A/N: Hope everyone had a great weekend. The weather thawed out a bit here in the Northeast, but the Polar Vortex is expected to return tonight so I'm hoping someone can please send some warmth and sunshine our way. Please? No? Well, here you go. I'll try to send some you way. ;)

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer

Chapter 16 – The Craving

BPOV

We have a really nice dinner. A great dinner. That kiss…the one against the fridge seems to have eased the nervous tension a bit on both sides. Edward seems more comfortable tonight, less brooding and…haunted. I think last night also helped do that for the both of us.

He tells me a little bit more about his older brother, Jasper, who is Mel's dad, and his older sister, Rosalie, the beautiful blonde, whom I met the other day. Just a couple of sentences in and it's obvious that he worshiped his brother while the relationship between him and his sister seems a bit rocky. It's just a glimpse of a life I'm only starting to get to know, but it feels like he might finally be letting me in, and it's exhilarating. I feel like a kid in a candy store, except instead of jelly beans I get Edward's life as a treat.

"You're the baby of the family, then?" I tease him.

"I suppose," he snorts.

"What's that like, having an older brother and sister? I'm an only child myself. I don't even have first cousins. My parents were only children too."

He holds my gaze while he takes a drink from his glass of water. "It was cool at times, I guess. Though later on, Jasper and Rose were more like my parents than siblings. Suppose that's why I get on Rose's nerves so much now. Didn't make things too easy for her when I was a teenager."

"What were you like as a teenager?"

Edward rubs his jaw hard with his palm. It's another action I'm starting to learn means he's beginning to feel uneasy.

"You know, a bit…wild I suppose. Jasper reined me in, didn't let me go too nuts. But he had his own life."

"But your mom…she was still around for a while, right?"

He shakes his head. There's a cold, impassive look on his face while he stares down at the glass in his hand. His knuckles look kind of tight and white around it.

"She was rarely ever really around. Not in the…" – he sighs, grimacing – "emotional sense I guess you'd call it. She never got over my father's leaving. He was…well, he had his own issues. I don't really remember him."

He's quiet after that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"No." Though his head is still turned down, he lifts his eyes to me, long eyelashes fluttering as he blinks himself into the present with a deep breath. "No, it's fine. You're right. It does feel better to talk, even about this."

I offer him a small nod and smile.

Despite his assurance, he's a bit more careful for the first few minutes after that. It starts to feel like I'm dragging words out of him again, but then he relaxes once more, and pretty soon we're laughing and he's telling me more about Jasper, but this time there's a grin on his beautiful face while he regales me with stories of the mischief they used to get into together.

"You haven't talked about him in a while, have you?"

He sobers up again, but only slightly. The grin is still there, just quieter. "No, I haven't."

"How come?"

He doesn't answer right away. "It's been…hard you know? With Mel. It's kind of like what we spoke about yesterday. She gets upset whenever they're mentioned so I try not to do it too much."

"Edward…maybe the way to get her past that is by mentioning them, by remembering them, even if it upsets her at first. Kids don't always know how to handle things, and sometimes…they need to be pushed a bit. I mean, that's how the kids at the Studio are sometimes. They think they can't do something, so I just push 'em. Not too much; just enough to show them that they can't just sit there and not try."

He stares silently down at the table between us, and I start feeling like maybe I should just shut it and mind my business because I don't want to ruin this; this beautiful night. But at the same time, when it comes to Mel, I have a hard time not saying what I think.

"Sometimes it's hard to know when to push and when not to; when it's the right moment, the right time to say something, and when to just leave it alone," he finally murmurs, scrubbing a hand up and down his face before raking it through his hair.

"How about Rose? Does she talk to Mel about her parents? She's got three kids, right, so does she help you with advice and stuff?" I feel like a nosy shit, but damn it, the questions just keep coming.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Rose and I tend to clash, especially when it comes to Mel. She loved Jasper and Alice a whole lot, she did, but…I think she's kind of pissed off at them."

"Pissed off at them?" I snort. "Why?"

"Because she can't understand why they left Mel to my care." He shuffles around in his seat before draining his glass of water.

"Why not?" I ask. "So you're a single man, yes, but you're not the first single man to be given full guardianship over a child."

"It's more than that."

"What else is it?"

I've got to say, he's been good at answering my questions because I do realize I'm being a nosy bitch; it's not like I haven't noticed. But like I said, I'm a kid in a candy store, and since when have kids in candy stores been able to control themselves? He's letting me in the door, and I've got my foot wedged in there.

But this seems to be where that foot gets pushed out – at least for now. I can almost see the door closing gently yet firmly in my face, and I want to kick myself.

"So tell me about yourself," he asks, turning it all on me now.

"What do you want me to tell you?" I question with a deep breath and a smile.

"Everything," he grins. "Start at the beginning."

I chuckle, but inside, my stomach tightens into a knot, and I feel like such an idiot and a hypocrite at the same time. Of course it would come back to me. I want him to tell me all, yet I won't tell him anything. I mean I will, but not yet. Not yet.

"Well, I've already told you a bit about my parents and about my childhood."

"You never finished telling me why you stopped visiting your grandmother," he says with a raised brow.

I think about the conversation we had a couple of weeks ago and realize that he's right; we never did get to the end of that tale. Despite the nerves, it makes me giddy that he'd remember that.

"Well," I shrug, "Like I said before, I was about twelve the last time I went, and those last couple of times…I guess I felt resentful at the fact that my mom had remarried and moved to Arizona and hadn't thought about me again. It wasn't my grandmother's fault, I realize that now, but when you're that age, when you've got all these things going on inside, you can be pretty self-centered. And my Dad…I mean I don't blame him either because he'd just remarried and had all these other things to think about, but he didn't really push the issue either. He'd never been too happy about sending me in the first place. He's always preferred to keep an eye on me himself."

I reach out over the table and take his hand, weaving our fingers together. His eyes fall to our hands, but then he looks back up at me, listening intently, and I realize that I love the way he listens to me lately; with his entire being.

"See, that's why I think it's important to give Mel a bit of a push, Edward. Sometimes…sometimes you have no idea what you're doing, especially when you're a kid that young, and you just need someone to wake you. Otherwise, you go through life with all these…regrets. I don't want Mel to wake up one day and realize she spent so many years resenting the way she grew up and in the process did things she'll never be able to undo."

He studies me thoughtfully, and I can tell how seriously he's pondering my words because he's nodding as if I've solved the world's problems.

"You're absolutely right, Bella," he eventually nods. "I never thought of it that way. Jesus, that's the last thing I'd want for her…"

We're quiet for a few minutes while he stares off into space, our hands still joined. Then he looks at me again.

"So you haven't seen your grandmother since you were twelve?"

I shake my head. "I speak to her sometimes, over the phone, but it's kind of hard with the language barrier."

"I thought you spoke Spanish."

"I understand it very well, but I don't really speak it, not well at least. I really just know some basic phrases, lots of curses thanks to Angie," I chuckle.

He nods. "Your accent is perfect though."

"Well, it's in my blood," I smile. "The accent, the temper, the year-long tan I don't have to work on."

"It's a nice tan," he grins a bit salaciously, his eyes clearly raking me over and making me shiver.

"Thanks," I chuckle, feeling my cheeks flame again, and now that I know he notices, and likes it, I feel like they do it all the more. I mean hell, I've never blushed this much.

"I love your color," he says as if on cue. "As for your temper, you are pretty feisty. I've experienced that first-hand."

I chuckle heartily. "I'm only half Latina, only half feisty. You want to see feisty, look at Angie."

"I'd rather look at you."

I start laughing loudly, cupping my cheeks because they're on fire, and I know he's doing it on purpose. This…feeling of sweet flirtation is so different from anything I ever experienced with anyone…with Eli and…the others. There was no flirting there. Flirting took the form of blinders and leather straps and flogs and…and it all ended in a room full of quick and hard fucking.

The thought sobers me up pretty quickly. With a sharp gasp, I drop my head as all the exhilaration from just a moment ago flounders.

And then out of my periphery, I see him lean in…he tugs one of my hands off my face, and I try to swallow, but my throat is suddenly so dry.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Bella. Are you okay? Where'd you go?"

Forcing it all back down, I look up and smile at him, and the concern and affection in those deep, green eyes instantly chase away all bad thoughts until he's all that remains. I think maybe that will always be the case.

"I'm right here, Edward. I'm right here."

He searches my eyes for an instant, eyes narrowing.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," I smile wider, because when he looks at me that way, I am. "I'm fine."

His eyes hold me captive for a couple of more seconds, and then he grins, "Good," and presses his mouth softly to mine.

OOOOOOOOOO

We finish our dinner and Edward helps me clear the table and clean up in the kitchen. All the while we talk, sharing these looks and little touches: our hands touch by the sink, our hips graze each other by the fridge. He's cleaning up the table, and I'm wiping down the counter, and we just…look up and right at each other.

It's like now that we've gotten to this point, there's no turning back. We're careening head first and fast, and the hell with the breaks. I think of what Angie said this morning about how Edward and I have been dating for weeks, and we just didn't know it, and I get the feeling that on some level, it's so true.

With everything clean and tidy, Edward slowly stalks towards me again, backing me up against the counter. He gets this…predatory gleam in his deep, green eyes; I'm starting to recognize it, and I know what follows when they darken that way. My heart races in my chest.

"Wait," I breathe shakily just before his mouth claims mine. "Hold that thought."

I turn around and pick up the bottle of wine I have chilling in the bucket. This little thrill runs up my spine as I uncork it at the thought of getting a bit buzzed with Edward and kissing and wine and…I'm already a bit intoxicated.

"It's a wonderful dessert wine," I explain while I pour us two glasses. Then I lift them up and hold one out to him.

He stares at the proffered glass of wine.

And then at me.

And then at the glass of wine again.

And then at me.

And then he reaches out and wraps his hand around mine, the one holding out the glass to him, and eases both my hand and the glass down over the top of the counter.

With a profound breath, he shakes his head.

"You don't drink wine."

"I don't drink wine."

The way he holds my eyes…demanding once again; as if he's willing me to see something…

My brows furrow close together while a scene from a couple of weeks ago replays itself in my head…and another scene from earlier tonight…and…now…

"You don't…drink."

His Adam's apple bobs up and down. "No."

My hands are still wrapped around both glasses of wine, his is gripped tightly over the counter while I hold up my own glass in front of me.

"My father…was a drunk. From what I've heard, he used to come home shit-faced every night. Then they used to fight, he and my mom, and one night he didn't bother coming home." He snorts bitterly. "For all we know, he drank himself to death."

I stare at him, my throat dry as the desert, which is just as well because I have no idea what to say. The atmosphere around us has gone from sexy and flirty to the polar opposite. With a shaky hand, I set my wine glass down and see Edward's hand over the counter, twitching, before he lifts it and runs it through his hair.

"Is that why you don't drink? Because you don't want to be like him?"

He locks me tightly in his gaze. "I don't drink, Bella, because once I start drinking, I can't stop."

There's a long stretch of silence while I process what that means.

"You mean you're an-"

"I'm an alcoholic. I've been an alcoholic for about a decade now, though it wasn't until that fucking piece of shit rammed his car into Jasper and Alice that I accepted it."

Despite the blunt harshness of his statement, his voice is cool and almost…monotone; expressionless.

And between what he's telling me, and the impassiveness in his voice, and the suddenly stiff and stoic way he stands before me, I'm having a difficult time breathing. He's still looking at me like he's waiting for something, expecting something, and I have no idea what that might be.

"Uhm…so after…the accident…you stopped drinking?"

He nods. "I haven't had a drink in seven months and seventeen days."

"Oh."

His eyes hold me in an unrelenting grip; persistent, pressing me, and my heart races because I don't know what he's waiting for me to say yet I know that there's a right and a wrong answer here.

"Okay, well…" I exhale, "I guess we'll put away the wine. I've got juice and soda, and you know…plenty of water." I turn around and empty both glasses of wine into the sink, letting the tap water wash it all away.

"Bella."

I turn back around to face him. "What?"

"That's it," he says in a strangely detached tone. "That's all you have to say. There's plenty of water."

"Well, I'm not sure what else you want me to say right now. I mean, give me a few, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of questions, but it seems like putting away the wine would be the first step."

"Bella, this is a disease. It's permanent. There is no cure."

"I mean, I'm no expert, but I do know that much."

He stares at me and then snorts, sticking his hands in his pockets. With a shake of his head, he turns around and walks away a couple of steps, throwing his head up to the ceiling before letting it hang to the floor with a low growl.

He turns again and looks at me, eyes burning. "I don't think you understand…"

I quickly close the space between us. "Hey, I told you, I'm no expert, but I understand what alcoholism is. Now you said you've had it under control since…Jasper and Alice's accident."

"Yes," he replies vehemently. "I have."

"Then I'm not sure what's going on here. Are you trying to push me away again?"

This is when his hands fly out of his pockets and cup my face, pulling me closer.

"No, Bella. I can't push you away," he hisses, his warm breath tickling my face. "I just need to make sure that you understand-"

"That you have a drinking problem. I get it," I say, wrapping my hands around his. "I do. And I can't…imagine what that means for you. I really can't. Not yet. Give me some time to process it, and like I said, I'll probably have a…shit-load of questions, but I'm going here by what you said last night, Edward."

He frowns.

"You said, 'let me show you that you belong with me,'" I repeat for him. "Are you changing your mind about that now?"

My voice is a shaky whisper, but even before I have the entire sentence out, Edward is shaking his head, gripping me tighter.

"No. God, no," he breathes intently. "No. There's this…craving, Bella. It's been there for a long time, and I won't lie, it's still there, but since I met you, there's nothing I want…I crave more than you."

I draw in a few unsteady breaths, locked in his gaze because I see the craving, I feel it in his touch, I sense it thick in the air around us. His need for me is…raw. He's not trying to hide it anymore and it burns me to the core. It calls to me from a few feet away, from across the room. I feel like, little by little, it's binding me to him, and that's why it's hard to understand him when he compares this to a craving for alcohol.

But he says it's under control, and I'll believe that; I'll accept it because it's a part of him and any choice I had to accept or not to accept went out the window weeks ago.

"Then Edward, we put the bottle away, and we go on with our night, and we figure the rest out as we go along because as you said yesterday, it doesn't change anything."

His eyes search mine, moving from one to the other; seeking, penetrating.

And then he crushes me to him.

"Bella…Jesus, Bella, are you sure?" he asks against my neck, warm breath in my ear, holding me so tight to him that I feel his rapidly beating heart over mine while the tightness in his shoulders slackens.

Am I sure of what?

Am I sure I understand?

Am I sure I know what I'm getting myself into?

Am I sure that there's nothing Edward could tell me that would push me away? Am I hoping that he'll be able to separate me from my mistakes too? A Quid pro Quo – I accept your shame, you accept mine?

No, I won't do that to him.

Does that make me selfish? A liar? A hypocrite? A withholder of important information?

Too many questions. I can't figure them out right now.

There's only one thing I know.

I disentangle myself from his hold, and it takes effort because he's holding me so tight. And when I finally manage to pull away, I cradle his beautiful face in my hands. A face full of dark secrets…and hope...and so much strength.

"I belong with you."

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily through his nostrils, and when he reopens them, they're so bright and clear and…peaceful.

"Yes. You do."

There's no hesitancy, no doubts in the way he kisses me. I'm his, and he knows it, and I'm not going anywhere.

"I'll be a good man for you, Bella," he breathes against my mouth, "I swear to you," he hisses, vehemently sucking on my lips.

I'm breathless, consumed by his mouth and his fire, but my own shame…it nips at the back of my mind, like a weed in a field of blooms.

"Edward…Edward…" I pull away and look at him, "Do you think that our past mistakes should get to define us?"

Slowly, he shakes his head. "I sure as hell hope they don't, Bella. I don't intend for them to."

I search his eyes, willing him to see me, to see the truth, to guess at it at least a little the way I just did and force the rest out of me.

But, of course he can't. The truth is something you put in words, the way he just did, the way I'll have to do soon. Angie was wrong. He gave me his truths now because when you want the way he does; when you crave, you don't wait. You can't.

Unless you're a coward.

I kiss him hard, swallowing back those words for now. For just a little while longer, and hoping that when I speak my truths, he'll still believe that the past doesn't define us.

A/N: Thoughts?

The night isn't over yet. ;)

Twitter: PattyRosa817

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