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themidnightsonThe irony was double fold -- the day after when Edward could hardly look at Bella, and he had refused to stay the night with her, forced upon her the inability to plead for it specifically because Charlie was in the room with them, and yet couldn't bring himself to leave the area of her house.
His car parked a few streets over, from leaving being there after her work shift as promised. He'd managed to tell her no. Managed to drive only the streets away. But then he'd ended up perched in a tree, refusing to even look at her wide-open open window, listening to the beat of her heart, the way she fretted through her sleep.
He was supposed to protect her.
And Jasper. Jasper and Alice.
And his family.
He was supposed to protect them, too.
Bella whispered his name in her sleep and Edward buried his face in his arms.
Wrong and right.
If he kept saying it, kept thinking it, kept refusing to let anything else hold sway. He could figure out what he had to do now. How he could undo all the wrong he'd done. How he could protect all of them. How to do the right thing this time.
His car parked a few streets over, from leaving being there after her work shift as promised. He'd managed to tell her no. Managed to drive only the streets away. But then he'd ended up perched in a tree, refusing to even look at her wide-open open window, listening to the beat of her heart, the way she fretted through her sleep.
He was supposed to protect her.
He promised. He promised he'd stay as long as it was the best thing for her. But because of him, she'd been endangered. Tortured. And attacked. First by others of their kind, and now by his own family. Broken legs and blood transfusions and stitches. All for his selfishness. Even when he could not stop wanting to kill her himself.
And Jasper. Jasper and Alice.
They were gone.
And his family.
He was supposed to protect them, too.
Too -- is so grossly wrong. As though it comes second. As though he hadn't had this task mastered for almost a century before her. As though he hasn't always made sure. That they were safe. That no one knew. That there wasn't any more risk than their lies and possible slips. They could, metaphorically, breathe and enjoy their life.
That they could always come home without fear.
And he'd broken that even -- the peace of their home.
The one place where they didn't have to lie or feel tempted.
Bella whispered his name in her sleep and Edward buried his face in his arms.
Wrong and right.
Wrong and right.
Wrong and right.
If he kept saying it, kept thinking it, kept refusing to let anything else hold sway. He could figure out what he had to do now. How he could undo all the wrong he'd done. How he could protect all of them. How to do the right thing this time.
