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When Bella returns that evening, Charlie is in his room. He hears Alice and Edward helping her up the stairs, on his way down, Edward hesitates by his door. Charlie knows this because he hears little Alice’s tinkling voice hiss, “Edward, come on, let’s get home.” And then footsteps retreating down the stairs.
Bella is a big girl. She doesn’t need her old man to tuck her in, especially in his state. Once Carlisle left, Charlie staggered to the kitchen and dumped the rest of the whisky bottle down the sink, so ashamed he could hardly think.
Fuck. Don’t let your mind go there. Don’t think about it. Maybe it will go away.
Charlie rolls over in his bed, praying for a peaceful sleep.
———
Despite yesterday's binge drinking, he’s up before Bella. When he looks in their tiny cracked bathroom mirror, his skin is pale and waxy, eyes bloodshot. No hiding that. Oh well.
He lumbers down the stairs and starts making coffee, pancakes, and bacon. Might as well try to distract her. Despite his incompetence in the kitchen, he can make pancakes from a box mix thank you very much. Just as the bacon starts to sizzle, he sees his phone light up. Charlie’s stomach churns, hoping it’s Bella letting him know she is awake and not… someone else.
“Hello,” his voice is gravely from sleep.
“Hey dad, I’m up. Can you come help me?”
“Sure honey, be right up,” relieved, he snaps his phone closed and turns the heat to low on the stove.
Bella looks tired but happy when he peaks into the darkness of her room. He helps her downstairs and onto the couch. She clocks his red rimmed eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Charlie knows Renee is a nightmare, and he really doesn’t want Bella to think she needs to worry about him too. Afterall, he’s the parent. Bella shouldn’t feel like she has to take care of him.
Once he deposits her on the couch with the remote, he retreats back to the kitchen, finishing their breakfast. When he comes back into the living room, laden with steaming mugs and fragrant plates (a healthy serving of fruit on both their plates), Bella is cocooned in a blanket watching a rerun of I Love Lucy. Charlie smiles and joins her. They sit in companionable silence, munching on bacon and slurping their coffee. That is until Ricky and Lucy share a passionate embrace.
Well fuck. Can’t have a moment's peace can I?
———
Charlie spends the rest of the day puttering around the house, cleaning and avoiding Bell’s stares. Edward and Alice are supposed to come by later and hang out, and Charlie wants to be gone by the time they get here. He doesn’t think Carlisle would have said anything to his kids of course, but Charlie would rather avoid all human contact at this point.
The Cullen’s are usually annoyingly punctual, so Charlie heads out only about ten minutes before they arrive, unwilling to leave Bella alone for more than a few minutes at this point. He loads his tackle and rod into the cruiser and speeds off in the direction of the river, not that he has any intention of going there. That would be the first place Carlisle would look if he cared to.
Instead, he just drives, no destination in mind. Stereo cranked up, no room to think through the sound of the pounding bass.
———
There aren’t exactly many places to go in Forks. So despite his best efforts, Charlie gravitates towards the river. He is careful to park in a different location, and go sufficiently downstream from the Cullen’s property.
Charlie leans against the trunk of a big fur tree, looking out at the misty river. Despite the gradually warming weather, the sky is still gray and drizzly. He sighs, closes his eyes and leans his head back.
What the fuck is he going to do?
A quiet twig snap startles him out of his reverie, and his eyes quickly open. Standing a few yards away, is none other than Carlisle Cullen. Jesus, how did he sneak up on me like that?
Charlie can feel a mortified blush flooding his cheeks as he opens his mouth to speak. No words come out. Great. I’ve been struck dumb. Carlisle’s expression is wary as he moves forward, like he’s trying not to spook a frightened animal.
“Please, don’t go,” his voice is quiet.
“How did you find me?” Asking the relevant questions, Charlie.
“I have been walking along the river hoping I would run into you,” he’s close now. “I wanted to talk.”
Charlie tenses. Well of fucking course he wants to talk. What did you expect? You practically tried to mawl him.
“Many years ago. Esme had a friend. Her name was Amelia,” well, he hadn’t expected Esme’s life story in response to trying to stick his tongue down her husband’s throat. “They were quite close. As time passed, it became increasingly obvious they had feelings for each other. I know Esme loves me. She always has and always will. But I also knew she cared deeply for Amelia.” Carlisle pauses and looks somewhere over Charlie’s shoulder into the green forest.
Frankly, Charlie has no idea what he’s going to say next. It’s like he’s still asleep or something.
“I… told her. That I wanted her to follow her heart. And she did. They had a very loving relationship for many years until Amelia unexpectedly passed away.” What.
“Last night, I told Esme of what had transpired,” Charlie felt his stomach roll. Fucking Christ on a cracker, was Carlisle about to tell him that he and Esme are like LGBT whatever supporters who go to pride or something?
“Apparently, she has noticed for some time the connection we share,” wait what? “I was hardly aware of it myself, but she has always known me well.” Share? Wanna repeat that doc?
“Huh?” Is Charlie’s brilliant response. Carlisle’s gaze cuts back to Charlie, pinning him with its intensity. When the fuck had he gotten so close? Charlie’s heart is racing and sweat is beading on his forehead.
“She granted her permission,” Carlisle is so close now, silky voice barely a whisper.
“Permission?” Charlie croaks. Why is his hand brushing the front of Carlisle’s shirt? He hadn’t told it to move.
Carlisle’s long white fingers encircle his wrist and draw his hand above his head, pinning it to the tree trunk. His cool breath is ghosting over Charlie’s lips, eyelashes lowered and studying his mouth.
“Fuck. You better fucking do something, man,” Charlie barely finishes his plea before Carlisle presses his lips to his.
Charlie’s brain shorts out as he eagerly returns the kiss, tugging slightly on his hand, only to find it impossible to move. He whimpers against Carlisle’s mouth, trying to convince himself he doesn’t find that hot. Carlisle’s lips are cool and full as he licks into Charlie’s mouth, his other hand gently stroking Charlie’s neck where his pulse beats furiously.
Too soon, Charlie’s phone shatters the silence. Carlisle pulls away and Charlie tries unsuccessfully to chase after his mouth, eyes still closed.
“You must answer that, it could be important,” Carlisle’s voice is low and gravely.
It takes him a second to realize that his hand is now free. Clumsily, he digs around in his pocket and flips open his phone.
“Hello,” he barely recognizes his voice.
“Dad? Where are you? Dinner is getting cold,” Bella’s voice is reproachful and a little concerned.
“Oh. Um. Sorry honey, I’m at the river. Be home soon,” with no fish to show for it, he thinks. That’s alright, their freezer is practically stuffed. Charlie flips his phone closed and looks up. Carlisle is pulling away.
“I will see you soon,” he has the audacity to smile. Fucking smug bastard.
———
Later, Charlie examines his wrist in the shower. It’s got a faint bruise on it.
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