Chapter 38: The Vote

JPOV

Wednesday March 22, 2006

It was strange being back in Forks, in my own room, with Anya. My girlfriend spending the night at my house—it was surreal in a way I hadn't expected. When we fled to Ithaca last fall, she stayed in my room for three days before our Catskills cabin was ready, but back then, I had to stand guard outside in the hall to keep Eddie Boy away from her, to let the plot continue without interference. But now, as the weak Pacific Northwest sunlight streamed through the windows and Anya asleep in my bed, I couldn't help but feel… well, a bit like a teenager.

My girlfriend spent the night at my house. We had sex in my bed. Twice.

The thought was so absurdly normal that I couldn't help but laugh. A quiet, genuine laugh that felt almost out of place after everything we'd been through this past week.

Anya stirred beside me, her eyes still closed, but a sleepy groan escaped her lips. "Care to share the joke, Tex?" she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow. Typically, Anya slept in the nude after we had sex, but during the night she needed to use the toilet and since we don't have an en suite here she grabbed my dress shirt and was still wearing it.

I grinned, leaning back against the headboard. "Just thinking how strange this all is. My girlfriend spent the night at my house, and I'm feeling like a lovestruck teenager."

She cracked one eye open, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Well, if the shoe fits…"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Aren't you supposed to sneak out the window before my parents catch you here?" I teased, reaching over to gently tickle her side.

"Jasper!" she squealed, squirming under my touch. "May I remind you that I am older than you? I am not a teenager, you—you—you—" She couldn't finish her sentence as I continued my playful assault, her laughter filling the room.

"I believe that's Major Jasper Whitlock of the Texas Cavalry, ma'am," I drawled with mock seriousness, leaning in as if I were tipping an invisible hat.

That got her attention. She stopped laughing just long enough to gape at me. "Jasper, did you seriously just 'ma'am' me?" she nearly shrieked, but I was too caught up in my own laughter, still tickling her mercilessly.

Damn, I loved this woman. The way she made everything feel. And, right now, I really couldn't give a fuck if Edward's self-loathing was deepening by the moment. He'd chosen to have an existential crisis for six months, dragging everyone through the mud with him. He could have been more logical, could have tried to make things work with Bella from the start, and now… Damn, I couldn't wait to see how this all played out.

Anya must have sensed where my thoughts were headed because she suddenly stopped laughing, looking at me with a mix of amusement and warning before straddling me. "Jasper, don't you dare think that!"

I grinned at her, unable to hide the mischievous glint in my eyes. "Think what, Darlin'? I'm just here, having a good time with my girl."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Uh-huh, sure. I know that look. You're just itching to see what happens next, aren't you?"

I didn't deny it. "Maybe a little. But right now, all I care about is you, here, with me." I rested my hands along her thighs and then raised them up her back under her shirt, wrapping my arms around her, my fingers brushing the undersides of her breasts. "The rest of it can wait."

She sighed contentedly, nestling against my bare chest, her hips beginning to undulate slowly. "Good answer, Major Whitlock. Good answer."

And for a few more precious moments, we stayed like that, tangled up in each other, letting the world outside wait, Anya's desire for me rising slowly in time with her hips undulating. Just as I was about to relax into the moment, to flip her over and start our morning properly – with some lovin' missionary – the door to my room flew open, and there was Edward, glaring at us like we were a pair of unruly teenagers caught in the act. Well, I mean we were about to act on something. His voice was a low hiss, barely contained fury. "Seriously, Jasper! Contain yourselves! We have a serious issue to discuss. Everyone downstairs, now."

Then his gaze shifted to Anya, who was straddling me, pressed against my chest, wearing nothing more than one of my button-down shirts undone. The look on his face was almost a sneer, something rare for Edward. "You too, Anya."

With that, he slammed the door shut, and we exchanged glances. She muttered, "Merde. This."

I wanted to ask what she knew—what had her suddenly so on edge—but she shook her head, signaling for me to stay quiet. She mouthed one word to me: Reader.

Ah, the plot. I could sense the shift, the way she was mentally preparing herself for what was coming next. I nodded, letting her know I understood, but before I could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed me lightly. Then, pulling me close, she whispered against my ear, barely moving her lips, "Your line is, 'I vote yes. It would be nice not to want to kill you all the time.'"

I blinked, trying to piece together what that meant, but before I could, she kissed me again, silencing any questions I might have had. And then, as if to drive home the point, she began to hum Wuthering Heights under her breath, Eddie Boy's theme song and her clue that this was a pivotal moment.

I couldn't help but smile against her lips, realizing that whatever was about to go down, Anya already knew what was going to happen. I had no idea what Fucker's big issue was, but if Anya was this prepared, I knew I could trust her instincts.

"Guess we'd better get downstairs," I murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

She nodded, the playful spark in her eyes tempered with seriousness. "And remember, Tex… stick to the script."

I chuckled softly, already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just a bit. "Always, darlin'."

With one last kiss, she rose from the bed and hastily shimmied into a thong, some skinny jeans, buttoning up my shirt, crossing the long ends around her waist to tie into a knot. She never bothered with a bra. I threw on whatever was closest and then we headed down the stairs together after she had twisted her hair up into a messy bun held in place with chopsticks.

To say I was shocked to see Bella there would be an understatement. She stood in the middle of the Cullen living room, looking more bewildered than I'd ever seen her. But it was nothing compared to the look on her face when she spotted Anya—alive and well—by my side.

Her eyes went wide, and for a moment, she just stared, as if trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she knew. Then, with a voice that was equal parts disbelief and accusation, she shrieked, "I thought you were dead!"

Well shit, I doubt this was in the playbook.

Anya stiffened beside me, her fingers tightening around mine, but she kept her expression calm, almost unreadable. The rest of the family stood around awkwardly, unsure where to look or what to say.

It was Eddie Boy who made the first move, standing a few feet away, he looked torn between irritation and something else—relief, maybe? But his eyes flicked to me, silently urging me to say something, to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand.

Of course, because Eddie Boy failed to tell Bella that Anya was indeed alive and well. Because why wouldn't he? It was so hard to contain the eye roll, or my thoughts from escaping, though from Eddie Boy's face he caught on to my annoyance.

But before I could respond, Anya spoke up, her voice steady and composed. "Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated, Bella."

There was a flicker of something in Bella's eyes—confusion, maybe even a hint of fear—but she didn't press further. Instead, she turned to Edward, clearly seeking some kind of explanation.

Wait, did she think Anya had turned?

Edward glanced at me, then at Anya, his expression hardening. "We have more important things to discuss," he said, his tone brokering no argument. "But yes, Bella, Anya's presence here is… complicated."

Complicated? No, you having an existential crisis for six months is a complication. Anya is the only normal thing in this situation.

Bella looked like she wanted to argue, to demand answers, but instead, she just nodded, still clearly rattled. I could feel Anya channeling her boredom and I squeezed her hand gently, letting her know I got the message.

"Let's all sit down," Carlisle interjected, his voice calm and authoritative, as always as he led us towards the dining table. "We have much to discuss, but first, there's the matter of Bella's request."

Wait, Bella's request? What request? Did it involve beating the shit out of Eddie Boy because get in line!

We took our seats, and as I settled in beside Anya, I couldn't help but think of the line she'd prepped me for upstairs. Whatever was about to unfold, I knew we were about to walk a very delicate line between the plot as it was meant to be and the reality we were living in now.

And then the bombshell dropped: The Volturi had demanded that Bella be turned. They couldn't have humans knowing about vampires, and this was their way of ensuring secrecy.

Well, no shit, we all knew that humans aren't supposed to know about vampires, it was rule #1 of vampirism 101. Why did it take so long to remember that rule?

I wanted to ask about what Aro knew, what he might have sensed about Anya, but before I could, she squeezed my hand. The signal was clear: she was channeling her boredom, a reminder to keep the plot on track. I bit back the question, forcing myself to stay in character.

Then, as if on cue, Bella turned to each of us, her voice trembling but determined, asking us to vote on whether she should be turned. It was a surreal moment, the script playing out exactly as Anya had hinted it would.

Really? We're voting now on who gets to be turned into a vampire? I had to contain the eye roll.

I could feel every eye in the room on me when my turn came. The role of the struggling vampire—torn between his instincts and his conscience—was mine to play. And I played it perfectly.

"I vote yes," I said, my voice laced with the right amount of hesitance and struggle. "It would be nice not to want to kill you all the time." I even managed to add a little Texan drawl for added emphasis.

The words felt foreign, rehearsed, but I delivered them as if they were my own, the internal conflict practically oozing out of me. If Oscars were handed out for this kind of performance, I would've been a shoo-in. Every gesture, every inflection was just as it needed to be, a perfect portrayal of a vampire caught between his humanity and his darker nature.

I could see Bella's relief when she heard my vote, but I also caught the brief flicker of recognition in Anya's eyes—she knew I was just following the script, just playing my part in this twisted story. The others followed suit, one by one, casting their votes with varying degrees of conviction.

But when Bella turned to Anya and asked for her vote, I felt the spike in her emotions—sharp, sudden anxiety that shot through me like a jolt.

Ah, shit. That stupid teenager, I thought, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes yet again. Anya wasn't part of this, not really, but Bella, ever the curious one, just had to ask.

Anya didn't hesitate, though. "I abstain," she said smoothly, her voice steady. "Not really a Cullen." She left it at that, her tone making it clear there was nothing more to discuss.

Damn straight she's not. She's mine. A Whitlock.

It didn't matter in the end. We had enough votes for Bella to be turned. The decision was made, the outcome set, but the tension in the room lingered, heavy and unspoken. Anya's quick response had kept things on track, but I still couldn't get over that we seriously voted on whether Bella would be one of us. The Volturi are hardly a democracy. Why wouldn't Eddie Boy tell her that?

Before I could dwell on that though too long, Eddie Boy stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the wood floor. The tension that had hung over the room flared hotter as Edward's face darkened, his movements sharp and rigid. Without a word, he turned and stalked out of the dining room.

I blinked, caught off guard. Was that in the playbook?

"Edward?" Bella's voice was soft, but even I could hear the unease in it. She started to rise, but Alice touched her arm gently, urging her to stay seated.

"Give him a minute," Alice murmured, her tone soothing but distant, like her focus was elsewhere. Likely trying to see the fallout before it even happened.

I had no such advantage. Anya shifted beside me, her hand brushing against mine her feelings a mixture of curiosity—but she kept quiet, trusting me to stay seated.

Edward didn't make it far. The crash echoed through the house, a sharp, splintering sound that froze everyone in their tracks. Bella flinched at the noise, her eyes wide, as though she were bracing for another blow. Welcome to the family Bella. Not exactly what you thought, was it?

"What the hell?" Emmett's voice boomed, breaking the silence. He was already halfway out of his chair, following the sound like a bloodhound on a trail. Rosalie rolled her eyes but followed at a slower, more deliberate pace.

By the time I reached the living room, with Anya still holding my hand and at my side, Edward was standing in the middle of the chaos. His fists were clenched at his sides, shards of glass glinting around his feet. The 60-inch plasma—Emmett's prized possession imported from Korea—lay shattered on the floor, a fractured, ruined carcass of what it once was.

Anya squeezed my hand, leaning slightly closer as she mouthed, "I forgot about this." Her amusement rippled through her like a live current, her effort to contain it laughable at best.

Seriously? This? My creator had Eddie Boy destroy a 60-inch plasma TV—the vampire equivalent of a tantrum? I flicked my gaze from her barely restrained grin back to Edward's theatrical display. Maintaining a facade of shock and horror was officially impossible.

"Oh, come on!" Emmett's booming voice shattered the tense silence, his face a mix of disbelief and dismay. He gestured toward the wreckage. "Edward, you couldn't wait until after March Madness? What am I supposed to do now? Watch the Sweet Sixteen from a diner in town?! Some bar in Seattle?!"

Anya made a choking sound beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. She wasn't laughing—yet—but she was dangerously close, and I could feel the tremors of her amusement pulsing through her, making it harder for me to keep a straight face.

Rosalie, ever the picture of elegance, folded her arms and arched a brow, surveying Edward with icy disdain. "Bravo, Edward," she drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't think you had it in you to destroy something so expensive and impractical. Does this mean we're redecorating now, or was this a one-time temper tantrum?"

Anya let out a quiet snort, and all heads turned to her at once. Her eyes went wide, and I could feel her embarrassment rush in to drown out the humour. She cleared her throat, trying to recover, and muttered, "Pardonez-moi."

The corners of my mouth twitched, and I had to look away to stifle my own laughter. Edward, of course, ignored all of it. He stood there, his chest rising and falling sharply, as though he needed to catch his breath—despite not needing to. Classic Edward, letting his guilt and frustration unravel in the most melodramatic way possible.

Esme, ever the practical one, appeared moments later with a garbage can in hand. She crossed the room briskly, her voice calm but firm. "Edward, clean this up. Now."

He didn't argue. With a defeated look, he bent down and began picking up shards of glass, the reluctant movements of someone who knew better than to defy Esme when she used that tone.

Bella hovered uncertainly near the doorway, looking lost and out of place in the aftermath. Alice swooped in, her voice cheerful but calculated. "Bella, why don't you come upstairs with me? I've got some new designs I've been dying to show you."

The human, safely distracted and ushered away, left the tension to ease just slightly. The moment she was out of range, Anya leaned closer, pressing against my side. Her voice was a conspiratorial whisper, her breath warm against my ear. "Holy shit! Even better in person!" Her laughter bubbled up, soft and barely restrained, but unmistakably genuine. So, this was in the playbook, WHY? His suicide by Volturi wasn't enough, he had to lash out? Dude, make up your mind!

Her snickering sent another wave of amusement through me, and I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face. The moment, however, was cut short by Carlisle's quiet approach. He stopped beside us, his expression one of polite concern as he regarded Anya.

"Anya?" Carlisle asked gently, tilting his head slightly. "Are you alright?"

Anya, still trying to suppress her laughter, straightened and attempted to school her features into something resembling seriousness. She cleared her throat and said, "Oh, McVampy, this all just reminded me of something out of a book I read a long time ago, wouldn't you say?"

I stifled a chuckle, recognizing the deliberate vagueness of her comment, clearly meant for Bella's benefit in case the human overheard. But her words only made Edward hiss sharply, his frustration flaring again, while Emmett burst into outright laughter. The rest of us couldn't help snickering too, the room's tension dissolving further into humour at Edward's expense.

Anya caught herself then, her laughter tapering off as she seemed to remember why we were still standing there. Her expression sobered, the amusement dimming as she glanced at me briefly before stepping toward Edward.

"Edward," she said, her tone quieter now, measured and sincere, "do you need any help?"

Her offer hung in the air, shifting the mood once again. Edward looked up from the glass he was gathering, his jaw tight as he regarded her. He didn't respond immediately, but there was a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes, like he wasn't sure whether to accept her olive branch or keep wallowing in his frustration.

Behind him, Carlisle nodded faintly, his approval subtle but clear. Take that Eddie boy! See, Anya IS the only normal one out of the whole lot of us.

Anya followed Edward into the room, stepping carefully over the scattered shards as she grabbed the garbage bin Esme had brought in. She held it out for Edward to dump the broken glass into, but she made no move to actually touch the jagged pieces herself. I noticed, with some relief, that she had thrown on a pair of shoes rather than her usual habit of wandering barefoot. It wouldn't do for her to slice her foot on a shard—not with Edward's distinct lack of control around humans and the sight or scent of blood.

Edward worked in tense silence, his movements stiff and mechanical as he cleaned up the remnants of his tantrum. Anya, for her part, stood patiently by, her expression calm and neutral now, though I could still feel faint ripples of her earlier amusement lingering beneath the surface. She didn't say a word, and to my surprise, neither did Edward.

Once the last of the glass was swept up and the mess cleared, Edward straightened, the garbage bin in Anya's hands now full of glittering shards. She set it carefully on the side table and stepped back, her work done.

I took that as my cue. Stepping forward, I fixed Edward with a steady look, my tone calm but firm. "Edward, we need to talk."

His eyes flicked to mine, and back to Anya, still dark with residual frustration, but there was an edge of resignation in his expression. He nodded silently, gesturing for us to follow him out of the room.

Good? Bad? Will we be voting to turn Anya next?

We headed up the stairs to Carlisle's study and closed the door behind us to give a semblance of privacy in a house of vampires. I noticed that Alice turned a radio on in her room, no doubt to ensure Bella couldn't hear this conversation either. Thank you, Alice.

Edward didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You want to know what Aro saw," he said, more of a statement than a question. His gaze was intense, and I could see the conflict behind his eyes—part of him still grappling with the responsibility of what he knew, what he'd seen.

No Fucker, I want to know why the fuck you thought throwing a temper tantrum for six months was a good idea. Of course, I want to know about Aro! I tried hard to keep those thoughts to myself and nodded, glancing at Anya, who was uncharacteristically silent, her usual calm facade in place but her fingers lightly brushing against mine, a subtle reminder of the gravity of this conversation. "Yes, Edward. We need to know what Aro picked up on when he read your thoughts—and Alice's."

Edward took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he gathered his thoughts. "When Aro touched my hand, he saw everything," he began, his voice low and measured. "He read not only my thoughts but Alice's as well. He saw the baseball field, the confrontation with James. He even saw the dance studio, where James…" He trailed off, as if the memory itself was painful, but then forced himself to continue. "Where James bit Bella."

Anya tensed beside me, and I lightly squeezed her hand, a silent gesture of support.

"But," Edward continued, "there was no indication that Aro saw anything about Anya. His focus was entirely on Bella. In his mind, she was the only human involved, the only one who posed a threat to our world's secrecy."

I felt a small measure of relief, but it wasn't enough to fully ease my concerns. "You're sure? He didn't pick up on anything about Anya—nothing that would make him suspicious?"

Edward shook his head. "No. Aro only saw what was directly related to Bella. Even in the dance studio, where Anya was right there… he only saw Bella. It's as if Anya was a bystander with no significance to the events he witnessed."

Anya finally spoke, her voice calm but laced with confusion "So, as far as Aro is concerned, I'm just another human—nothing more?"

"No," Edward shook his head, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. "It was as if you were invisible. Not even there. Even in Alice's thoughts—before she gave Aro her hand—she was worried about you, Anya. She was thinking about a conversation the two of you had, but Aro… nothing. It's like you didn't register at all."

I wonder what conversation Alice was thinking over? New Year's Eve? Shit…my ex and my mate are now under the same roof…..oh fuck… this will be interesting.

I shoved those errant thoughts and focused on Anya who frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed this. The idea that she could be so easily overlooked, especially by someone as powerful as Aro, seemed almost impossible. And yet, Fucker was only emoting confusion and honesty, a weird combo coming from him if I was honest. If Aro hadn't seen her, hadn't sensed anything out of the ordinary, then perhaps she was safer than any of us had dared to hope.

Edward continued, his tone still edged with incredulity. "He saw everything else in perfect detail—every moment with Bella, every thought that crossed my mind or Alice's—but you… you were like a ghost, a shadow. Nothing about you caught his attention."

Would he have seen her and I communing in nature? Our chat Christmas morning? Well…both involve Anya so….no? maybe? I mean we're not voting for Anya to join the family so perhaps even those conversations were missing. Thank god for small mercies. I really didn't need the Volturi to know what a catastrophic idiot I was last year.

Anya exhaled sharply, and then, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, she broke into a relieved grin. "Well, praise be!" she said, the relief flooding her voice. The tension that had been hanging over her finally began to ebb away, leaving a sense of cautious optimism in its place.

And then Anya began to laugh. It was sudden, unexpected, and completely out of place given the seriousness of what we'd just discussed. It didn't make any sense.

"Anya?" I asked, more than a little confused.

She turned to me, a wide smile on her face, and simply said two words: "Suspend disbelief."

I stared at her, trying to process what she meant, but before I could respond, she stepped forward and did something that left us all stunned—she hugged Edward. Actually hugged him. The look of shock on his face was priceless, his usual stoic demeanour completely shattered by the unexpected gesture. But I caught a slight glimmer of something else, it was so sudden that I thought I misread it – desire.

"Thank you, Edward," she said, her voice sincere and warm. Edward, still recovering from the shock, awkwardly patted her back before she pulled away, the grin never leaving her face. Softly under her breath I heard her say, "Team Jasper to the end." Okay Anya, don't follow? And neither does Eddie Boy.

She then turned to me, a playful glint in her eyes. "How about we go for a walk?"

I couldn't help but smile back, even though I was still trying to make sense of everything. "A walk, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, already moving toward the door. "Fresh air, clear heads. Sounds like just what we need."

I nodded, feeling the lightness in her mood start to rub off on me. "Let's go then."