"I...didn't know there was a game on tonight."

I stood in the living room, hands awkwardly tucked in the back pockets of my jeans, while Billy and Jacob took to the kitchen table, peeling plastic wrap off bowls of dip and chips. The smell of spices filled the air.

As Charlie brought out a stack of plates for the table, he said, "Cardinals and Brewers. Aren't you supposed to be in Seattle with that—who was it you said? Alice?"

They tried to hide it, but I saw the awkward glance that Jake and Billy shared.

"She flaked. Guess something came up. Her brother came to break the bad news." I struggled to swallow my own awkwardness. "So, Cardinals and, uh, Brewers? What is that, like, football or something?"

Billy and Charlie chuckled. "It's baseball, Bella." Billy's voice scraped low and rich like Johnny Cash on vinyl. His voice resonated in my ears, radiated comfort. The sound of it made me feel younger, a child. Crying. Climbing onto his lap. I remembered the way his calloused hands felt wrapped around me, squeezing tight. Maybe Jacob had hit me or something—who knew.

"Sounds like a sport I've heard of."

Charlie turned on the flatscreen. He and Billy crowded it and talked jargon like color commentators. Jacob and I took the couch. Although he watched too, he and I chatted for a while about our interests during commercial breaks: his passion for long-distance running, mostly. After a while, as Jake became engrossed in the game, I ditched the living room and watched from the kitchen table, where I ate.

Maybe I should've stayed. During a commercial, Billy rolled into the kitchen. Smiled at me sitting there, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"You look like you're avoiding the party."

Hair on the back of my neck rose. There was something about Billy that brought back a memory I didn't understand, couldn't place. "Well, y'know. Sports."

"Figures," he chuckled, wheeling to the fridge. "Want anything?"

I smirked behind his back. "I'll take a beer."

"Chief Swan," Billy shouted to Charlie, "I forget, what's the legal drinking age again?"

"Older than Bells," Charlie replied dryly. So is that a no, or… ?

The fridge door slammed and Billy rolled to the table, cracking open the can. Not offering it to me, I might add. "You remember when you were little—god, it had to have been when Jacob was in preschool—and you asked your dad to try his beer?"

Charlie burst out laughing from the living room. "Can't believe you remember that."

"Sure do. I'll never forget her face." My nose crinkled. I didn't like thinking of my summers in Forks. They were all hazy memories, anyway. "Boy, but come to think of it, Charles, yours was even better. One of those looks you get when you remember, 'Holy crap, is my kid gonna grow up?'" They both laughed. "I think it was the first time your dad realized you'd be a teenager someday."

"Yeah. I've been told time goes too fast."

Billy laughed. Probably at my naïveté. "Yup. Well. For a parent, your kid growing up puts everything into perspective." Emotions flickered across his face; his smile shrunk. A beat passed while he steadied it. "One minute they're latched onto your leg like a damn parasite and the next they're stealing your car keys. Getting into trouble. Drinking. Dating." Billy and Jake exchanged a look from across the house; Jake looked away.

"Trust me," Charlie called from the living room, "any boy who wants to get within ten feet of my daughter's gonna have to go through me."

I groaned. "Dad."

"What, a father isn't going to protect his daughter?"

Renée would hate this conversation. I could hear it now: And who the hell are you to say that a woman can't protect herself? Maybe Bella just needs some Krav Maga.

"Looks like you aren't doing your job too well," Billy ribbed. "If that Cullen boy's lurking around." My heart dropped. I couldn't look at him. But he looked at me.

"Cullen," said Charlie, mulling over the name. Pause. "Dr. Cullen's kids, eh? Nice guy."

My ears flamed.

Billy shrugged. "Sure, sure. That's how it starts, Chief. Might have to give Carlisle a call. I will if you won't." He winked.

For a moment I thought Charlie looked peeved that Billy would say that, but once my father saw my tomato-red face, he laughed instead. "Alright, William, I think we've ragged on her enough. Cardinals up by seven; you coming?"

"Sure, sure."

But Billy's gaze, stern, lingered on me. He leaned over the arm of his chair, creaking the metal, studying me with narrowed eyes. My heart pounded in my chest.

With that scratchy timbre of a bass, he said to me in a low voice, "You don't let that Cullen boy push you around, now. You got that?"

I swallowed. Shook my head. My mind snagged on the way he said Cullen.

"No," I breathed. "Never."

The rest of the game went off without a hitch. One of the teams won. Cayenne pepper and smiles lingered on our lips. All the while, I was worried that Billy would give me another glance. Why was he looking at me like that? Like he was watching me jump off a cliff? It made me nervous. I couldn't stop fidgeting, looking over my shoulder.

Billy knew about Edward. Billy knew they were dangerous.

Maybe he didn't know I knew. Maybe he was looking for an answer.

After leftovers were wrapped up and jackets were thrown on, Jacob and Billy shuffled out the door. We followed them to say our goodbyes. As Billy rolled onto the ramp we'd placed over the porch steps, he turned to Charlie and said, "Y'know, you should give Harry a call. Take Jake and Bella out for the day. Someone's gotta keep the boy on his toes now that his father can't." Billy reached up to playfully swipe at Jake's head; Jake laughed and ducked away.

"Hah! Yeah, I mentioned it to her last week. You remember those traps Jake and her set?"

While Jake and I shared glances and blushed, Billy said, "Oh yeah. Beautiful stuff. It's those little fingers, that's how you do it."

"I dunno," my father said to me, "you didn't sound too keen, though, huh. Whaddya think? Bells?" He smirked at my name.

Before I could answer, Billy said, "Might be good to get a knife back in her hands. With that Cullen boy skulking around, you never know." Billy winked at my father and gave me a tight smile. "He gives you any trouble, that boy, you let your old man Billy know, got it?"

Everyone else laughed but I said, heart hammering, "Yeah. Knives. Sounds fun. I'd love to."

We lingered around our goodbyes, but eventually they came, and the Blacks went. And though the game and the beers and the food and staved off the inquisition, the door slamming shut behind us turned Charlie on a dime.

"So," he said as I passed him. "The Cullen boy."

"Dad—"

"Who's he?"

"—c'mon—"

"I just wanna know! Who is he?"

I stopped at the end of the entryway hall and turned. "Edward. Edward Cullen."

"Edward." Charlie pushed the name around his mouth like he was trying to identify the flavor profile of antifreeze. "And what was he doing here?"

"Alice couldn't come to Seattle, so he went to break the bad news."

"And Alice couldn't bother sending over her brother until several hours after you were supposed to leave?"

"Well, no," I said, blush creeping into my cheeks. Fuck. Didn't police get trained to detect lies on people? I began to sweat. "It's not that. She's having a really hard time emotionally. Honestly, I—I asked her to come with me to cheer her up. Anyway, she didn't show and I think he felt bad for me. We ended up going hiking instead."

"And you know this boy, Edwin?"

"Edward. Yeah. We've got Bio together."

"'Kay." But Charlie was not as easily swayed by words. "So hiking, huh? With Edward Cullen?"

As much as I tried to fight against my teenager snark, I couldn't help gesturing with my head to my shoes and saying, "You can check the dirt on my boots, if you want."

Charlie side-eyed me, running his tongue over his molars from behind his lips. To escape his gaze, I turned to clean up the remaining spills in the kitchen.

"Is he your boyfriend, this boy?"

I rubbed the back of my neck; I could tell his eyes burned into it. "Uh, well." I spun around, blood freezing. "No. It's—we're—just hanging out. As friends. Friends friends."

"So you're not—y'know, having—"

"No." I whipped around.

"—because I know kids are keeping it, y'know, casual—"

"Stop! Don't even. That's not what this is. At all. It's—y'know, he's, uh, old-fashioned. We're just, you know, hiking, getting dinner. Very platonic."

"Dinner."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. "It was—" oh god, strike me down "I swear, this is all circumstantial. We ran into him—"

"When did you go to dinner?"

At this point, I was blushing so hard I thought I might start sweating blood. "I—we—me 'n' Angela 'n' Jess—we ran into him out in Port Angeles."

"And you went out with him to dinner."

"Yeah. Well. I invited him. So. Y'know. Really not a big deal."

"Then what?"

"What?"

"After dinner, what'd you do?"

"Nothing."

He drilled down. "Who drove you home, after?" Silence. "Isabella Marie."

"Well, Edward did," I replied. "But it wasn't like—"

"So you went out to Port Angeles with Angela and Jess, and then you had a date with Edward Cullen."

"Not a date, no, not a date, just, it's— We had dinner and he drove me home."

Charlie's lips pursed into a thin line; he exhaled through his nose. Here came the storm: "Look. If you're, y'know, socializing, it, I mean, I don't have a problem with that. I'm not, y'know, a strict dad." Hah! Okay, Charlie. "But you can't lie to me about what you're doing. Okay? That's not appropriate."

My face flushed deep crimson. "Lie? Ch—Dad, I'm not lying. We're not—like that. Every time we've hung out it's just been, like, random happenstances. That's it."

Charlie raised his hands in defense. "Okay. Alright. If you say it's not a lie, I believe you." A beat of silence passed between us. He didn't look convinced. "Jus', don't feel like you have to lie to me. Okay? If you're doing, y'know... that." We cringed. "It's—fine. Just, make sure you've...uh...talked to your mother." His face burned bright pink. "About. Y'know. Preventative. Care."

Oh god. This is horrifying. If only Edward had killed me when he had the chance. "Yep. Gotcha. Thanks."

"That's all I'm saying. —And don't lie."

"Got it."

We baked in the silence of this painfully awkward conversation. I turned away to scrub the kitchen counters with a force never before seen by the hands of man.

Behind me, Charlie said, "So! Then. When's he coming over to meet me?"

"Who?"

"Hah hah. I'm serious. It's my job to protect you."

"No, that's my job," I said. I kept talking to soften the sudden forcefulness of my voice. "Keeping me from life experience isn't going to make me a better person."

"A father needs to protect his daughter."

"A parent needs to protect their child," I corrected. "I get that. But I'm okay. He's a good person. Honest."

"Doesn't matter. You're living under this roof; I have a right as a parent to know the character of the boy—"

"Guy."

"—who's going to be where my daughter is. —No, I don't wanna hear it. I have more life experience to judge these things; you know that. I know you do."

"Fair," I mumbled. "Fine. You got me there. But don't be weird about it, okay? —See, no, that look right there, you're being weird about it. Girls date. And have guy friends. Which is what this is. Besides, I mean, Mom dated you when she was in high school."

Charlie groaned. "That doesn't make me feel better."

"Well look, we're not dating, so it's already ten times better, right? But I'm just saying, y'know, you're wiser because you had that experience. It's just that in your case, she came back to date you again and life got fucked up."

"Language."

"Right, my bad." I sighed at his glare. "I'll bring him over. Maybe tomorrow. Or something. Not that he's my boyfriend. Because he's not." With nothing left to clean, I started up the steps.

"Bells."

Well, fuck. Now all of a sudden I was frozen between the fourth and fifth step, heart pounding, on edge for his next words.

"Before your next date, he needs to come to meet me."

Holy shit. Renée wasn't joking about the "traditional household" thing. What was the big deal about him meeting Edward? Why did it matter? Why did he care so much about my personal life?

I never turned around. "Roger."

Sometimes Renée would complain about me having "my blinders on." Innocence shielded me from truly understanding some feelings and experiences she had described to me. Like why she reconnected with her toxic parents, my Nona and Opa. What it felt like to be in love with someone and still have to let them go. How the fragility of the human body reminds you more and more of your mortality as you age.

Maybe I didn't understand. But I sympathized—and, in some way, isn't that like extrapolating the experience in your own mind?

At any rate, since I didn't have Charlie's 'experience,' I couldn't very well say, "Well, Edward is a good person and I know because I know it."

So, fine. He wins. For now.

I trudged to my room and grabbed a towel to take a shower and scrub the day off me. Hot water rolled down my hair, down my back. The residual smell of Edward and the scent of lavender body wash filled the air, fogged the mirrors. Water unwound the knots in my shoulders.

And I thought. Of him. Again. Always.

I've heard enough of Renée's post-breakup rants to know that a man taking up this much real estate in your head is Not Okay. But I've also seen enough of her behavior over the years to know that reality doesn't always reflect truth.

Here was mine: despite the inherent danger of him, there was something about Edward that gave color to Forks. What was once a gray, damp place in my mind was now verdant and lush. Not that Forks made me any less anxious, but he made it—tolerable. He made shadows fall into spaces where they belonged: the corners. As accents. As something beautiful.

Was I blushing, or was it the heat of the water?

He gave color to my drawing that night, too. Another forest, another lake, but this time dripping with a vibrancy that reminded me how lucky I'd been to get out of Phoenix, to see Forks again under this new light. To see how beautiful it really was.

I hated giving in to the intrigue and desire that wracked me. But maybe it was a good thing. Maybe I needed to reassess my opinions. Maybe I needed to relax. Or, at least, relax without breaking the law.

Maybe now that I was in a stable environment, I could get to know people the way I've always wanted to know them: up close and personal.