A/N: Disaster struck me.

I lost most of this chapter. I overwrote it with the wrong contents and could not recover my original words. I tried all the possible solutions, but my settings were wrong for backup. (Fixed now.) I've been a sad Mav since. In my decade of writing (excluding the hiatus), I've never lost non-recoverable data before.

I rewrote the whole thing from memory as well as I could but I have no doubt that I missed something. In the past, I've only ever rewritten chapters when I was unsatisfied with the story I was delivering… never because the contents decided to poof out of my laptop. (My own fault, I know.)

That's why this chapter is shorter than intended. The time I would've spent delivering the other half is the time I had to use to rewrite everything I lost.

Thank you for understanding.

…

Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

47: Responsible

…
Sunday, February 12 (cont.)

"You lied to me," Emmett accused. He stopped pacing in front of our TV to cross his arms and look at Edward. "Background check? Nothing. Hasn't held down a job since last summer—not a good sign, but it happens. Criminal record? Also clean. Knowing that the best way to get more information was to ask you directly, I asked you one question, and one question only, 'Do we have anything else to be concerned about?' and what did you say?"

Clenching his jaw, Edward said nothing.

"'No, sir,'" Emmett quoted. "'Nothing else.'"

Feeling awful for dragging Edward into this, I slid my palm into his. He squeezed it. Unable to wrap him into one of his bone-crushing hugs, I distracted myself by watching mom teach Riley how to make paper planes. Mom sat cross-legged on the floor in her impeccable light blue jeans and a cashmere cardigan while Riley had one of my old shirts on.

"I meant nothing else last night," Edward muttered, not raising his gaze from our carpet.

"And how is that better? How is that different?"

"He said he was in Jackson."

"Georgia? Mississippi?"

"Alabama."

Emmett sat on the armchair and pressed his palms together as if praying. The way quietly assessed Edward made me feel uneasy. "You said you had experience with meth addicts but how can that be true if you took his word for it?"

Still not meeting his gaze, Edward signed. "He grew up in Jackson and stays there with a friend. I have reason to believe that the friend—deals. Of all the possible answers he could've given me, it was a likely one."

"I don't think you get it. What if he lied to you, hmm? What then? What if he drove back on the same day? Now I have a situation where the girl I'm supposed to be protecting is within arms' reach of a tweaker. Oh wait—that's what happened."

"I would never risk hurting Bella," Edward insisted, cutting off the blood flow in my palm as he nearly crushed it. "And I can handle my father. I'm stronger than him."

Emmett ignored his small tic as he leaned forward. "That's an interesting statement, Edward. Does that mean he gets aggressive often?"

Edward avoided his eyes.

"Usually not."

Dad's eyes shimmered when we locked eyes.

"Emmett," I said, gathering my courage to protect Edward. "Nobody is questioning how you handled things. I'm safe. Riley's safe. Edward took a calculated risk when he let me come over, but he's now admitting to all of you that there is a problem. But he is not wrong—I was there. You were there. Edward is incredible at handling his father."

"I don't care how incredible—"

"Emmett," dad repeated, putting down his coffee. "We appreciate your passion and expertise, and it is not going unnoticed that you keep showing up on your days off. We're lucky that you care as much as you do. I'm not thrilled that Edward didn't tell us, and we'll have a word with him later, but the blame game will only ensure that the kids will not come to us the next time there is a problem, which would be a far more dangerous issue. Please, let's focus on more important things first." Dad scooted closer to the edge of his seat and leaned forward, and I felt like Edward and my dad had a secret language when their eyes met.

Then, suddenly, I realized that dad's mother had been an addict. What had she been addicted to? Did she die of overdose? I'd been too young to understand and dad didn't discuss her often, but now I wished I'd asked.

More importantly, did Edward know this about my dad?

"We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's okay," he told Edward.

"Of course, sir."

"First and foremost, do you need a place to stay?"

Edward, startled, blinked at dad.

"No, that's… that's okay. Thank you."

"Are you sure? You could take this couch until we move, and we can give you a room in our Smyrna home, although—" Dad scoffed. "Don't think you'd use it much anyway with Bella here, would you?"

Edward shifted uncomfortably. Had he been one for blushing, he would've.

"Thank you. That's—very kind. But… my dad's not home much, and when he does finally crash, he's—inconsolable. It's the only time he's not angry or indifferent, and I don't know… I don't know how to leave him alone for that. I understand that for you all, this feels new and urgent, but—this is just another Sunday for me with the exception that… now you know."

Edward's casual reassurance gave me little comfort. I'd been living on a bed of roses compared to him.

"Suit yourself," dad replied. "I can't force you, but anytime you need a place to stay, come here. No questions asked."

I could've sworn Edward's lip wobbled before he pressed them tightly together.

"Thank you, sir."

"But your grandfather can't help, especially with the boy?"

Hesitating, Edward gave a meaningful glance in Riley's direction, and my mom got the message. She got up.

"Do you want to go jump on Bella's bed? It's the bounciest."

"Ooh," Riley gasped, flying one of mom's paper planes in our direction before the two disappeared in the hallway.

Edward waited for the door to click closed before he spoke. "My grandfather is my mother's father, Riley is my father's sister's son. Even if my aunt admitted to her problem, which she does not, gramps is too far removed from him even if he treats Riley like his own grandson."

"Where's the boy's father?"

Edward pressed an absent-minded kiss against my knuckles. "Prison."

"When will he get out?"

"Not for another decade or so."

"What's he in for?"

Dark amusement twinkled in his eyes. "I think you can guess by now what my family is into."

"Possession?"

Edward nodded. "He's at Phillips State. Riley and my aunt used to visit him every month but they've stopped now that my aunt's issues are… escalating."

"Have you called CPS on them?" Emmett asked.

Dad scoffed, turning to Emmett with a challenge in his voice. "Have you ever called CPS on anyone?"

Emmett shook his head.

Clearly agreeing with my dad, Edward ran a frustrated hand over his buzz cut. "I've called them a few times, yeah. But… they're functionally useless. Their hands are tied, and if you've never seen my aunt sober, she'd fool you nine times out of ten. Nobody's going to take a kid away from the legal, biological mother who can hold down a job with no evidence of physical abuse."

"What if something happens to her?" Emmett asked. "Who gets custody of Riley, then?"

Edward straightened so that his ass was at the edge of the couch, his neck at the back of it, and it was as close to slouching as I'd seen him (even if his body was technically straight). He licked his lips and crossed his arms but never let go of my hand.

"I do," he admitted, quietly. "I've discussed this with her because she's—" Exasperated, Edward rubbed his face again. "I'm worried, and… my dad's side has no other surviving family. But if our concern is getting Riley out of there, you'd first have to make her acknowledge she has a problem, which—like I said—she doesn't. I'd have to treat persuading her like a full-time job, and even if I succeed, then what? I can either go to college or I can take Riley. I can't do both."

"My parents did both when they had my siblings and me," Emmett said.

Annoyed, Edward leaned on his elbows and narrowed his eyes. "Were they stable and married?"

"Yes, but—"

"Did they actively want you?"

Emmett frowned. "Yes, but—"

"Did they have family living nearby?"

"Yes, but—"

"So you're telling me that your parents, stable and married, actively trying and agreeing to have kids and having the support system to raise them, is the same as me, at eighteen, packing my suitcase, dumping my cousin—not my kid—into it and spending four years at MIT, alone? Effectively a single father with no money or support system in Cambridge while completing my degree? I hope you're shitting me because you can't be stupid enough to believe that those two are nearly the same."

Emmett wasn't the only person gaping at Edward's little rant. Realizing this, Edward hid his face in his hands and groaned. "Fuck," he muttered. "Nothing against Riley—or your parents, or you. I'm tired, but the suggestion that being Riley's legal guardian wouldn't change every single aspect of my life is frankly laughable."

"You will not have to face this choice," dad insisted, knocking on Edward's knee to get his attention. "That can't happen. Not only because we'll help you, but because Riley's father is still alive. Or did your aunt or the state file a petition to terminate his parental rights?"

Edward tilted his head and sat very still, digesting dad's words.

"I… have no knowledge of it. I just assumed you lose those rights when you go to prison."

"God, no. I mean, it happens, but it's not automatic, especially if he didn't commit a violent crime." Dad gave Edward an encouraging smile. "No matter what your aunt wants or thinks she wants, she cannot just give you legal custody of Riley, especially since their visitation of Riley's father implies that his parental rights were not terminated. You also couldn't legally adopt him before you're 21. You don't even have a stable income, and that's only one of many rules for adoption. It shows how much you care that you've put so much thought into Riley's future and well-being, but none of this is on you."

Letting dad's words sink in, Edward rubbed his jaw. "How do you know so much about this?"

Dad and I looked at each other.

"You learn things when you go through the process, but I can't stress this enough—you are not responsible for Riley. I can see that you feel responsible for him, you are clearly going above and beyond, but… you are not responsible for the boy."

Edward listened as my bedroom door clicked open. Mom chased a laughing Riley into my parents' bedroom and the door slammed shut before Edward gave my dad a weak, placating smile.

"I see what you're saying, sir, I do, but— this isn't very helpful when Riley knocks on my door at eight PM and all I see are taillights of my aunt's car. Whether or not the law allows me to do anything about who he is to me is a bit of a moot point when I'm already functionally responsible for him."

Dad scratched his beard, watching Edward, and it was odd to see him not tease Edward or me for every second word coming out of our mouths.

"I don't think you hear this enough—but you shouldn't be," dad replied. "Not because you're not good at it—clearly you are—but because… you have your whole future ahead of you. You cannot risk resenting him for taking MIT from you, and you do not have to be his legal guardian to stay in his life, even at a distance. You don't have to be his guardian to spend time with him or love him. Would you be opposed to giving us Riley's father's contact details so that we could see if he'd talk to us?"

Edward stared at my dad in wonder. "Why, why would you do that?"

"To understand how to help you," dad answered. "If Riley's father doesn't have legal custody—although I'd be surprised if he didn't—or if he is uninterested in being a part of Riley's life and willing to sign that statement, then your aunt putting you as his guardian in her will would be actionable after her death, even before you're 21. But, and this is a big but, she cannot make you be one without your agreement. Not just verbal. You'd have to go through paperwork with the court and all of that. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Give me Riley's father's details and we'll see if he'd agree for us to visit him."

Looking a little bit stunned, Edward messaged dad with Riley's father's name and how to contact him before dad asked, "But what about you? You can't live with your grandfather?"

"He lives a two-hour drive away from here. Even if I had money for all that gas, I'm not sure I'd be willing to do that twice a day. It's fine. Like I said, my dad's barely home."

"How much is barely?"

"He's spent… three nights at home in the past month. Visits just as rarely."

Dad paused, surprised. "You really didn't expect him home this morning."

"Not in the morning, no—but that's what I've been trying to tell you. What you saw—" Edward looked at me and Emmett. "That was his inability to handle strangers when he's—suffering psychosis. That is not how he is usually, not even during a psychotic episode. I've learned how to handle him, but… I feel like you're all imagining me going home to what you saw today, every day, and that's just not true. Your concern is kind, but I'm mostly alone, with gramps or Riley or Jasper. I'm fine."

Dad observed Edward in silence, his new earring and eyebrow piercing and the buzz cut he couldn't seem to stop running his hand over.

"It's a small comfort to know that you're functionally living alone." Dad straightened. "Wait—if your grandfather was Esme's husband, why doesn't your grandfather live with you?"

"They divorced before I was born," Edward explained before he hesitated. "He might consider it if we emptied the third bedroom, but—he'd hate living in the suburbs again. It's okay—it's really okay."

Dad hummed, not quite convinced.

I pulled one of Edward's hands into my lap. "Those calls you make before you stay over—they're not to ask him permission, are they?"

"No," Edward replied, staring at our fake mantlepiece. "They're to confirm he's alive."

Both of our eyes shimmered when dad and I locked eyes.

"Well, not entirely," Edward corrected. "Since last summer, the only thing he's cared about is when I come and go, but sometimes… he forgets or isn't in a state of mind to understand what I'm telling him, so if he gets paranoid or angry, there's a record of my call on his phone."

He said that as if that made it better. It did not.

"How would he know if you lied if he doesn't even usually stay there?" I asked. "What's his logic?"

"He's a methhead, Bella," Edward replied, simply. "There is no logic."

"Where does he stay?" dad asked.

"Sometimes in Jackson at the small apartment his father left him and my aunt. Sometimes in Roswell at one of his friend's trailer—also a user. Most of the time, I probably have no clue, but I don't think I want to know, either."

"Emmett mentioned that your dad doesn't have a criminal record," dad said. "But should he?"

Edward shifted. He played with the tips of my fingers and briefly glanced at my dad and Emmett, but he chewed on his bottom lip, refusing to answer.

"I'm not the police," dad continued. "Neither will I call one for your father unless you ask me to." Dad waited for an answer, but when he noticed Edward's brief but significant glance in Emmett's direction, dad changed course.

"Emmett, would you like to take a walk?"

…