well, we didn't set a solid time frame. But he's doing better than we thought, so it's kind of . . . keep him here because he's doing so well, or . . . send him home because he's doing so well." He shrugs, the movement pulling at his sleeve, revealing his dragon tattoo.
"So you don't know."
He chuckles and swivels his head to me, tossing a small wrench at my feet since I'm being rude.
"Esme would not be happy if he left. I'll just say that. She adores that kid."
"And you don't?"
"Didn't say that." He averts his eyes.
"Okay."
He sighs, tucks a tool into his back pocket and straightens himself, walking toward me. He's tall, towering over me, making me crane my neck. I don't mind, though. He feels very fatherly like this. I like it.
"Remember when the boys . . . after they . . . and Esme cooked all the time, non-stop, making more than ever even though the boys were gone? And how Alice played that same CD of Riley's over and over?" Carlisle asks with a sigh, like he hates that his wife and daughter had to do such things.
"Yeah, and how you would come home and go straight in here to keep working on engines."
"Yeah. I just—I needed to have my head under a hood. I needed time to think. Space. We all did. We all did it in our own ways."
I remember. I used to sit in Riley's room and stare at the walls, remembering the way we laughed while playing Sega together. We all needed time to figure things out. And I think we finally have. Our lives feel normal again. Good. Except for Jasper imposing himself on us, anyway.
"I think—I like Edward. He's a good kid. But he's still figuring things out, Bella. He's got his head under the hood. I just don't know what he'll be like when he surfaces. Do you see what I'm saying?"
"So he's like recovering?"
"Yeah, sort of. Reinventing himself."
"I think that's great."
He sits beside me, bumping my shoulder. "I know you do. Just let him stay under the hood awhile, okay?"
"I'm not going to do anything. Why would I do anything?" I ask, because, really, what has he seen me do to think otherwise?
"He's got a lot of potential, but he's not Riley. He's got baggage."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yeah," I say, but I'm not sure I really do.
"Just be careful. You're important to me, kid."
I smile and stand before we do something awkward like hug. "Are you going to come in?"
"No. I'm not telling Jasper anything. He kisses my only daughter."
"Fair enough," I say. "You want me to send Edward in when he's home from practice?"
"Sure." He stands and pats his pockets, pulling out his tool again. His grin grows. "On second thought, don't send him in. You two go break up their love fest in there."
I laugh and stand, opening the door. Edward's in the way, a juice jug attached to his lips. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. This close, I can see his stubble. "Hey."
"Hey," I say, looking around. Everyone's gone from the kitchen. "Do me a favor?"
"Yeah."
"Let me know when you're safely out from under the hood, all right?"
"Will do," he says, chuckling. I love that he has no idea what I'm talking about but he agrees to it.
"Are they in there?" I ask, pointing to the hall toward Alice's room.
"No, they made it to the couch. Don't go in there."
I make a face, and he laughs. I should do as Carlisle asks and break up their make-out, but I can't handle it. I know I'll do something I'll regret later. So instead: "Wanna go somewhere? I can't witness any more tonsil hockey."
"You don't want to wait until Alice's free?"
"Nah, I'm staying the night, anyway, so I'll have Alice all to myself later."
"Okay, let me grab my keys."
"I'll wait by the car."
"Under the hood?" he asks, a smirk spreading across his face.
"I'm not under there. Just you are."
"Right. Of course." He nods, smiling but baffled, and disappears toward his room.
-OP-
"What are you doing out here?" Edward asks, peeking around the corner, hand in his hair.
It's three in the morning, and I'm sprawled on the couch, a warm, fuzzy blanket wrapped around me.
"I'm watching TV."
"Right now?"
"Yeah."
"I have to pee."
I giggle at his abrupt words and departure. He's adorable when he wakes up, groggy and confused. His hair's always wild and tangled, needing to be smoothed back when he gets up.
He sits beside me, stealing a piece of my blanket and laying his head in my lap. We get closer every day, and not just physically, if I'm being honest. At first, it was a scary prospect, but I don't mind it now. He's proven himself, been consistent, which is more than I can say for most of my peers. I trust Edward in a way I haven't trusted anyone in a long time. Even so, I keep him at arm's length with my words and constant teasing.
"Did I invite you to do that?"
"No, but I'm freezing, and this mumbling TV woke me up, so . . ."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Instinctively, I rest my hand on his head and begin pulling my fingers through his unruly hair. It's softer than I expected, the strands thick but not wiry.
"What are we watching?" he says through a yawn.
"People making out."
"Porn? Awesome."
"Teenage porn. Jared Leto porn."
"Any naked girls?"
"Edward?"
"What?"
"Shut up and watch."
He closes his mouth and nuzzles into me when the My So-Called Life marathon returns. Angela and Jordan make out for the next eight minutes in the boiler room.
"You weren't kidding," Edward says, voice gruff with sleep.
"It's a good show." Why did it have to get cancelled?
"That girl's hot? Who is she?"
"Claire Danes. You think she's hot? She has no boobs."
"Sure she does. Every girl has boobs." He says it like it's obvious.
"Why are we talking about boobs?"
Edward turns his head, so he's looking at me. Only he's right under my boobs and not looking at me.
When his eyes reach mine, I can only laugh. "It's okay. I don't have any boobs either."
"Sure you do." His voice is playful, eyes bright with life in the dark room.
"I don't. Really." I've come to terms with it. They're small. It's all right.
"Bella, I've see you in your tank top without a bra on a million times. You have boobs. Plentiful boobs."
"Yeah?" Maybe I do. Maybe a B cup is plentiful in Edward's eyes. I know it is in Tyler's.
"Yeah."
"If you say so."
"I know so."
I run my hand through Edward's hair again, and he shivers. He drags my free hand across his chest and links our fingers.
A throat clears. I snap my head to the side. Alice is standing in the hallway watching us. "Really, Bella? After Riley I thought . . . forget it."
"We're not doing anything," I protest.
"Riley?" Edward asks.
I shrug.
"You have no respect for me," Alice says, hateful glare in her eyes.
I'd suspected all these years she thought Riley's death was my fault. Hell, I think it too at times. I was the one that kissed him. We'd been flirting for a year, and I thought he could handle a kiss; I was wrong. Though, he had kissed me back. He'd liked it. It meant something to both of us, but the prospect of our relationship changing scared him. To get away and think, he forced himself on his brothers' night out. If it weren't for that kiss, he might not have panicked. He might still be alive today. But he's not. There's nothing I can do about that.
And the idea of not respecting Alice is laughable after all I've done for her, the way I cover for her. It's ridiculous.
"No respect." The words fall out harsh. "You kicked me out of your room so Jasper could sneak in, and I have no respect for you?"
"It's not my fault I'd rather be with him than you." Her venom stings my heart.
My throat grows tight. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I throw the blanket to the side, standing. Edward moves out of my way. I brush past him and Alice, heading for the door.
"I didn't mean it, Bella, I—"
I don't turn to look at her. I can't. "Yeah, you did. And Edward is my friend. He's been my friend for a long time because you keep ditching me for your boy toy."
"I love him," she says quietly. Like it justifies her behavior. Well, it doesn't.
"Good for you."
I close the door behind me, walking down the street barefoot without my sweater with winter around the corner. This is not a good idea. I'm not even to the stop sign when heavy footsteps fall behind me.
I stop and look both ways, though it's ridiculous in this tiny town. No one's out this late. Edward takes a moment to throw his hoodie over my shoulders. I slip my arms through the sleeves and pull it close around me, my head and shoulders shrinking as my tears fall.
Edward wraps his arms around me, and I cover my face, crying into his chest. I hate that he's seeing me this way.
"She's being selfish right now. Don't listen to her."
"She's all I have. My dad's so damn busy with the store, and my mom only calls to give me her dating report. No one gives a crap about me, Edward. No one."
"That's not true." He lifts my head and wipes my cheeks with his hands. He kneels down, pulls his shoes from his feet, and slips them onto my own. "Better?" he asks.
"Yes," I manage to whisper.
"You want me to get the car or you want to walk?"
"Will you walk with me?"
He holds out his hand, and I take it, following blindly behind him.
We hit the overpass, and, as usual, I take it head down, avoiding the view. Heights have freaked me out since Alec drove his brothers off a cliff, killing them all instantly.
"You okay? You're slowing down." He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
"I'm fine."
He lifts my chin, catching my eyes. "Hey. Don't lie to me."
"I don't like heights," I admit.
"You're safe here. Come on."
He tugs on my arm, pulling me softly toward the chain link fence. I stare at his bare feet. They must be cold against the concrete, but he doesn't complain.
He looks through the fence, eyes wide, excited.
"Come here." He pulls me gently to him. I curl into his side, wrapping my arms around his waist. "It's not so bad, is it?"
"Not with you here."
"Good. I'm glad." He's quiet for a moment, then: "It's not so bad for me either. With you here." He's not just talking about the overpass, I don't think.
"Good. I'm glad," I mimic.
His hair blows around in the breeze, like red leaves curling around his forehead. I want to grip it in my hands and draw his face down to mine. But I don't. I don't. I can't.
I need a diversion, so I ask the first thing that pops into my head. "What are your parents like?"
"They are," he scrubs a finger over his eyebrow, "I don't know. My dad's a lawyer. Always working. Even when he's home. And my mom. She stays home; she's always there but never present."
"Does that bother you?" I ask, and he shrugs like it doesn't matter, but the crease between his eyebrows tells me otherwise. And I know all about that—feigning indifference even when something really bothers me. Or the opposite, when something, or someone, really matters to me. Like Edward.
"So Riley, huh?" he asks, diverting my train of thought.
"Yeah. We were really good friends, and at some point, I didn't want to be friends anymore, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know." His gaze is intense, and my fingers twitch, wanting to pull him closer.
"He died the night of our first kiss."
He makes a noise of discomfort but doesn't say anything. I prefer that to condolences.
"Sometimes I think all the people I love will eventually leave me. Just disappear. My mom, Riley, now Alice."
"Alice will always be around."
"How do you know? She doesn't even seem to like me anymore. I feel like a hindrance all the time."
"You're not a hindrance. I know a little something about that. I also know a little something about being alone. My mom's there, but she's been gone a long time. And when she tries to be there, it's like—too little, too late."
"Yeah, my dad's that way. When he's there, he's physically there, but he stopped trying to connect a long time ago."
"Maybe . . . I don't know . . . maybe we don't need lots of people. Maybe we just need one. And that's enough."
"Maybe," I say, my voice a hushed whisper, my eyes on his, my heart falling, walls crumbling down around his words.
When he walks me to my door, and I pass him his shoes and sweatshirt, I want nothing more than to stay in his warm arms or invite him in to watch TV on my couch so I can stroke his hair, but the timing's wrong. It's not time. Not yet. Especially not with Alice being the way she's been lately.
"Feel better, Bella." He hugs me, my head to his chest. He's so warm even though he walked here without a coat.
"I will. Thanks."
"Night," he says, hands stuffed in his hoodie's pockets. He smiles as he walks backward down my driveway. He turns finally with a small wave over his shoulder. And I know someone besides Alice cares about me. I just don't know how much. Or for how long.
A/N: I blame greedy reviewers for what happened to me this week. They demanded more Carlisle, and I caved. Though, honestly, we needed this addition. The story is better for it. So thanks! And thanks to my amazing team who preread/betad in a day. You're all awesome, yo.