A/N: Love yas, and sorry these chapters have been slow coming. Anywho, hope you enjoy.

Hoodwinked

Chapter 30

By the time Carlisle arrives home, Edward and I have made it to five; the fifth taking place inside the treehouse where we once spent hot summer's nights as kids.

Along with the two joints, he conveniently brought a condom with him—no matter how exhausted he very clearly was. Sure, he takes being horny to the next level, but I like that he wants me. Actually, I more than like it, and well, I pretty much can't resist him these days, either.

The shithead knows it, too.

To think, only three weeks ago I would have been repulsed by the prospect of sex with him.

I'm clearly an idiot.

He got me on top, as well, but it was all the limited space would allow for. I was terrible and uncoordinated. I'll be cringing to death for months over it, but it made Edward laugh, so I guess it wasn't a complete failure.

He has a great laugh.

Of course, then we saw a flash of silver, and heard the automotive sound of the garage door opening and we both plummet back down to earth.

"Come on...'Spose I'll have to greet the old bastard," he mutters, extending a hand to me, and climbing down the crude timber stairs first, he helps me to the ground beside him.

I grip his arm with both hands, and I'm a lot more concerned than he appears to be. I really shouldn't be, though. He gave me his word, and Edward's pretty trustworthy. He's always done exactly what he's promised.

Always, and I'm betting everything between us on it.

"Will you relax, drama queen," he teases me, half shaking his head even as a smile tugs on his lips.

I nudge him, but he's so at ease it's hard not to be infected by it. I just hope I'm reading him right.

We enter the house through the back glass siding doors into the family room, and I trail behind him down the hall, past Alice in the kitchen, to his father's room. The door's slightly ajar, and standing along the wall, Edward shoves it further open.

Carlisle's standing just inside, at the foot of his bed, pulling a tie from beneath his collar, and at the sound of Edward's unannounced presence, his focus is immediately drawn to him.

"Hey, Dad?" Edward calls, folding both arms over his chest, his eyes on his work boots.

"Edward," his father replies, sounding as though it's a formality. He walks to the door, opening it fully, and for a moment he only gazes at Edward closely, his brow heavily furrowing, before he turns his sharp blue eyes to me. He flashes me a warm smile, and I return it, marvelling at how much Edward looks like him. Edward has his mother's eyes and shade of hair, but everything else is Carlisle.

"Mind if Bella stays for dinner?" Edward asks, his eyes remaining locked to the timber floor, and from his posture, it's obvious it's from a stance of defiance.

I assume his father's also aware of this, because he doesn't reply; not until Edward reluctantly raises his head and meets his gaze head on.

"That's fine," Carlisle says, his frown deepening the longer his eyes remain on his son. "What happened to you?"

"Bella's ex-boyfriend and his brother jumped me," Edward answers, snorting discreetly to himself and smirking.

"What did you do?" his father asks, immediately sceptical.

"Nothing," Edward retorts a little too sarcastically, and that's when I realise. The promise he made me? He's not going to keep it. His issues with his father run too deep.

Carlisle's expression immediately darkens, and he shoves both hands into the pant pockets of his suit and glares at him.

"What?" Edward directly challenges him, as very subtly I nudge him.

"Looks like you gave as much as you received," his father notes, his head tilting toward Edward's still scabbed-up knuckles that he has half tucked stiffly beneath his arms.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't going to take that shit lying down," is Edward's response, and I very nearly hang my head back and sigh in frustration.

"When are you going to realise you're too old for such behaviour?" Carlisle puts to him, eyebrow cocked high.

Edward opens his mouth to respond with something no doubt smartassy, but as he catches my exasperated gaze something flickers in his and he immediately closes it. "I didn't start it," he starts over in a mumble, his eyes once again falling to the floor. "I had no idea the bastards were going to pull that shit."

His father noticed the exchange between us, and for several seconds he only glances between us in silence. "When did this happen?" he eventually asks, and as Edward once again raises his head, his father very pointedly glances in my direction.

"Recently," is all Edward offers with an offhanded shrug of his shoulder.

Carlisle sighs and rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers, and it doesn't fill me with much encouragement. If I had to guess, he's not exactly in support of us. "I'll be out soon," he concludes, closing the door on us both.

Edward's expression clouds, and huffing shortly, he does an about face and leaves the way he came, with me struggling to keep up with him.

"What the hell was that?" I ask after following him to his bedroom and slamming the door behind us. I'm frustrated with him, but almost by instinct, my voice remains responsive.

"What was what?" he mutters, turning his back on me and propping his hands on his hips.

"If I spoke to my father in that tone, he'd probably knock me on my ass, as well!"

In an instant, he whips around to face me, and his eyes are practically on fire. "The difference is, Bella, your old man gives a shit about you. Mine doesn't!" he snaps; his jaw's set as he all but glowers at me.

"Do you ever talk to him?" I ask in appeal, feeling a little taken back by his sudden anger.

I think I've just seriously pissed him off.

"Talk to him..." he echoes bitterly, reaching up to drag a rigid set of fingers through his hair. "He doesn't want to talk to me."

"How do you know?" I push, straightening my back in mirror to him. He promised me not to provoke his father and he didn't last three seconds.

"Twenty fucking years of living with him—that's how I know!" His voice raises before he snorts caustically. "Go home, little kid. What do you know?"

"Little kid?" I repeat in disbelief. "Who threw a tantrum the instant his father came home?"

"You don't know..." he begins when I immediately interject.

"You promised me!"

"Did he hit me, you pain in the fucking neck?!" he demands, his arms tense across his naked chest again.

"He might have if I wasn't there!" I point out as he snorts again.

"He saw what happened to me. He's not that much of a prick!" And releasing an arm, he plants a palm to my forehead and shoves me backward. "Go home."

I immediately shove it away. "So, this is what I get for giving a shit about you?"

"Who says I need you to give a shit about me?" he counters, raising both brows like the typical smartass he's so good at being.

"Fine—then I won't! Fuck you, asshole!" I burst, turning on my heel to leave when he grabs my elbow.

"Bell, look..." he sighs heavily, his voice softening with resignation, before he drops his head and rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "I just don't want you getting involved."

I'm not easily swayed.

"You want to fight with your father, Edward, then fight with him. I'll stay out of it from now on." Shrugging him from me, I grab the door handle, but again, he prevents me from leaving; grabbing me around the waist this time. And in the next instant, he turns me around to face him.

"Jesus, calm your fucking tits for a second," he mumbles. "I'm sorry..." His breath gushes from him, and his head hangs lower.

"You know, calling me a little kid every time you get the shits with me is crappy!" I state begrudgingly, because I'm wavering before him and he knows it.

"Yeah," he concedes. "I'm an asshole. I admit it."

"Then don't be one," I relent, my voice softening even as I plant my hands against his chest to prevent him from pulling me to him.

"It's just...too much time has passed."

"It's never too late," I say in contradiction, my voice falling to little more than a whisper.

"Bell..." he complains, and dragging me to him, he rests his lips to the crown of my head. "I don't want to fight with you because of him."

I yield and go almost completely fluid against him. "Don't make me worry about you," I murmur against his skin.

"You don't need to worry about me," he replies, his tone becoming light already, because no matter his emotions, he always bounces back a little too quickly. I'm beginning to think it's his way of burying everything.

"Of course, I do," I say, tightening my arms around his waist.

He groans loudly, teasingly, and pulling slightly back he presses a clumsy kiss to my forehead against my hairline. Then taking my hand, he sits on the side of his bed, tugging me after him. For the longest moment, he doesn't speak a word; he only drops his forehead and rubs it heavily with the heel of his palm looking increasingly frustrated.

"You really think your dad doesn't give a shit about you?" I ask tentatively after grabbing his hand to stop any further assaults on himself.

He appears to contemplate it for a moment and then shrugs. "I'm sure he does in his own fucked up way. He's just...unplugged, Bell," his voice softens and he frowns past it, expelling his breath.

"Unplugged...?"

He shrugs again, jerkier this time. "When Mum died, he just...checked out, and he never could stand the sight of me." He scoffs out of some kind of irony.

"You're his only son."

"Only son or not..." He doesn't elaborate.

"I think you're just too alike," I say, more or less to myself, as he scoffs again; only there's something almost raw behind it.

"Yeah, Mum used to say that a lot."

"Do you want to talk to him?" I breach again after a few seconds of silence.

"He won't listen," he mutters.

"Maybe you should both get drunk," I suggest lightly, as he chuckles.

"Yeah, probably." Turning to face me, he slings an arm around my neck, and clamps my nose with his other hand. "See, this is why I like having you around, boog."

"Why?" I ask wryly, edging him back a fraction.

"You know my history. I don't have to explain shit to you."

"Is that the only reason?" I ask, arching a brow.

"Well, you're pretty goofy, but you're tight." He leans closer to me and winks, and he's back in shithead mode.

I shove him in protest as he breaks into laughter. "Someone to have regular sex with who you don't have to explain stuff to—is that all I am?"

He rolls his eyes. "Pretty much, Miss Needy." I open my mouth to argue, when, in one motion, he pulls me back against his bed with him and rolls his weight over me. I'm instantly flooded by the scent of him; the salty smell of sweat, and the trace scent of his aftershave intermingled with sawdust. "We really need to work on you being on top," he says, chuckling beneath through his nose.

"Maybe tomorrow," I say ruefully, deciding to take him in good humour, and pressing my face against the crook of his neck, I take a deeper whiff. The shithead smells as good as he looks.

"Yeah...gonna have a shower," he relents, and while I should tell him I like the way he smells, I don't. His head's already the size of China as it is.

. . .

"You got that checked out?" Carlisle asks, pointing his fork over his plate to Edward's grazed face.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Edward replies in a mumble, shoving mashed potatoes in his mouth, his eyes downcast.

The four of us are seated at the dining table. Edward and I are on one side and Alice and Mr Cullen are on the other; the atmosphere is tense, at best.

Very discreetly, I squeeze Edward's thigh beneath the table. He places his hand over mine and leaves it there.

"Bella." His father switches his attention to me, and practically jumping out of my skin, I snap my head in his direction. "How have you been?"

"Good. Thank you, Mr Cullen," I answer politely.

"How are your parents?" he enquires, his eyes dropping to the steak he's carving into with his knife.

"They're fine," I offer simply.

"Any plans on what you're going to do next year?" he continues to probe, his gaze shifting intermittently between his meal and me and Edward.

"I'm waiting to get my HSC results back first."

"Applied to any universities?"

"Uh, yeah. Sydney, Wollongong and S-South West," I stammer, because describing Carlisle Cullen as intimidating would be a serious understatement.

He nods his head thoughtfully, and without another word, he resumes eating.

Beside me, Edward releases his breath a little too pointedly.

I turn to him, tilting my head in confusion. "What?" I mouth.

He only half shakes his head, his eyes almost immediately severing from mine.

"I hope you remember, Edward," Mr Cullen speaks up after several minutes of awkward silence; the only sounds coming from the pings of silver contacting with porcelain, "Bella was Alice's friend first."

Oh, God...

Edward instantly tenses, his expression hardening. He looks up and glares at his father, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Alice beats him to it.

"Dad, Bella's been friends with Edward for as long as she has with me," she says quietly, her forehead knotting even as she avoids her father's gaze at all costs.

With a short, cynical "huh", Mr Cullen appears to drop it, but Edward is not happy about it at all.

"It's fine," I lean slightly into him and assure him in a whisper, but he doesn't have to tell me he's far from fine. We're both aware of it, and Alice is as well. She only stares at him with pleading behind her widening eyes.

"Here's the thing, Dad," Edward snaps after a full minute of feeling the momentum of anger and resentment building within him. His father looks up and eyes him closely. "Bella and I are together and that's not about to change anytime soon. Alice is on board with it, and so are her parents, and we don't need your permission." He's openly challenging him and not even bothering to hide the defiance from his voice.

"Watch your mouth, Edward," his father warns after gazing at him for too many uncomfortable seconds, his eyes narrowing darkly.

"Bella's parents were happy for us!" Edward deliberately defies him, and in return, Carlisle almost smirks.

"Charlie Swan's happy you're dating his daughter?" he mocks him, both brows raised.

I immediately reach out and grab Edward's shirt under the table in a feeble attempt to placate him, but it has little effect on him.

"He told me I was welcome to stay over anytime I wanted to," Edward retorts, his tone just as derisive as it is sarcastic; his expression even more so.

I quickly shoot off a pleading look to Alice, hoping she can put a stop to what's very obviously escalating. She only shakes her head helplessly in my direction, and knowing it's going to be all up to me to diffuse it, I take a long, frustrated breath.

"Mr Cullen..." I begin, my voice wavering. He turns his gaze to me, his brow slightly drawn. "Edward got a concussion Saturday night. Four guys jumped him—"

"Bella—stop!" Edward immediately intervenes, the warning behind his eyes obvious. He's frustrated but he's also steadily growing impatient.

"Edwa..." I start to explain, but again, he doesn't allow me to finish.

"Just...stop talking."

"If Bella has something to say, I'd like to hear it," Carlisle speaks up calmly as his eyes centre further on me. "You were saying?" he coaxes me to finish.

"Bell..." Edward murmurs practically beneath his breath and there's a pleading behind his tone this time.

I falter, my eyes flicking from Edward to his father nervously. "I..."

"Speak easy, Bella," his father again encourages.

"I just...wanted to say—please don't fight with him. He's still healing, and I don't want him to get hurt again." I regret those words the instant they pass my lips, and more so when I turn to Edward.

He's fuming, and the second he meets my gaze, he turns away, scoffing to himself in what appears to be disbelief, and anger; a whole ton of anger.

"Edward's problem isn't whether he'll get hurt," Carlisle replies matter-of-factly, attracting both our attention. "It's whether he has any respect for anyone apart from himself."

Edward's only response is to snort only half beneath his breath, even as he continues eating. His expression's stony, and his hands are clenched so tightly around his knife and fork his knuckles have turned white.

"Dad..." Alice sighs, and by the tone of her voice, she's becoming just as angry. "Edward's not disrespectful."

Carlisle makes that sound again; that sceptical, dismissive noise that only makes the anger simmering skin deep within Edward to boil over.

"Do I need to be present while you all fucking discuss me!" he snaps, slamming his utensils to his plate with a loud clang.

"Watch your language!" Carlisle immediately fires back.

"Terribly sorry, Dad. Please continue shitting on me to my girlfriend," Edward replies, his voice hard and with as much sarcasm as anger.

"You need to leave the table," Carlisle demands. He's tense, his jaw set and he looks three seconds from wrapping his hands around Edward's throat.

"Gladly," Edward mutters, and jerking back his chair with a loud scrape, he pulls himself to his feet and walks out of the room. His entire frame is rigid with anger, even as his shoulders slightly hang in defeat.

"I'm gonna go," I mumble, my eyes on my half-eaten dinner.

"You might want to see how Edward is first, Bella," Carlisle suggests, and there's a definitive concern behind his voice.

Glancing up in surprise, I stare at him before nodding my head, distracted. "Okay. Thanks for dinner. Bye, Alice."

"See ya, Bella," she speaks softly in return.

I knock once on Edward's door, before I apprehensively push it open. He's sitting on his bed, both elbows propped against his knees with his forehead resting in his palms.

He glances up as I enter, as I immediately pause. His eyes are not only hard with anger, but they almost appear resigned.

"Go home," he says without emotion, severing my gaze.

"Edward..." I begin when he interrupts me.

"Are you deaf? —get out!" he demands, rising to his feet before me, and it suddenly occurs to me exactly how tall he is, or maybe how short I am.

"Why are you..." I attempt to argue, but again, he cuts me off.

"I told you not to say anything, but you did anyway!" His voice is accusing, and for normally such an easy-going person, his anger is stark.

"It-it was escalating..." I stammer meekly. I can understand his anger, but it's obvious he can't understand my perspective.

"It's none of your business!" His voice rises until he's practically shouting at me.

I huff, flustered but fast growing frustrated, when he plants both hands to my shoulders and attempts to forcibly remove me from his room. I fight against him, and in the resulting struggle, I jerk a misplaced elbow into his already injured ribs.

An impulsive, pain-filled sound bursts from him, and he immediately releases me and practically goes down. For the longest minute, he stands with his head bowed and an arm wrapped around his midsection.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, and not just for physically injuring him.

"It's not going to work," he replies in a quiet voice, his eyes remaining fixed to the floor.

"What...?" I utter.

He looks up, and his expression is unforgiving. "You made a fucking idiot out of me, Bella!"

"I'm sorry," I repeat helplessly. "I—what if the situation was reversed?" I quickly change tactics. "You'd do the same thing for me."

"I told you, I don't need your help," he says slowly and for the obvious impact it has on me.

"Well, sorry for fucking caring!" I burst. He's hurt me, and I'm struggling to prevent it from showing.

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't deliberately fucking humiliate me!" His voice rises again, and in a fit of impatience, he whips his head away from me and drags his fingers stiffly through his hair.

"I didn't do it to humiliate you!" I declare, but he only jerks a shoulder dismissively.

"Get out, Bella. I don't want to be with you anymore." He sounds resolute and deadly serious, but I can only scoff in disbelief.

"So, we have one fight and you break up with me? And you call me a little kid," I mutter bitterly.

"I warned you," he reminds me, folding his arms across his chest and meeting my gaze squarely.

I scoff again, louder this time with as much anger within it as pain. "You just wanted to fuck me!" I charge back, my voice softly breaking.

He snorts, and there's something almost ironic about it; I half expect him to tell me "I told you so". "Yeah, that's pretty much what you think about me," he says more or less to himself, and walking past me, he shoves open his bathroom door and disappears behind it with a loud bang.

He hides inside for roughly ten minutes, and when he eventually emerges, he looks up, catches my gaze and pulls up short. "Can't you take a hint?"

"Nope," I reply stubbornly, rising from my position on the edge of his bed. It's still neatly made from this morning. He didn't even comment on the fact that I'd changed his sheets, not to mention cleaned his entire room.

"I'm not in the fucking mood—just go home." He drops his head, sounding jaded all of a sudden as he drags his hand through his hair to the back of his neck.

"No," I repeat my stance. "If you can just break up with me because you're angry I tried to defend you, then you never really gave a shit about me."

"So?" he snaps, unmoved.

"So, I want you to prove it," I arc back.

"Prove what?" He stands before me and props both hands on his hips.

"That you were never serious about me." My voice wavers, as much as I tried to prevent it, and a slight smirk tugs on Edward's lips when he notices it.

"You can think what you like." He shrugs casually. "I'm just not stupid enough to continue something that I realise was a mistake."

"Because I tried to diffuse the situation between you and your father?" I burst, and coming close to yelling.

"Because you stuck your big, fat nose into something I asked you to stay out of!"

"And that warrants breaking up with me? —like I screwed around on you?!" I demand, attempting to wrap my head around him, and I'm still not certain whether he's serious, or whether his only motive is to hurt me in return.

"It warrants that you have no respect for me," he imitates me sarcastically. "You still see me as the asshole from next door who doesn't know how to deal with his asshole father." His patience is wearing thin, but that's when I get it; he's hurt, so he's trying to hurt me.

"Edward..." I whisper, growing infinitely close to tears. "I'm sorry, but you-you know me," I appeal to him, beginning to feel panic encircle my heart, but I can't bear the thought of not being with him.

"I thought I knew you, but the person I thought you were is long gone. Or maybe it was never you," he admits in a soft voice even as his gaze remains steadfast and unwavering on mine.

I shake my head, at a loss with him and this uncharacteristic hostility he's displaying. "Edward..." I echo as my tears spill over, but before they can reach my cheeks I hastily swat them away.

He sighs, actually he huffs, sounding on the verge of some kind of laughter. "Jesus fucking Christ, just go home."

"No," I insist, clumsily wiping my eyes dry, even as they spill faster than I can keep up with.

"Don't you get it?" he states, his tone softening a second time before he roughly clears his throat. "It was never going to work with us. I'm just fucking glad I realised it before I lost years with you."

"Bullshit!" I'm immediately unconvinced. "Half an hour ago you told your father that you were with me and it was never going to change!"

"That was before you asked him not to beat me FUCKING UP!" he suddenly roars, dragging both hands through his already dishevelled hair this time, and just as Alice bursts into his room, a look of concern overrunning her face.

"Bella." She holds her hand out to me. "Come on."

"No!" I insist, shaking my head. "Who—" I reach up again and awkwardly wipe my tears away—"has sex with someone twice in one day and then breaks up with them! Who?"

"Jesus," he mutters, tilting his head back to rub his eyes. "Just get her the fuck out of here, Alice."

"Answer me, you asshole!" I blurt, having to restrain myself from shoving him.

"Bella..." Alice complains reaching for me, but I jerk myself away from her.

"Who does exactly what her so-called boyfriend explicitly asked her not to not twenty fucking minutes later?" Edward ignores my question and retaliates in kind. "You, Bella...and I don't have time for this shit!"

"You say things in anger and then grovel back to me. You tell me you're sorry, and I always forgive you!" I'm beginning to ramble, shaking my head back and forth with as much frustration as confusion, even as he stands before me, a cynical brow cocked. "You told me Mike never deserved me. You told me you only wanted to be with me because I knew your history, and then—and then you do this."

"And then, I realised I was wrong," he corrects me calmly despite sounding completely resigned.

"Bullshit," I echo my previous statement, straightening my back with conviction. "Either everything you said to me was a lie, or you're just a flake who's only good at sex!"

"Or I made a mistake in thinking you're the same girl I once knew," he replies, driving in the knife and twisting it. "Remember what you were like, Bella?" he puts to me. "You always had my back. If I asked you to keep something secret you took it to the grave, and now you fucking disregard me the first chance you get."

"Edward, come on!" Alice snaps, drawing both of our attention back to her. "Stop talking now before you say something you'll regret."

"Get out and take her with you!" he barks back, a deep scowl transfixing his expression. I barely recognise him behind it.

"Bella's not ten years old anymore, and neither are you," Alice continues regardless.

"I know she's not. That's the whole fucking problem."

"How does that make sense?" Alice demands becoming as equally angry. "Are you the same, you moron? And, in case it wasn't obvious," she quickly adds before he can answer, "what she did back there"—her finger thrusts out in the direction of the dining room—"was because she still has your back!"

"If she had my back, she would've kept her mouth shut when I asked her to."

"You wouldn't have broken your promise!" I break in, my tears quickly giving way to conviction.

"What promise?" he demands sceptically.

"That you wouldn't provoke him!" I fire back.

"I didn't!"

"Stop bullshitting, Edward," Alice pipes up. "I heard you from the kitchen. You talk to him like shit—he just got home!"

He opens his mouth to reply, but falters, and the longer it opens and closes in silence, the more frustrated he's steadily becoming. "Just—get out, the two of you."

"Fine, I'll go," I concede defeat as Alice takes my hand and pulls me toward the door. "But just"—I turn back to him one last time—"I love you, Edward. Even though you can't say it back, and even though I grew up and lost sight of you. I still love you. I love you even though you're just a lost little boy who misses his mother and who thinks it's acceptable to hurt someone when he's hurting, and I know you," I interject when he draws breath to respond, after I watched his expression become stricken with each word out of my mouth. "Better than you know yourself! And lastly—fuck you!"

A/N: I should probably edit out the "zero angst" from the A/N in chapter one. I seriously can't help it. I swear, it's like some inherent, built-in default setting with me. Don't hate me. Or you can, that's okay.