B-POV
My father's singing voice burst into the kitchen, off-key and brazen. Neither of us had the gift of song, yet that never stopped my dad from singing any chance he got. Realizing I had been caught whistling yet again, I tucked my lips between my teeth. Charlie grinned at my flushed cheeks, pleased with himself. It must be in the father-daughter contract for fathers to embarrass their daughters at every opportunity.
"How do you know that one?" he asked as he joined me at the counter. "I haven't heard it in ages. Almost didn't recognize it."
"Oh, just something I heard on the radio, I think." In fact, I knew it was the song Edward sang along to on the way to the market. I could still picture him, still hear his satin-smooth voice.
"You've been smiling all day," Charlie noted. "When you aren't whistling, that is."
The day had been bright and sunny, with more to come according to the weatherman. I had done laundry that afternoon, so my favorite pair of sweatpants was back in the rotation. I had a batch of hot chocolate melting on the stovetop in my new cezve—gifted to me by a beautiful, superpowered boy with sweet words and sweeter lips. How could do anything but smile?
"It's been a good weekend, I suppose."
"Does it have anything to do with the mysterious appearance of this?" he tapped the cezve with his pointer finger. "And this?" he gestured to the coffee grounds. "Or any of these?" he pointed back to the tea kettle and six copper cups.
I smiled fondly at the newest additions to the ever-present miscellaneous pile in the corner of the kitchen. On the drive back to my truck, Edward had begged me to take the Turkish antiques, claiming his family didn't drink caffeine. That fact took me several moments to digest before Edward could plead his case. When he did, he said if he brought any of it home, he would have to explain his mind-reading mishap to his parents and siblings and would prefer to save himself from the embarrassment.
"I told you I attended that antique fair."
"After you attended Sunrise Yoga on the Rise, despite your claim to never go back."
Charlie's voice rose in tone with each observation. He was on to me. If Edward were here, he would hear the gears turning in my father's mind at a hundred miles a minute.
"You bought a month of classes for two people and decided you didn't like yoga. I needed to go—otherwise, it would have been a waste of money."
"So, you admit there was a guest with you. Otherwise, it would have been a waste of money."
I kept my eyes on the hot chocolate, taking my good, sweet time scraping down the sides with my spatula.
"Yes," I said eventually.
"Was it a friend from school?"
"Yes."
Charlie's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. I grimaced. I could hide behind little white lies and half-truths all I wanted, but in the end, my face gave everything away. I felt the blush on my cheek. I was sure there was a shine in my eyes that couldn't be explained away.
"Who is he?" Charlie pressed.
"How are your dates going?" I asked abruptly. "Did you meet up with that guy you matched with?"
Usually, I could avoid awkward conversations by switching the conversation to Charlie. I evaded the birds and the bees three times by asking about the shoes he wore at the time. But, nothing was going to distract Charlie from this. The kitchen could be burning down around us, and Charlie's lips would still be pressed in the same hard line they were in now. He would still furrow his brow, quirk his head to the side, and say, "Isabella Marie…"
"Dad," I tried to keep my voice as level as possible, "It's still really early. I don't want to jinx anything..."
As I spoke, I maintained eye contact with Charlie and reached back to grab one of the mugs hanging from hooks under the upper cabinet. A rookie mistake for anyone with balance issues. Shifting half my weight behind me caused me to stumble backward. I caught myself on the counter, briefly, but my fingers bent back to an unnatural angle. The small snap rang in my ears like a bell in a tower. I released the counter and fell to the floor, despite my best efforts.
Used to my accidents on a daily basis, Charlie continued the conversation like I wasn't sprawled on the ground. "As a dad, I obviously need to know that you're making safe decisions. But as a friend, I hoped things wouldn't change between us just because you went to college…"
"Oh my god," I panicked.
"…It hurts my feelings that there are now things you won't share with me."
I lifted my hand—the pain in my arm too great for something as silly as a broken finger. "I broke my hand!"
"Who's the boy?"
"Dad!" I wailed, tears in my eyes.
Charlie's eyes flashed to the middle finger which was already starting to swell.
"Right, right!" Dad mode finally overtook best-friend mode. Charlie switched off the stove, then helped me stand. "All right, darling, get to the car!"
The rush to the emergency room was a familiar ritual to us by now. Charlie draped a coat across my shoulders while I put on the special no-slip, lace-less shoes purchased solely for hospital visits. When we walked into the emergency room, the receptionist greeted Charlie and me by name, and the few nurses bustling through offered a sympathetic smile in our direction. I filled out the paperwork in record time—it was basically muscle memory at that point.
Charlie and I were preparing ourselves to hunker down when Nurse Sue called my name. She beckoned me with a curl of her pointer finger. "The new doctor is just about ready for you."
"Must be a slow night," I muttered.
But it appeared Charlie did not hear me. His eyes were bright with wonder as he looked at the double doors like they led to the promised land rather than the examination room. "The new doctor!" he whispered too loud and too close to my ear. "That could be Doctor Cullen!"
"Do you need me to remind you that he is a married man?" I hissed.
"No," Charlie grinned with a wink, "but you may have to remind him."
I didn't have the chance to roll my eyes before I had to greet Sue with a charming smile.
"You hurt your hand this time?" she asked aloud, as she read my chart.
"Yupp," I chirped, as cheerfully as I could manage through the pain. "I've never broken my left hand before."
"Maybe someone will finally get Bingo," she teased. It was a running joke between the nurses that saw me regularly that there was a bingo sheet of accidents for me to get into. To this day, I wasn't entirely sure that it was a joke.
It must have been a slow night because all the standard tests and protocols were completed with minimal wait, which was the best I could ask for. The worst part about any emergency room visit was always the waiting. After about two hours, Sue bustled in one, final time to announce, "The new doctor will see you now."
Standing to my left, Charlie sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. I turned in the direction of the door and felt my jaw slacken. Charlie had not exaggerated. Doctor Cullen was young, blonde, and more handsome than any celebrity. There was something about the gentleness in his gaze and kindness in the set of his perfect mouth that had my heart racing. I swallowed, glad that Sue had been the one to administer my heart rate test.
"Isabella Swan?"
I could only nod, dumbly.
"How's the hand?"
I cleared my throat, but the answer still came out as a croak, "Hurts."
"I bet. Sue suspects you broke the growth plate. Now, let's see what we have here…"
Through the thin, plastic gloves I could feel how cold his hands were. Reflexively, I pulled my hand from the chill. A second after I realized what I had done, I returned my hand to where it was, apologizing under my breath.
"Doctor's hands," he smiled, "always chilly."
I forced a smile back, but the expression was insincere. The strongest sensation of DeJa'Vu swept through me, bringing goosebumps to my flesh faster than the cold.
Before I could place it, Dr. Cullen had completed his assessment and started explaining the next steps to my star-struck father. Neither of us caught everything that had been said and suddenly, supplies for the cast were delivered into the room. It wouldn't have been my first broken finger, but it was my first broken growth plate, so I was shocked and embarrassed when I learned how far up my arm the cast would have to go. All the way up to my elbow.
As Doctor Cullen began the casting process, he started with some light, easy questions: where I went to school, my major, how long we've been in Forks. When the conversation lulled, he moved on to my extensive medical record, as most doctors did.
"I see you were in here just a few months ago with a broken rib."
"I thought I could change a lightbulb by standing on a pile of books instead of a chair," I explained. "Landed on the bookcase."
"And in the spring? Your elbow?"
"I fell over while tying my shoelace."
He chuckled, politely. There was something in his half-smile that pulled Edward to my mind. Then, Edward was all I could see. I knew I was gearing towards a dangerous obsession with Edward, but I didn't think I would go so far as to imagine his perfect face on another. But there he was. Or, very close to him. Same golden eyes. Same pale skin. Same slender nose, perfectly proportioned to his face. Same breathtaking, heart-wrenching, soul-consuming smile.
"Do you know Edward Masen?"
Recognition flashed in the doctor's eyes for a fraction of a second, but the rest of his face remained in that same, serene smile. "I don't believe I do. Did he pass through the ER recently?"
"No," I squeaked. Then, I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth.
The doctor did not fill the silence with pleasantries after my question. When he was complete, he reached for the folder with care instructions but found it was empty. He excused himself from the room and promised he'd be right back.
The moment the swinging doors stilled, Charlie leaned in and asked, "Who was that you asked about?"
I kept my voice as level as possible, "A kid from my school."
Charlie pursed his lips. "Why do you think Dr. Cullen lied about knowing who he is?"
My eyebrows rose, shocked that Charlie picked up on that, too. Though, I supposed I got my perception from somewhere. "I don't know."
"Weird," Charlie muttered. He crossed his arms against his chest and angled his body between me and the swinging door like he thought he needed to protect his daughter from the lying doctor.
My head throbbed, and it wasn't from the pain in my hand. Charlie spoke the question running through my mind: why would Dr. Cullen lie? Edward said he was adopted. Perhaps Dr. Cullen was a blood relative. He was too young to be Edward's father, but he could be an uncle or something. I might have uncovered some great mystery about Edward's family tree.
Charlie and I both jumped when the doors swung open again, though we both expected Dr. Cullen's immediate return. He waved the instructions in the air, proudly.
"Now, based on the size of your record, I'm sure you're an expert on cast maintenance," he said to me as he handed the document to Charlie, "but it is protocol."
"We'll add it to the scrapbook," Charlie grinned.
Carlisle regarded him strangely like he wasn't sure whether to take Charlie's comment as a joke or not. He must not have, because after he discharged me, he wished Charlie luck on the scrapbook.
Charlie and I stared at each other for an extra beat, alone in the emergency room.
"Lovely face," Charlie looked at the door then back at me. "Strange man."
E-POV
I stretched my hand out into the sunbeam just out of my reach. Rays of light and color burst back into the dark room as I fluttered my fingers. Out of habit, I stuck to the shadows on sunny days. I tried to avoid any reminder of my vampiric nature, and my skin in the sunlight was the least subtle reminder of them all. A literal beacon for what I was.
A twenty-sided dice hit me square on the cheek. The plastic made the same sound when it hit my face as it did when it clattered to the concrete floor.
"It's your turn," Emmett said. His tone suggested it hadn't been the first time he tried to catch my attention.
"Sorry," I muttered and returned my full attention back to the elaborate, cooperative board game stretched out on the table between us. Those were the only types of games Emmett and I could play together, because of my gift. Until Emmett introduced the concept to the family in the Seventies, I hadn't been able to play any games with the family without ruining them. Now, it was a ritual for Emmett and me to set up a long, tedious game every time the sun kept us from school.
We were losing. Badly. And it was my fault.
I raked my fingers through my hair. "How did we perpetuate darkness?"
"We don't have to play," Emmett said.
He snapped his thoughts shut from me by thinking about Rosalie's new dress, but I already heard what he wanted my response to be. I said just that, "No, no. Let's keep going." I flashed him my best smile, "We wanted to give ourselves a challenge, no?"
A smile played at the corner of his lips. He could tell my heart wasn't in it, but he wanted to play so he recounted our foe's turn on my behalf. Only after a few turns, my gaze drifted back to the sunlight, streaming into the basement from a single window far above my head. I wished I could see how Bella looked in the sunlight. I saw hints when we were at the fair together. Dangerous moments where the sun would break through the cloudy barrier and illuminate the strands of Bella's thick, mahogany hair, bringing out the shades of red and gold. I wanted to see her bask in the light; glow golden and sun-kissed.
"Jesus Christ, Eddie!" Emmett exclaimed, throwing his cards on the table.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just… ugh. Did the sun have to shine today?"
Alice skipped gracefully down the steps, solely with the purpose of spectating our catastrophic loss she saw in a vision moments ago. "The answer isn't going to change whether you ask Bella on a date today or on Friday."
"Are you serious?" Emmett frowned at me. "We're losing to this level two boss because you're distracted by a girl?"
I felt for my brother, I truly did. He never let his wife interfere with our time together, yet I could not return the favor. But I had bigger problems than my brother's irritation.
"Friday?" I picked out the word with alarm. "The sun will be out until Friday?" I wouldn't be able to see Bella for an entire week. It was getting more and more difficult to wait between our shared class to see her. I already had plans for us to see her more often. Plans I wouldn't be able to propose until Friday.
Alice shrugged. "That's what the weatherman said. Esme already had Carlisle write us up some Doctor's notes."
"Maybe I could just go to the library," I speculated aloud. "Sit in a sunless corner. Hope that she shows up…" She surprised me once in the library. I had returned to that same spot every day since, hoping to find her again. She never returned. I was going to suggest we meet there every afternoon to complete our assignments together until the sun reared its ugly head. I scowled in its direction, as if could sense my indignation.
Alice scrunched her face, willing a vision to come to her along with my decision. Emmett's thoughts ran rampant with scenarios of a furious Rosalie if I did something so reckless. I was already on her bad side—or her worse side, as I was never on her good side.
"Fine," I conceded, the silent scolding of my siblings just as effective as any verbal.
Carlisle's Mercedes pulled up to the house. Sunny days never affected him, for he always worked the night shift at the hospital. It was another display of his never-ending kindness, taking the dreaded spot despite his credentials so a human wouldn't need to. In his mind, he recited the long list of names from an early book in the Christian Bible. It was his standard exercise whenever he wanted to hide something from me. The trick only occurred at Christmastime. Sometimes around my birthday. Never on a seemingly random Monday morning.
My brow furrowed. Simultaneously, Alice had a vision of myself in Carlisle's study, my hands in my hair and a panicked expression on my face. I rose, murmured an apology to Emmett, and raced to Carlisle's study. Alice whispered her vision to Emmett. Then, they followed.
I waited for Carlisle at the door to his study. Esme poured her heart and soul into the space. It was the most eclectic room of the house, stuffed with antiques from all the years of Carlise's life. An ancient rug, a globe that needed to stay in shadows behind a glass barrier, a feinting couch. Each held a special memory in Carlisle's long life. There was a separate library in another one of their houses, but his current study always housed Carlisle's favorites and books that came in handy in his medical practice. The opposite wall was just as cluttered with paintings, each depicting a moment in Carlisle's life. Some were realistic interpretations of actual events, some based on years, and some were modern interpretations, swirling with vivid colors. The largest was an oil painting of Carlisle and Esme on their wedding day. The smallest was a polaroid of Esme smiling—the first picture they ever took.
A smile played at the corner of my mouth as I realized how Bella would adore this room. Curious questions would fly from her pretty lips faster than I could answer them.
My smile faded immediately when Carlisle appeared at the top of the stairs, his eyes grave and his mouth pressed into a hard line. Despite his troubled expression, he still took the time to sit behind his grand, mahogany desk and gestured for me to join him in one of the chairs. "Isabella Swan was emitted into the ER this evening."
"What?" I flew out of my seat. "Where? Why? What happened!?"
Carlisle raised both hands, "She's home. She's safe. She broke a growth plate." He pointed to the spot on his hand Bella presumably broke. "She'll be in a cast for six weeks, but otherwise will be fine."
"Oh, thank god," I muttered, collapsing back into my seat. The antique wood groaned in protest.
The same moment I realized Alice's vision had not yet been fulfilled, Carlisle leaned forward onto his elbow and created a temple with his fingers. Dread churned in my stomach. If someone hurt her on purpose, I could not promise I would remain in the house…
"While I was applying her cast, she asked if I knew you."
"Why would she ask that? I'm a Masen. You're a Cullen."
In all the years of our charade, no one had asked that question. We were very careful to separate ourselves in the public eye, sticking to small groups no larger than three. With our separate last names, no one would suspect we were related more than they would two humans with the same skin and eye color. We hid our obvious similarities from the world around us: our enhanced abilities, our diet, our alien, stone-like skin. We played human long enough that hiding our strength and speed was more natural than using it. We had plenty of lies to explain our diet and were careful never to use the same one as another member of the family. And obviously, no one would ever get close enough to touch two of us. One cool, hard hand rarely stood out.
My hands flew to my hair.
I held Bella's hand. It was through gloves but so was Carlisle's cool, hard touch at the hospital. If there was one person who would piece together two minor details that most others would ignore, it was Bella.
"Son…" Carlisle started. At the concern in my father's voice, Alice and Emmett stepped in from where they shamelessly eavesdropped in the hall. Emmett sat in the chair beside me while Alice hopped up onto Carlisle's desk and folded her legs under her.
Despite the newcomers, I only addressed Carlisle, "I held her hand. At the market."
"That shouldn't be an issue. It was cold outside yesterday. It was cold in the hospital."
Alice frowned, "Piece that together with the color of your eyes…"
"Still, gold eyes and cold skin?" Emmett shook his head. "Neither of those things screams vampire. Especially to a human."
It was true. In common vampire lore, vampires' eyes were either black, red, or unaffected by the nature of the beast. The golden eyes that came with our animal-based diet were rare—rare enough that even other vampires did not know such a thing existed.
However, the more time I spent with Bella, the more details she would pick up on. I could lie about a restricted diet or severe allergies, but eventually, she would notice that I did not eat at all. There were countless excuses I could contrive that would explain my cold hands, but eventually, she would realize they never warmed, no matter how long they held hers.
"Besides," Emmett leaned back in his chair, "why are you trying to hide it? If you want to be with her, she's going to have to learn the truth eventually."
The study shrank with the elephant in the room. If I continued to peruse Bella—and I wanted to continue. More than anything, I wanted to pursue Bella—the conversation would switch from how to keep the truth from Bella to how we would reveal the truth to Bella.
"It would be better for her to hear it from you." There was no vision to support Alice's claim. Only her own understanding of human nature. It would be better for our relationship for me to come clean rather than spend weeks lying to her.
"Are you going to tell her, Edward?" Carlisle asked, gently.
I opened my mouth, only to close it again.
She wasn't in the room, but my mother's words called to me. As clearly as if she stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders, she said, "Let her choose, Edward."
"Whatever relationship I have with Bella will be her choice. It would be prudent for her to have all the facts before she makes her decision."
"You all seem so confident that this girl will simply accept Edward for what he is."
I flinched at the sound of Rosalie's voice. The two of us hadn't spoken since we played together in the practice room. My sister rode into the room on her high horse. In a movement so smooth it could have been rehearsed; Emmett shifted his leg so Rosalie could perch on his knee.
Her golden eyes were wide and innocent as she addressed Carlisle. "I imagine she has some sense of self-preservation, even if she is…" Rosalie skipped over the thought. "There is a very, real chance that she'll hate Edward upon learning the truth. That she will want nothing to do with him."
"I know," the words grated against my chest.
Rosalie continued, "There's also the chance that she will sell us out. Tell everyone who will listen about the monster that lurks among them. Eventually, word will reach the Hunters we know have ears in the area, who will track us down and kill us. We need to move forward like that is the likely case."
"Bella cares for me as I care for her," I said with confidence on my lips and the memory of her kiss in my mind. "Even if she discovers the truth and doesn't…" want me, I couldn't quite say out loud. "She wouldn't do anything to hurt me. To hurt us."
"How can you be so certain?"
"Because Bella is good," my dead heart clenched at the severity of the understatement. She was more than good. She was… everything. "She's kind and thoughtful and selfless. She will listen to what I have to say and act in earnest."
Rosalie immediately scoffed, but Carlisle considered my words. He was a practical man—a thoughtful man. Even before Rosalie's interruption, he considered each possible threat that could emerge with my decision and examined it from all angles.
The safety of the family was always his first priority. The happiness of the family was an extremely close second.
He drummed his fingers on the desk in a short, sharp rhythm—the mark that a decision had been made. "Allow Jasper to assess the situation. If he senses fear or suspicion from this girl, you will back off. If she cares for you like you say she does, he will sense that, too. We will take this slowly. Day-by-day. You will do nothing without discussion."
I nodded.
Carlisle leaned back in his desk chair and addressed the rest of my siblings. "This will remain between Edward and me. The two of us will decide how to proceed with each development." It was the kindest way to tell a group of people to butt out. I had to bite the victorious smile I wanted to toss in Rosalie's direction.
"Alice, where's Jasper?"
"He and Esme are painting." Jasper and Esme occasionally spent their sunny days in a secluded location with a large canvas and a tin of watercolors.
He nodded. "Leave them to it. I'll tell Jasper his role when they return."
Without Carlisle's direct command, my siblings and I sensed his dismissal. Rosalie left with a sweet smile aimed in our father's direction, pulling Emmett behind her. Churned brewed in her thoughts dark and deep as a storm, but she could not act upon them without activity defying Carlisle's wishes—something she would never do. Alice reminded Carlise about their afternoon plans to watch their favorite hospital show before she, too, bounded out of the room.
"Edward," Carlisle called out in his mind, instructing me to stay. At a slow, human pace, Carlisle rose from his seat and walked around his desk. He sat in the chair Emmett had occupied moments earlier.
"You spent so much of your immortal life alone. I worry that I am the reason you seclude yourself in the furthest corners. That my thoughts cast you off."
"It wasn't your fault, Carlisle."
It was me. It's always been me. I understood I was better company in short bursts. Someone could hide their darkest thoughts for a week at Christmas or a summer vacation, but to expect them to be on their guard at all times was unfair.
"Esme isn't the only one relieved that you might have finally found your person. I want your relationship with Isabella Swan to succeed. But you must understand my caution."
"I do. I plan to ask Isabella on a date this Friday. Jasper can listen in and feel what she feels."
"That will be an excellent start." Carlisle nodded. "If you need me to speak to her father, let me know. We will figure out a charade one way or another."
I grinned. "I don't think that will be an issue. Modern girls no longer need their father's blessing."
His brow furrowed for a moment, then lifted. I laughed as my father placed himself back in the current era.
"I don't believe we'll acquire any goats with her hand, either."
"Ha, ha."
The two of us shared a laugh. Then, after a lull, I asked, "How is she?"
"As I said, she'll be in a cast for six weeks. Nothing series."
I rephrased the question, to get the answer I wanted, "How was she?"
"Very lovely. Polite. Kind. Rather… um…" Bella's thick medical record popped into his head, "…clumsy."
I chuckled, unable to swoop in to defend her. There was no denying it. She was as clumsy as she was beautiful. I told my father how Bella's feet constantly slid out from under her, hindering her from maintaining a proper yoga stance for longer than three seconds. The antiques I caught and steadied behind her back, leading her to believe she didn't cause a destruction in her wake. The routes I slyly guided her along while our hands were intertwined, keeping her from challenging terrain.
"Is it odd that I find it charming?"
Carlisle's smile warmed and grew. He placed a tender hand on my shoulder. "You will find that when you love a girl, everything about her will be charming. Esme could grow horns and I would say she were more exquisite for them."
The word love stood out, sparkling like my skin in the sun. I knew of love. I felt it for my family. I experienced it through countless thoughts of friends and strangers alike. Tied to Bella, the word took on an entirely new meaning.
Okay, okay. This is the Carlisle vibe I wanted. Kind, attentive, yet in control. It never seemed like he had control over the coven in the saga, despite being the leader. Idk why, but it always put a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry about the bad first impression we got a few chapters ago.
