…

Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

48: The Answer

…
Sunday, February 12 (cont.)

"Because my encounters with 12 have been positively inspiring," Emmett replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"That's shit. I'm sorry." Dad failed to smile through his grimace as he cast me a glance. "Our daughter could tell you all about her own… inspiring encounter. But regardless of how you personally feel about the police, we know you well enough to understand that you'd do right by the law. Are we wrong?"

My bodyguard's enormous muscles flexed as he crossed his arms, assessing us for long enough that Edward and I squirmed, but mom interrupted his stare-down when she appeared in the living room.

"Poor boy fell asleep on our bed."

Edward wiped his face and took out his phone, prepared to stand. "I'll go put some white noise on for him."

"I'll do it." Mom held up her palm to stop him. She was perky and alert and clearly adored having a kid to dote over. "What does he like?"

Having put dad's phone to charge in my parents' bedroom with the sound of the ocean, mom returned to the living room and sat on the armrest of dad's armchair. Dad didn't take his eyes off Emmett when he pulled mom's hand into his lap, but he did give mom a brief overview of what we'd been discussing before he arched an eyebrow at Emmett.

Emmett assessed us until he gave a brief, curt nod.

"I'll stay."

Clearly unhappy with this, Edward sighed and clenched his jaw. Emmett lifted his palms as if in surrender.

"I cannot possibly keep your girlfriend safe if I don't know the full danger you're putting her in, but this conversation we're about to have never happened."

I squeezed Edward's thigh as he contemplated Emmett's words.

"Okay," Edward said, an exhale more than an agreement. He surrounded my hand with both of his, rested his elbows on his knees, and kept his eyes on my hand as he played with my fingers, admitting, "My parents never married."

Emmett, dad and I waited for the relevance of his comment but mom put down her sweet tea as she stared at Edward with wide eyes.

"Presuming she wasn't neck-deep in debt, everything your mother owned should've gone straight to you. Did it?"

"In theory." Edward's half-smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nothing left of it, now, anyway."

"Was the trailer you lived in hers? In Roswell?"

"Yes. If dad was sued for his debt they couldn't force him to sell it if it wasn't legally his."

"Did your mom have a car?"

"She got a 2018 Tacoma pickup practically for free from a friend after she talked her daughter out of a… really bad situation. No wonder, either. My mom was…" Edward trailed off, shrugging, his attempt at a smile more tormented than happy. "Not unlike you in some ways."

They were such small words, quietly said, but their intention shone through. Touched, mom gave Edward a warm smile. "I can't imagine a bigger compliment seeing how well-adjusted you are in spite of everything. What did she do for a living?"

Edward pressed a kiss against the back of my hand. "She was a library assistant."

"No wonder you're so bright. You'll have to tell us about her some time." Mom sipped her sweet tea. "But back to our topic—did she have any other assets?"

"She was saving up to study Psychology in Georgia State. Nearly 30K, I think. It took her years to save it—pretty much her annual income. She was so scared of debt, of dad's medical debt, of any debt. But last spring—mom got into GSU, she had the money to cover the first two years, and she was—" Edward pressed his lips tightly together and whispered, "excited."

Not knowing how to console him, I kissed Edward's shoulder and kept my chin against it. Edward buried his nose in my hair.

"What happened?" my mom continued, gently. "Was everything sold through probate to cover her debt or did your father step in?"

"Mom didn't have any debt. Not from when she was alive, anyway. My dad, he—" Edward drew a slow line from my thumb to the tip of my index finger and back again. Then, he took a breath so deep it looked like it must've hurt. "He perjured himself."

Mom paused. "How?"

"He claimed in court that he and mom entered a common law marriage in 1995. Probably gave a bit of fake proof, too, I don't know. I didn't—" Edward ran a frustrated hand over his buzz cut. "I was in school. I didn't even know Georgia didn't acknowledge common law marriage unless it started before 1997. I should've, I know I should've, very few states acknowledge it, but law is… boring. I never had to think about it. Hell, I only found out my parents weren't married maybe four years ago? Mom stayed an O'Leary, but I guess I thought… lots of women don't change their names.

"And the stupid thing is—if dad had asked, I would've given him everything. Easily. But I didn't know I was supposed to inherit shit, and he was so… brutally angry at mom for, for dying, and for never agreeing to marry him. My dad can be a bit of a… disciplinarian, and he has a temper, but he and mom were crazy solid together, and—honestly, it was fair for him to get everything. My problem is not that he got it all or the means he used to get her stuff, my problem is…" Edward looked up, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. Quietly, he said, "It's just such a waste."

"How much—" I hesitated, not wanting to push Edward but having absolutely no clue of the value of single-wide trailers or new but used cars. "How much would it all have been?"

Edward shrugged. "Maybe—realistically—70K. A hundred if we got lucky."

"And what happened to it?"

He didn't even attempt a smile. "I think you know what happened to it."

"But meth is not that expensive," dad argued. "How could he have used it all up just for meth?"

"Whoa, dad," I interrupted. "Why would you know that?"

Dad scratched his beard. "It's not uncommon for construction workers to be… troubled."

"Oh my God, have you tried…?"

"You don't try meth, Bella," Edward interrupted. "You start meth."

Dad gave Edward an odd look, sharp but compassionate. "That's right," he said, turning to me. "But no, sweetie. You'd know if I was on drugs. Renée and I saw too much of my mother to ever risk losing you."

I could've hugged him.

"I'm pretty sure my dad's advanced to crystal meth, now," Edward continued. "Purer. Stronger. More expensive. But also—you're forgetting that he's had no other income since last summer. He sold the car and got a brand new one on a terrible deal, repeated that cycle, and—I'd be surprised if dad waited for reasonable, competitive offers for anything. Don't know if he ever paid back any of his debt, either. He disappeared for nearly two months in the fall, and when he returned… there was not much left of anything. I swear gramps would've killed him if he wasn't my father."

"What did your dad do, before he—fell off the rails?" mom asked.

"Odds and ends. Stores, warehouses, delivery. He fucked up his back in the army, so he sometimes pulled out of jobs to take care of that. Did some construction work, too, but…" Edward gave a twisted smile to my dad. "Was surrounded by people who use. He switched to security when mom got worried."

"So this is not his first rodeo?"

"No, but… I don't know anything about the previous time. What he was on, for how long… I've no clue. I just know that dad got clean when he met mom. Stayed clean all my life. Beyond my parents being careful with what he was prescribed, I never… I never had reason to fear a relapse."

I squeezed Edward's hand.

"Could we put him into rehab?" mom asked, gently.

"Not much use unless he's willing. He'd probably come out and overdose immediately." Dad paused, knocking on Edward's knee. "Would he be willing?"

"He has moments when he swears on mom's grave he wants to stop using but…" Edward's face twisted. "I don't believe him."

"Why not?" Emmett asked.

Edward shrugged. "It loses its value the fifty third time he promises to get clean and you find him high as a kite ten minutes later. Just like my aunt. They'll promise me anything if they think it helps them get their next hit. But—" Edward's unsteady exhale against my hair was heavy with emotion. "He got clean, once. That has to count for something, right? The problem is, even if we could force him, I'm not exactly swimming in dough."

My parents and I looked at one other. None of us said a word when I gave them the briefest of nods. I'd use my money to put Edward's dad through rehab in a heartbeat.

"If we could talk to a few people and pay for a place, do you think you could help us make it happen? Talk to him, convince him, but, if all else fails—try to make it happen anyway?"

Edward jerked back from my body to look my dad in the eyes. Touched and taken aback, he pressed his lips together if only to hide the emotion hidden behind the thin line of his lips, and he repeated the same sentence for the second time today with the exact same halt in his wonder.

"Why, why would you do that?"

Mom gave Edward a gentle smile. "Charlie and I… did not have much support when Bella was young. Neither of us has any siblings, and the parents that weren't dead were—problematic. I don't think we could live with ourselves if we didn't find a way to help you."

Edward swallowed. His flared nostrils, restrained exhale, and trembling lips carefully, tightly pressed together revealed more than any words could've. Wanting to comfort him, I pressed a long kiss against his shoulder. My chest felt too small for my heart when Edward squeezed my palm between his.

Mom politely ignored Edward's struggle of emotions as she asked, "I don't mean to pry into the contents of your wallet, but I have to ask: did you not get a substantial insurance payout from the crane accident?"

"The case is in court, but the three companies responsible are also suing each other, so… we'll see. It might take another decade before we all receive a check for twenty five dollars."

"No," mom replied. "I mean yes, I'm sure it'll take years, but crane accidents are serious business. Didn't they give out over a hundred million in Seattle when people died in a similar accident?"

Pausing, Edward grimaced. "Even if that happens… with my dad claiming common law marriage prior to 1997, I doubt I'd see it, and… I have other relatives all too eager to get their hands in that honeypot."

Dad's sigh, almost a growl, took us all off guard. "That's not right. You'll have to tell the court your father perjured himself. There is no other way. You are the legal recipient of any insurance payout for both your mother and grandmother—if not the only one then at least the main one."

Edward rubbed his buzz cut, almost violently, reluctant to agree.

"I think there's another way," mom said. "We could give the court an anonymous tip, or—Charlie and I could file perjury charges against him with no mention of you. I understand that there's no winning any money back from him, but it's crucial that any future payouts be to you should there be any."

"Filing charges costs a lot of money," Edward said, quietly. "I can't ask you to do that. And that's not my only problem. The moment he finds out, my life will not be easy, and disregarding even that, it'll be tough to get him to appear in court even when he's not having a psychotic episode. I don't think it's worth it."

"I disagree. We won't proceed with anything without your express permission, but can Charlie and I at least have your consent to discuss this with our lawyer? Only to discuss how to proceed should you want to."

"You guys have a lawyer?"

Glancing at me, mom made a face. "It would be risky to have a minor daughter receiving a salary with all the rules that apply to her without consulting one. What do you say?"

Raising eyebrows at me, Edward pulled his bottom lip in his mouth, pausing. I couldn't tell who was more taken aback by the length and intensity of the discussion, Edward or me, but a moment later, Edward nodded. He didn't look half as exhausted as I felt even if he ran his palm over his buzz cut more and more frequently. Touched and near-speechless, Edward agreed on the details of how my parents should proceed with the case, if only in a consulting capacity, but my mom seemed to have the energy of a sugar-injected toddler because instead of ending our intense discussion, she said,

"Please at least tell us that you own Esme's double-wide."

"It's in probate," Edward replied. "But yes. Gramps and I have a court thing in April now that I'm… allowed to inherit. I don't know if this will screw up my FAFSA application because it's technically an asset but it's… kind of locked. I don't want to sell it with my dad living there even if he's not there a lot because the apartment he and my aunt have in Jackson is not exactly suitable for living."

"How did you finish your FAFSA anyway with your father… the way he is?"

"Mr. Needham and gramps helped me with the income and tax returns, and I…" Edward shrugged. "I was honest in it. I'm not confident my dad knew what he was signing but he did sign it."

"I'm glad," dad replied. "Blaise has been a tremendous help to us, too. But where does your father currently get the money to—use?"

Edward scratched his ear but winced as he touched the fresh piercing.

"He sells everything he can get his hands on," he admitted quietly. "I'm lucky he doesn't know that raspberry pies have value or they'd be gone. I keep my door locked whenever I'm away, and I made a new bank account he can't access on my birthday. But, if you ask me—it's a matter of… if not days then weeks before he has a criminal record. It's frankly a miracle he doesn't have one yet."

I'd known this was the case but my heart still broke for Edward.

"Bella, can you give us a moment?" dad asked, his tone so casual that his question caught me off guard. Edward, too, snapped his chin up. Feeling too awkward to kiss Edward in front of everyone, I pressed my lips against his shoulder, squeezed his hand and disappeared in my room.

I felt like an elastic string stretched too long. With my tired mind bursting with new information, I face-planted against my bed, waking Jake who'd been sleeping on my pillow. He stretched and looked at me in disapproval but curled up again. I bumped his head with my nose and began petting him. He purred. I was insanely curious as to what my dad wanted to discuss that he didn't want me there for, but it felt wrong to attempt to hear it.

Mom had fortunately insisted on feeding us all before our draining conversation, so at least I didn't have to sneak into the kitchen to eat.

Had it really only been yesterday when I'd fucked up at the mall? Had Edward and I really only gotten together barely more than a week ago? For the month I'd known him, which days had he gone home only to take care of his father, look after Riley and handle everything alone? How did he squeeze chess and olympiads and friendships and me into it all? And he hadn't complained once.

Well, he had complained about his aunt but he'd been tight-lipped about his dad, and I was so grateful that he had gramps because I didn't know how else he could've stayed so grounded and loving my heart could've burst. I was in awe of how gentle and kind he was to his father through his psychotic episode. How did he not hate everything and everyone with the passion of a thousand suns with all the anvils on his shoulders? He had so many unfair responsibilities in his life and he just… he just handled them, one at a time. Like it was normal.

I would've given him half of my money in a heartbeat if I didn't know he'd fight me tooth and nail on every penny of it.

But I did know that I needed to call Tanya, and it was stupid that my stomach churned at the thought of it because Edward was handling far, far more serious issues every single day, and I was scared of a phone call? How pathetic was I?

I'd do it, though. I had to.

Edward stayed with my parents and Emmett long enough that I took out my phone and caught up with my social media. Alice and Jasper had had a blast at the party, and Alice had blown up my phone through the night with videos and messages. Jane had hooked up with Eric, Tyler had vomited on Jasper's stepdad's antique rug, and Alice had played beer pong with Jasper half the night. She'd also said that Jasper had grown worried when Edward didn't pick up his call this morning, so I sent them both a short, sweet message about us being okay, but I couldn't believe their party existed in the same universe with Edward's life.

…

I slid off my bed when I heard three faint knocks on the door. Standing on my doorway in his ripped blue jeans and ragged-edged gray hoodie, Edward looked like an anxious, scolded schoolkid with his palm on the back of his neck. He shut the door. Walking up to him, I adored his silent, concerned eyes watching my every move until I stepped close enough for him to pull me into his arms. His heavy, exhausted exhale blew against my ear when he squeezed me. Rain splattered on the windows. Neither of us said a word. He felt warm and firm against me, and I had so many questions and apologies on the tip of my tongue but Edward had been endlessly patient with me and he deserved that kind of patience from me, too, even if I struggled to give it to him.

Eventually, Edward's chest expanded against my cheek with a big inhale before he whispered,

"I'm sorry I fucked up, baby."

"Nothing happened," I argued, craning my neck to see his face.

"My dad scared the shit out of you," Edward replied, brushing his finger over my cheek, his touch tender in spite of his rough skin. "That's not nothing."

"I never felt in danger. You were there. But I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I feel so bad that I stayed hidden with Riley and called Emmett on you. Are you mad?"

Edward squeezed me against his chest and exhaled against my hair. "I shat on you for half an hour yesterday for disappearing on me and when I fuck up, you ask me if I'm mad when you do exactly what I ask you to do? Feather-heart," he emphasized my nickname like he was scolding me. "Emmett hasn't stopped singing you praises since your parents asked you to come to your room."

"What? You're joking. I didn't know compliments ever passed that man's lips."

Edward smiled. "He's pretty pissed at your parents, though, for taking off all the way to Covington instead of being ten minutes away."

Smiling, I took a whiff of his hoodie. I adored how comforting he smelled, even if his scent contained more notes of motor oil and WD-40 than anything perfum-y.

"I get that, but… I don't know if he understands that my parents haven't had a proper free night for themselves for a year, and going out with dad is so, so important to mom." I groaned. "And I took that away from them again. How I'm not grounded for the rest of my life beats me."

"I mean…" Edward paused. The smile was obvious in his voice. "Grounding you would only make you a bigger cockblocker than you already—"

I headbutted his chest, but Edward dodged and grinned before he wrapped himself tighter around me and pressed his soft, warm lips against my hairline. I felt loved, but beyond that, I was so relieved that the ridiculous teenage boy who teased me was still inside my insanely responsible, world-class-adulting boyfriend.

I straddled Edward's lap when he sat on the edge of my bed. His palms snuck under my cropped hoodie, squeezing and pulling me closer, and there was something new and intimate in his touch, or maybe I felt it because of last night.

Grateful that I didn't have to crane my neck to see his face, I slid my palms around his neck. I felt overwhelmed by how intense his life was, full of unfair responsibilities and people who'd failed him. I touched my nose against his definitely unshaven cheek, and a rush of affection burst through me for how kind and patient he was with me.

"I love you," I whispered.

Edward's hum was a half-growl as he squeezed me tight against him, his breath hot on my ear. "I love you, too," he muttered, surrounding me with his warmth. "So much, Feather-heart. I'm sorry I fucked up."

It was an apology I didn't need, but he wouldn't have been my kind-hearted boyfriend if he didn't feel his fuck-ups so strongly.

Edward had, indeed, expected me to meet his father today, but his dad was supposed to be dropped off later by a friend who was usually reliable. He'd hoped to keep my meeting with his dad brief, but, of course, he hadn't known that his dad was going through a psychotic episode. Emmett pulling a gun on his father wasn't the highlight of Edward's week, either, but at least he understood why I'd called Emmett.

My parents had asked Edward if he was involved in drugs (he wasn't), if he had enough money (he probably didn't but wouldn't admit to needing any) and given him the 'we're not mad we're disappointed' talk. Much like me, Edward would've preferred that they'd yelled at him.

"Did they make you figure out your own punishment?" I asked, tickling my fingertips with his hair.

Edward's sigh was loaded with exhaustion. "They did."

"And…?"

He searched my eyes with such tenderness my heart filled up. "I told them the only real punishment would be if they didn't allow me to keep seeing you."

My throat felt tight. "They wouldn't—"

"They didn't. They said I was too hard on myself."

"You are. You so are," I agreed, relieved beyond measure. "What did they make you do instead?"

"Whenever Riley is my responsibility, I have to bring him here to you. Whatever time, day, night, they want to have Riley here if he's with me. And I am to always inform them when my dad is staying with me, when he comes and goes." Watching me, Edward slid his hands up and down my back. "Which honestly isn't much of a punishment as it is… helping me, which is—insane. Your parents are not responsible for Riley, or how I feel about taking care of him. I tried to tell them this, but they wouldn't listen, and—"

Edward pressed his lips into a thin line, not quite crying but clearly struggling to hide how touched he was. Heat tightened my throat as I softly kissed his lips.

"I love you," I whispered. "We'll help you, baby. You're not alone."

Edward's inhale was sharp and shaky as he crushed me into a hug, and I could feel his Adam's apple move against my neck as he swallowed. He pressed a wet, hot kiss against the back of my neck, and his voice had a rough edge to it.

"Do you know how fucked I'll be if you break up with me?"

"Hey, now," I replied, swallowing back tears because Edward suppressing his emotions did wild things to my heart. "You'd better not cheat on me because that's the only way I'd let you go."

"Fuck no," Edward growled, squeezing me. "Never."

Smiling through my shimmering eyes, I pulled back and caressed the side of his face. Edward's fierce, protective gaze lingered on my lips, as it had for longer than we'd been together, and I arched against him when his warm palms slid underneath my T-shirt to touch my bare skin. He kissed me. His soft lips molding against mine spoke in raw comfort and an ache that lit me aflame, and I reveled in the disheveled, unrestrained need in his eyes. Our breaths mingled. His hum sent vibrations through me that made me want to squeeze him closer and kiss him until I'd lured all his worries out of him.

Relieved that nothing had changed between us, I squeezed his neck and whispered against his lips, "I want you."

A rumbly moan buzzed through me. "Fuck. Don't say that to me, baby. Not before Thursday."

"What's on Thursday?" I teased. "You got any big plans?"

Edward muffled his laughter against my neck and squeezed me tight against him, and it thrilled me to the bones to know that we were okay. Smiling, I ran my palms over his head and drew my nose over his cheek.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't tell anyone about your dad. I wouldn't trade last night for anything."

"Yeah?"

Unable to meet his gaze, I nodded, but Edward pressed a firm, happy kiss against my lips, lifting my chin. "Me, too," he admitted.

I had a lot more to say and ask, but the intensity of our previous discussion had drained the words out of me. Judging by Edward's tender, wordless kisses, he felt the same. Tired but relieved, we made out on my bed, kissing, touching and teasing each other until Jake came to lick Edward's neck. (I swear one of these days I'll discover that Edward showers in catnip.)

It was a strange day to come to an end. I had a lot to discuss with my parents, but my questions had to wait because Edward couldn't stop apologizing about Riley peeing on my parents' bed while he was asleep—really showing how thoroughly responsible Edward felt for his cousin. But my parents had kept the blankie they'd put under me when I was a troublesome bed-wetter. Mom had had the foresight to put it under Riley, which gave them barely anything to clean up.

Emmett had left by the time we had dinner. I was convinced that my parents cooked more just to make sure Edward had leftovers to take home, and we sent the boys on their merry way with a full backpack. Thirty minutes later, Edward informed us that Riley was home with his mother and Edward's dad was gone from his home, leaving him alone. I desperately wished I could've kept him company, and I knew he felt the same when he offered to talk all night, but I couldn't.

I had a thrilling, nerve-wracking call to make now that I knew how to proceed with my NDA, because the answer was obvious.

On tenterhooks, I shut my door and turned on my table lamp. Rain hit my windows. I stared at Tanya's number for at least a minute before I took a breath and pressed the call button. Nails between my teeth, I waited.

"Bella!" Tanya answered, sounding out of breath. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Jesus, I really needed to call people more often or they'd always suspect I'd fucked up in some glorious way if I was calling them.

"Hi, Tanya," I answered, forcing a smile and cringing as I began pacing in my room. "I'm sorry to call you, but I need you to have an NDA prepared for my boyfriend."

"The boy you've been seeing for a week? The trailer park boy?" Tanya paused. "Nem fodendo." (No fucking way.)

My stomach twisted at her response, but I was determined. I'd bent over backwards for her. I had rescheduled my schooldays around work, I'd emailed teachers when I had to pull out of already agreed-upon after-school arrangements, I'd skipped countless tests after last-minute changes. I prioritized work. I'd pumped myself full of NyQuil and Buckley's cough syrup to make sure I didn't have to pull out of any on-location shootings when time was tight and location near-unavailable but I was coming down with the flu. I never took days off. I was insanely cooperative on set. I didn't talk back even when I wanted to, and I did not say a word to our child labor coordinator James when my hours exceeded the allowed legal amount, because oh yes, it had happened.

On set, my people-pleasing reached Burj Khalifa levels, and I had never asked Tanya for anything, ever. I was ready to use my asshole diva card if she didn't agree because fucking hell, I was going to make this happen even if I had to put my contract for the second season on the line.

I'd never purposefully pissed her off, but I guess there was a first time for everything.

I kept my voice level as I explained, "His father is a meth addict and I'm going to pull an absolute clusterfuck of attention on him with no warning if I can't talk to him first. He needs to know."

"Bella…" Tanya warned, exhaling slowly. "You're out of your mind. Why would you even date a guy like that? Do your parents know? That's… I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, but that's Jerico's idea. You barely even know him."

"I disagree. My parents know, and how well you think I know him is irrelevant. I understand that I'm a little kid with no real world experience and I'll date a hundred guys after he breaks up with me and he'll be a blip on my radar, but I do not care about that right now. He's my boyfriend now. He has to know, and I am doing the adult thing and telling you that I need an NDA for him to sign."

"Absolutely not. NDA is not worth it if the only consequence of suing him for violating it is that he declares bankruptcy. It's not worth it, Bella. He has no money to put on the line. What's the point of giving him this information if he could make far more money out of this knowledge than the studio would from suing him?"

It was so weird to argue with her because her tone didn't match the almost full-blown argument we were having.

"Are you trying to tell me that anyone on set making less than me, with less to lose, doesn't have an NDA? Because I'm sorry but I don't believe you."

"That is not what I'm saying. Of course they have NDAs, but they have job security and reputation within the industry on the line, too. Their future is on the line, and I don't know if you've noticed, but people in the film industry are obsessively passionate folks. That's not the case for a guy who's been your boyfriend for a week. A fucking week. Foda-se, Bella. The risk is too great. What's his skin in the game? Whose money are you putting on the line, here?"

"Mine."

…

12 – the police; use is most often thought to have originated from the police radio code 10-12 (in Atlanta, GA) indicating that civilians are present where the police is patrolling

Nem fodendo. – No fucking way. (Brazilian Portuguese)

Ideia de Jerico – literally "Jerico's idea" (Brazilian Portuguese) is a really bad idea or an idea that is an absurdly inapplicable

Foda-se – usually Fuck! or Fuck it! In this context, can be read as I don't give a fuck. (Portuguese)

…