Your Biggest Fan - 10/?
Title: Your Biggest Fan
Chapter: 10/?
Fandom: Twilight
By: bythedamned
Rating: NC-17 overall
Chapter Wordcount: 9,150
Genre: AU, Slash
Pairing: Edward/Jasper
Summary: Throughout high school, the shy and over-burdened Edward Masen threw himself into work and raising his baby sister. He's always felt lucky just to be friends with track star Jasper Cullen. Now, he doesn't know if just friends is enough. AH AU Slash.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play
A/N: Thanks to my awesome beta, elveys_stuff . Also, there should be some sort of warning for how epically long this is going to be.
Jasper made this weird little noise while he slept, like a purring gurgle deep in his throat, and I was surprised that I’d never heard it before. Then again, it was so low that I could only make it out because his nose was buried in my hair and he was rumbling right against my ear. The way his fingers splayed directly over my thrumming heart, pressing my back intimately into his chest, meant there was no way I could escape the noise. Then again, I didn’t necessarily want to.
It may have woken me up, but it was still really frickin’ adorable.
I could feel the heat of him pressing into my spine but also into the undersides of my thighs, where his bent legs were curled up behind mine, and I was content not to move - only partially because I was excited, under the covers, yet again.
I mean, what’s a morning at the Cullen’s without a little wood?
I willed myself to ignore the strain in my boxers when Jasper’s purr broke off because I knew he’d be awake soon. I didn’t really know what to expect, so I just laid perfectly still, waiting for him to make the first move. His breath that had left a warm, moist spot on the back of my neck breezed across my ear when he whispered, “G’morning.”
He used the arm encircling me to pull me onto my back, but I turned all the way to face him and kept my knees up between us to hide the fact that I was sporting a stiffy. He mimicked me until we were laying under his covers like a couple of uncertain but hopeful question marks, watching each other slowly adjust to the bright light of the new day.
While he blinked sleepily, I let myself get caught up in the rugged handsomeness of his features. He had a strong chin, with a sharp, angular jaw that I was suppressing the urge to nuzzle, and high cheekbones that just drew attention to his mesmerizing blue eyes. Even in his disheveled state, with his hair all puffed up in a tangle on top of his head, Jasper was beautiful. The almost-blond stubble he had grown overnight just made him look even more untamed. Only his broad shoulders were sticking out above the covers, and I could just make out the line of his collarbone through the thin white fabric of his shirt.
I reached up a hand to run my fingers through his loose curls and sweep his cheek-length dirty blond hair behind his ear. Reluctant to take my hand back, I let my fingertips trail across his scratchy cheek and down to the soft gully of his neck. Faster than I could really see, he snatched my hand and pressed it against his own chest. I was shocked to feel the rapid drumbeat of his heart - it nearly matched mine.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked softly.
“Uh-huh.” I wondered if his nervous heartbeat meant he was aroused too, but I wasn’t quite ready to find out. “We should probably get up.”
“Uh-huh.” He made no move to rise, though, and it took me several seconds to actually tear my eyes from his and roll out of bed.
I avoided Jas in the bathroom, as much to keep from being sprayed with water again as anything else. As it got later I lingered in his room in the hopes of avoiding Rosalie, and was feeling rather triumphant when we stepped out the front door with Esme’s neatly-packed sack lunches in our hands.
Of course, that feeling was lost to the wind the moment I saw the sleek Corvette in the driveway behind my own Volvo. Not only did she know I was back, but she had parked me in.
Bitch.
Luckily the Cullen’s driveway was wide enough to fit all their cars side by side, and so with a little maneuvering and a seven-point turn, we were soon on the road. Really, I was surprised she hadn’t let the air out of my tires.
Alice made no mention of Jas’s presence in the front seat, but Bella offered him a cheery “welcome back.” They both hopped out the minute I shifted into park, and were waved over by some tall, older-looking guy I had never seen before.
Well, he was definitely older than them. He still looked younger than I was, by at least a couple years, but was nearly as tall as me - which was saying something. His skin was so brown it might not have been a tan, and even from the car I could tell his eyes were uncommonly dark. It was only the fact that his spiky black hair was shorn so close to his head that kept him from looking like another Rez kid. I didn’t know who he was, but I was suddenly wary of this stranger who was so casually bumping into Alice when they walked - almost like he was doing it on purpose. Ali responded by throwing her full weight against him which didn’t do much in the way of setting him off balance, but did cause him to grab her arm and pull her off to her next class.
I glanced to Jasper to make sure he’d seen it too, and he gave me a quick nod before we headed off to History. We turned in our homework, mine for half-credit - thanks for nothing, Ms. Belfy.
At lunch, Jessica and Lauren found us with the rest of the track team and gabbed about how they’d heard my knee was better and how they’d be there to cheer us on the next time we faced the Wolves. I didn’t really know what to say to them, and I definitely didn’t care if they’d be there, so I shook my faintly-reddish hair into my eyes and let Jas tell them they were awfully sweet and we’d see them around.
Coach Clapp was just as excited as the girls to see me running again, but on Carlisle’s recommendation I restrained my efforts to a lot of stretching and a few jogs around the track. I took it pretty easy, mostly zoning out.
Which is to say, I mostly just thought about Jasper.
He lapped me with ease again and again - a sight I certainly didn’t mind. His backside flexed becomingly with each step and I let my gaze flicker between his ass and the taught musculature of his calves. I may have even intentionally slowed down just to ogle them more often.
My lack of effort was quickly evident, and Coach called me over to suggest I try the weight room instead. He gave me a supportive pat on the back but I knew his concern was just for the standing of the Forks High Track Team, and not me personally.
I didn’t mind the weight room mostly because I had the time to shower before Jasper, which I figured was a good move. Jas wet after a shower was just as appealing as Jas sweaty from running, though, and so I was just as distracted walking to the car as I’d been running around the gym. If he noticed my supposedly-discrete glances, he didn’t comment.
I thought now that I was staying late again Ali might catch a ride home with us, but only Bella was waiting by my car at five o’clock. Ali had sent her a text saying she was still working and would get a ride home before dinner. Apparently, set design took longer than after-school sports. Who knew?
I missed Ali’s chatter, the way it used to be, but Bella did ask thoughtful questions about our day and how my knee was taking the exercise again. She wished me luck and good health and all those other polite mannerisms Charlie had taught her. She really was a very sweet girl.
It felt like a fairly typical day, overall, except that as soon a Bella disappeared out of sight Jasper slipped his fingers through mine. I drove the rest of the way home with my right hand curled around his left, on his knee. He had nice knees.
Our casual ease didn’t last, though, and I pulled my hand from his as soon as I saw the gaudy red convertible adorning the Cullen’s driveway. I parked on the street so as not to block Rosalie in - there was no need to fan the flames here - and we stepped quietly into the house.
It was immediately obvious we’d shown up in the middle of something. Esme and Rosalie were talking heatedly in the entrance to the kitchen but their heads snapped up at the sound of the front door closing.
Rosalie looked like hell, with puffy eyes and a red nose. She’d obviously been crying. Her chest shuddered as she took in a deep breath, and she made aggressive eye contact with me before the sobbing returned in full force. Planting her feet in an Amazonian stance, she stabbed a shaky finger towards the front door and commanded, “Get out.”
I said nothing, but didn’t move either, and she took a menacing step forward.
Esme tried to hold her back, but only half-heartedly. She had one hand held against her own chest like she was trying to restrain the feelings bursting forth from within.
“Get out!” Rosalie yelled again, and was further angered when I glanced at the front door but made no progress towards it.
I didn’t want to get out. I hadn’t meant to upset her, or make her cry, but I didn’t want to leave either.
Rosalie pulled free of Esme, stalking right up to me. My feet moved backward involuntarily, but I was met with Jasper’s hand against my lower back. He was just beside me, steadily holding me in place. The look Rosalie shot him started as a glare, but quickly faded to melancholy rejection.
Her voice was quiet and pained when she asked, “Jas, what are you doing? Why did you bring him back?”
Even though I couldn’t see his face, I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer. His only response was to lightly increase the pressure of his fingertips on my spine.
Rosalie’s tears continued and she sounded broken as she lamented, “We used to be a family. You used to-.” Breaking off on another sob, she whirled around to implore Esme, who was still looking heartbroken in the kitchen. “Mom, please. He’s not one of us. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”
Esme reached for her, like a young mother reaches for a wet baby crying from its crib. Her face was stricken with the pain of her daughter’s struggle. As she moved toward her, though, she said, “Rosie, sweetie. Edward’s staying with us now.”
Rosalie recoiled from her mother and let out a feminine wail. She made to dart for the protection of her own room but in a moment of hesitation, just before slipping around the corner and out of sight, she spun on the spot.
Her eyes found mine from across the open room. “You promised.”
Jasper, finally speaking up, called “Rosie!” softly, but she turned her head away as if to shield herself from the endearment.
“I hate you guys,” she whispered. “I hate you both.”
Seconds later, her door slammed shut in a final statement of grief.
A quiet sniff pulled my attention to Esme, who was now holding the palm of her open hand against her mouth. Her wide eyes were shining.
“Esme,” I started, but she held up her other hand to stop me.
“Please, Edward. Don’t say anything.” Then she, too, rushed to Rosalie’s room, intent on whispering muffled pleas through her door.
I hated to see Esme so upset, especially since it was my presence that caused the family rift in the first place. Hell, I even hated seeing Rosalie so upset, since her angst cast a weighted net over the moods of everyone else in the house. It almost seemed insensitive for me to feel relieved, now, when half the house was in tears, but really… so Rosalie finally announced her hatred of me out loud. All things considered, I figured it could have been much worse.
That relief lasted all of five seconds, though, before I saw the look on Jas’s face. The pressure on my back had slipped, and I’d turned to find him standing stock still, swaying slightly with his eyes closed. His eyebrows were pulled in tightly, practically touching, and his lips were pursed in distress.
“Jas?” I asked softly.
“She’s never said that before.”
“Jas, she doesn’t-.”
He opened his vast blue eyes to me, and they were stormy with emotion. “She’s not supposed to say that. We’re family. She’s a bitch all the time, but I still love her, because she’s family. How can she hate me?”
My hand sought his and he squeezed back in desperation. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for this source of familial angst, and I sought to reassure him.
“She loves you, of course she does. She’s just angry.”
His expression changed, then, into one of wary confusion. “I don’t understand. I’ve kept all my promises to her. I love her.”
“She was talking to me.” I sighed, staring at him through the hair flopping in my face. “You didn’t break a promise, I did. Jas, look, I’m really s-”
“What did you promise her?”
He searched my face like my expression would tell him the answer faster than I would, but I doubted it gave anything away besides my apprehension. I felt edgy, like I didn’t know how he would react. I thought that if I didn’t move, not even a muscle to blink or take a breath, at least I wouldn’t exacerbate the situation.
I had to tell him, though, and I looked him right in the eye when I fessed up. “I was leaving and I promised her that I wouldn’t, you know, come back.”
His shoulders slumped and when he blinked his eyes were unfocused. I thought his eyelids looked like shutters, moving to shut out the harsh brightness of reality. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”
“Jas, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d ever be back. I needed a ride home and-”
“She’s right,” he interrupted me, and the way his blank eyes stared past me made it seem like it was an accident he was even voicing these thoughts out loud. “It’s not supposed to be like this. She used to be my sweet little kid sister, and now she just gets mad at me all the time. And she makes Mom cry.” He shook his head sadly. “I hate seeing Mom cry.”
The hunch of his back and twisted scowl on his face made it clear how much Rosalie’s and Esme’s pain affected him.
I whispered, “I’m really sorry,” through tight lips, and was surprised when his attention snapped back to me.
His eyed raked over me, as if observing me from a distance, and I did my best to stay perfectly still. I was beyond mystified when, a few moments later, one corner of his mouth slowly began to turn up into miniature and sad smile.
“Edward,” he said softly, while his smile grew. It looked defeated, but it was a smile nonetheless.
“Edward,” he said again, sounding almost wistful. “You always get the strangest look on your face.”
He slid the hand I wasn’t holding to rest over my heart with an open palm, splaying his fingers much like he had when we were sleeping. My chest felt tight under the warm pressure of his fingertips.
“I’ll never understand how you forget to breathe.”
At the reminder, I sucked in a mouthful of air and felt the relief as it rushed to my lungs.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, a little embarrassed.
Jas tugged on my hand. “Stop apologizing. Come on.” Instead of heading to his room, and thus closer to the ongoing sounds of Rosalie’s tirade, he pulled me into the backyard. “I gotta get away from this.”
It was crisp and chilly outside, and Jasper’s mood seemed to improve exponentially the farther we got away from the house and the crying women. The Cullens had a large expanse of land, to go with their expansive mansion, but Jas and I followed our familiar route around the swimming pool and through the first couple rows of trees to the Sycamore we had dubbed ours back in eighth grade. Our old tree house was practically in shambles by now - more of a flat surface wedged amongst the skewed branches - but we had added new wood periodically to keep it sturdy. Some of the planks were still a bit damp from the recent rains, but when he made to climb up I followed him without question. When he reached the horizontal slats of wood with solid footing he turned around to offer me a hand, and once I took hold of it I didn’t let go for the rest of our time in the woods.
I knew Rosalie’s declaration was bothering Jas but he seemed to want to forget about it, so I distracted him with jabber about colleges and track and other meaningless things. He just listened and shrugged and flashed his dimples at me, seemingly content.
Our new closeness - intimacy, maybe? - crackled between us but went unmentioned. Despite the hand-holding and cuddling and the unexpectedly sensual kiss he’d left on my shoulder, we had yet to verbally acknowledge any of it. I got the feeling that he liked me - like-liked me - almost the way I like-liked him. But Jas, who was usually so open about what he was thinking or feeling, hadn’t said a word. I wished I could just curl up in his ear and listen to his thoughts but that was, obviously, a futile thought.
For the time being, I was content to just enjoy the time and solitude our makeshift hideaway afforded us. The surrounding trees were as tall as our Sycamore, which made it nearly impossible to see up into the tree house from anywhere except directly below us.
Eventually, I decided it would be remiss of me not to take this opportunity to kiss him. We hadn’t actually kissed since we’d left my house, but the way he had been sweeping his thumb across the back of my hand made me think the gesture wasn’t unwelcome. I decided to chance it, without warning, and he responded with a fervor that was every bit as tingle-inducing as I remembered it. I shivered when our lips made first contact, and he chuckled but didn’t pull back, so I moved my left hand to stroke his cheek. He sighed into my touch without unlocking our lips.
He was sitting in the center of the platform, reclining back against the large trunk that cut its way through the planks of wood. I didn’t hesitate to twist over him, trapping him between the tree and my searching lips. After a few warm kisses, I let my mouth fall to the underside of his jaw to place feather-light kisses on the smooth expanse of his neck. He groaned softly at the feeling, and I began leaving firmer, wetter kisses along the curve of his shoulder.
He responded by reaching for my waist. Twisted around him as I was, my shirt had ridden up in the back and the caress of his fingertips on my vaguely ticklish skin made me jolt. He ran his palms under my shirt and along my back, at which point I practically melted against him. I had all but stretched out the collar of his shirt to pepper what I could reach of his chest with kisses, when he slipped a hand under my chin and pulled me up to kiss his lips. When his breath and, finally, his lips worked their way to the soft spot behind my right ear, I moaned and actually wondered if there was any better sensation in the world.
My face and chest felt hot and flushed, and my pants felt unbearably tight. Any movement I made rubbed my overly-sensitive erection against the starched fabric of my boxers, so I clutched Jas’s shoulders tightly to keep myself still. I was comforted by the thought that, with the attention he was showing my heated skin, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to notice the part of my anatomy that was saluting him from my pants. Our breathing grew heavy as our hands wandered farther over each other’s arms and torsos, sometimes running through the other’s hair or tilting our chins up to resume our energetic kissing.
Soon enough, though, the pinpoints of light reaching through the trees started to fade, and we were forced to think about returning to the house. I had no idea how much time passed because, really, how could something as trivial as the turning of the earth matter when I was kissing Jasper Cullen? I lingered briefly, though, to take in a sight of him smiling lazily as gentle shadows flitted over his face.
Jas was stunning to behold, especially now that I didn’t have to hide my glances or pretend I didn’t notice his masculine appeal. He was studying me the way I was studying him - probably taking in my wind-ruffled auburn hair and the pink tinge my nose always took on when it was this chilly. I felt bashful under such scrutiny and looked away, but not before I thought that Jas looked most beautiful when he’d just been thoroughly kissed. It thrilled me to think that I was the only one who knew that.
He half climbed, half jumped down from the tree, but I took it slowly to safeguard my knee. Soon we were trudging back through the crowded growth of the woods, hand in hand.
Stepping through the door on the back porch was like stepping back into a dull pantomime of the Cullen’s house as it usually was. Jas was stiff behind me and Esme beckoned us to the kitchen without a word. Dinner was a somber reminder that our trip to the tree house hadn’t been long enough for the troubled air in the house to clear out.
Rosalie was notably absent - awkwardly so - and although Carlisle tried to make casual conversation, it was strained and unconvincing. Esme didn’t bother to say much at all, which was a first for her.
I was relieved to finally be excused, but before we were even out of earshot Jasper’s parents began to bicker in hushed, bitter tones. Carlisle was making some point about how “she has to learn to accept…” but Esme just kept reiterating something about her daughter and her family. I was glad when we shut Jasper’s door against the harsh half-whispers coming from the kitchen.
That night, Jasper crawled into bed behind me much like he had before. It was ridiculous the way my chest swelled with the feelings of affection and intimacy, especially since neither of us had had the balls to talk about anything yet. I whispered a soft “Goodnight,” which he returned.
I had felt like maybe I should be the big spoon, but his breathing quickly evened out and I was content to just tuck my arm over his and clutch his hand through the night.
The rest of the week was surprisingly routine. Every morning the bedfellow in my boxers would wake me up before Jas.Even after he woke I’d keep a knee between us to hide my embarrassment until I could slip off to the bathroom to wrestle with my stiffness. It was like an Army Cadet - standing proudly at attention at every opportunity. It was too proud for its own good, really, and I had to bring it down by hand in the shower.
Every night we’d curl up like puzzle pieces - unmoving but perfectly aligned - while I reveled in the warmth Jas leant me through the paltry buffer of our shirts. It became less awkward, with each successive night, and we were soon chatting softly as we slipped toward sleep like we used to do when I was sleeping on the couch.
Even school was, oddly, like it’d always been. Part of me was surprised the track team hadn’t taken one look at me and Jas and said, You! You’re kissing now! Last week we hadn’t even been talking and now we were… something. Our stolen kisses, quiet laughter and nightly cuddling were at the forefront of my mind almost all the time, and it seemed absurd that our newly-developed tendencies weren’t stamped all over my face. On the other hand, I was extremely relieved to know that we still had our privacy.
The Mr. Tall and Flirty that waited for the girls in the mornings had started putting his arm over Alice’s shoulders, while Bella just trotted alongside them. I burned with curiosity, which was achingly evident to Jas each time he dragged me off to History. I longed to know who this boy was and what he wanted with my little baby sister, but Jas’s grip on my bicep kept me in check. In an effort to respect her privacy I didn’t pry when we rode to school, and didn’t even ask Bella - once she told me with clear conviction that she was under strict orders not to talk about it. I wanted to drop hints that Ali could tell me whatever she wanted but, of course, that would probably sound exactly like the conversations we’d had the week before about Dad. And everyone knew how well those turned out.
The Cullen’s house seemed to have lost some of its luster. The extremity, or at least the longevity, of the response to Rosalie’s latest tantrum caught me by surprise. I thought it would blow over, but I guessed her continued disdain took a toll on Esme’s maternal instincts. Rosalie’s teenage angst had apparently reached its breaking point, and she was lashing out at everybody.
She was often temperamental through dinners, making a racket with her silverware while refusing to explain her foul mood. It was obvious Carlisle had told her she couldn’t avoid us by going to Emmett’s for meals, so he joined us almost every night. However, even his generally boisterous contribution to dinnertime conversation was thwarted by Rosalie’s oppressive anger.
Of course, I believed Rosalie was just acting out because she could. I thought it was odd to see this kind of discord in such a happy, stable family. Sure, they bickered, and Rosalie had thrown tantrums as long as I’d known her, but this time she’d taken it too far. I mean, okay - she hated me, obviously, but this was her family. They were her own flesh and blood who loved her, no matter what. How could she treat them so poorly?
I asked Jas, about halfway through the week, if there was something I was missing. Had something else happened between her and Esme?
He cleared his throat noisily before explaining. “She’s really upset that you’re here.”
He looked apologetic, but I just motioned for him to continue.
“She blames Mom, or at least she’s been taking it all out on her. Rose says Mom is choosing you over her, and that she’s a terrible mother. Dad says it’s just a phase, because being a teenage girl can make you say all kinds of stuff you don’t mean, but I think she told Mom she hates her too.”
I swallowed as I let that sink in. Shit. If I’d told my mother I hated her - well, I never would have. By the time I’d been hit with the mental growing pains of puberty, Mom was already sick and there was no way I’d ever hurt her like that. Plus, I loved her more than any woman on the planet. But still, if I’d said what Rosalie had, I knew my mom would have cried for days. Esme’s anguish was simply proof of her love for her daughter.
At first she tried to talk to Rosalie, bringing her peace offerings of afternoon snacks or clean laundry, but that usually just ended in Rosalie screeching some more.
After those failed attempts Esme tended to say very little when Rosalie was around, but she always had a smile for me and Jas. She was often in the kitchen when he and I were grabbing breakfast, and she always ushered us off to school with warm wishes. We, in turn, did our best to stay out of trouble and not give her anything else to worry about.
Both Jas and Carlisle put considerable effort into reminding her that Rosalie tended to get worked up over things and would calm down soon enough, but it didn’t seem to help much. I, too, wanted to console her, but was afraid of looking like I was trying to complete the foursome that Rosalie had left with a vacancy. I even told Esme that we didn’t have to do anything for my birthday, but that just earned me a tilted, motherly smile when she told me not to be silly.
Jas and I quickly became accustomed to ducking out of a room before Rosalie walked in - even more than we had before.
Unfortunately, it also became routine for Jasper and I to avoid any and all conversation relating to the new developments between us. I wanted to ask him about it - I really did - but every time the opportunity arose we found ourselves kissing instead of talking about kissing. As each day passed with no verbal acknowledgement, I found myself feeling more anxious and uncertain of what exactly he expected from me. For that matter, I wasn’t even sure what I expected from myself, let alone him.
I didn’t push the matter, though, and instead just took it on shaky faith that we’d figure it all out someday.
Even with the awkwardness of not knowing Jas’s intentions, or of crossing paths with Rosalie, living with the Cullens was still infinitely better than staying at my dad’s house and waiting on egg shells for him to step through the front door. Jas and I talked it over, and decided it would be best if I gathered up Alice’s stuff so she had no need to make a return trip either.
We drove by my house after school on Thursday, when I figured that Dad’s poker night would double my chances of him not being home. After passing by once and confirming that no lights were on, Jasper and I quietly let ourselves in. As I reached for the light, we were immediately accosted by the sickly-sweet smell of spoiled fruit.
An apple and two bananas sat in the fruit bowl in the kitchen, already brown and slowly shriveling. Opening the fridge revealed a carton of rancid milk and some moldy sandwich meat which I gathered up, threw into a plastic bag with the fruit, and tied off. Jas plucked it up, holding it as far away from himself as his arm would allow, and carried it to the outdoor trash bins.
In the meantime, I scanned the house for signs of my dad. The coffee table was arranged in exactly the way I’d left it, with the two remotes sitting along the edge, and the glass I’d forgotten there hadn’t been moved. A quick sweep of the bathroom and Dad’s bedroom showed the same thing.
A survey of the answering machine yielded three messages, each from one of Dad’s work buddies about their poker night. The first one asked him to bring chips and dip, the second one asked him to call him back, and the third one was an aggravated, “Ed! Where are you? I’ve been calling your cell all day. Are you coming to poker or not?”
That, if nothing else, confirmed it: Dad hadn’t been home.
When I told Jasper, he nodded solemnly and we traipsed down the hallway. I swung the hallway closet open and saw that our biggest suitcase was missing.
I felt mildly, if unexpectedly, relieved, knowing that at least Dad had planned for his absence.
I grabbed the next largest suitcase and dragged it to Ali’s room, where I was immediately overcome with a weird sense of déjà vu.
Of course, her bag had been smaller, then.
I pulled out the contents of her drawers including, I’m sure, some of her more delicate things but I wasn’t paying attention. The memories that bombarded me were the last thing I wanted to think about, ever, but it was impossible not to.
I was fourteen then, so Alice must have been ten years old. She would always be undersized no matter what, but this was before puberty had even begun for her and she was dwarfed by both me and my father.
I was startled in my room by the sound of yelling. I couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like Dad was angry about something. It was sort of a surprise at that point - Dad hadn’t said much in the month and a half since we’d lost Mom, preferring more often than not to just crawl inside a bottle and marinate.
Angry tones raced down the hallway and I quickly followed them back towards the living room. I was afraid that maybe he’d hurt himself, and was calling for help, but as his words distinguished themselves in my mind I sped up my footsteps.
“… so careless! Touching them with your grimy hands. Look what you’ve done!”
Dad was towering over Alice, who had her head down with her hands curled into tight balls at her sides. She was already in her pajamas - a long pink night-gown - and bare feet.
“Dad,” I called out hesitantly from the entryway. “Is everything alright?”
He whirled around to face me, and it was immediately obvious that he was drunk. He swayed, holding his arms out for balance, and looked around lazily before his eyes finally focused on me. “Edward.” He jabbed a finger back towards where Ali was standing. “Your sister smashed your Mother’s pegasus.”
I couldn’t help it, I gasped. Mom had loved that figurine - it was only three inches high, but it was cut from the clearest glass with a subtle, rainbow tint and had large, majestic wings that curved above it. We had a whole case of glass figures that Mom had collected since she was in college, but this was one of her first, and her favorite. Her name was Jasmine, and sometimes when we couldn’t sleep Mom would make up stories about the adventures Jasmine and her winged friends would have in the clouds. It was important to Mom, always, and therefore important to us. Now, it was in several pieces on the coffee table behind Alice.
In retrospect, it wasn’t the loss of Jasmine that upset us, but the feeling that we were slowly losing pieces of Mom that we couldn’t get back. And, of course, it was living through Dad’s reaction - that, as much as anything else, made it clear that nothing would ever be the same.
From the bob of Ali’s head I could tell she was definitely crying, but trying to keep the noise to a minimum. Standing in the middle of our living room, doing her best to be silent and invisible, she looked so small.
Without warning, Dad lounged for the cabinet of figurines and pulled out a larger one - an angel with petite, outstretched hands and tall, angular wings. He tossed it up and down in his hand a few times, seeming to take note of the weight of it.
“I guess we don’t need them anymore, do we? You two have enough of your mother in you that you don’t need these.”
Suddenly wheeling back around to face Alice, he raised the figure above his head. He whipped his hand down, flinging the glass in her direction. She flinched but with her knees already backed up to the coffee table in the center of the room, Alice couldn’t get farther away. His aim was rotten, luckily, and it missed her by inches. It did, however, strike the edge of the wood table and shatter into hundreds of sinister glass shards. They fell to the ground, littering the space around Ali’s feet. At seeing the carnage, she looked up at me, petrified.
I saw red.
She was just a child, my baby sister. I didn’t know what Dad would try next, but I refused to leave Ali standing in a land mine of glass.
In an instant I was between them, my shoes crunching over the treacherous shards. Dad looked surprised, as if he hadn’t even seen me move. I spread my arms behind me to cover Ali and whispered, “Don’t.”
I didn’t mean to sound angry, or aggressive. The last thing I wanted to do was provoke my dad, but I couldn’t stomach the thought that she had been hurt by our own father while I was just biding my time in another room.
He reached for her, or me, and I growled. “Don’t you touch her.”
Pulling back, he looked disoriented, and I no longer cared about dealing with him. My only thought was to get Ali out of this living room and this situation as fast as possible.
I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew this man was not our father - not the man that had raised and loved us. Maybe he died with Mom, I didn’t know. But I didn’t have time to figure it out then. I turned to Alice and wrapped my arms around her, lifting her straight out of the glass. Her arms slipped tightly around my neck, and I felt her kick her feet a little to shake them of any shards before she wrapped her legs around my waist.
Small as she was, it was a hardly an effort to carry her. I went straight to her room, making sure to close and lock the door behind me. The first thing I did when I set her on her bed was pick up her feet, one by one, to make sure there was no glass left. In huddling behind me she had obviously tried to shuffle backward, and had picked up a few superficial cuts along the way. I dabbed at them with a tissue, confirming that none of them looked very serious.
I tried to ask her questions - What had happened? Was she okay? - but she just cried into her hands and my neck, so I held her against me and softly patted her back. Her sobs were muffled and nonsensical and stuck in her throat as she took shallow, shuttering breaths.
Reliving the memory now, the similarities between that night and the night on our front lawn less than a week and a half ago were appallingly obvious. I should have known what was going on immediately.
I shook my head to clear the thoughts, and moved to Alice’s closet. I pulled out a lot of her shirts but left the bright colors behind in an attempt to be supportive of her new look. I pulled some money out of my wallet that I had picked up from the ATM earlier, and tucked it into the pocket of a pair of jeans before I went to zip the suitcase.
When I glanced up, I was startled to see Jasper leaning against the doorway. For a moment he just looked so… tender, and I couldn’t even fathom what he was thinking. I wanted to ask him to say something, to tell me what was passing through that beautiful head of his so that at least one part of my life was complication-free, but I didn’t get the chance.
He launched himself at me with outstretched arms, and I reached out to receive him. I puckered my lips for another one of those kisses that made me so warm and breathless, thinking that even without words they were still phenomenal, but instead he slid his arms past my shoulders and around my back into a tight embrace.
He didn’t say anything, but pressed a wet kiss to my cheek.
“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested.
He nodded against me before letting go.
On the way out, I contemplated taking the picture of Mom from the mantle. I hated the thought of not coming back to it - to her. It was ironic, twisted even, that I felt closest to her here, in the room where she’d said her last words and finally died. I usually tried not to think of the temporary bed we’d set up, with its stiff sheets and hospital-style guard rails, or the IV stand that had reigned over her frail form. I just thought of her; this was the last place I’d seen my mom. And now that I wouldn’t be escorting Alice back to pick up her belongings, I didn’t know when I’d be here again.
Unfortunately, the thought of my father returning to find Mom’s photo gone, and his inevitable rage, was enough to push me out the door and lock it firmly behind me.
It was only a couple blocks to Bella’s, but the whole time I was very aware of the fact that I’d done this before. From my house, to packing Alice a bag, to the awkward conversation I knew I’d have with Charlie. The only difference was that last time, I hadn’t had Jasper to help me through it.
I’d thrown everything I could think of into Alice’s Disney Princess backpack and a small duffel from her closet. After making sure she had shoes and a jacket, I crawled through her window and lifted her behind me.
With her bags in one hand and her tiny fist in the other, we plodded down to the Swan’s. Her sniffles eventually subsided, and I knelt on Charlie’s front landing to talk to her.
“Ali, sweety. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I- I dropped it. I’m sorry.”
“Oh I know, Teeny, and it’s okay. You’re not in any trouble.”
She nodded, but didn’t seem to take any comfort in my words.
“What did Dad do?”
“He got… angry.”
I nodded sympathetically, and pulled her jacket tighter around her neck when she shivered.
“Ali, I have to ask you a question. But I want you to know that no matter what you say, you’re not in trouble, okay?”
She whispered a tiny “uh-huh.”
“Did you get hurt? Because Dad was angry?” My stomach clenched even as I said the words, but I decided I’d rather say them and regret them than let them go unasked.
“Just my feet.”
God - she was so young and tiny. Even though I was kneeling she still had to look up to see me when her eyes filled with tears.
That was enough for me. Those eyes, Mom’s eyes, should never have to cry. She nodded pitifully and I hugged her tightly, making endless promises about how I would be there for her and she would always be safe.
“Okay, Teeny? This is never going to happen again. I’m here, and I love you. Okay?”
She held on tightly and told me she loved me too. When we righted ourselves, I knocked on the door and stoically asked Charlie if Alice could spend the night.
I couldn’t believe I was retracing those same steps, even though I no longer had Alice in tow. That night I had filled Charlie in, as diplomatically as I could, on what had happened so that he would understand if Alice was upset. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that he would want to go to the authorities - that he was the authorities. He’d wanted to ‘make a phone call’, as he put it, so that Dad wouldn’t come near us again.
Fear gripped me so tightly as I babbled out all my pleas and excuses. I was instantly horrified of what would happen to us without Dad. He may have gotten angry, but he was the only family we had left. I was nearly sick when I realized we would be put in the foster system.
It had taken only moments for me to become panicked and incoherent. Not only would we be taken but we could be separated, and most likely would be.
I might - might - have thrown up in Charlie’s bushes then.
He had taken pity on me, I guess, and gruffly promised that he wouldn’t make a phone call yet, but if our dad laid a hand on either of us…
I had thanked him profusely, for everything, and headed back home.
This time, when I knocked on the Swan’s door, Charlie looked more weary but less surprised than he had that night when Ali was ten.
Charlie was still in his uniform, and hadn’t even had the chance to take his gun off yet.
“Edward,” he said, wiping a hand across his mustache. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” He motioned for me to follow him inside, and we sat awkwardly around the half-set dinner table.
I gulped. “I, uh, brought some more stuff for Alice,” I said, lifting up the suitcase.
He nodded, looking stern and watchful like he was wondering how much I knew.
I was wondering the same about him. “She shouldn’t need to go home for a while.”
Again, he nodded, but it was clear he was angry with the situation and how I was handling it. “I don’t plan on letting her go back there,” he said with conviction.
Once again, I knew the words ‘phone call’ were looming over us, and they still terrified me. Given the fact that it was three and a half years later and we were having the same conversation, it occurred to me that maybe I should have just let him call Child Protective Services in the first place.
Then again, we had no family to go to, and the more I thought about it the less I understood how he could want to fling Alice into the foster system. He loved her like a daughter, I was sure. Plus, I had a feeling some of those foster parents were no better than what we wanted her away from.
I didn’t know what to do - I didn’t know what the right answer was - because if he made the phone call this time, they’d only be taking Ali away. We’d be separated for sure, unless I could be her guardian. I’d have to be proven fit, though, but I was intent on doing whatever I needed to do to keep Ali out of the system.
“I’d like to have a word with your father.”
“He hasn’t been home,” I admitted.
“At all?”
I shook my head.
“Has he made any contact, since…”
“Not since before I picked Alice up.”
He nodded thoughtfully and scratched his mustache again.
“You know that’s no good either, Edward.”
I sighed. He was right, and I knew the word bouncing around in his head, unsaid: neglect.
But it wasn’t as if that was anything new. “What if,” I said, trying to veer away from the eventual threat of a phone call. “What if he’d asked you… if Ali could stay over while he was out of town? Then wouldn’t it be okay?”
“Edward,” he said gruffly. “Are you asking the Chief of Police to lie?”
I muttered, “No,” with downcast eyes, while silently cursing because that was exactly what I was asking him to do.
I had been foolish to think that a life full of sleep-overs at Bella’s was as good as an actual home, but I had spent a bit of time recently looking up Washington’s State laws. Since no harm was coming to Alice as a result of Dad’s absence, I wasn’t convinced we needed to take action right away. I just didn’t want Charlie to go making anything official yet.
“Do you know what happened to your sister last week?”
“Not entirely. She won’t really talk about it,” I answered warily and added as an afterthought, “to me. Has she said anything to you?”
“No. She just insisted on getting those contacts.” He leaned across the table and confided, “They look a little weird.”
I agreed. “I know. Thank you, though, for getting her all those clothes. I brought some money-”
I shifted to reach for the wallet in my back pocket, but Charlie waved me away. “No. It was my treat. Really, Edward, don’t.”
Once I met his gaze it was obvious that he meant it, so I let it go. “Well, thanks Charlie. She certainly seems a lot happier with the new wardrobe.”
“Sure does. And that Clearwater boy seems to be a fan as well. They’ve practically got the same hair.”
Clearwater? Like Leah? “What?”
“Seth Clearwater. He sure does seem fond of her. Been holding her hand when Sue drops her off.”
“Sue Clearwater, the nurse at La Push?”
“Yep. She drops her off before taking her kids home. Long commute, poor Sue. Sure nice of her to take the time.”
I nodded sincerely, thinking this Seth Clearwater must be the boy who put his arm around Alice. Same hair, indeed.
Before I could respond, my attention was pulled to the stairway where Alice and Bella had suddenly appeared.
“Hi, Edward!” Bella called. “We didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Hey, Bella. Ali, I brought you some more stuff from home.”
“Oh,” she said casually. “Thanks. Did you get my dark jeans?”
I tried to think over what I’d grabbed, but couldn’t remember much specifically. “Um, maybe?”
She rolled her eyes, but it seemed more playful than anything else. She glanced over her shoulder at Bella, who was stalling on the stairs and said, “Boys.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know,” I joked along, “we have no taste in clothes.” That actually got a hint of a smile, and I was beyond thrilled to see it, so I grinned back.
Ali came over to haul her suitcase upstairs. I offered to help but she said she had it under control. Before she could step away I leaned down and told her, “I put some cash in one of your jean pockets. Just for… whatever.”
“Okay,” she said, cheerily enough. “Thanks, Edward.”
Her good mood was certainly unexpected, and I wondered if it had to do with a certain boy who liked to hold her hand.
I watched her and Bella work their way back up the stairs, and headed for the door. Charlie caught me there, where he was hanging up his gun.
“You doing okay at the Cullen’s? Esme says you’ll be staying there for good now.”
“Yeah, the Cullens are…” The Cullens are letting me sleep curled up against their son who kisses me in tree houses. “.. great,” I finished lamely.
“They’re good people.”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
With that, I slipped out his front door and back into my car where Jas was waiting for me, which was a bit of a relief. After my heart-to-heart with Charlie three and a half years ago, I’d had to go back home to deal with the glass and the rest of my dad’s temper. I shook that thought from my head, though, and decided to let Jas’s warm smile distract me from reliving any more memories of that night.
I filled Jasper in briefly on what Charlie’d said and, after I’d shifted into drive, I put my hand on Jas’s knee where it liked to rest. His hand was resting on his leg beside mine, his fingers tapping feather-light, uneven rhythms against my skin.
Once we were out of sight of the Swan’s, his fingers curled and, in a movement so tentative I wondered if he really meant to do it, he slowly raised my arm and twisted it so he could press my palm to his lips. Gently, he kissed the scar on my palm that was my sole souvenir of Dad’s anger.
A shiver immediately sparked up to my elbow and radiated across my chest like the slow warmth of the rising sun. Though he was slightly bent to reach my hand, his devastatingly-blue eyes were aimed up through his dark lashes, directly at me.
I couldn’t help it, my breath caught in my throat at the intimacy of his gesture. All I could do was watch as his wet, plump lips swept across my skin. It was one of the most alluring things I’d ever seen. Thoughts echoed through my mind of that exact gesture except… everywhere.
He quickly replaced my hand on his leg, though, and I reminded myself that I was driving a car and needed to focus on the road.
Once we got back to the Cullen’s, we settled ourselves on the floor of his room with our laptops to chip away at the homework and college essays that were always inevitably waiting for us. We tried to concentrate, but still voiced idle thoughts and complaints about various teachers. Jas would occasionally reach over to press random keys in the middle of my typing, just because he could, so I would attempt to close the lid of my computer on his hands when he did.
Oddly enough, it was life as usual. In fact, when Jas got up to get some water but decided to launch a pillow at me on his way out, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
We had been playing through our homework and whispering goodnight to each other for years. This new thing we had wasn’t, in reality, all that new. Our playfulness, and the ease with which we spent time together - it was actually just like before.
It was startling to think that we were still the same people we were two weeks ago. So what if we shared a bed? So what if, now, I found myself kissing another boy - and enjoying it. We knew who we were; I was Edward and he was Jasper. I was anxious and prone to episodes of massive logic-fail. He was calm, and self-assured. Jasper was my guide - my beacon.
Sure, this new territory was shaky and uncertain, especially since it was hard to talk about. Hell, he was probably as unbalanced as I was, but somehow I was okay with that. This was just me and Jasper, same as it always was, and that made it okay.
Of course, I had to amend my realization when Jas came back in, stretched out on the floor beside me, and snaked one arm around my waist to pull me in for a deep and lingering kiss.
So, this was just like before, except with kissing.
And I’d found I was really fucking fond of the kissing parts.
Chapter 11
Chapter: 10/?
Fandom: Twilight
By: bythedamned
Rating: NC-17 overall
Chapter Wordcount: 9,150
Genre: AU, Slash
Pairing: Edward/Jasper
Summary: Throughout high school, the shy and over-burdened Edward Masen threw himself into work and raising his baby sister. He's always felt lucky just to be friends with track star Jasper Cullen. Now, he doesn't know if just friends is enough. AH AU Slash.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play
A/N: Thanks to my awesome beta, elveys_stuff . Also, there should be some sort of warning for how epically long this is going to be.
Jasper made this weird little noise while he slept, like a purring gurgle deep in his throat, and I was surprised that I’d never heard it before. Then again, it was so low that I could only make it out because his nose was buried in my hair and he was rumbling right against my ear. The way his fingers splayed directly over my thrumming heart, pressing my back intimately into his chest, meant there was no way I could escape the noise. Then again, I didn’t necessarily want to.
It may have woken me up, but it was still really frickin’ adorable.
I could feel the heat of him pressing into my spine but also into the undersides of my thighs, where his bent legs were curled up behind mine, and I was content not to move - only partially because I was excited, under the covers, yet again.
I mean, what’s a morning at the Cullen’s without a little wood?
I willed myself to ignore the strain in my boxers when Jasper’s purr broke off because I knew he’d be awake soon. I didn’t really know what to expect, so I just laid perfectly still, waiting for him to make the first move. His breath that had left a warm, moist spot on the back of my neck breezed across my ear when he whispered, “G’morning.”
He used the arm encircling me to pull me onto my back, but I turned all the way to face him and kept my knees up between us to hide the fact that I was sporting a stiffy. He mimicked me until we were laying under his covers like a couple of uncertain but hopeful question marks, watching each other slowly adjust to the bright light of the new day.
While he blinked sleepily, I let myself get caught up in the rugged handsomeness of his features. He had a strong chin, with a sharp, angular jaw that I was suppressing the urge to nuzzle, and high cheekbones that just drew attention to his mesmerizing blue eyes. Even in his disheveled state, with his hair all puffed up in a tangle on top of his head, Jasper was beautiful. The almost-blond stubble he had grown overnight just made him look even more untamed. Only his broad shoulders were sticking out above the covers, and I could just make out the line of his collarbone through the thin white fabric of his shirt.
I reached up a hand to run my fingers through his loose curls and sweep his cheek-length dirty blond hair behind his ear. Reluctant to take my hand back, I let my fingertips trail across his scratchy cheek and down to the soft gully of his neck. Faster than I could really see, he snatched my hand and pressed it against his own chest. I was shocked to feel the rapid drumbeat of his heart - it nearly matched mine.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked softly.
“Uh-huh.” I wondered if his nervous heartbeat meant he was aroused too, but I wasn’t quite ready to find out. “We should probably get up.”
“Uh-huh.” He made no move to rise, though, and it took me several seconds to actually tear my eyes from his and roll out of bed.
I avoided Jas in the bathroom, as much to keep from being sprayed with water again as anything else. As it got later I lingered in his room in the hopes of avoiding Rosalie, and was feeling rather triumphant when we stepped out the front door with Esme’s neatly-packed sack lunches in our hands.
Of course, that feeling was lost to the wind the moment I saw the sleek Corvette in the driveway behind my own Volvo. Not only did she know I was back, but she had parked me in.
Bitch.
Luckily the Cullen’s driveway was wide enough to fit all their cars side by side, and so with a little maneuvering and a seven-point turn, we were soon on the road. Really, I was surprised she hadn’t let the air out of my tires.
Alice made no mention of Jas’s presence in the front seat, but Bella offered him a cheery “welcome back.” They both hopped out the minute I shifted into park, and were waved over by some tall, older-looking guy I had never seen before.
Well, he was definitely older than them. He still looked younger than I was, by at least a couple years, but was nearly as tall as me - which was saying something. His skin was so brown it might not have been a tan, and even from the car I could tell his eyes were uncommonly dark. It was only the fact that his spiky black hair was shorn so close to his head that kept him from looking like another Rez kid. I didn’t know who he was, but I was suddenly wary of this stranger who was so casually bumping into Alice when they walked - almost like he was doing it on purpose. Ali responded by throwing her full weight against him which didn’t do much in the way of setting him off balance, but did cause him to grab her arm and pull her off to her next class.
I glanced to Jasper to make sure he’d seen it too, and he gave me a quick nod before we headed off to History. We turned in our homework, mine for half-credit - thanks for nothing, Ms. Belfy.
At lunch, Jessica and Lauren found us with the rest of the track team and gabbed about how they’d heard my knee was better and how they’d be there to cheer us on the next time we faced the Wolves. I didn’t really know what to say to them, and I definitely didn’t care if they’d be there, so I shook my faintly-reddish hair into my eyes and let Jas tell them they were awfully sweet and we’d see them around.
Coach Clapp was just as excited as the girls to see me running again, but on Carlisle’s recommendation I restrained my efforts to a lot of stretching and a few jogs around the track. I took it pretty easy, mostly zoning out.
Which is to say, I mostly just thought about Jasper.
He lapped me with ease again and again - a sight I certainly didn’t mind. His backside flexed becomingly with each step and I let my gaze flicker between his ass and the taught musculature of his calves. I may have even intentionally slowed down just to ogle them more often.
My lack of effort was quickly evident, and Coach called me over to suggest I try the weight room instead. He gave me a supportive pat on the back but I knew his concern was just for the standing of the Forks High Track Team, and not me personally.
I didn’t mind the weight room mostly because I had the time to shower before Jasper, which I figured was a good move. Jas wet after a shower was just as appealing as Jas sweaty from running, though, and so I was just as distracted walking to the car as I’d been running around the gym. If he noticed my supposedly-discrete glances, he didn’t comment.
I thought now that I was staying late again Ali might catch a ride home with us, but only Bella was waiting by my car at five o’clock. Ali had sent her a text saying she was still working and would get a ride home before dinner. Apparently, set design took longer than after-school sports. Who knew?
I missed Ali’s chatter, the way it used to be, but Bella did ask thoughtful questions about our day and how my knee was taking the exercise again. She wished me luck and good health and all those other polite mannerisms Charlie had taught her. She really was a very sweet girl.
It felt like a fairly typical day, overall, except that as soon a Bella disappeared out of sight Jasper slipped his fingers through mine. I drove the rest of the way home with my right hand curled around his left, on his knee. He had nice knees.
Our casual ease didn’t last, though, and I pulled my hand from his as soon as I saw the gaudy red convertible adorning the Cullen’s driveway. I parked on the street so as not to block Rosalie in - there was no need to fan the flames here - and we stepped quietly into the house.
It was immediately obvious we’d shown up in the middle of something. Esme and Rosalie were talking heatedly in the entrance to the kitchen but their heads snapped up at the sound of the front door closing.
Rosalie looked like hell, with puffy eyes and a red nose. She’d obviously been crying. Her chest shuddered as she took in a deep breath, and she made aggressive eye contact with me before the sobbing returned in full force. Planting her feet in an Amazonian stance, she stabbed a shaky finger towards the front door and commanded, “Get out.”
I said nothing, but didn’t move either, and she took a menacing step forward.
Esme tried to hold her back, but only half-heartedly. She had one hand held against her own chest like she was trying to restrain the feelings bursting forth from within.
“Get out!” Rosalie yelled again, and was further angered when I glanced at the front door but made no progress towards it.
I didn’t want to get out. I hadn’t meant to upset her, or make her cry, but I didn’t want to leave either.
Rosalie pulled free of Esme, stalking right up to me. My feet moved backward involuntarily, but I was met with Jasper’s hand against my lower back. He was just beside me, steadily holding me in place. The look Rosalie shot him started as a glare, but quickly faded to melancholy rejection.
Her voice was quiet and pained when she asked, “Jas, what are you doing? Why did you bring him back?”
Even though I couldn’t see his face, I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer. His only response was to lightly increase the pressure of his fingertips on my spine.
Rosalie’s tears continued and she sounded broken as she lamented, “We used to be a family. You used to-.” Breaking off on another sob, she whirled around to implore Esme, who was still looking heartbroken in the kitchen. “Mom, please. He’s not one of us. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”
Esme reached for her, like a young mother reaches for a wet baby crying from its crib. Her face was stricken with the pain of her daughter’s struggle. As she moved toward her, though, she said, “Rosie, sweetie. Edward’s staying with us now.”
Rosalie recoiled from her mother and let out a feminine wail. She made to dart for the protection of her own room but in a moment of hesitation, just before slipping around the corner and out of sight, she spun on the spot.
Her eyes found mine from across the open room. “You promised.”
Jasper, finally speaking up, called “Rosie!” softly, but she turned her head away as if to shield herself from the endearment.
“I hate you guys,” she whispered. “I hate you both.”
Seconds later, her door slammed shut in a final statement of grief.
A quiet sniff pulled my attention to Esme, who was now holding the palm of her open hand against her mouth. Her wide eyes were shining.
“Esme,” I started, but she held up her other hand to stop me.
“Please, Edward. Don’t say anything.” Then she, too, rushed to Rosalie’s room, intent on whispering muffled pleas through her door.
I hated to see Esme so upset, especially since it was my presence that caused the family rift in the first place. Hell, I even hated seeing Rosalie so upset, since her angst cast a weighted net over the moods of everyone else in the house. It almost seemed insensitive for me to feel relieved, now, when half the house was in tears, but really… so Rosalie finally announced her hatred of me out loud. All things considered, I figured it could have been much worse.
That relief lasted all of five seconds, though, before I saw the look on Jas’s face. The pressure on my back had slipped, and I’d turned to find him standing stock still, swaying slightly with his eyes closed. His eyebrows were pulled in tightly, practically touching, and his lips were pursed in distress.
“Jas?” I asked softly.
“She’s never said that before.”
“Jas, she doesn’t-.”
He opened his vast blue eyes to me, and they were stormy with emotion. “She’s not supposed to say that. We’re family. She’s a bitch all the time, but I still love her, because she’s family. How can she hate me?”
My hand sought his and he squeezed back in desperation. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for this source of familial angst, and I sought to reassure him.
“She loves you, of course she does. She’s just angry.”
His expression changed, then, into one of wary confusion. “I don’t understand. I’ve kept all my promises to her. I love her.”
“She was talking to me.” I sighed, staring at him through the hair flopping in my face. “You didn’t break a promise, I did. Jas, look, I’m really s-”
“What did you promise her?”
He searched my face like my expression would tell him the answer faster than I would, but I doubted it gave anything away besides my apprehension. I felt edgy, like I didn’t know how he would react. I thought that if I didn’t move, not even a muscle to blink or take a breath, at least I wouldn’t exacerbate the situation.
I had to tell him, though, and I looked him right in the eye when I fessed up. “I was leaving and I promised her that I wouldn’t, you know, come back.”
His shoulders slumped and when he blinked his eyes were unfocused. I thought his eyelids looked like shutters, moving to shut out the harsh brightness of reality. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”
“Jas, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d ever be back. I needed a ride home and-”
“She’s right,” he interrupted me, and the way his blank eyes stared past me made it seem like it was an accident he was even voicing these thoughts out loud. “It’s not supposed to be like this. She used to be my sweet little kid sister, and now she just gets mad at me all the time. And she makes Mom cry.” He shook his head sadly. “I hate seeing Mom cry.”
The hunch of his back and twisted scowl on his face made it clear how much Rosalie’s and Esme’s pain affected him.
I whispered, “I’m really sorry,” through tight lips, and was surprised when his attention snapped back to me.
His eyed raked over me, as if observing me from a distance, and I did my best to stay perfectly still. I was beyond mystified when, a few moments later, one corner of his mouth slowly began to turn up into miniature and sad smile.
“Edward,” he said softly, while his smile grew. It looked defeated, but it was a smile nonetheless.
“Edward,” he said again, sounding almost wistful. “You always get the strangest look on your face.”
He slid the hand I wasn’t holding to rest over my heart with an open palm, splaying his fingers much like he had when we were sleeping. My chest felt tight under the warm pressure of his fingertips.
“I’ll never understand how you forget to breathe.”
At the reminder, I sucked in a mouthful of air and felt the relief as it rushed to my lungs.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, a little embarrassed.
Jas tugged on my hand. “Stop apologizing. Come on.” Instead of heading to his room, and thus closer to the ongoing sounds of Rosalie’s tirade, he pulled me into the backyard. “I gotta get away from this.”
It was crisp and chilly outside, and Jasper’s mood seemed to improve exponentially the farther we got away from the house and the crying women. The Cullens had a large expanse of land, to go with their expansive mansion, but Jas and I followed our familiar route around the swimming pool and through the first couple rows of trees to the Sycamore we had dubbed ours back in eighth grade. Our old tree house was practically in shambles by now - more of a flat surface wedged amongst the skewed branches - but we had added new wood periodically to keep it sturdy. Some of the planks were still a bit damp from the recent rains, but when he made to climb up I followed him without question. When he reached the horizontal slats of wood with solid footing he turned around to offer me a hand, and once I took hold of it I didn’t let go for the rest of our time in the woods.
I knew Rosalie’s declaration was bothering Jas but he seemed to want to forget about it, so I distracted him with jabber about colleges and track and other meaningless things. He just listened and shrugged and flashed his dimples at me, seemingly content.
Our new closeness - intimacy, maybe? - crackled between us but went unmentioned. Despite the hand-holding and cuddling and the unexpectedly sensual kiss he’d left on my shoulder, we had yet to verbally acknowledge any of it. I got the feeling that he liked me - like-liked me - almost the way I like-liked him. But Jas, who was usually so open about what he was thinking or feeling, hadn’t said a word. I wished I could just curl up in his ear and listen to his thoughts but that was, obviously, a futile thought.
For the time being, I was content to just enjoy the time and solitude our makeshift hideaway afforded us. The surrounding trees were as tall as our Sycamore, which made it nearly impossible to see up into the tree house from anywhere except directly below us.
Eventually, I decided it would be remiss of me not to take this opportunity to kiss him. We hadn’t actually kissed since we’d left my house, but the way he had been sweeping his thumb across the back of my hand made me think the gesture wasn’t unwelcome. I decided to chance it, without warning, and he responded with a fervor that was every bit as tingle-inducing as I remembered it. I shivered when our lips made first contact, and he chuckled but didn’t pull back, so I moved my left hand to stroke his cheek. He sighed into my touch without unlocking our lips.
He was sitting in the center of the platform, reclining back against the large trunk that cut its way through the planks of wood. I didn’t hesitate to twist over him, trapping him between the tree and my searching lips. After a few warm kisses, I let my mouth fall to the underside of his jaw to place feather-light kisses on the smooth expanse of his neck. He groaned softly at the feeling, and I began leaving firmer, wetter kisses along the curve of his shoulder.
He responded by reaching for my waist. Twisted around him as I was, my shirt had ridden up in the back and the caress of his fingertips on my vaguely ticklish skin made me jolt. He ran his palms under my shirt and along my back, at which point I practically melted against him. I had all but stretched out the collar of his shirt to pepper what I could reach of his chest with kisses, when he slipped a hand under my chin and pulled me up to kiss his lips. When his breath and, finally, his lips worked their way to the soft spot behind my right ear, I moaned and actually wondered if there was any better sensation in the world.
My face and chest felt hot and flushed, and my pants felt unbearably tight. Any movement I made rubbed my overly-sensitive erection against the starched fabric of my boxers, so I clutched Jas’s shoulders tightly to keep myself still. I was comforted by the thought that, with the attention he was showing my heated skin, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to notice the part of my anatomy that was saluting him from my pants. Our breathing grew heavy as our hands wandered farther over each other’s arms and torsos, sometimes running through the other’s hair or tilting our chins up to resume our energetic kissing.
Soon enough, though, the pinpoints of light reaching through the trees started to fade, and we were forced to think about returning to the house. I had no idea how much time passed because, really, how could something as trivial as the turning of the earth matter when I was kissing Jasper Cullen? I lingered briefly, though, to take in a sight of him smiling lazily as gentle shadows flitted over his face.
Jas was stunning to behold, especially now that I didn’t have to hide my glances or pretend I didn’t notice his masculine appeal. He was studying me the way I was studying him - probably taking in my wind-ruffled auburn hair and the pink tinge my nose always took on when it was this chilly. I felt bashful under such scrutiny and looked away, but not before I thought that Jas looked most beautiful when he’d just been thoroughly kissed. It thrilled me to think that I was the only one who knew that.
He half climbed, half jumped down from the tree, but I took it slowly to safeguard my knee. Soon we were trudging back through the crowded growth of the woods, hand in hand.
Stepping through the door on the back porch was like stepping back into a dull pantomime of the Cullen’s house as it usually was. Jas was stiff behind me and Esme beckoned us to the kitchen without a word. Dinner was a somber reminder that our trip to the tree house hadn’t been long enough for the troubled air in the house to clear out.
Rosalie was notably absent - awkwardly so - and although Carlisle tried to make casual conversation, it was strained and unconvincing. Esme didn’t bother to say much at all, which was a first for her.
I was relieved to finally be excused, but before we were even out of earshot Jasper’s parents began to bicker in hushed, bitter tones. Carlisle was making some point about how “she has to learn to accept…” but Esme just kept reiterating something about her daughter and her family. I was glad when we shut Jasper’s door against the harsh half-whispers coming from the kitchen.
That night, Jasper crawled into bed behind me much like he had before. It was ridiculous the way my chest swelled with the feelings of affection and intimacy, especially since neither of us had had the balls to talk about anything yet. I whispered a soft “Goodnight,” which he returned.
I had felt like maybe I should be the big spoon, but his breathing quickly evened out and I was content to just tuck my arm over his and clutch his hand through the night.
The rest of the week was surprisingly routine. Every morning the bedfellow in my boxers would wake me up before Jas.Even after he woke I’d keep a knee between us to hide my embarrassment until I could slip off to the bathroom to wrestle with my stiffness. It was like an Army Cadet - standing proudly at attention at every opportunity. It was too proud for its own good, really, and I had to bring it down by hand in the shower.
Every night we’d curl up like puzzle pieces - unmoving but perfectly aligned - while I reveled in the warmth Jas leant me through the paltry buffer of our shirts. It became less awkward, with each successive night, and we were soon chatting softly as we slipped toward sleep like we used to do when I was sleeping on the couch.
Even school was, oddly, like it’d always been. Part of me was surprised the track team hadn’t taken one look at me and Jas and said, You! You’re kissing now! Last week we hadn’t even been talking and now we were… something. Our stolen kisses, quiet laughter and nightly cuddling were at the forefront of my mind almost all the time, and it seemed absurd that our newly-developed tendencies weren’t stamped all over my face. On the other hand, I was extremely relieved to know that we still had our privacy.
The Mr. Tall and Flirty that waited for the girls in the mornings had started putting his arm over Alice’s shoulders, while Bella just trotted alongside them. I burned with curiosity, which was achingly evident to Jas each time he dragged me off to History. I longed to know who this boy was and what he wanted with my little baby sister, but Jas’s grip on my bicep kept me in check. In an effort to respect her privacy I didn’t pry when we rode to school, and didn’t even ask Bella - once she told me with clear conviction that she was under strict orders not to talk about it. I wanted to drop hints that Ali could tell me whatever she wanted but, of course, that would probably sound exactly like the conversations we’d had the week before about Dad. And everyone knew how well those turned out.
The Cullen’s house seemed to have lost some of its luster. The extremity, or at least the longevity, of the response to Rosalie’s latest tantrum caught me by surprise. I thought it would blow over, but I guessed her continued disdain took a toll on Esme’s maternal instincts. Rosalie’s teenage angst had apparently reached its breaking point, and she was lashing out at everybody.
She was often temperamental through dinners, making a racket with her silverware while refusing to explain her foul mood. It was obvious Carlisle had told her she couldn’t avoid us by going to Emmett’s for meals, so he joined us almost every night. However, even his generally boisterous contribution to dinnertime conversation was thwarted by Rosalie’s oppressive anger.
Of course, I believed Rosalie was just acting out because she could. I thought it was odd to see this kind of discord in such a happy, stable family. Sure, they bickered, and Rosalie had thrown tantrums as long as I’d known her, but this time she’d taken it too far. I mean, okay - she hated me, obviously, but this was her family. They were her own flesh and blood who loved her, no matter what. How could she treat them so poorly?
I asked Jas, about halfway through the week, if there was something I was missing. Had something else happened between her and Esme?
He cleared his throat noisily before explaining. “She’s really upset that you’re here.”
He looked apologetic, but I just motioned for him to continue.
“She blames Mom, or at least she’s been taking it all out on her. Rose says Mom is choosing you over her, and that she’s a terrible mother. Dad says it’s just a phase, because being a teenage girl can make you say all kinds of stuff you don’t mean, but I think she told Mom she hates her too.”
I swallowed as I let that sink in. Shit. If I’d told my mother I hated her - well, I never would have. By the time I’d been hit with the mental growing pains of puberty, Mom was already sick and there was no way I’d ever hurt her like that. Plus, I loved her more than any woman on the planet. But still, if I’d said what Rosalie had, I knew my mom would have cried for days. Esme’s anguish was simply proof of her love for her daughter.
At first she tried to talk to Rosalie, bringing her peace offerings of afternoon snacks or clean laundry, but that usually just ended in Rosalie screeching some more.
After those failed attempts Esme tended to say very little when Rosalie was around, but she always had a smile for me and Jas. She was often in the kitchen when he and I were grabbing breakfast, and she always ushered us off to school with warm wishes. We, in turn, did our best to stay out of trouble and not give her anything else to worry about.
Both Jas and Carlisle put considerable effort into reminding her that Rosalie tended to get worked up over things and would calm down soon enough, but it didn’t seem to help much. I, too, wanted to console her, but was afraid of looking like I was trying to complete the foursome that Rosalie had left with a vacancy. I even told Esme that we didn’t have to do anything for my birthday, but that just earned me a tilted, motherly smile when she told me not to be silly.
Jas and I quickly became accustomed to ducking out of a room before Rosalie walked in - even more than we had before.
Unfortunately, it also became routine for Jasper and I to avoid any and all conversation relating to the new developments between us. I wanted to ask him about it - I really did - but every time the opportunity arose we found ourselves kissing instead of talking about kissing. As each day passed with no verbal acknowledgement, I found myself feeling more anxious and uncertain of what exactly he expected from me. For that matter, I wasn’t even sure what I expected from myself, let alone him.
I didn’t push the matter, though, and instead just took it on shaky faith that we’d figure it all out someday.
Even with the awkwardness of not knowing Jas’s intentions, or of crossing paths with Rosalie, living with the Cullens was still infinitely better than staying at my dad’s house and waiting on egg shells for him to step through the front door. Jas and I talked it over, and decided it would be best if I gathered up Alice’s stuff so she had no need to make a return trip either.
We drove by my house after school on Thursday, when I figured that Dad’s poker night would double my chances of him not being home. After passing by once and confirming that no lights were on, Jasper and I quietly let ourselves in. As I reached for the light, we were immediately accosted by the sickly-sweet smell of spoiled fruit.
An apple and two bananas sat in the fruit bowl in the kitchen, already brown and slowly shriveling. Opening the fridge revealed a carton of rancid milk and some moldy sandwich meat which I gathered up, threw into a plastic bag with the fruit, and tied off. Jas plucked it up, holding it as far away from himself as his arm would allow, and carried it to the outdoor trash bins.
In the meantime, I scanned the house for signs of my dad. The coffee table was arranged in exactly the way I’d left it, with the two remotes sitting along the edge, and the glass I’d forgotten there hadn’t been moved. A quick sweep of the bathroom and Dad’s bedroom showed the same thing.
A survey of the answering machine yielded three messages, each from one of Dad’s work buddies about their poker night. The first one asked him to bring chips and dip, the second one asked him to call him back, and the third one was an aggravated, “Ed! Where are you? I’ve been calling your cell all day. Are you coming to poker or not?”
That, if nothing else, confirmed it: Dad hadn’t been home.
When I told Jasper, he nodded solemnly and we traipsed down the hallway. I swung the hallway closet open and saw that our biggest suitcase was missing.
I felt mildly, if unexpectedly, relieved, knowing that at least Dad had planned for his absence.
I grabbed the next largest suitcase and dragged it to Ali’s room, where I was immediately overcome with a weird sense of déjà vu.
Of course, her bag had been smaller, then.
I pulled out the contents of her drawers including, I’m sure, some of her more delicate things but I wasn’t paying attention. The memories that bombarded me were the last thing I wanted to think about, ever, but it was impossible not to.
I was fourteen then, so Alice must have been ten years old. She would always be undersized no matter what, but this was before puberty had even begun for her and she was dwarfed by both me and my father.
I was startled in my room by the sound of yelling. I couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like Dad was angry about something. It was sort of a surprise at that point - Dad hadn’t said much in the month and a half since we’d lost Mom, preferring more often than not to just crawl inside a bottle and marinate.
Angry tones raced down the hallway and I quickly followed them back towards the living room. I was afraid that maybe he’d hurt himself, and was calling for help, but as his words distinguished themselves in my mind I sped up my footsteps.
“… so careless! Touching them with your grimy hands. Look what you’ve done!”
Dad was towering over Alice, who had her head down with her hands curled into tight balls at her sides. She was already in her pajamas - a long pink night-gown - and bare feet.
“Dad,” I called out hesitantly from the entryway. “Is everything alright?”
He whirled around to face me, and it was immediately obvious that he was drunk. He swayed, holding his arms out for balance, and looked around lazily before his eyes finally focused on me. “Edward.” He jabbed a finger back towards where Ali was standing. “Your sister smashed your Mother’s pegasus.”
I couldn’t help it, I gasped. Mom had loved that figurine - it was only three inches high, but it was cut from the clearest glass with a subtle, rainbow tint and had large, majestic wings that curved above it. We had a whole case of glass figures that Mom had collected since she was in college, but this was one of her first, and her favorite. Her name was Jasmine, and sometimes when we couldn’t sleep Mom would make up stories about the adventures Jasmine and her winged friends would have in the clouds. It was important to Mom, always, and therefore important to us. Now, it was in several pieces on the coffee table behind Alice.
In retrospect, it wasn’t the loss of Jasmine that upset us, but the feeling that we were slowly losing pieces of Mom that we couldn’t get back. And, of course, it was living through Dad’s reaction - that, as much as anything else, made it clear that nothing would ever be the same.
From the bob of Ali’s head I could tell she was definitely crying, but trying to keep the noise to a minimum. Standing in the middle of our living room, doing her best to be silent and invisible, she looked so small.
Without warning, Dad lounged for the cabinet of figurines and pulled out a larger one - an angel with petite, outstretched hands and tall, angular wings. He tossed it up and down in his hand a few times, seeming to take note of the weight of it.
“I guess we don’t need them anymore, do we? You two have enough of your mother in you that you don’t need these.”
Suddenly wheeling back around to face Alice, he raised the figure above his head. He whipped his hand down, flinging the glass in her direction. She flinched but with her knees already backed up to the coffee table in the center of the room, Alice couldn’t get farther away. His aim was rotten, luckily, and it missed her by inches. It did, however, strike the edge of the wood table and shatter into hundreds of sinister glass shards. They fell to the ground, littering the space around Ali’s feet. At seeing the carnage, she looked up at me, petrified.
I saw red.
She was just a child, my baby sister. I didn’t know what Dad would try next, but I refused to leave Ali standing in a land mine of glass.
In an instant I was between them, my shoes crunching over the treacherous shards. Dad looked surprised, as if he hadn’t even seen me move. I spread my arms behind me to cover Ali and whispered, “Don’t.”
I didn’t mean to sound angry, or aggressive. The last thing I wanted to do was provoke my dad, but I couldn’t stomach the thought that she had been hurt by our own father while I was just biding my time in another room.
He reached for her, or me, and I growled. “Don’t you touch her.”
Pulling back, he looked disoriented, and I no longer cared about dealing with him. My only thought was to get Ali out of this living room and this situation as fast as possible.
I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew this man was not our father - not the man that had raised and loved us. Maybe he died with Mom, I didn’t know. But I didn’t have time to figure it out then. I turned to Alice and wrapped my arms around her, lifting her straight out of the glass. Her arms slipped tightly around my neck, and I felt her kick her feet a little to shake them of any shards before she wrapped her legs around my waist.
Small as she was, it was a hardly an effort to carry her. I went straight to her room, making sure to close and lock the door behind me. The first thing I did when I set her on her bed was pick up her feet, one by one, to make sure there was no glass left. In huddling behind me she had obviously tried to shuffle backward, and had picked up a few superficial cuts along the way. I dabbed at them with a tissue, confirming that none of them looked very serious.
I tried to ask her questions - What had happened? Was she okay? - but she just cried into her hands and my neck, so I held her against me and softly patted her back. Her sobs were muffled and nonsensical and stuck in her throat as she took shallow, shuttering breaths.
Reliving the memory now, the similarities between that night and the night on our front lawn less than a week and a half ago were appallingly obvious. I should have known what was going on immediately.
I shook my head to clear the thoughts, and moved to Alice’s closet. I pulled out a lot of her shirts but left the bright colors behind in an attempt to be supportive of her new look. I pulled some money out of my wallet that I had picked up from the ATM earlier, and tucked it into the pocket of a pair of jeans before I went to zip the suitcase.
When I glanced up, I was startled to see Jasper leaning against the doorway. For a moment he just looked so… tender, and I couldn’t even fathom what he was thinking. I wanted to ask him to say something, to tell me what was passing through that beautiful head of his so that at least one part of my life was complication-free, but I didn’t get the chance.
He launched himself at me with outstretched arms, and I reached out to receive him. I puckered my lips for another one of those kisses that made me so warm and breathless, thinking that even without words they were still phenomenal, but instead he slid his arms past my shoulders and around my back into a tight embrace.
He didn’t say anything, but pressed a wet kiss to my cheek.
“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested.
He nodded against me before letting go.
On the way out, I contemplated taking the picture of Mom from the mantle. I hated the thought of not coming back to it - to her. It was ironic, twisted even, that I felt closest to her here, in the room where she’d said her last words and finally died. I usually tried not to think of the temporary bed we’d set up, with its stiff sheets and hospital-style guard rails, or the IV stand that had reigned over her frail form. I just thought of her; this was the last place I’d seen my mom. And now that I wouldn’t be escorting Alice back to pick up her belongings, I didn’t know when I’d be here again.
Unfortunately, the thought of my father returning to find Mom’s photo gone, and his inevitable rage, was enough to push me out the door and lock it firmly behind me.
It was only a couple blocks to Bella’s, but the whole time I was very aware of the fact that I’d done this before. From my house, to packing Alice a bag, to the awkward conversation I knew I’d have with Charlie. The only difference was that last time, I hadn’t had Jasper to help me through it.
I’d thrown everything I could think of into Alice’s Disney Princess backpack and a small duffel from her closet. After making sure she had shoes and a jacket, I crawled through her window and lifted her behind me.
With her bags in one hand and her tiny fist in the other, we plodded down to the Swan’s. Her sniffles eventually subsided, and I knelt on Charlie’s front landing to talk to her.
“Ali, sweety. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I- I dropped it. I’m sorry.”
“Oh I know, Teeny, and it’s okay. You’re not in any trouble.”
She nodded, but didn’t seem to take any comfort in my words.
“What did Dad do?”
“He got… angry.”
I nodded sympathetically, and pulled her jacket tighter around her neck when she shivered.
“Ali, I have to ask you a question. But I want you to know that no matter what you say, you’re not in trouble, okay?”
She whispered a tiny “uh-huh.”
“Did you get hurt? Because Dad was angry?” My stomach clenched even as I said the words, but I decided I’d rather say them and regret them than let them go unasked.
“Just my feet.”
God - she was so young and tiny. Even though I was kneeling she still had to look up to see me when her eyes filled with tears.
That was enough for me. Those eyes, Mom’s eyes, should never have to cry. She nodded pitifully and I hugged her tightly, making endless promises about how I would be there for her and she would always be safe.
“Okay, Teeny? This is never going to happen again. I’m here, and I love you. Okay?”
She held on tightly and told me she loved me too. When we righted ourselves, I knocked on the door and stoically asked Charlie if Alice could spend the night.
I couldn’t believe I was retracing those same steps, even though I no longer had Alice in tow. That night I had filled Charlie in, as diplomatically as I could, on what had happened so that he would understand if Alice was upset. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that he would want to go to the authorities - that he was the authorities. He’d wanted to ‘make a phone call’, as he put it, so that Dad wouldn’t come near us again.
Fear gripped me so tightly as I babbled out all my pleas and excuses. I was instantly horrified of what would happen to us without Dad. He may have gotten angry, but he was the only family we had left. I was nearly sick when I realized we would be put in the foster system.
It had taken only moments for me to become panicked and incoherent. Not only would we be taken but we could be separated, and most likely would be.
I might - might - have thrown up in Charlie’s bushes then.
He had taken pity on me, I guess, and gruffly promised that he wouldn’t make a phone call yet, but if our dad laid a hand on either of us…
I had thanked him profusely, for everything, and headed back home.
This time, when I knocked on the Swan’s door, Charlie looked more weary but less surprised than he had that night when Ali was ten.
Charlie was still in his uniform, and hadn’t even had the chance to take his gun off yet.
“Edward,” he said, wiping a hand across his mustache. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” He motioned for me to follow him inside, and we sat awkwardly around the half-set dinner table.
I gulped. “I, uh, brought some more stuff for Alice,” I said, lifting up the suitcase.
He nodded, looking stern and watchful like he was wondering how much I knew.
I was wondering the same about him. “She shouldn’t need to go home for a while.”
Again, he nodded, but it was clear he was angry with the situation and how I was handling it. “I don’t plan on letting her go back there,” he said with conviction.
Once again, I knew the words ‘phone call’ were looming over us, and they still terrified me. Given the fact that it was three and a half years later and we were having the same conversation, it occurred to me that maybe I should have just let him call Child Protective Services in the first place.
Then again, we had no family to go to, and the more I thought about it the less I understood how he could want to fling Alice into the foster system. He loved her like a daughter, I was sure. Plus, I had a feeling some of those foster parents were no better than what we wanted her away from.
I didn’t know what to do - I didn’t know what the right answer was - because if he made the phone call this time, they’d only be taking Ali away. We’d be separated for sure, unless I could be her guardian. I’d have to be proven fit, though, but I was intent on doing whatever I needed to do to keep Ali out of the system.
“I’d like to have a word with your father.”
“He hasn’t been home,” I admitted.
“At all?”
I shook my head.
“Has he made any contact, since…”
“Not since before I picked Alice up.”
He nodded thoughtfully and scratched his mustache again.
“You know that’s no good either, Edward.”
I sighed. He was right, and I knew the word bouncing around in his head, unsaid: neglect.
But it wasn’t as if that was anything new. “What if,” I said, trying to veer away from the eventual threat of a phone call. “What if he’d asked you… if Ali could stay over while he was out of town? Then wouldn’t it be okay?”
“Edward,” he said gruffly. “Are you asking the Chief of Police to lie?”
I muttered, “No,” with downcast eyes, while silently cursing because that was exactly what I was asking him to do.
I had been foolish to think that a life full of sleep-overs at Bella’s was as good as an actual home, but I had spent a bit of time recently looking up Washington’s State laws. Since no harm was coming to Alice as a result of Dad’s absence, I wasn’t convinced we needed to take action right away. I just didn’t want Charlie to go making anything official yet.
“Do you know what happened to your sister last week?”
“Not entirely. She won’t really talk about it,” I answered warily and added as an afterthought, “to me. Has she said anything to you?”
“No. She just insisted on getting those contacts.” He leaned across the table and confided, “They look a little weird.”
I agreed. “I know. Thank you, though, for getting her all those clothes. I brought some money-”
I shifted to reach for the wallet in my back pocket, but Charlie waved me away. “No. It was my treat. Really, Edward, don’t.”
Once I met his gaze it was obvious that he meant it, so I let it go. “Well, thanks Charlie. She certainly seems a lot happier with the new wardrobe.”
“Sure does. And that Clearwater boy seems to be a fan as well. They’ve practically got the same hair.”
Clearwater? Like Leah? “What?”
“Seth Clearwater. He sure does seem fond of her. Been holding her hand when Sue drops her off.”
“Sue Clearwater, the nurse at La Push?”
“Yep. She drops her off before taking her kids home. Long commute, poor Sue. Sure nice of her to take the time.”
I nodded sincerely, thinking this Seth Clearwater must be the boy who put his arm around Alice. Same hair, indeed.
Before I could respond, my attention was pulled to the stairway where Alice and Bella had suddenly appeared.
“Hi, Edward!” Bella called. “We didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Hey, Bella. Ali, I brought you some more stuff from home.”
“Oh,” she said casually. “Thanks. Did you get my dark jeans?”
I tried to think over what I’d grabbed, but couldn’t remember much specifically. “Um, maybe?”
She rolled her eyes, but it seemed more playful than anything else. She glanced over her shoulder at Bella, who was stalling on the stairs and said, “Boys.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know,” I joked along, “we have no taste in clothes.” That actually got a hint of a smile, and I was beyond thrilled to see it, so I grinned back.
Ali came over to haul her suitcase upstairs. I offered to help but she said she had it under control. Before she could step away I leaned down and told her, “I put some cash in one of your jean pockets. Just for… whatever.”
“Okay,” she said, cheerily enough. “Thanks, Edward.”
Her good mood was certainly unexpected, and I wondered if it had to do with a certain boy who liked to hold her hand.
I watched her and Bella work their way back up the stairs, and headed for the door. Charlie caught me there, where he was hanging up his gun.
“You doing okay at the Cullen’s? Esme says you’ll be staying there for good now.”
“Yeah, the Cullens are…” The Cullens are letting me sleep curled up against their son who kisses me in tree houses. “.. great,” I finished lamely.
“They’re good people.”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
With that, I slipped out his front door and back into my car where Jas was waiting for me, which was a bit of a relief. After my heart-to-heart with Charlie three and a half years ago, I’d had to go back home to deal with the glass and the rest of my dad’s temper. I shook that thought from my head, though, and decided to let Jas’s warm smile distract me from reliving any more memories of that night.
I filled Jasper in briefly on what Charlie’d said and, after I’d shifted into drive, I put my hand on Jas’s knee where it liked to rest. His hand was resting on his leg beside mine, his fingers tapping feather-light, uneven rhythms against my skin.
Once we were out of sight of the Swan’s, his fingers curled and, in a movement so tentative I wondered if he really meant to do it, he slowly raised my arm and twisted it so he could press my palm to his lips. Gently, he kissed the scar on my palm that was my sole souvenir of Dad’s anger.
A shiver immediately sparked up to my elbow and radiated across my chest like the slow warmth of the rising sun. Though he was slightly bent to reach my hand, his devastatingly-blue eyes were aimed up through his dark lashes, directly at me.
I couldn’t help it, my breath caught in my throat at the intimacy of his gesture. All I could do was watch as his wet, plump lips swept across my skin. It was one of the most alluring things I’d ever seen. Thoughts echoed through my mind of that exact gesture except… everywhere.
He quickly replaced my hand on his leg, though, and I reminded myself that I was driving a car and needed to focus on the road.
Once we got back to the Cullen’s, we settled ourselves on the floor of his room with our laptops to chip away at the homework and college essays that were always inevitably waiting for us. We tried to concentrate, but still voiced idle thoughts and complaints about various teachers. Jas would occasionally reach over to press random keys in the middle of my typing, just because he could, so I would attempt to close the lid of my computer on his hands when he did.
Oddly enough, it was life as usual. In fact, when Jas got up to get some water but decided to launch a pillow at me on his way out, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
We had been playing through our homework and whispering goodnight to each other for years. This new thing we had wasn’t, in reality, all that new. Our playfulness, and the ease with which we spent time together - it was actually just like before.
It was startling to think that we were still the same people we were two weeks ago. So what if we shared a bed? So what if, now, I found myself kissing another boy - and enjoying it. We knew who we were; I was Edward and he was Jasper. I was anxious and prone to episodes of massive logic-fail. He was calm, and self-assured. Jasper was my guide - my beacon.
Sure, this new territory was shaky and uncertain, especially since it was hard to talk about. Hell, he was probably as unbalanced as I was, but somehow I was okay with that. This was just me and Jasper, same as it always was, and that made it okay.
Of course, I had to amend my realization when Jas came back in, stretched out on the floor beside me, and snaked one arm around my waist to pull me in for a deep and lingering kiss.
So, this was just like before, except with kissing.
And I’d found I was really fucking fond of the kissing parts.
Chapter 11