Chapter 9
EPOV
"Son of a bitch," I mutter heatedly when I see the parking lot of The Breakers.
It's packed. Cars are parked in every available spot, even in places that are clearly marked as no parking zones. The line to get in is out the door and I huff while kicking a rock across the ground, watching as it skips away.
"Fuck."
It's been four days since I've seen Bella or Peyton. Four long, agonizing, frustrating, fantasy-filled days. Charlie's found a prime fishing spot so we've been out late every day so far this week. By the time we come back to the docks, Bella's so busy at the restaurant that I don't want to bother her. The number of summer vacationers in Corea has seemed to hit its peak which means everyone's busy.
I know it's good for business, but it sucks ass that I haven't been able to see her. I've been able to think about her though; in fact, it's been damn near impossible to do anything but that since the dinner at her house … and that kiss.
Holy fucking hell that kiss.
There have been too many dreams to count of what I imagined being with a woman the first time after I got out of prison would be like, but even the most vivid fail miserably in comparison to the reality of Bella. Of hearing her whimpers and moans, of feeling her nipples beneath my fingers, of tasting her tongue in my mouth. Nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming desire to take her, claim her, that I find myself constantly wanting to do every time I'm around her. It took all I had, every bit of willpower I somehow found, to stop from going any further the other night. My body screamed in protest. Even the rough jacking-off session in the shower when I got home, where I came not once but twice, did little to relieve any of the aching need that seems to be my constant companion these days.
It's been keeping the fear of telling Bella about Boston company in my mind.
If I'm not thinking about one thing, it's the other. Over and over. The fact that I haven't seen her in four days is exacerbating the worst case scenario playing in my head - the one where Bella and Peyton tell me they never want to see me ever again.
As much as I know it's a very real possibility that may happen, I hope with all I have that it won't. I haven't known either of them long, but I know I want them both in my life.
With one last regretful glance toward The Breakers, I hop on my bike and head back toward the boarding house. There's a strange car parked in the driveway when I pull up and my stomach immediately tightens. My initial thought, the very first thing that flies through my mind is that somehow I've failed my drug test and someone is here to take me back in. The urge to run is strong because now that I'm out, now that I've met Bella and Peyton, and started making friends, and a home in Corea, there's no fucking way I can go back.
None.
Thankfully, rational thought enters once my initial panic subsides. I realize I'm letting my imagination get the best of me and I take a few deep breaths. I figure it's just someone the State sent to check on me, and though the thought makes my skin crawl, it's better than the previous one. Even though my parole is a special case, I'm still a parolee. I'm still subject to many of the same rules and regulations as any other guy just out of prison and that means random spot checks and drug tests, a la last week's trip to Ellsworth. I hate the idea of subjecting Carlisle and Esme to the invasion of privacy. They were made aware of the possibility before they agreed to let me stay with them, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.
Timidly, I enter the side door into the kitchen, and feel the tension ease when I see Esme sitting with a woman at the table laughing. Knowing Esme, it wouldn't surprise me a bit that she's having a glass of iced tea with someone sent to search their house for contraband, but their discussion is much too familiar for that.
"Oh, Edward," Esme says happily when she sees me walk in. "Come meet someone, dear."
I shuffle my feet, still hating the whole meet and greet thing because I don't know who knows what about me. Honestly, it's really starting to take its toll. It feels like I'm lying to everyone and I fucking hate it. It's not like I need to take an ad out in the Corea Gazette and give everyone a blow by blow of my life, but knowing that the people that are slowly but surely becoming friends don't have any idea about who I am or where I've been weighs like a ton of bricks around my neck.
"Aggie, this is Edward Masen. He's working on the Isabella Marie with Charlie, Jasper, and Emmett," she says and the pride in her voice makes the tips of my ears warm. I'm proud and embarrassed in equal measure.
"Ah, so you're the Edward I've heard so much about." She chuckles. Her voice startles me only because it's deep and raspy, especially coming from someone so tiny.
Seriously, if the woman comes up to my armpit I'll be surprised. Her smile is warm and welcoming. She tips her head to the side and stares at me for a few seconds, looking me over from head to toe. I try not to laugh myself when she has to tilt her head backward to look up. She really is that short. When she looks me in the eye, I swear they twinkle.
"Ummm … yes?" I answer though it comes out more like a pansy ass squeak.
"You look just like Peyton described you," she says and shoots Esme a glance that makes me nervous. It's obvious I've been the topic of conversation between these two before. However, hearing Peyton's name, especially because I haven't seen her for a few days, makes me smile.
"Thank you," I say, rocking a bit from side to side.
Esme hands me a glass of iced tea and pats my shoulder. It calms me immediately and I take a deep breath. "Edward, Aggie runs the Coast Station. She's the one making sure all you boys come home safe every time you go out on the water."
I can tell my face shows my surprise when both women laugh at me. "Trust me, when a Nor'easter comes racing through here, there's no one you want more guiding you back home than Aggie," Esme tells me.
The remark about the storms makes me shiver. I can't even imagine being out on the water in weather like that. So far we've had nothing but bright sunshine and calm winds. The last few nights we've been out later, the wind has blown harder, making the waves a bit rougher, and it was enough to make me want to strap on a life jacket and hide below deck.
Should make for an interesting winter.
I hear both of them laugh and I'm thankfully saved from further embarrassment when Carlisle walks in.
"Aggie, you're not giving Edward too hard a time now are you? Peyton will be very upset with you if you're mean to her best friend," he says as he grabs two beers out of the fridge and hands me one in place of my iced tea.
The four of us visit and again I feel like the walls are pushing in on me from all sides. Aggie's as welcoming as Carlisle and Esme, Rose and Alice, Emmett and Jasper, and pretty much everyone else I've met since coming to Corea. Even Mr. Norris at the Booze & Bait greets me by name every time I walk in. I hear more stories about Bella and Peyton and though they're sweet and funny they … hurt.
Really fucking bad.
For reasons I'm just beginning to understand.
The secrets between us, mine way more so than hers, loom large like a vast canyon. They're eating away at my insides, like termites gnawing on wood. I know before I even think about telling Bella any of that though, there are things I need to deal with first. Things I've buried for a long time, longer even than the seven years I spent in prison. My parents' deaths, my grandmother's, the trouble I got into with Aleksei - even before the night from hell - my grandfather dying without me being able to say goodbye, the seven years of my life I can't ever get back.
You would think that spending all that time behind bars would have given me plenty of opportunity to deal with the plethora of shit, but really, it just made it easier to push it away. When I was first arrested, I was pissed at every fucking thing. My parents and grandmother for dying, my grandfather for not stopping me from throwing my life away, fate for putting me in the middle of all that shit, Aleksei for taking advantage of it, and, most of all, myself for being so weak that I became someone I didn't even recognize.
Staying safe, learning how to survive behind bars, being constantly on guard … those were the things I had to focus on during my time as an inmate. Once I settled in, if there really is such a thing as settling in inside a prison, the long, endless hours that stretched before me were spent reading, studying for the bar exam, and then helping a few guys with their cases. I worked in the laundry at Old Colony and in the library at the Pre-Release Center. It kept me busy, at least it let me have something to do to keep my mind occupied, even though the work was mind-numbing and monotonous.
Week after week, month after long month, year after never-ending year passed and the only thing I focused on, the only thing that kept me going was what I was going to do with my life once I got out. I had nothing, no one after my grandfather died, except the dream of coming to Corea to start over.
And now, here I am, in the place that truly feels like home, scared out of my fucking mind that the new life I'm slowly but steadily starting to build is going to crumple like a house of cards, leaving me with nothing once again. This time though, that nothing seems infinitely more painful.
I've zoned out so much of the conversation that when Esme and Aggie tell me goodbye, I know I must look like a damn fool, with my mouth hanging open and eyes narrowed in confusion. Esme looks concerned for a moment and then kisses my cheek.
"You've been working too hard, honey. Dinner is in the oven waiting for you. Eat, relax, then go to bed early. You need your rest," she tells me in the sweet but no-nonsense way only Esme Cullen can, making me feel safe and fearful of not doing as she says all at the same time.
She's the gentlest woman I've ever come across, but there is no doubting the lioness that shows her claws when the time calls for it.
Without a word Carlisle gets up and takes our plates from the oven. Roast chicken, red potatoes, and green beans cover the plate and I moan appreciatively. We don't eat lunch while we're out on the boat. A light snack maybe, but eating in the midst of the rocking and swaying of the boat, the moving and pulling, not to mention the stench of the bait makes the thought of eating as unappealing as anything. By the time I make it back to the boarding house, I'm ravenous. Working late makes that even more so.
I dig in, my hunger overriding the foreboding I'd felt earlier. Once my plate is almost empty, my ability to consume large amounts of food back and in full force, I look up to find Carlisle looking at me. The doctor look is readily apparent on his face and my stomach pretty much tells me that scarfing down almost half a chicken probably wasn't the best idea.
"Are you okay?" he asks. His eyes search my face, looking for clues. I'm actually kind of curious as to what he sees.
"What do you mean?" I question, pushing my plate back because all of the sudden, the thought of eating one more bite makes me gag.
He takes a drink of his beer, peering at me over the bottle. I squirm in my seat uncomfortably. It's like being examined under a microscope the way his gaze penetrates. I feel exposed, raw, like a fish that's been flayed open and I haven't even told him anything yet. The secrets, the hiding, the avoiding of things I haven't wanted to think about rush forth and squeeze my chest like a vise. I start breathing in and out faster and faster.
My vision blurs, my head swims, and I can feel myself gasping for breath.
"Shit! Edward, breathe. Come on. Breathe in and out. Slowly now," he tells me and I get the sense that he's breathing with me but I can't be sure. My own panting and gasping is all I can hear until my vision clears and I'm able to take a deep, albeit shaky, breath.
"What … the fuck … was that?" I question on a jagged breath and rub my chest hoping it will help.
He chuckles a bit while he pats me on the back and then takes his seat once more when it seems like I'm going to survive whatever the fuck just happened to me.
"Carlisle?" I manage to pant, relief coursing through me when the vise squeezing my chest loosens enough so I can take another deep breath.
The frown on his face, the dip between his eyebrows, and the slump of his shoulders lets me know that what he's about to tell me … I'm not going to want to hear.
Sighing he says softly, regretfully, "You just had a panic attack."
I'm shaking my head before the sentence is even fully out of his mouth. "What? No fucking way, Carlisle."
"Yes way. It's not surprising to be honest. I've been worried about this ever since you went to dinner at Bella's. I haven't been able to talk to you because you've been working so hard this week and so tired by the time you get home, but I could tell that things were building. I'd hoped to have a chance to help you before this happened," he says sadly.
"I just … hell, Carlisle … every time I think I have my head above water I just get pulled under again," I mutter, throwing my head back and staring up at the ceiling.
The feelings of helplessness and just abject fear hit me hard, like a sucker punch to the jaw from Mike Tyson and I pinch my eyes closed, hoping to stem the onslaught.
"What's going on? Talk to me, Edward." He's got that doctor voice thing going on again but instead of it pissing me off like before, this time it just makes me want to spill my guts.
So I do.
He listens as I spew, bouncing from one thing to the other. I know I'm not making the least damn bit of sense, but he never moves, never interrupts. He doesn't comment except for a frown or a narrowing of eyes when I say something that either angers or saddens him, but he just lets me keep going.
I tell him everything.
About what it felt like when I went to live with my grandparents, what growing up with them was like … what coming to Corea every summer was like. How hard it was for my grandfather and me when Grandma died so unexpectedly. How that set me on a tailspin, turning me into someone I didn't even recognize any more. The drugs, the fights, the trouble I got into when I ran with Aleksei and his crowd. The disappointment I saw every single day in my grandfather's eyes when I came home drunk or high or beat to shit. The horror of being arrested and put on trial, of listening to the DA as he portrayed me as one person when I knew I was another.
The misery of spending year after year after year behind bars. The isolation I felt, the hopelessness that never seemed to wane. The depression, the anger, the all-consuming bitterness. The fear of starting over, of never being accepted, of always being judged. The hope I've begun to feel since coming to Corea. The dread of being cut out of Bella's and Peyton's lives before I've even gotten a chance to prove myself.
All of it just comes pouring out in what seems like one incredibly long sentence. When I'm done, there's a sort of eerie, awkward silence. I'm not even sure how or if he's been able to catch up but once I look at him, I know he has. His eyes are dazed and they look a bit wild.
"Well," he says slowly. I notice his hands are shaking and he shifts nervously in his chair.
The situation might be kind of funny … seeing Carlisle so flustered … if it wasn't so damn serious.
I blow out a long, shuddering breath and stand up. My body needs to move, to release the pent-up anxiety and tension racing through it. I'd like to go for a run down the beach or hop on my bike and just drive, trying to outrun the sense of drowning … suffocating, that's currently doing a damn fine job of making me feel like I'm three seconds away from completely losing my fucking mind.
In all actuality, what I want in that moment, more than anything, is to be with Bella and Peyton. The other night at dinner was the most normal, the most at peace I've ever felt in my life and I want to feel that again. I crave it.
Badly.
"That was, ah … um …" Carlisle says as he clears his throat. "Holy shit," he mutters as he shakes his head while looking at me.
I snort. "Yeah, tell me about it," I say, pulling at my hair and then resume my pacing.
"Edward, I have to tell you, I'm pretty much speechless."
I come to an abrupt halt and whip around to look at him. "Well, that's just fucking great, Carlisle! Nice of you to tell me I'm so fucked up you can't even say anything. I should have just kept my damn mouth shut," I mutter and flop back down in my chair, suddenly more tired than I can ever remember being.
"What?" Carlisle asks immediately then groans. "Oh, hell, that didn't come out the right way at all. Edward," he says and his voice gets softer, steadier. "I'm just shocked at how you've endured all that you have and managed to not go completely off the deep end."
I can't help but chuckle at that. "Deep end, huh? Is that a technical term I'm not aware of?"
The teasing immediately lifts the oppressive weight that was bearing down on us and from the way his shoulders relax, I can tell Carlisle notices as well.
"Nah, I made that up just for you," he jokes back. We both smile and take a deep breath at the same time. "Edward," he begins slowly after a few moments of silence. "It's no wonder you had a panic attack with all that bubbling beneath the surface."
"So what the hell does that mean? That I'm going to have those again whenever I start to feel overwhelmed? What the fuck am I supposed to do if that happens and I'm in the middle of the fucking ocean?" My heart rate spikes immediately at the thought of that and I grip the table … hard … while I breathe in and out.
"You do just that," he tells me softly. "You have a lot of issues to work through, Edward, and you can't expect them to go away by pretending they don't exist. I'll help you, if you let me. It won't be easy, but I have no doubt you can do it."
"Fuck," I mutter, though it's without anger.
"We'll take it slow," he tells me and that eases a bit of my apprehension. Visions of me lying on a black leather couch for hours at a time while I spill my guts swirls in my head and I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration.
Damn, I really hate this therapy shit. Carlisle can call it whatever the hell he wants, but a spade's a spade as far as I'm concerned.
"Fine," I grudgingly concede.
"Not tonight though," he tells me and I can't help but laugh a little when he chuckles at me.
I rub my hands on the tops of my thighs, giving them something to do besides pull at my hair. "Thank God."
"How about we plan on talking in my office once or twice a week, whenever you're feeling up to it? No pressure or anything, just when you have time," he tells me.
"I can … yeah, that sounds like it's doable. Can we talk outside though?" The thought of being inside an office seems way too close to therapy for my liking.
He grins at me then nods his head, saying, "Whatever you feel comfortable with, we'll do, Edward."
I feel like I should apologize for my outburst and then thank him for putting up with all my bullshit. I open my mouth to do just that but he holds his hand up, making the words die in my throat before I can get them out. "Don't even think about apologizing," he tells me. I know he must see the surprise on my face because it feels like my eyebrows are on the top of my head.
I huff and nod my head at him, bouncing my knee a mile a minute. I need to get out of here, like yesterday.
He stands up and pats me on the shoulder. "Call Bella, Edward," he tells me and just hearing her name makes things seem better.
"I, uh … what?" I stammer idiotically.
He smirks at me like I'm a child. "You know, like on the phone? You haven't been inside that long. It's amazing," he says like the smart ass he can be. "You can actually call someone up and talk to them when you can't see them."
"Thanks." I scoff, resisting the urge to flip him off. My fingers find my cell phone in my pocket and I grip it tightly, almost as if I can feel Bella through the phone.
"Go," he tells me.
I waste no time and I fly out the back door, practically running toward the beach. Finding a log, I sit down, paying no attention to the rough bark that digs into my legs through my jeans. I inhale the moist, salty air and listen as the waves brush against the sand. It takes a few moments for me to work up my courage to call her. I stare at the phone in my hand like it's a foreign object before the need to hear her voice overrides the fear that I'm going to make an ass out of myself.
My fingers shake as the screen lights up. I bring up my contacts, smiling when I notice hers is the first name on the very short list. We'd exchanged numbers one afternoon at the restaurant, but I've never used it … until now.
It's totally not lost on me that the last time I called up a girl on the phone, I was still a teenager.
"What the fuck am I doing?" I murmur as I listen to the phone ring, half hoping she won't answer and half afraid she will.
"Hello?" I hear when she answers and there's a little catch in her voice as she speaks.
"Bella, um … hey, it's Edward."
My voice quivers a bit when I hear her voice and she does that adorable squeak thing I love so much as soon as I say my name.
If I'm not mistaken, it sure as hell sounds like she's every bit as excited to hear from me as I am to talk to her. That fact makes me blow out a long breath to try to calm the hell down.
"Edward, hi. I'm so glad you called." And … that's all it takes to put a smile on my face.
"Thank Christ," I mutter. When I hear her giggle on the other end, I laugh myself. "I wasn't sure if I should call or not. I mean I know we exchanged numbers and all that, but … ah, damn … I feel like a fucking idiot." My voice trails off and I'm more embarrassed than I can ever remember being before in my life.
I hear her sigh and I hate that I can't see her face. "I'm sorry we keep missing each other this week. It's been so busy at the restaurant and I know Dad has had you guys working like crazy, too."
"I … I am, too, and I um … I do miss you," I say softly. My palms sweat and I have the most insane urge to blurt out something lame like 'I think about you all the time' but before I do, I hear her sigh again.
Worrying I've said too much, or freaked her out by what I said, I get ready to spew the first thing that comes out of my mouth but I clamp my lips closed when I hear her say, "I've missed you, too."
Once we get over the awkwardness of talking on the phone for the first time, we talk for hours. Because it's so late, much later than I realized when I called her, Peyton's already in bed. We talk about nonsense really, just silly things that aren't deep or heavy. Things that don't remind me of the secrets I'm keeping or the painful memories of my past. It's liberating.
"Bella, damn, woman, how in the hell can you even think that The Birds is a creepier movie than Psycho? It's birds, Bella, birds." I snicker then outright laugh when I hear her growl at me from the other end.
Of course the growl makes me think of other things I can do to her to cause that sound which in turn makes my dick hard. Really fucking hard.
"Edward! Have you seen those things? Creepy ass black birds with their beady little black eyes. They totally freak me the hell out," she whines adorably and I can literally hear her shiver.
It makes me want to give her a hug, damn it.
She yawns then squeals almost loud enough to pop my eardrum. "Edward, you need to go to bed. Do you realize we've been talking for two hours?"
I have actually because I've been fighting to keep my eyes open for the past thirty minutes at least. I don't want to say goodbye to her. Hearing her voice is just what I needed to soothe the frayed nerves I'd had from talking to Carlisle.
"Yeah, I know. I just … ah … don't want to say good night yet," I admit quietly.
There isn't a sound around me except for the waves that lap gently against the rocks and the soft sound she makes as she breathes into the phone. I swear I could curl up right there on the sand and sleep, just listening to her breathe. I'm not sure I've ever felt so relaxed.
"I don't either, but you need your rest." Her voice is sweet and soft and I know I'll hear it in my dreams tonight.
I sigh, knowing she's right. Five o'clock is going to come damn early, especially as it's already pushing midnight. "You do, too, you know," I remind her, now worried about how tired she'll be at work tomorrow.
Her light laugh makes my heart kind of feel like it's going a hundred miles an hour. It's a bit disconcerting how important both she and Peyton are to me in such a short period of time, but there's no question that they are.
"I'll be fine. I'm … I'm so glad you called," she says, sounding just as relieved as me at having finally talked after four days of not seeing or talking to each other.
"Well, now that I know you won't think I'm a fucking moron for calling, I'll do it more often." I'd much rather see her than talk to her on the phone, but it's not a bad substitute, either.
"Sounds good. If you're up to it, your best friend has been very mopey this week because she hasn't gotten her Edward time in, so why don't you come to dinner again on Sunday?" she asks. I smile so big I swear my face is going to split in half.
"Hell, yes, I'll be up to it. Thank you. I've missed her," I say with a sigh. Fuck, I really have, too, so much.
"The feeling is completely mutual, I promise. If I don't see you or talk to you until then, same time, okay? I promise not to fix so much food this time." She giggles and I laugh with her.
I wonder for a moment what the hell she did with all that leftover food. "We can have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all I care," I tell her, totally serious.
The company beats the food, hands down, all day, any day.
Bella's an awesome cook, but I'd eat the shit they served in prison again as long as Bella and Peyton were with me.
She chuckles. "I think I can manage better than that. I'll talk to you tomorrow … well, I guess today, okay?" Her voice is barely above a whisper and I can almost picture her with her knees beneath her chin, her feet bare with that damned sexy lime green toenail polish, and twirling a piece of hair around her finger.
Desire flares hot and fast through me.
Fuck, I want her.
Whatever this is between us, it's obvious we're both still treading carefully. It's also obvious how attracted we are to each other, and for that reason, I know things are going to move slowly. I can wait. I'm not anywhere near close to being ready to take things any further than they are right now. Lord knows my dick will hate me, but there's no way in hell I'm pushing either of us before we're ready.
"Okay, sounds good. Night, Bella. Sweet dreams and all that," I tell her quietly, wondering where in the hell the tatted-up, badass ex-con went to.
"Night, Edward," she answers back just as quietly. I wait until she hangs up the phone before lowering mine from my ear.
I stare at the phone while I turn it over and over in my hands, not moving for a few moments as I absorb everything. I keep hearing Bella's soft breaths in my ear, keep picturing her hair, her eyes, keep replaying that fucking hot kiss from the other night.
Looking out over the water, I mutter, "Masen, you're so fucked."
~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
The next few weeks pass in blur. Days run together, only broken up by phone calls at night to Bella and now Peyton, who's gotten a hold of Bella's cell phone on more than one occasion. It makes me feel pretty damn lucky that my number is programmed into her phone so that Peyton can call me whenever she wants. Sunday dinner at Bella's has become a regular standing date and it's the highlight of my week.
The work on the boat is kicking my ass. I hate to admit it, but it is. For all his laid back demeanor, Charlie is fucking ruthless as the captain of the boat. We work our asses off from well before sunup to well after dark. I ache in places I didn't know could hurt. I don't have to worry about nightmares keeping me awake because by the time I crawl upstairs, I'm asleep before my head even hits the pillow most nights.
Every day Charlie pushes us to the limit, past the aches and the pains, but it's so fucking worth it. To do something that makes me feel like I'm contributing, earning my keep, means so damn much. The work is brutal but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I've gotten to know Emmett and Jasper better, too. In fact, I know things about Emmett I'd rather not and I know way more about Jasper and Alice's sex life than I'm all that comfortable with. The first time I saw Alice after one of Jasper's more explicit discussions, which was actually more like bragging to be honest, I about shit my pants. I know I turned the color of the lobster we pull up every day and when I tried to hightail it out of The Breakers, Alice grabbed my hand and told me to stop acting like such a pussy. Direct quote.
She merely shrugged her shoulders and told me if I was going to hang out with them, I'd better get used to it. Then she proceeded to kiss the shit out of her husband in the middle of the restaurant. I'd looked at Bella who shrugged her shoulders like it was an everyday occurrence.
There are still moments I clam up and feel like getting the fuck out of here and not turning back. When Emmett asks a question that hits a little too close for comfort or Jasper makes a comment such as 'it seems like you just dropped out of the sky and landed in Corea,' I'm reminded yet again of how much I'm still hiding, and how much I dread coming clean with everyone.
I've spent some time talking with Carlisle, mostly about my parents and grandmother. We figured it was best to start at the beginning and work forward. There's so much shit, so many buried feelings and things I haven't dealt with that at times, it almost feels like I'd be better off just saying "fuck it" and leave well enough alone, but I won't. I've never backed down from a fight, and this is one I can't afford to lose.
Not if I want to truly move forward and start over.
Which is why I'm standing in front of Charlie's front door on a Sunday afternoon.
About to throw the fuck up.
"Suck it up, Edward," I chastise myself. "You have to do this."
I knock on the door and wait. It feels like fucking forever before the door opens, but really it's only a few seconds.
"Edward!" Renée says warmly, though a bit shocked when she sees it's me standing on her doorstep.
I shift nervously from foot to foot, literally feeling like I'm about to barf all over the numerous flower pots on the front steps. It'd really suck if I did that; they're kind of nice and I'm pretty sure Renée wouldn't appreciate it all that much.
"Um … I was wondering if Charlie was around?" I ask, knowing it comes out like something between a croak and a groan. I call myself a fucking idiot about twenty times, getting more anxious by the second. I know I should have called first or something instead of just showing up out of nowhere.
I'll be lucky if the man doesn't wipe the floor with my ass for interrupting his Sunday. I haven't known him long, but even I know not to come between the man's baseball and beer.
"Née, who's at the door?" I hear his gritty voice from behind her.
Renée opens the door and motions for me to come in. I'm too nervous to spend any time looking around but it's not lost on me that I'm standing inside Bella's childhood home. The place she grew up, the house she and Emmett played hide and seek in, woke each other up in the wee hours of the morning to wait for Santa Claus, the house she sneaked out of to hang out with Seth, Xavier, and Evan.
It feels weird, but in a good kind of way. Before I have too long to dwell on my asinine mental ramblings, Charlie walks into the foyer. I gape, and then wish I could turn back time so I can talk myself out of the ridiculous notion that talking to Charlie is a good idea.
Charlie chuckles at me. "Nice to see you, Edward. Everything okay?"
I try not to stare, I really do. I know I'm failing miserably. I mean seriously, the man is wearing SpongeBob SquarePants sleep pants and a World's Greatest Grandpa t-shirt, not matching in any way, shape, or form. How can I not stare?
"Yeah. I … um … I kind of need to talk to you about something," I manage to stammer out, forgetting all about the absurd outfit as I sober when I remember what I came here for.
He looks at me a moment, his gaze deep and piercing. Nodding without saying a word, he leads me through the house. Obediently I follow, telling myself over and over again to just make some bullshit up and then get the hell out of there. I try to remember what Carlisle has told me, about breathing and trying to stay focused on the task at hand so that I don't make a total ass out of myself and have a panic attack in front of Charlie.
I'm so inside my head that when I hear their back door close behind me and smell the salt in the air, I jump like a firecracker has been lit under my ass. The house isn't on the water, but it's close enough to hear it and smell it … hell, I bet there are times you can almost feel it. The backyard of their property gently slopes down toward a line of trees. There are two chairs set up beneath a towering ash tree, its branches twisting, reaching up toward the sky, making a canopy of green.
Charlie waves me toward a chair and I drop heavily into it, convinced that I'm about to make a huge fucking mistake by talking to him. It's taken me weeks to work up the courage to do it, and now that I'm sitting here in front of him, like a prisoner in front of a firing squad, the reality of what I'm about to do steals my breath for a few seconds.
"Okay, what brings you here on a Sunday afternoon when I know full well you have a standing date with two of my three favorite girls in just a few hours?" He quirks an eyebrow at me, but other than that, he doesn't move. Nothing. Not a flick of an eye, not a scratch of his nose, not even a finger through his mustache; an action I know from being around him on the boat that he does with regularity.
I fidget in my chair and then decide to just man the fuck up and do what I came here to do. "I need to ask … what I mean is … what have you told people about where I was before I came here?"
My question takes him totally by surprise. I can tell because his fingers immediately scratch through his beard. He clears his throat then opens his mouth, only to immediately snap it close again. After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath and tries again. "Edward," he begins slowly, carefully like he is choosing each word before he says them. "I haven't told anyone anything besides the fact that you got into some trouble in Boston and were looking for a way to start over and decided to come here." I lean forward in my chair, resting my forearms on my legs and hang my head. I open my mouth to say something back, but he keeps going. "Renée, of course, knows everything."
"Oh."
The silence that settles between us is heavy, strained. I'm not sure why his answer surprises me, or upsets me, but it does. I mean it makes total sense he'd tell his wife everything, or everything he knows, which really, I'm not even sure at this point if anyone but me knows the whole story.
"I knew your grandfather," he says suddenly.
Pain, heartache … a profound sense of loss hits me hard, making it almost impossible to breathe. I lean my head back and stare up at the tree above me. The branches of the old ash tree arc and climb, stretching where it wishes to go. I'm struck with a memory from one of our summer visits of me climbing a tree much like this while my grandfather watched from below. In his typical way, he didn't say much, only offering up words of encouragement when I faltered. I'd tried to climb it the entire time we'd been there, but could never reach the top. The wind would blow, or I'd make the mistake of looking down, and I'd freeze, unable to go any farther.
Eventually I'd make my way down, completely frustrated because I didn't make it to the top. Each time, my grandfather would tell me to try again. Nothing more, no hidden secrets, no offers of how best to do it, just the push to keep trying. When I finally made it to the top then back down again without breaking my neck, all he did was pat me on the back and gave me a little half smirk, but it was all I needed to know he was proud of me.
"I miss him every single day," I whisper hoarsely, still staring up through the branches, watching the sun play peek-a-boo with the leaves.
Charlie doesn't say anything for a few more minutes but then gruffly says, "I didn't know him well, but I'd see him from time to time at the American Legion hanging out with the other old guys. He bragged on you something fierce, Edward this and Edward that, until we'd have to tell him to shut the hell up."
My eyes sting and I blink to keep the tears in, to no avail. I swipe at my cheeks, pissed and embarrassed for crying in front of him, then pissed at myself for feeling that way.
"He'd be so disappointed in me," I manage on a strangled breath.
"I beg to differ with you, son," Charlie says slowly, surely. He doesn't say anything else until I look at him. His face is impassive, stoic, in his total Captain Charlie way, but his eyes … his eyes are anything but. They're sad and accepting all at the same time and I have to inhale deeply a few times just to keep myself from falling the fuck apart.
"I don't know everything that's happened to you, but, what I do know is he'd be proud of you for doing what you did. You may have been stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time with undoubtedly the worst person, but you did the right thing for the right reason. There's no way he wouldn't be proud of you for that."
I sigh, not convinced of that in the least, but hoping that what he's said is true. "I don't know about that, but I hope it's true."
"Edward, what's really bothering you?"
I lean forward again and run my hands through my hair, pulling at it in frustration. "I feel like I'm lying to everyone and I fucking hate it. Like if they all really knew what I did and where I've been, none of them would want to have anything to do with me." My words come out harshly and uneven, the admission painful.
"Are you talking about Emmett and Jasper or Bella and Peyton?" he asks pointedly.
It's a fair question of course and one I've given a lot of thought to. "Everyone really … but mostly Bella and Peyton," I answer slowly, watching him carefully for any sign of … what I'm not sure – warning, maybe?
"It's important to you what Bella and Peyton think?" I'm sure he knows my answer is yes, but I nod my head anyway. "Why?"
"They're … fuck, Charlie. They're important to me and I hate feeling like I'm hiding things from both of them. I know when I tell Bella the truth, she's not going to want to have anything to do with me and I damn sure know she's going to tell me to stay away from Peyton." I groan. My insides are a tangled mess just at the thought of Bella telling me to go away. It hurts, badly.
Charlie chuckles and my head snaps in his direction. "You must not know my daughter very well then," he says but sobers instantly. "Bella …" He sighs and his shoulders slump, as if a heavy weight has just settled on them. "On the one hand she's the strongest person I've ever seen, but on the other she's still the little girl with the scabs on her knees and missing two front teeth. She'll always be my baby girl, but she needs someone, too. It hasn't been easy on her these past few years."
"Since Evan died?" I say, taking him by surprise.
"She told you about Evan?" He's genuinely shocked and I hold my hands up to keep him from jumping to conclusions. I'm suddenly terrified to find out what happened to Evan judging by Charlie's reaction.
"Not really. Peyton and I were talking one night a few weeks ago and she told me her dad died. I put two and two together and figured out that she was talking about Evan and asked Bella if I was right. That's all she's said really. We've … ah …" I stumble, nerves flaring.
He smirks at me when I finally look in his direction. "You've what?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose before beginning carefully, hoping he doesn't kill me or string me up by my dick from the huge ash tree. "We're kind of taking things slow, getting to know each other," I say, watching him closely.
"And by things, what exactly do you mean?"
Now his tone definitely makes me want to get the fuck out of there, even more so when his arms cross on his chest and his eyes narrow at me. "We're just talking … a lot …"
He snorts. "Just talking?"
I nod, keeping the details of our kiss buried deep inside. I'd like to make it out of here alive … and with my balls still attached.
"I don't interfere in the love lives of my children, but know this, Edward. The fact that Bella has invited you to dinner, lets you spend time with both her and Peyton, is a huge deal. It's been a long time since she's put herself out there and if you're just looking to get 'reacclimated' with my daughter, I'll dump your ass in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and I can promise you, you won't make it back to shore. She's been through way too fucking much for you to play games with her."
I swallow though it hurts like hell because my throat feels like sandpaper. "Do you … you don't mind me spending time with her and Peyton? The two of them mean a great deal to me and I hope you know I'm not playing games. I would never do that." I hate that I sound so pitiful, but I know if Charlie doesn't want me around Bella and Peyton, I won't be. Bella's as stubborn as the day is long, but I also know how much she loves and respects her father.
"As long as you don't hurt either one of them, no. You're not the bad person you think you are, Edward. If you were, you wouldn't be here in the first place. Are you planning on telling her everything? You're going to have to, you know," he tells me.
He actually looks kind of sick just mentioning it.
I nod my head. "Soon. I can't take this not knowing much longer to tell you the truth. I want to tell Emmett and Jasper, too. Even Seth." I shudder imagining how much it will hurt when Xavier really does kick my ass and threatens me … again.
"She's going to be mad at me, too, you know," he tells me sadly. I stare at him until he shakes his head and sighs. "I didn't tell her anything about you except the bare minimum, but I've known all along. That's not liable to go over well."
"Shit," I mutter, feeling really fucking awful.
He shrugs his shoulders. "It's not my story to tell. I hired you to work on my boat, that's it. Whatever you do on your time is your business. If I didn't trust you, if I wasn't willing to give you a chance, we both know you wouldn't be here at all. Bella's a big girl. She can make up her own mind about you. She doesn't need my approval."
"She wants it though," I tell him honestly. That I do know with the utmost certainty.
He nods. "That's because she's my baby girl," he says, his voice conveying just how much he loves her. "She's smiled more in the past month than she has in the past seven years. I'm not stupid enough not to realize that's because of you. If she's willing to give you a chance once you tell her everything, you won't get any arguments from me."
I sag back in my chair, a huge weight lifted from my chest. It won't be easy telling Bella everything, but it has to be done.
"Thanks," I say quietly.
"Don't thank me yet. I love my daughter to the moon and back, but she has a tendency to let her mouth get her in trouble. Be ready for anything." He chuckles and I get the feeling he's going to enjoy watching from the sidelines.
We spend a few more minutes talking about much lighter things before I notice the time.
"Shit, Charlie. I'm sorry I've kept you from the game so long."
"Eh, it's okay. There's always another one. Now, if you don't want to be late, you'd better get the hell out of here. I know Peyton's got a surprise for you," he says and his eyes gleam mischievously.
I can't help but smile just like I always do when the little sprite's name is mentioned. "There's no telling," I tell him, laughing as I try to think of what it could be.
"Peyton's crazy about you. That tells me everything I need to know. It should you, too," he says and stands up. "It takes a lot of guts to admit your mistakes, Edward. None of us are perfect, not even Bella. You paid a heavy price for yours. You deserve a second chance just as much, if not more, than anyone."
With that he slaps me on the back and walks back into the house, leaving me staring at him as he walks away.
I think about our conversation for a few minutes before I make my way around the house and get on my bike to head to Bella's.
The girls are waiting and I don't want to be late.
~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
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