Chapter Twenty-One

Edward

I leapt from Bella's window and dashed off through the woods to the house. It was a close call, but I was sure she hadn't seen me. I just needed to make sure she was okay after the accident today. I'd spent the entire day and night outside of her house once school was released. I needed to know if she would tell Charlie what she saw, and she didn't thankfully.

But I knew she wasn't going to let this go. She saw me use my strength and I had no good excuse except to deny what she saw and chalk it up to her head injury—which I still felt terrible about. Carlisle assured me she'd be fine, but I still felt awful for hurting her.

But I withstood her flowing blood. It burned like hell, but I was more concerned than filled with bloodlust. I was sure that meant I could never hurt her.

How is she, Edward? Esme thought as I walked into the house. I found her and Carlisle in the living room, reading books—medical for him and cooking for her.

"She seems to be okay," I said. "She's rested all day."

"Good," Carlisle said. "I thought I might stop by Charlie's tomorrow on the way home to check on her."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Esme said, squeezing her husband's hand.

"I would appreciate it too," I said. "I can't believe I hurt her so badly. I hate myself."

The van would have done much worse, Carlisle thought. "You saved her life, son. Let's focus on that. How did you handle her flowing blood? Were you tempted?"

I shook my head. "It hurt—I won't lie, but she was more important. All I cared about was getting her to you."

He smiled. "I'm proud of you, son."

"We both are," Esme added. "I think I'll bake a batch of cookies for her. Or should I do 'Get Well' cupcakes.?"

I smiled softly at my mother's generosity. She truly could not wait to meet Bella, but there had been no excuse yet. This was her in.

"I'm not sure which she'd prefer, but knowing Charlie, he'd like cupcakes." I chuckled.

She smiled. "I have just the recipe for him, but I'll bake some chocolate chip cookies too just in case."

I stood from my seat and kissed her cheek, offering them both a good night before heading upstairs to my room. There was no bed—no need for one since I didn't sleep—but books and vinyls galore. I picked out a good album and settled into my lounge chair. I couldn't concentrate on the words filling the room. My thoughts were solely on Bella. How I wanted to go back there and watch over her.

Lord, I sounded like a stalker, which I technically was.

I had an incredible desire to protect her from everything. Hell, if a spider were to crawl onto her porcelain skin I'd end its life before it had a chance to do her harm. If a meteor were to fall from the sky, taking aim at her, I would stop it and crush it to pieces. My sole purpose in this life now was to protect her and I would take that job seriously.

. . . . .

I checked on Bella before school the next morning and found her in a little spat with Charlie about going to classes. Carlisle wrote her out until Monday and it was already Friday, so it wasn't as if she'd miss much, but she was persistent. Charlie was standing his ground though.

"I'll call the Webers and see if Angela can bring your school work over this afternoon," he said. "Carlisle says you need to stay home, so that's what you're going to do."

"I really feel okay," her melodic voice said.

"That's good and we need to keep it that way. You'll have all weekend to recover and be set to go back on Monday. I need to get to work, Bells. You know, I could always ask Esme to come keep you company."

"I don't need a babysitter. I know the rules—no straining my eyes with TV or books, call you if I start to get sick, and just rest."

I watch through the window as he leaned down to hug her awkwardly and then he grabbed his belt with his gun on it and wrapped it around his waist. Bella sat dejectedly on the couch, stretching out once he left. I quickly obscured myself while Charlie headed to his cruiser, but then went back to watching Bella. I had five more minutes before I need to get to school, and I spent those five minutes studying her.

She put headphones in and connected them to her phone. I got a quick glance at the screen and she was listening to an audiobook, not music. Stretched out, she closed her eyes and listened to the soft voice reading The Merchant of Venice.

She looked so utterly peaceful and I felt dirty spying on her, but for now, this was as close as I could get to her.

I don't own Twilight.

I didn't edit this very well so all mistakes are my own. I just wanted to get a chapter out to you.