New Moon (The Twilight Saga, Book 2)

"What is it?" I asked, perplexed.
He didn't say anything; he took the CD and reached around me to put it in the CD player on the bedside
table. He hit play, and we waited in silence. Then the music began.
I listened, speechless and wide-eyed. I knew he was waiting for my reaction, but I couldn't talk. Tears
welled up, and I reached up to wipe them away before they could spill over.
"Does your arm hurt?" he asked anxiously.
"No, it's not my arm. It's beautiful, Edward. You couldn't have given me anything I would love more. I
can't believe it." I shut up, so I could listen.
It was his music, his compositions. The first piece on the CD was my lullaby.
"I didn't think you would let me get a piano so I could play for you here," he explained.
"You're right."
"How does your arm feel?"
"Just fine." Actually, it was starting to blaze under the bandage. I wanted ice. I would have settled for his
hand, but that would have given me away.
"I'll get you some Tylenol."
"I don't need anything," I protested, but he slid me off his lap and headed for the door.
"Charlie," I hissed. Charlie wasn't exactly aware that Edward frequently stayed over. In fact, he would
have a stroke if that fact were brought to his attention. But I didn't feel too guilty for deceiving him It
wasn't as if we were up to anything he wouldn't want me to be up to. Edward and his rules…
"He won't catch me," Edward promised as he disappeared silently out the door . . and returned, catching
the door before it had swung back to touch the frame. He had the glass from the bathroom and the bottle
of pills in one hand.
I took the pills he handed me without arguing—I knew I would lose the argument And my arm really was
starting to bother me.
My lullaby continued, soft and lovely, in the background.
"It's late," Edward noted. He scooped me up off the bed with one arm, and pulled the cover back with
the other. He put me down with my head on my pillow and tucked the quilt around me. He lay down next
to me—on top of the blanket so I wouldn't get chilled—and put his arm over me.
I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed happily.
"Thanks again," I whispered.
"You're welcome."
It was quiet for a long moment as I listened to my lullaby drift to a close. Another song began. I
recognized Esme's favorite.
"What are you thinking about?'" I wondered in a whisper.
He hesitated for a second before he told me. "I was thinking about right and wrong, actually."
I felt a chill tingle along my spine.
"Remember how I decided that I wanted you to not ignore my birthday?" I asked quickly, hoping it
wasn't too clear that I was trying to distract him.
"Yes," he agreed, wary.
"Well, I was thinking, since it's still my birthday, that I'd like you to kiss me again."
"You're greedy tonight."
"Yes, I am—but please, don't do anything you don't want to do," I added, piqued.
He laughed, and then sighed. "Heaven forbid that I should do anything I don't want to do," he said in a
strangely desperate tone as he put his hand under my chin and pulled my face up to his.
The kiss began much the same as usual—Edward was as careful as ever, and my heart began to
overreact like it always did. And then something seemed to change. Suddenly his lips became much more
urgent, his free hand twisted into my hair and held my face securely to his. And, though my hands tangled
in his hair, too, and though I was clearly beginning to cross his cautious lines, for once he didn't stop me.
His body was cold through the thin quilt, but I crushed myself against him eagerly.
When he stopped it was abrupt; he pushed me away with gentle, firm hands.
I collapsed back onto my pillow, gasping, my head spinning. Something tugged at my memory, elusive,
on the edges.
"Sorry," he said, and he was breathless, too. "That was out of line."
"I don't mind," I panted.
He frowned at me in the darkness. "Try to sleep. Bella."
"No, I want you to kiss me again."
"You're overestimating my self-control."
"Which is tempting you more, my blood or my body?" I challenged.
"It's a tie." He grinned briefly in spite of himself, and then was serious again. "Now. why don't you stop
pushing your luck and go to sleep?"
"Fine," I agreed, snuggling closer to him. I really did feel exhausted. It had been a long day in so many
ways, yet I felt no sense of relief at its end. Almost as if something worse was coming tomorrow. It was a
silly premonition—what could be worse than today?' Just the shock catching up with me, no doubt.
Trying to be sneaky about it, I pressed my injured arm against his shoulder, so his cool skin would sooth
the burning. It felt better at once.
I was halfway asleep, maybe more, when I realized what his kiss had reminded me of: last spring, when
he'd had to leave me to throw James off my trail, Edward had kissed me goodbye, not knowing
when—or if—we would see each other again. This kiss had the same almost painful edge for some
reason I couldn't imagine. I shuddered into unconsciousness, as if I were already having a nightmare.
3. THE END
I FELT ABSOLUTELY HIDEOUS IN THE MORNING. I HADN'T slept well; my arm burned and
my head ached. It didn't help my outlook that Edward's face was smooth and remote as he kissed my
forehead quickly and ducked out my window. I was afraid of the time I'd spent unconscious, afraid that
he might have been thinking about right and wrong again while he watched me sleep. The anxiety seemed
to ratchet up the intensity of the pounding in my head.
Edward was waiting for me at school, as usual, but his face was still wrong. There was something buried
in his eyes that I couldn't be sure of—and it scared me. I didn't want to bring up last night, but I wasn't
sure if avoiding the subject would be worse.
He opened my door for me.
"How do you feel?"
"Perfect," I lied, cringing as the sound of the slamming door echoed in my head.
We walked in silence, he shortening his stride to match mine. There were so many questions I wanted to
ask, but most of those questions would have to wait, because chey were for Alice: How was Jasper this
morning? What had they said when I was gone? What had Rosalie said? And most importantly, what
could she see happening now in her strange, imperfect visions of the future? Could she guess what
Edward was thinking, why he was so gloomy? Was there a foundation for the tenuous, instinctive fears
that I couldn't seem to shake?
The morning passed slowly. I was impatient to see Alice, though I wouldn't be able to really talk to her
with Edward there. Edward remained aloof. Occasionally he would ask about my arm, and I would lie.
Alice usually beat us to lunch; she didn't have to keep pace with a sloth like me. But she wasn't at the
table, waiting with a tray of food she wouldn't eat.
Edward didn't say anything about her absence. I wondered to myself if her class was running late—until I
saw Conner and Ben, who were in her fourth hour French class.
"Where's Alice?" I asked Edward anxiously.
He looked at the granola bar he was slowly pulverizing between his fingertips while he answered. "She's
with Jasper."
"Is he okay?"
"He's gone away for a while."
"What? Where?"
Edward shrugged. "Nowhere in particular."
"And Alice, too," I said with quiet desperation. Of course, if Jasper needed her, she would go.
"Yes. She'll be gone for a while. She was trying to convince him to go to Denali."
Denali was where the one other band of unique vampires—good ones like the Cullens—lived. Tanya and
her family. I'd heard of them now and again. Edward had run to them last winter when my arrival had
made Forks difficult for him. Laurent, the most civilized member of James's little coven, had gone there
rather than siding with James against the Cullens. It made sense for Alice to encourage Jasper to go
there.
I swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat. The guilt made my head bow and my
shoulders slump. I'd run them out of their home, just like Rosalie and Emmett. I was a plague.
"Is your arm bothering you?" he asked solicitously.
"Who cares about my stupid arm?" I muttered in disgust.
He didn't answer, and I put my head down on the table.
By the end of the day, the silence was becoming ridiculous. I didn't want to be the one to break it, but
apparently that was my only choice if I ever wanted him to talk to me again.
"You'll come over later tonight?" I asked as he walked me—silently—to my truck. He always came over.
"Later?"
It pleased me that he seemed surprised. "I have to work. I had to trade with Mrs. Newton to get
yesterday off."
"Oh," he murmured.
"So you'll come over when I'm home, though, right?" I hated that I felt suddenly unsure about this.
"If you want me to."
"I always want you," I reminded him, with perhaps a little more intensity than the conversation required.
I expected he would laugh, or smile, or react somehow to my words.
"All right, then," he said indifferently.
He kissed my forehead again before he shut the door on me. Then he turned his back and loped
gracefully toward his car.
I was able to drive out of the parking lot before the panic really hit, but I was hyperventilating by the time
I got to Newton's.
He just needed time, I told myself. He would get over this. Maybe he was sad because his family was
disappearing. But Alice and Jasper would come back soon, and Rosalie and Emmett, too. If it would
help, I would stay away from the big white house on the river—I'd never set foot there again. That didn't
matter. I'd still see Alice at school. She would have to come back for school, right? And she was at my
place all the time anyway. She wouldn't want to hurt Charlie's feelings by staying away.
No doubt I would also run into Carlisle with regularity—in the emergency room.
After all, what had happened last night was nothing. Nothing had happened. So I fell down—that was
the story of my life. Compared to last spring, it seemed especially unimportant. James had left me broken
and nearly dead from loss of blood—and yet Edward had handled the interminable weeks in the hospital
much better than this. Was it because, this time, it wasn't an enemy he'd had to protect me from?
Because it was his brother?