Wish Chapter 4 - Another Brick in the Wall

BPOV

“Bella, baby, are you sure you want to go?” My mom smoothed my hair away from my face, biting her lip nervously as she babbled. "You don’t have to. You know you can stay with us. We’ll figure it out. I mean, you hate it there and-"

“Mom,” I broke in, actually putting my index finger over her lips as if she were a young child. “I’m fine. This is what I want.”

I sounded far more sure than I felt as I hitched my backpack onto my shoulder again. It was my carry-on for the flight that would take me away from the hot, dry city that had been my home my whole life – well, all of it that I remembered anyway – to the sodden town of Forks. Really, it was a short flight – just a few hours – but it loomed ominously in my mind, this significant event that was going to change my life forever.

Mom was right – I did hate it there…so much so that I’d refused to visit my father there anymore when I was finally old enough. Thinking back on that phone call and how selfish I’d been made me cringe now. I’d been fifteen at the time and thought I knew everything. I resented him for taking me away from my friends for a month every year and sticking me in a tiny town where I didn’t know anyone – a town where it rained every stinking day and where he left me alone so often to go fishing with his friends…or worse, “invited” me to go with them. I’d convinced myself that Charlie was the selfish one, always asking me to leave home and spend four weeks in exile.

Even though it had been only two short years since then, I’d grown up a lot. Charlie’s reaction to that phone call had changed the way I thought of him, and I actually kind of…respected him now. Or again, depending on how you looked at it.

I sighed, finally putting the other strap of my backpack over my shoulder so the damn thing would stop sliding off. My mom was staring at me, her brown eyes concerned. I rolled my eyes and grinned at her. “You worry too much. I’ll be just a couple of hours away by plane.”

I swallowed, hoping she couldn’t sense the lump in my throat as I thought of being that far away from her. From home.

“Gonna miss you, Bells,” Phil’s voice was gruff as he hugged me tightly, and I smiled against his shoulder. We had our ups and downs – typical teenage you’re-not-my-dad stuff – but overall, he was a good guy, and I knew he loved my mom completely. If it hadn’t been for her contentment and excitement, I would never have been able to leave…but watching them, seeing their happiness, just made me feel more and more sorry for Charlie, all alone up in Washington.

He pulled away just as they announced boarding for my flight, and I gave Renee one more hug as I cleared my throat. “Well, that’s me,” I said cheerfully, feeling the lie as my stomach fluttered uneasily.

Before I knew it, we’d said our last goodbyes, and I was walking down the jetway, trying to keep my mind blank as I stared at the back of the guy in front of me. He was wearing a flannel shirt that reminded me of Charlie, and I took a deep breath, puffing out my cheeks as I exhaled.

I checked my boarding pass several times even though I had all the information memorized, and I found my seat easily. I’d wanted to pay for my ticket, but Phil had insisted I let him, and he’d sprung for the extra fee that let me sit in business class. I’d thought it was a little ridiculous, but when I glanced back at how crammed the people were on the other side of the divider, I made a reminder to myself to thank Phil when I called them to let them know I’d made it okay.

It seemed to take forever before we were finally in the air - I noticed the flight attendants going back and forth a few times, and when I asked why we hadn't taxi'ed to the runway yet, one of them muttered an apology. I overheard another flight attendant telling his colleague that the headcount was off in the economy class. While they bustled around, trying to figure out whatever was wrong, I just sat there, listening to all the people around me. There was a mom somewhere behind the divider trying to quiet a cranky toddler. She was singing “Old McDonald” and was running out of animals already. When she got to “On this farm, he had a fish,” I couldn’t help my giggle. I shook my head, pulling my iPod out of my jacket pocket.

The plane was comfortable – and Phoenix, of course, had been hot - so the jacket was thrown carelessly over the empty seat beside me. I put my earbuds in and cranked the volume, letting the Rolling Stones drown out the sound of Old McDonald’s elephant as we finally took off. I was sitting in the window seat with my knees pulled up, my feet resting on the base of the seat in front of me. I had the shade lifted, so I watched the cloudless, cerulean sky as the buildings of Phoenix shrank into the distance.

I was trying not to think, so I distracted myself with trying to pick out major landmarks, but when I could no longer even tell where one blob ended and the next began, I pulled the shade down and pressed my head back against the seat with a sigh.

Fucking Forks…

Looking down at my hands in my lap, I picked at my cuticles, vaguely hearing the opening staccato notes of “YYZ” in my headphones. My mind was far away, focusing on the people I was leaving behind. It hurt too much to think of my mom, so I deliberately forced her aside.

Instead, I thought about my friend Charlotte. We’d known each other since we were in pre-K, and I normally called her my best friend. Sometimes it was a chore to hang out with her, though, and I’d been known to ask my mom to tell me I couldn’t go somewhere, just so I could get out of it. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with her.

More like, there was something wrong with me.

I just didn’t really fit in with people my age. I could play the game. I could hang out with Charlotte and squeal and paint my toenails, but…it just took a lot of effort. I’d much rather be spending time alone, reading books or playing video games. I had some guy friends that I played with, and they were a little better most of the time, but to be honest, I just felt…older, somehow. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe they just seemed too immature for me, and I was the little old woman trapped in a teenager’s body that my mother always teased me about.

God knows one of us had to be the adult. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be her.

Needing something to do, I pulled a fine point Sharpie from my pocket and then put one foot on the opposite knee. I began idly drawing on my baby blue Chucks, adding to the picture I’d been working on for a while. It was abstract, and even I couldn’t tell you what it was supposed to be, but the swirls and angles made me long for…something. I would say freedom, but it wasn’t exactly that. Maybe it was just an escape from the tedium of high school.

Ugh.

Wrinkling my nose, I bent closer so I could see what I was doing in the dim light. I would be starting a new school in four days. I was socially inept at the best of times, and these were hardly the best of times.

It was November, so it wasn’t like it was the beginning of the school year or even the semester change. My body was going to go into shock from the cold as soon as it stepped off the plane and likely wouldn’t defrost until…well, ever. Or at least until I moved away from the God-forsaken town.

Added to all of that was the fact that while I knew no one in town, I had a feeling they’d all know me – or of me, at least. With my dad being the Chief of Police in a town that had about as many people as lived on my block in Phoenix, I was sure that anonymity wasn’t going to be an option. So take that spotlight, throw in my penchant for falling down and making a fool of myself, and all that was lacking was the big top.

Come see Bella Swan, the clumsiest girl on Earth!

My phone vibrated in my pocket – I never carried a purse – and I let my foot drop back to the ground, capping the Sharpie before I managed to write all over myself. These were my favorite jeans, and while I didn’t mind a little decoration, I preferred for it to be planned.

When I pulled my phone out, the screen was flashing, New Message from Char. With a half-smile, I pressed the button to read her text.

only a yr & a half – u can do it. ms u.

My smile softened as I felt a lump in my throat, and I traced the words on my screen as I took a deep breath. I hated the thought of leaving everyone behind. I might not be that close to them, and they might piss me off sometimes, but at least I knew how they were going to piss me off. I was touched that Charlotte missed me and was concerned about me. That honestly wasn’t something I’d expected.

I quickly typed a message back.

ms u 2. dis sux

I actually hated textspeak, but it was one of those things I did because…well, it was just a thing you did. Most of the time, I didn’t try to fit in, but when I just really didn’t care about something, it was easier to conform. I saved my big blowups for when something mattered.

Before I’d even had a chance to hit send, the screen lit up to let me know there was another message. Once the text was on its way, I cleared the screen to see that the second was from Charlotte as well. I half-hoped for something else that was sweet and thoughtful, but that hope was dashed as soon as I opened it.

whch shirt makz my boobs look bigr? wnt 2 blo peter 2nite

I snorted in disgust.

And then I dutifully opened the two attached pictures – one was a green tank top cut low enough that I could nearly see her nipples while the other was a skin-tight red shirt with cap sleeves.

red. bt wear ur purple tank. peters fav clr

I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and ignored the next few messages that came in as I went back to the drawing on my shoes. If Char asked later, I’d just claim that I flew through a dead zone.

She’d been after my friend Peter for months now, pretty much as soon as I’d introduced them. I’d met him in the art classes I took at the community center on Saturdays. They got me out of the house and let me do something I loved, and they’d had the added bonus of providing a really cool guy for me to hang out with – Peter. He was a freshman at Arizona State in Phoenix, but he’d moved from New Jersey because he wanted to get away from the cold. He didn’t really know anyone in the area, so he had started volunteering a few different places, and he was one of the helpers who walked around the class, making sure everyone understood what they were supposed to be doing.

He was witty and intelligent and fucking hot. He had messy blond hair that came down to his chin, and he just didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him. He loved to read and write – and, of course, draw. His passion, though, was photography.

And I’d been fooling around with him since the day I met him. Charlotte didn’t know – it wasn’t any of her business. He’d never given her the time of day, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

Of course, Peter and I had ended…whatever we were…two nights ago when I told him goodbye, so that might all change tonight. Charlotte just might get to fulfill her little fantasy.

“Ugh.” I wrinkled my nose again, shaking my head. I was determined not to think about Peter, and I was actually a little appalled to realize I…missed him.

When we’d first met, neither of us had been looking for a relationship in any way. I planned to go to college and study art and literature before backpacking through Europe, soaking up history and inspiration. I wanted to visit Greece – I’d had a fascination with the Acropolis since I first heard about Athena and Arachne and then read everything about mythology I could get my hands on. I was determined that I would see as much as I could before I ever thought about getting married.

In short, I wanted to live.

My mom loved me – I knew that. But her life had been fucked up for a long time, all because of one little “oopsie” – me.

Yeah, that shit wasn’t happening to me.

So when I met Peter, I wasn’t planning to get involved at all. I’d had casual boyfriends, but I’d never gone beyond a few days, a few kisses, and maybe a few touches – all pretty innocent, really. I didn’t get that innocent vibe off of Peter, but he wasn’t interested in some long term, deep, emotional thing either. He had his own goals, and I was drawn to that – to his determination and his spirit. And what a free spirit it was. The man was tatted and pierced in places that made me cringe to think about…but made me wet to see.

I colored in a small section of sky blue on my shoe, feeling the heat on my cheeks as I thought about that first day with Peter.

He walked by just a few feet away, and I realized I was staring. Again.

I couldn’t figure out what it was about him, but I was drawn to him. It was something in the confident way he moved. Or maybe it was the tattoo I caught sight of on the back of his neck.

Or the way he just busted out a William Blake quote when that old hag beside me criticized my art. We were supposed to be drawing a tree, and there were several pictures around for inspiration, but the instructor, Gianna, had told us to draw whatever came to mind when we thought of a tree. So in the middle of the sea of Christmas trees and oaks, I was drawing a Joshua tree. I’d been enthralled by them since I was a kid and had first seen one when we took a little trip into the desert.

When the bitch beside me looked at my drawing and sniffed, I glanced over to see the predictable sprawling oak and bit back a comment. When she “reminded” me that we were supposed to be drawing trees, my eyes narrowed.

Before I could speak, though, I heard a low voice rumble, “A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.”

My sarcastic comeback faded on my lips, and I looked up to find Peter studying my drawing, a look of utter innocence on his face. The woman beside me pressed her lips together so tightly they turned into a thin white line, but I didn’t pay her any attention. Peter was leaning in closely, and for the first time, I could smell him – ozone and creosote and cinnamon from his gum.

“Very nicely done with the shading here,” he said, gesturing toward the right side of my drawing with his pinky. “But if the sun is here…” He pointed to the upper left corner. “Then there shouldn’t be shadow here…” Again, he pointed out another part of the drawing, and I saw immediately what he meant.

I nodded and set to work blending and erasing, and when he patted my shoulder, his hand lingered a little longer than it should have. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and the smile he was giving me made my stomach clench.

I’d helped him clean up that afternoon, and once the last of the easels had been put in the supply closet, we’d found ourselves kissing against the door. There was definitely chemistry between us, some sort of heat that I’d never felt before, and I’d wanted to pout when he pulled away. He’d jokingly asked me if I wanted to get some ice cream, and I’d agreed. I was eager to spend time with him, even though I knew I was moving in a few months and didn’t want to get involved regardless.

Or maybe it was because I was moving that I agreed. Who knows?

All I know is that we spent the next two hours talking about anything and everything. Stuff that mattered, stuff that didn’t. We ended up in this weird almost-relationship where we were half casual friends, half shove-me-against-the-wall-and-drop-to-your-knees. We never had actual sex – I was a virgin and planned to keep it that way. Barring some divine intervention, there would be no babies for Bella before I’d graduated college and felt like I’d really lived on my own.

But despite the lack of penetration, there wasn’t a hell of a lot we hadn’t done. It was kind of strange, the fact that no one knew about us, but that made it more exciting.

Of course, now that same discretion was leading to the possibility of Charlotte’s lips around his dick in – I checked the clock on my phone, ignoring the six unread texts – about eight hours.

Gross.

So obviously Peter was no better topic for thought than my mother. There was only a little over an hour and a half left of my flight, but I was growing agitated, and I knew that if I kept thinking about all the people I would miss, I would talk myself into going back home.

And I was determined to make this work.

It wouldn’t help to think about Charlie, though. I barely knew the man, even if he was my father, and I really wasn’t sure how our living together was going to work. I’d spent a month at a time with him, of course, so I knew from experience that he was out of the house a lot – fishing, working, whatever the hell else he did that his daughter wasn’t supposed to see.

That was alright with me. I was a loner and enjoyed time spent in solitude, so it really wouldn’t matter to me if he was gone most of the time. It would probably even help the time I spent in Forks pass by more quickly – less opportunity for awkward conversations and forced interactions. Still, there was a part of me that hoped that somehow Charlie and I would become closer, get to know each other better. I had a great relationship with my mom – although it was really more best friends than mother/daughter…unless you counted me as the mother. So I hoped that Charlie and I could get there as well. Or at least somewhere close to it. My main concern was that he would try to be a “real” dad. You know, the kind that tells you to be home by nine and how to wear your hair and “That skirt's too short, young lady!”

Not that I wore skirts much. It was the principal of the thing.

I’d been without a parental figure since I was old enough to say the words “parental figure” – so I was a little nervous that Charlie might try to become one.

Okay, seriously? Enough.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, stopping my knees from bouncing with nervous energy. Clearly, I didn’t need to spend the rest of the flight working myself up over how Charlie would react.

Instead, I scrolled through my iPod, finding my “Comfortably Numb” playlist. I was generally pretty lame about how I named those things – I just called it the first track that came up. So I settled back in my seat, turning the volume up to mask the sound of “This Old Man” now coming from behind the divider, and tried to let it all fade away as I heard, “Hello…is there anybody in there?”

I didn’t figure I’d be able to sleep, but the last thing I remembered was hearing, “There is no pain; you are receding…”

And then I was jolted awake when the plane’s tires hit the tarmac with a screech.

Shit.

Immediately, I was awake. Not just awake as in eyes open and bleary and yawning, but awake as in eyes wide, heart racing, dear-GOD-did-I-really-just-move-to-Washington?

“Shit.” This time, my curse was aloud, and a little blue-haired woman across the aisle turned her head to me quickly. I ignored her. If that was the worst she’d ever heard, she probably shouldn’t stay around me too long.

It seemed to take forever for us to get to our gate and even longer before the flight attendants started waving us out of the plane with their plastic smiles. I felt my brain shift to autopilot – some sort of primal sense of self-preservation kicking in to help me make it through the next however long it took to find Charlie.

When I finally had my bags, I stood there a little longer than necessary staring at the blue plaid of my suitcase. I focused on my breathing, the toes of my shoes, the little annoying hangnail on my left thumb…anything but what I was about to do.

“Grow the fuck up, Bella,” I finally muttered to myself, slinging the strap for my duffel bag over my shoulder as I picked up my suitcase.

I tossed my head to get my hair out of my eyes and walked the way my mom had always taught me – chin up just a little, shoulders back, still relaxed. It always made me feel more confident than I actually was, and it definitely made me look it. I put a smile on my face – hoping it would become more real when I saw Charlie at last – and set off in what I hoped was the right direction.

I was beginning to worry a little when I didn’t see him, but then I caught sight of his black police jacket. He was pacing. Of course.

I grinned in relief and called out, “Ch-” Fuck! “Dad!”

My smile faded as he spun around, and I was sure he was going to say something about not using his first name – we’d had that conversation before. But it really wasn’t my fault. My mom always referred to him as “Charlie,” so that’s what he’d become in my head. I had to work to remember to call him “Dad.” It wasn’t a disrespect thing…it just…well, it just was.

Thankfully, that grin that made his eyes crinkle spread across his face when he saw me, and he came charging over. He pulled my duffel bag from my shoulder and hugged me. I wasn’t really expecting it, I guess, so it took me a second to respond, and by the time I did, he’d kissed the top of my head and was pulling away again, asking about my flight.

He seemed as keyed up as I was, all nervous energy, but I was relieved to realize that I…liked being with him. Somehow, he seemed to calm me, even though he was tense himself. Maybe it was the way he always looked at me, like I was the most special person on the planet. I’d always known he would love me no matter what – even when he was yelling at me about something – and that made me feel…safe somehow.

I gave him a small smile, a warmth I hadn’t expected filling me as I said, “It was fine. Long, though.” I wrinkled my nose as I told him about the delay, and then I did it. Again. “Sorry you had to wait, Ch-” Damn it! “Dad.”

I really needed to work on that.

Sure enough, he clenched his jaw and turned around to lead the way out of the airport. I stayed a few steps back, and I tried like hell to think of something to say on the way. I wanted to apologize for almost calling him by his first name, but that seemed kind of pointless. I mean, I kept fixing it, so he knew I was trying…right?

I bit my bottom lip and sighed. He didn’t even look over his shoulder at me.

We stepped out of the airport, and a gust of wind blew my hair all over the place as it cut straight through me. I shivered and paused to pull on my jacket. Charlie didn’t slow down – I wasn’t sure he’d noticed – so I picked up my suitcase and quickened my pace to catch up.

Great job, Swan. Alienate your dad on the first day.

I sighed, exhaling upward so that my hair blew away from my face. Just as I was sure this was going to be the longest nineteen months of my life, we turned down a row in the parking lot, and the squad car came into view. I repressed a groan as I thought of having to ride in that thing regularly again.

Nothing like the sight of a police car to make the boys come running.

With just a few more steps we were at the car, and still Charlie remained silent. I was beginning to wonder if he was going to give me the cold shoulder all the way back to Forks, but when he put my bags in the trunk and slammed it shut, he suddenly hugged me, holding me tightly.

I was sort of stunned, to be perfectly honest. A hug when he first saw me was normal. This…wasn’t. I patted his back, unsure what was going on in his mind, and I really kind of hated that I didn’t feel like I could ask him. Before I could work up the nerve to say anything, he cleared his throat and turned to get in the car.

I climbed into the passenger side, eyeing him curiously as I wondered what sort of relationship we might have. Maybe he was more…open…than I’d been expecting.

The further we drove, the more confused I became. He was acting strangely, at times talking about random shit and then growing completely silent before he’d suddenly bust out another question. It was a little bit disconcerting, and I found my mind wandering as his pauses became longer and longer.

I thought about my friends in Phoenix, wondering what they were all up to. I tried to keep my mind off of Charlotte and Peter, but I kept seeing her kissing down his bare chest, her tongue licking the edge of my favorite tattoo – it was small, kind of nerdy, and that’s what I loved about it. It was another Blake quote in a script based on Blake’s illuminated manuscripts. The words, “No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings,” ran down the top of his thigh to his knee.

I’d loved to kiss his kneecap and then trail my tongue up those inspirational words to find that place that seemed to inspire the most enthusiastic reactions from Peter.

I smiled, shifting in my seat as I glanced out the window. I wasn’t really seeing the green Washington landscape, though. I was seeing the dusting of blond hair along Peter’s muscular thighs. He was in shape, but thin, with a sort of surfer’s build despite having moved from New England to Arizona. He belonged on a beach somewhere, that free spirit of his fitting in way too well where the weed and alcohol flowed freely.

Just as I made my way to the top of Peter’s bare thigh, Charlie cleared his throat. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, and I tried my best to block him out, trying to remember the particular sound Peter made when I-

“So ahh…what’s your favorite subject?”

I swear to God, I think I jumped. The sound of my father’s voice when I was thinking of things that I would rather he really never, ever hear about was…jolting, to say the least. It took me a minute to figure out he’d asked me a question, and I thought hard as I tried to remember what it was. “Oh!” Thank God. I nervously tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, trying to cover my blush as much as I could. “English.”

He pushed a little more, asking if I still liked to read. I had a hard time answering normally, and I wanted to do anything to shift the attention off of me – at least until my thoughts were a little more under control – so I stared out the window for a few seconds, chewing on my bottom lip as I tried to find a question for him. Shit, doesn’t he do anything? Oh, yeah… “Still like to watch baseball?”

It was lame, but it was the best I had. He told me he did, and we actually talked sort of comfortably for a little while about nothing in particular. He told me about how the Mariners’ season had gone, since I had no idea, and then he told me a little bit more about my school. It wasn’t really anything I didn’t know – it was small, most everyone knew everyone else from birth, and I would likely be the only new student all year – but it was cool to have him talking to me that way.

He got quiet again when we passed the sign that said we were entering Forks, but I hardly noticed as I looked out the window. I was hoping that at some point in the two years since I’d been here, something interesting would’ve happened.

No such luck.

I sighed as I took in the diner on the corner and the old, faded red bench sitting in front of it. There really wasn’t much to look at – even though it was a Sunday, there weren’t very many people out. It was overcast but not raining for once, and the dark sky gave everything a sort of surreal horror movie feel…like if I went into the diner, I might not come out again.

As we were getting closer to Charlie’s house, he stopped at a stop sign, and I saw a woman holding a sign advertising a clothing sale coming up. She waved and smiled at me brightly, and when I just stared at her, she knocked on the window.

Charlie’s mind had clearly been elsewhere because he jumped and muttered, “God damn it!” He pressed a button and my window rolled down. As soon as it did, the crazy woman with the sign stuck her head through so that her face was only a few inches in front of mine. I barely caught Charlie’s, “Afternoon, Pam,” as I pressed back further into my seat and looked at him with wide eyes.

The woman babbled. It was so fast, I caught about every third word, but she seemed to own some sort of store that was having a sale. She promised me an extra ten percent off, and as I watched Charlie trying to get a word in edgewise, I got a little tickled. And then it just got worse. And worse.

Charlie looked sort of half-amused, half-stunned, which made sense given the onslaught from the woman. He kept trying to control his face, and I just found it even funnier when his lip twitched before he cleared his throat and assumed a serious expression again. It didn’t last, and the smile was back across his face almost immediately.

It was really cool to see my dad like that – just happy and relaxed. He seemed more himself, somehow, when he wasn’t thinking too hard about something.

“So how's Carlisle? I haven't seen him lately.”

Those few words from Pam changed everything. Immediately, Charlie’s smile froze into a mask on his face, and he paled. He actually looked a little green – I’d never really seen that before.

What the fuck is going on?

His reaction made no sense to me, and I wondered if maybe something was wrong with Carlisle – maybe he was worried, and that was why he’d been so tense. But that thought was proven wrong as soon as it had formed when Charlie said simply, “He’s doing fine.”

He glanced in the rear view mirror, and I swear he actually sighed in relief. He told Pam we had to get going, and she stepped away from the car…finally. When I mused aloud, wondering if I’d finally get to meet Carlisle, I joked that I’d wondered if he was real or not.

Charlie muttered under his breath, and I thought I heard him say, “Oh, he’s real alright.”

Something was definitely off, something strange. Charlie was never very vocal, but he was acting downright weird, and it was all about Carlisle. Something didn’t add up, and I pondered what it might be as I stared at my dad the rest of the way home. Different ideas flickered through my mind, but I discarded each of them nearly as quickly as they came. There was one…

No. No way.

I couldn’t seem to form the thought coherently. I stayed silent as we pulled up at Charlie’s house and got out of the car. We got my luggage from the trunk, but my mind was far away as I walked behind him down the hall to my room. It was just across from his, and it had looked the same for as long as I could remember – Grandma Swan’s quilt over the rocking chair in the corner, a unicorn valance over the single window, a matching unicorn comforter on the bed, my drawings and pictures of me with Charlie and me with my mom on the walls.

When he opened the door this time, I almost didn’t recognize it. Everything had been rearranged. The bed was on the opposite wall, the rocking chair – and Grandma Swan’s quilt – had vanished, and in its place was a computer desk with a nice office chair and space for my laptop. The drawings were still there, but some of my newer ones had been added, and they’d all been rematted and put into coordinated black frames. The unicorns had abandoned the room and been replaced by lavender bedding and curtains. The light material was decorated with embroidered vines and flowers done in a darker shade of purple, and the entire room seemed updated, modern…mature.

I loved it.

And then Charlie said, "We updated your room a little bit. Thought you might like to get rid of the unicorn stuff. The purple alright?"

Only one word stood out to me as I dropped my backpack, mumbling something about the purple being fine. I had other things on my mind.

“Who’s ‘we’?” I asked.

He stammered and rocked on his heels, shoving his thumbs into his back pockets the way he always did when he was uncomfortable. My heart sped up as I wondered what this meant. Putting together all the little clues he’d been unintentionally leaving…

No.

He turned around and left the room after mumbling something about being thirsty.

For a moment, I stood there, my body motionless, though my brain was in turmoil. I inhaled deeply and held it, silently counting to ten before I exhaled and took the first step to follow Charlie.

He was only a few feet ahead when I stepped into the hall, and as I watched him walk, my mind began to reject the thought that was only half-formed. He was so…masculine. His hair was cropped short, and he was wearing his black police jacket, and his thick work boots made a thudding sound on the wood floors.

He didn’t fit. Nothing about him suggested…

And then, of course, there was the fact of…well…me. And my mom.

They were divorced, but if Charlie were…then he wouldn’t have…and I wouldn’t…

I frowned, my confusion appearing in troubled lines across my forehead. I moved automatically, going to the kitchen table and taking my usual seat. Charlie hadn’t changed the placemats since I was here a few years ago, and I finally tore my eyes away from him, staring down at the familiar plaid as he asked what I wanted to drink. I answered, my eyes straying over the muted greens, blues, and yellows to the purposely frayed edges until he sat down across from me.

The sound of his can opening startled me, and I jumped, my eyes going immediately to his face. He was definitely uncomfortable, but that was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the resignation I saw in his eyes, which was only reinforced when he muttered, “Time to pay the piper.”

I don’t think I was supposed to hear, but those five words cemented one thing for me: I didn’t want to know whatever he was going to say. It was obviously something big, something he’d kept from me, and normally I’d be demanding to know. But I felt a hollow fear in my gut, some instinctual warning that I was about to hear something that was going to stand my world on its head, and I didn’t want to hear it.

“Carlisle is…”

I didn’t realize my thumb had been tapping nervously on the top of my can until it stopped suddenly at those words. He stopped, too, not saying anything as he stared down at the can he held. I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

“How much do you know about the divorce? About the stuff leading up to it?”

Oh, God.

I was surprised my voice was steady when I asked what he was talking about. Instead of answering, he took a long drink from his Coke and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I watched as he lowered his hand slowly, and then he said the words that ended the world as I knew it.

In my world, my parents had been in love. They’d had me, but they hadn’t been able to work things out between them for whatever reasons – people got divorced all the time. But I had been a product of two people who were totally wrapped up in each other, happy and in love and all fucking sunshine and roses. My dad hadn’t been able to let go. He was still in love with my mom, and he still missed her, but he knew they weren’t good together, so instead of moving to Phoenix and trying to win her back, he pined away – alone – way up here in motherfucking Forks, Washington.

That world was gone, completely obliterated the moment my dad said, “Well, you know how your mom just married Phil? You sort of have...two stepdads now...”

It didn’t make sense at first. I heard him, and I processed it, and it fit with what I’d begun to suspect, but I didn’t get it.

And he just sat there, biting his lip – something I did all the time – and that infuriating reminder that I was his daughter filled me with the desire to know. I was tired of this. My heart felt like it was being crushed, every belief I’d had about my parents – and consequently myself – crumbling around me, and I wanted to know, without a doubt, what he meant.

Exactly what he meant.

“What the hell? What are you saying?”

His eyes flashed, and I wanted him to say something to me about my tone of voice. I wanted him to give me any excuse to tear into him.

He didn’t, of course. How could I expect him to do what I wanted him to do? He never had before.

“I'm saying that...” He paused, biting the inside of his cheek like he couldn’t figure out how to say something.

Oh, you know what you want to say. Just fucking say it.

“I'm saying that Carlisle is my...partner. I’m gay, Bella.”

I’m gay, Bella.

The words reverberated in my mind, at once confirming that I’d put together all those little hints correctly while they chipped away at what was left of my heart. A distant corner of my mind – the only sliver that was left with any sort of self-awareness at that point – wondered why this was such a big deal. I’d never had a problem with homosexuality. One of my friends was gay, and we had a good time picking out good-looking guys together.

But this was my dad.

And he lied to me.

And he was sitting there fucking smiling about it.

My chair scraped across the floor as I stood up, clenching my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry.

I wanted to know why the hell he’d hidden something so important from me.

Didn’t I matter to him at all?

None of that came out. I don’t even know what I shrieked. I just knew I needed confirmation, needed to know – without a doubt – that he meant what he said before I let it fully sink in.

I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes as he said calmly, “Yes, I’m serious.”

Oh.

Okay…so my dad’s gay. Alright, then.

I tried to make sense of everything, but there was too much I was missing. Maybe he hadn’t told me because he hadn’t known…maybe…maybe he had been in love with my mom…maybe he’d just discovered this about himself, and he was letting me know that he and Carlisle were together now…

Maybe I was the first person to know.

My voice was quiet, and I could hear the confusion in it – along with a little bit of hope – when I asked, “How long has this been going on?”

He licked his lips, suddenly looking nervous. He said he’d been with Carlisle for a long time, and my suspicions flared again.

I remembered his initial question, and I could barely even get the words out as I hissed, “Wait a damn minute. The divorce? Are you telling me you got divorced from my mom because of him?”

He just sat there.

He literally just fucking sat there, watching me.

Like I was supposed to…what? Say, “Oh, that’s cool that you knocked up my mom and then left us both for some asshole with a dick. Congratulations”?

Fuck. That. Shit.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Is this some kind of goddamn joke, Charlie?”

He stood up, moving behind his chair, and I wanted to cheer that finally he was going to yell at me. “You watch your mouth, young lady!” So predictable, so perfect, so exactly what I needed just then – tone and all. “And don't call me 'Charlie'! I'm your father, damn it.”

I laughed, completely at a loss. There was no doubt he was my father – we had the same hair, same eyes, same habits – but had he even been with my mom? Was he a fucking sperm donor? Was he bi and having a little fun on the side? Was he with Carlisle even then?

I couldn’t stand the thought of voicing any of those questions. The hole in my chest was raw, pulsing with fire, and I said the only thing I could think of before I had to leave the room or cry in front of him. “You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, Dad. I don't even know who the fuck you are.”

I don’t even know who the fuck I am…

I turned around and stomped down the hallway, stumbling as I finally made it into my room and slammed the door. I threw myself on the bed, finally letting out the sobs that had been building in my chest. I didn’t want Charlie to see me like this – didn’t want him to know he had this sort of power over me – but I couldn’t stop myself.

I’d never just…hurt…like this. It was the same sense of loss and confusion I’d felt when I’d found out at seven that Santa Claus wasn’t real – only magnified exponentially because, this time, I’d found out I wasn’t real, at least not the way I’d thought. I lay there crying, my face buried in the crook of my elbow as my shoulders shook and my chest heaved and goddamn snot and tears leaked onto the comforter, and I couldn’t think of anything but the millions of questions I had.

There were only two people who had the answers I needed. I couldn’t stand to look at one of them just then, so I sat up, pulling my phone from my pocket to call the other. As the phone rang, I brushed my hair back from my face irritably and ran the back of my hand under my nose, sniffling as I tried to calm myself enough to talk.

My face crumpled again when my mom answered with a cheerful, “Bella! I’ve been waiting on you to call! Did you have a nice flight?”

All I could do was sniffle, taking quick, shortened breaths and trying not to hyperventilate.

“Bella, baby? What’s the matter? Are you alright?” Her voice was rising in alarm with each question, and I cut her off with a dry laugh, my voice thick.

“Is Charlie really my dad?”

“What? Of course, he is, Bella. You have his eyes.” She didn’t sound nearly as confused or concerned as I thought she should. She sounded…tired.

“He…he said…” I broke off, my lower lip trembling as I couldn’t seem to get the words out. I changed what I was going to say, trying something that didn’t hurt as much. “Were you married?”

“Yes, sweetheart, we were. You know that.” Her voice was guarded, and I knew her well enough to tell that she was hiding something – or she didn’t know how much she should say.

I let out a shaky sigh, feeling my shoulders sink as I deflated. Reaching out, I pulled a pillow to my chest to try to stop up that gaping wound. I sat Indian style, hugging the pillow close and resting my chin on top of it as my words became muffled. It felt easier to say things that way, if not any easier to hear the answers. “Why did you get divorced?”

She hesitated, and that told me everything. I squeezed my eyes shut, my tears spilling onto my cheeks as I waited for her answer. I ached because I knew it would be the same answer I’d heard my whole life…and I knew now that it was a lie.

From my own mother.

“Well, honey, we were really young…we were just out of high school when we got married, and we weren’t ready for all the stress that…”

I tuned out the rest of her answer, pulling the phone a few inches away from my ear as I buried my face in my pillow. I cried silently for a few minutes, trying to regain control of myself, and when I put the phone back to my ear, my mother’s voice was becoming frantic.

“Bella? Bella! Are you there? Answer me, baby.”

“I’m here,” I said dully.

“Oh, thank God…you had me worried.”

“Why would you be worried?” I knew I was baiting her. It was easy to get answers out of Renee if you knew the right questions to ask.

“Because…because you seem upset, sweetheart. Are you tired from your flight?”

I wanted to growl. I couldn’t believe that she was still trying to play this off, still trying to pretend there was no reason at all for me to be upset. “No, I’m not tired.” It was a lie – I was fucking exhausted. But it was mostly from emotional scarring rather than actual physical fatigue. I decided to play along with her charade. “I’m just a little upset. Mom, do you know what Charlie told me today?”

“No…” She drug out the word a little too long, letting her uncertainty show.

“He told me he’s gay.”

A pause. “He said what?”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head with a huff as I switched the phone to the other ear and stood up. I threw the pillow across the bed and began pacing back and forth across the small room. “He said he’s gay. As in, he likes other men.”

“Huh…”

The little non-committal noise really pissed me off, and I just kept going. “One man in particular. A man named Carlisle. You know…his best friend? Yeah, apparently they’re a lot more than friends.”

Dead silence on the other end of the line.

“And you know what else he told me? He said they’ve been together a long time, and he brought up the divorce, and you know what that makes me wonder?”

“Wh…what, baby?” Her little stutter made me clench my jaw.

Just fucking come clean, Mom. I need one of you to be honest with me. Please…

“How long have you known, Mom?” I had quieted, stopping my pacing as I stood in the center of the room with one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding the phone to my ear. My head was bowed as I nearly whispered, “Was it…” I swallowed. “Did you know before I…?”

I couldn’t finish my question, but I listened to my mom’s even breathing on the other end of the line. Finally, she sighed. “No, baby…he didn’t realize it until after you were born. We were both so young, and he got caught up in everything, in trying to be normal, and…it just happened. I loved him, sweetheart, and I think he loved me, too.”

I hadn’t realized I’d started crying again until the tears dripped onto my hand where my fingers were digging into my ribs. “You knew,” I breathed.

“Yes...”

“You knew,” I accused, not letting her get another word in. “I can't believe you fucking knew! Why didn't you tell me?”

“He asked me not to say anything, baby…he wanted to tell you himself, when you were ready. I would’ve told you if I could-“

“Whatever.” I cut her off. I couldn’t listen to it anymore. It seemed like every word she said just drove home even more that everyone had known…but me. And apparently for my entire life. “I can’t do this right now.”

I ended the call and fucking sobbed, my fist wrapping around my phone as I stood in the middle of my room, my head bowed with my eyes closed. I didn’t know if she’d call back right away…or if I’d answer if she did. I didn’t know if I could hear her make excuses for him, for herself. I wouldn’t be able to take it if she said she knew how I was feeling – she had no fucking idea how I was feeling.

Neither did I.

I heard a knock at my door as Charlie’s voice called softly, “Bella?”

Without thinking, I whipped around, throwing my phone as hard as I could at the door. I watched as it shattered, falling to the floor in pieces, and I wanted to scream. All of my rage fueled my voice as I growled, “Go. Away.”

He was pleading, asking me to please let him explain, and the sound of him calling me “baby” broke me. I just needed him to go away. I needed to be alone to figure out who the hell I was…who he was.

I stifled my sobs long enough to say, “God, will you please just go away? Please? I can't...I need...” and then all the grief I’d felt poured out of me. I made it back to the bed, crawling across the top as I pulled the pillow to me again. I didn’t even try to think anymore. I just cried.

And cried.

And eventually I began to calm, thoughts slowly returning, but all they did was make me tired. It was too much – all of it was too much to think about at once, too much to absorb. I’d had a little nagging worry that maybe I wouldn’t love my parents anymore after all of this…but as I cried, that worry changed.

What if they didn’t love me anymore?

I bit my bottom lip, my eyes squeezing shut as I waited for fresh tears to come. None did. I was utterly spent, drained of all emotion, and all I felt was that dull, throbbing ache that began in my chest and spread through my limbs, all the way to the tips of my toes.

I rolled toward the edge of the bed and sat up, staring for a moment at my feet on the floor. The sky blue Chucks looked happy and mocking, taunting me with their illusion of freedom, and I kicked them off, leaving them lying haphazardly on their sides. I undid my jeans and lifted my hips, pushing them down to the floor before I yanked back the comforter and crawled between the sheets.

They were so very soft…so warm…and there was a fresh, clean scent to them that helped clear my head, making me give a jaw-creaking yawn as I laid my head down on a pillow. Pulling the covers up as far as they would go, I left just my face sticking out as I gratefully gave myself over to the oblivion of sleep, half-hopeful that the morning would bring a measure of sanity back into my life, half-fearful that nothing would ever be sane or normal again.

When I woke up, my head was pounding. My room was dark, only a weak light that made everything look gray filtering through the curtains. I rolled onto my back, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands before letting my arms fall onto the pillow beside my head.

I was in serious need of some aspirin, but I wasn’t willing to run into Charlie to get it. When I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand, I saw that it was just after eight. I’d slept for a really long fucking time without eating, and I was feeling the effects.

Fuck.

The longer I lay there, listless and lost, the more apparent it became that I was going to have to get out of bed soon – at least to go to the bathroom. “God damn it,” I muttered, swinging my legs over the side of my bed as I sat up. I saw the shattered phone on the floor and swallowed hard.

Fantastic idea, Swan…destroy your primary link to the world outside this hell.

For a moment, I felt completely helpless, wondering what to do without my phone, without my friends to talk to. I wasn’t likely to call any of them up and say, “Oh, so I need some help here. My dad’s gay, and he lied to me my whole life. My mom, too,” but at least they were a little bit of normal in the midst of this insanity.

Then I realized that destroying my phone probably saved me from gloating texts from Charlotte about the noises Peter makes when he comes, and as I stalked toward the door, I kicked the broken pieces, scattering them. I stopped, staring at the wooden door as I bit my bottom lip and tilted my head, listening carefully for the sounds of Charlie. I wanted to avoid him if at all possible. When I hadn’t heard anything for a while, I slowly turned the handle and cracked open the door, peeking through the little sliver.

Nothing in the hallway.

I opened it a little further and shifted my weight from foot to foot quickly, practically bouncing as my bladder protested. Unable to stand it any longer, I dashed down the hall, doing this weird little bouncing tiptoe thing, and closed the bathroom door behind me.

Fucking figures that I can’t even have a bathroom of my own.

I was grumbling as I ripped down my underwear and sat on the toilet. Everything seemed so unfair. I’d left a nice house in Phoenix, where it was warm and dry and I had my own bathroom attached to my room…to come here, where it rained every goddamn day and I could already feel the chill in my toes even though I’d just climbed out of a warm bed and I had to leave the sanctity of my room carrying things like my underwear and socks to take a shower.

Sighing, I finished up and then stood in front of the mirror, turning the water on and letting it warm up. The pipes in Charlie’s house were old, and unless I wanted to lose feeling in my fingers, I needed to wait a good minute or two before I could use the water. I stared at myself in the mirror, noticing that I looked like hell. My eyes were puffy and my lips chapped from crying myself to sleep. I looked like I was wincing slightly, which I guessed was from the headache, so I pulled on the mirror, opening the medicine cabinet behind it as I prayed for aspirin.

Thank you, Jesus.

I yanked down the massive bottle of aspirin and popped the top, pulling out the cotton and tossing it in the trashcan. I shook three of the little white pills in my hand and capped the bottle, grimacing at the taste as I put the aspirin on my tongue. Cupping my hands beneath the faucet, I drank down some of the lukewarm water, swallowing the pills before I washed my hands and turned off the water.

I turned around, sitting on the edge of the small counter with my feet braced against the wall on the opposite side. I stared at my socks, my hands gripping the edge of the countertop as my shoulders slumped.

What the hell am I going to do?

My first thought was to move back home to Phoenix, but I rejected that as quickly as it came. I’d never been a quitter, and I didn’t really want to go back and face all my friends after saying goodbye to them – because I’d have to tell them why.

I could just imagine Alec’s face if I told him it was because I found out my dad was gay. Yeah, there would be no more picking out hot guys with him anymore. And his sister Jane was a frigid ice queen bitch – the only thing she cared about was her baby brother. She’d shred me alive if I upset him.

Not to mention that I really wasn’t thrilled with my mother at the moment either. Going back to live with her and have her tiptoe around me…bleh, no thanks.

I exhaled loudly, wiggling my toes against the wall.

Okay, so that meant staying here in Forks. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Everyone here obviously knew my dad…and Carlisle. And I seriously doubt they’d kept their relationship a secret from everyone. From the way dad had talked about being with him for a “long time,” I had a sneaking suspicion that I might be the last to know.

Biting the inside of my lip, I let my feet drop to the floor and stood up before my ass could fall asleep. I turned around, pressing my palms against the countertop as my head hung down, staring blindly at the faucet. If they knew and my dad was still Police Chief – which he clearly was – then they had some acceptance, it seemed.

Not from me.

The thought was a snarl, and I was instantly pissed off at Charlie again, my rational thought shoved aside by the hurt I felt at being lied to for so many years. I really wasn’t sure what I thought about my father being gay – that part hadn’t even really come into play yet. All I knew was that I was pissed the fuck off that he’d played me for a fool for so long and even gone so far as to let me move states away from my home before telling me.

I felt like a caged animal, trapped and alone…and scared.

Carlisle must’ve helped hide it, too. All those carefully scheduled trips home to England, always coinciding with my visits.

God, I really was a fucking fool.

They’d probably been congratulating themselves on how clever they were, how easy it was to keep it all hidden from poor, stupid Bella.

“Fuck you,” I said aloud.

I yanked the door open and stepped out, willing Charlie to appear. I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, but he’d make a damn good target for the rage I felt building inside. When I didn’t see him anywhere, I called out, “Charlie?”

No answer.

I took a few steps down the hall, stopping between our doors, and shoved his open. “Charlie?”

There was nothing there but his bed – his king-sized bed, which I’d always found odd – and the rest of his furniture. For the first time ever, there were pictures scattered around the room – framed photographs on top of the dresser and chest of drawers, hanging over the bed, even some on each of the nightstands.

Without conscious thought, I took a step forward. And then another. I walked to the edge of his bed and sat down, picking up the picture there. It was a snapshot taken at the beach, and Charlie was sitting on a huge driftwood log beside a blond-haired man I recognized as Carlisle. I’d seen pictures of him over the years, but never of the two of them – not like this. They had their arms around each others’ waists, and instead of smiling at the camera, they were looking at each other.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and set the picture down. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was intruding somehow – the look they were giving each other was…intimate. There was no other way to describe it. I had never seen my dad like that – never imagined him like that, and to see it now…with the man he’d lied to me about for so long.

It just...it…hurt.

But masochist that I am, I stood up and walked around the room, looking at all the other pictures there. Some were of other people – I saw myself smiling down from several of the frames. One of my favorites was there. I was six, and I was on Charlie’s shoulders. He was wearing his sunglasses and holding onto my legs, while my hands were in his hair. I smiled as I remembered how I used to pull his hair to get him to turn, and he’d play along, being silly and going in circles while I squealed.

I felt a tear drip onto my cheek and reached up, brushing it away angrily as I stopped looking at the pictures of myself. There were others of people I didn’t recognize, but when I looked closely, the older man looked a lot like Carlisle. I assumed it must be his father, which would most likely make the woman standing next to him his mother. There was a woman, too, posing with both my dad and his….his partner. Her resemblance to Carlisle was striking, and while I didn’t know for sure what the relationship was, it was obvious to me that Carlisle’s family had met Charlie as well.

What. The. Fuck?

I let the frame drop back onto the dresser, my eyes glancing over the image of a younger girl – just a little older than me, I thought – with short, black hair. My mind was churning, wondering if there was a reason for the king-sized bed and pictures of Carlisle’s family in this room.

Did he seriously still keep something else from me?

I had completely forgotten that Charlie might walk in at any minute. I didn’t care. I was too absorbed in finding out if I was right.

I walked toward the closet, flipping on the light as I stepped into the walk-in. At first, all I saw were the predictable flannel shirts and jeans. Charlie’s work pants and a couple of spare jackets. Then, I saw the scrubs. The sweaters Charlie would never wear. There was an entire shelf of shoes at the bottom, all sorts from work boots to tennis shoes to dress shoes. My curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself kneeling on the floor, picking up pair after pair of shoes.

Sure enough. Two different sizes.

“Motherfucker.”

I pushed back up onto my feet, disgusted as I stalked back out of the closet, flipping off the light and slamming the door. Not only had Charlie not bothered to tell me he had been keeping something from me my entire life, he left out that the secret he’d been keeping was living with us.

“What the fuck?!” I couldn’t even find words to voice what I was feeling. I stomped down the hallway to the kitchen, holding onto a shred of hope that I would find Charlie there. It was empty. Of course.

I made a small snort of disbelief, shaking my head as I realized that, like so many times when I’d visited before, he’d left me alone. I stood in the center of the kitchen indecisively, at a loss with nowhere to direct my anger, and my stomach picked that infuriating moment to rumble, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since before I got on the plane yesterday morning.

With a sigh, I pulled open the refrigerator door and looked in, finding it well-stocked as always. There was a sectioned plastic plate with a lid filled with food and a note on top addressed to me. I snatched it up, my eyes scanning the words quickly.

Bella –

I know you’re upset, and I know I should have told you sooner. Believe me, no one is more sorry than I am that I didn’t. I figured you might want some time to think, so I went fishing with Harry. I’ll be back around dinnertime. Call me if you need me.

I love you,

Dad

Scrawled beneath the message as a hasty afterthought was a note that said the food in the plate was for me, but I was welcome to anything I wanted.

I stared at the paper in disbelief, wondering how in the world he could be so delusional as to think that one day was going to be enough time for me to think through this nightmare. And he was dead fucking wrong if he thought he was sorrier than I was that he hadn’t bothered to tell me he was gay and that his life partner was going to be sharing a bed with him across the hall from me.

I spun around, searching through the drawers in the kitchen to find a pen to write back a short message of my own – a simple “Fuck you” – but I couldn’t find one. I crumpled the note up instead and put it back in place, sitting on the plate of food I would not be eating.

Instead, I pulled out a carton of cottage cheese and a little plastic container of baby carrots. I took them into the living room and plopped down on the couch, turning on some mindless TV. I couldn’t take it anymore. Being angry was draining, but it was a hell of a lot better than letting the hurt seep in again. Instead, I tried to just not think. At all.

Since I knew I had the house to myself for the day, I spent a few hours doing absolutely nothing – literally staring at the moving pictures on the TV screen. I didn’t even know what was on. I ate my way through one of the containers of baby carrots and a quart of Ben and Jerry’s Brownie Batter before I started to feel sick.

Cutting the TV off, I left the living room, tossing the empty carton in the trash on the way. I’d left my dishes in the sink, but I didn’t even consider washing them like I normally would have. Instead, I went into my room to unpack, muttering to myself as I put my clothes away and set up my laptop. I collapsed into my desk chair as it booted up, intending to email my friends to at least let them know I’d gotten here okay, but when I hit the “compose” button, I just…couldn’t.

What the fuck could I say without saying everything?

With a loud sigh, I slammed the laptop closed again and got up, gathering what I’d need for a shower. In the bathroom, I put my deodorant, brush, and all those other little things in the drawer I’d always used and started the water, letting it warm up for a few minutes before stepping beneath the steaming spray. I tried to relax as I washed my body and my hair, but it just wasn’t working. I felt drained again, just utterly spent, and by the time I’d dressed in a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt, I decided I needed a nap.

My hair was wet, soaking my pillow, but I didn’t care. I just pulled the comforter over my head to block out the weak sunlight and passed out.

I was still sleeping when I heard a knocking sound. I rolled over, sure it was part of my dream, but it just kept going. I tried to ignore it until I heard Charlie’s voice calling my name as the door handle rattled. He said it softly at first, and I hoped that if I just kept on ignoring him, he’d assume I was asleep – which I had been – and go away.

No such luck.

His voice kept getting louder and louder, panic seeping into it, and by the time he’d gotten to “Isabella Marie Swan! Are you in there? Don’t make me break down this door,” I realized I was going to have to answer. I still wasn’t speaking to him, so I rolled out of bed, staggering as I crossed the floor. I stepped on one of the pieces of my phone just before I reached the door and cursed.

I jerked it open, and he stood there, his hand poised to knock again, a worried look on his face, and reeking of fish. When I stayed in the open doorway, my hand still on the knob with my other hand on the doorframe as I looked up at him, he lowered his hand and frowned, though I saw the relief that flickered in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Wrong damn question, Charlie.

I couldn’t even answer. I just laughed and stepped back, shutting the door in his face. I went straight back to bed, burying myself in the covers again, but it was several minutes before I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

The next morning, I was startled awake when I heard my door open. I sat straight up in bed, holding the covers close around me, and found Charlie standing in the doorway. He didn’t smile at all. He just said, “Get up, Bella. We need to talk.”

He turned around and walked out the door, and something in his stance made me realize he was serious. He’d let me get away with my tantrum the day before, but this was Charlie-the-Father back again, and I knew I had no choice but to go. Even so, I was tempted to just go back to bed. Maybe I could sleep away my year-and-a-half in Forks, Rip Van Winkle-style.

“Now, Isabella.” Charlie’s commanding voice echoed down the hallway, and I sighed as I tossed back the covers and stood up. I was sore, my joints aching as I’d slept far too much in the last couple of days.

When I left my room, I turned right instead of left, heading to the bathroom. He could just wait while I did what I needed to do. I took my time using the restroom, washing my hands, brushing my teeth and hair…everything I could do to delay the conversation I really didn’t want to have. I didn’t know what he expected me to say, but I could promise him it wasn’t going to be, “So now that I’ve had a couple of nights to think it over, I think it’s fabulous that you lied to me for seventeen years.”

I opened the bathroom door, flipping off the light and lifting my chin the way my mom had taught me. My jaw was clenched, and my arms wanted to fold across my chest sullenly, but I kept them at my sides. When I walked into the living room, Charlie was sitting in his recliner, so I sat on the edge of the couch, looking away from him with my hands in my lap.

Charlie sighed. “Bella, honey, I know you’re upset,” he began in a slightly softened tone of voice. “And you have every right to be.”

How generous of you.

“But you can’t go the rest of your life without talking to me. I know you have to have questions, things you want to ask…things you want to say to me. Nothing is going to be resolved if we’re not talking.”

Good luck with that because I’m not saying shit. I kept my eyes ahead, but I could see him running his fingers through his hair in my peripheral vision.

“Damn it, Bella. Say something.”

You really don’t want to hear what I want to say to you right now.

“Baby, I wanted to tell you so many times, but there always seemed to be some reason not to. Looking back, I know there was no reason good enough to keep you in the dark, but that-”

I tuned him out. I didn’t want to listen to rational, apologizing Charlie. Pleading Charlie, if the expression I could see out of the corner of my eye was any indication.

Keep right on pleading. Not going to get you anywhere.

Finally, he actually growled, and I would’ve laughed at the sound if I hadn’t been so determined not to show any reaction. He muttered something about me not being ready to hear him, and then he sighed, standing up as he pulled something from his pocket.

“Look, I was hoping you would listen to me…but I called you out here because there’s something I want to show you.”

I frowned, confused by the unexpected turn in his monologue, and my eyes shifted to him without my consent. Damn it.

He gave the ghost of a smile before he controlled his expression – likely because of the glower on my face. “I thought you might like to get out over the next few days before school starts. You haven’t been here since you could drive, so I thought it would be good to explore a little, and well…” This time the smile was more than a ghost as he motioned toward the window. “Look outside.”

I gazed at him suspiciously, and he grumbled, “Oh for fu-…just do it. Please.”

I heaved a sigh and pushed away from the couch, taking a few steps so that I could see outside. Through the window, I saw an antiquated red truck that I thought I recognized. It belonged to Billy Black, who was my friend Jake’s dad. I’d been looking forward to talking to Jake and hanging out with him again – he was the only one I knew up here that was close to my age…well, that I remembered and liked, anyway – but recent events had sort of driven him out of my mind.

I glanced back at Charlie in confusion, and his grin broadened. “Thought you might like some way to get around on your own now that you’re living here. I bought it off Billy. It’s old, but it runs great, and Jake’s kept up on all the repairs for it.”

I was stunned. The truck was absolutely perfect – exactly the sort of thing I loved because it wasn’t the typical little Honda or flashy my-parents-have-too-much-money-and-not-enough-sense sports car. But I wasn’t about to show Charlie that, especially not when he was trying to buy me off. Seriously? Did he think a truck was going to make this all better?

“I brought some money with me. I can buy my own car.” Not a very nice car, not with the couple thousand I have, but still. Besides, I planned to get a job as soon as I could, too, so I’d be able to afford payments.

Charlie’s eyes darkened, anger replacing the vague excitement and happiness that had been tenuously holding on. He shoved the keys in his pocket and said, “Fine. I'll be sure to drop you off on the front step right on time for school so everyone can see you getting out of your gay father's squad car.”

Before I knew it, he was walking across the living room, and I found my voice just in time to say, “Wait.”

Fuck.

He stopped. Then he turned around slowly and spread his feet, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched me. His eyes were angry, but more than that, they were filled with hurt.

As infuriating as it was, I didn’t like hurting him. It was making me feel wretched, and that just pissed me off more. “I’ll take it.” Those three words were the most I could manage, as I couldn’t even begin to put everything else I wanted to say into coherent thoughts, much less words.

“How generous,” was his only answer.

Come on, Charlie. Work with me here.

I couldn’t give anymore, not right then. I didn’t like seeing him upset, but damn it, I was upset, too. And I hadn’t done a goddamn thing to cause any of this, other than being born, apparently.

Neither of us moved.

At last, I sighed and stepped toward him, holding out my hand. He pulled the keys from his pocket and held them over my outstretched hand, but when I moved to take them, he jerked them away again. “What’s the magic word?” he said gruffly.

A smile actually flitted across my lips as I quietly said, “Please.”

He cracked half a smile, too, and answered, “How about ‘thank you’?”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

His smile faded immediately, and he dropped the keys into my hand, muttering, “You’re welcome.” He turned around and stalked away, and the sound of his bedroom door closing was loud in my ears.

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Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 5

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