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The house had finally settled into the evening lull.
Esme hummed quietly in the kitchen, rinsing bottles and stacking them to dry. Alice and Rosalie had curled up together watching television, whispering together. Emmett was somewhere upstairs with Jasper, likely inventing a new game that would require yet another repair to the guest bedroom.
And in the nursery, added to the house just for Edward, Carlisle sat in the rocking chair, cradling his eldest boy in his arms.
Edward was curled into himself, nestled tightly against Carlisle’s chest, dressed in a pale green onesie that had soft vines and little deer stitched across the belly. His thumb had been tucked into his mouth when Carlisle first entered the room, but now it lay curled against Carlisle’s chest as he suckled gently on the bottle of warmed blood.
Carlisle rocked slowly, the chair creaking faintly under them, his hand running in slow, tender circles over Edward’s back.
“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, tilting the bottle just a bit to help with the flow. “Drinking so nicely for daddy.”
Edward gave a soft hum around the nipple, his eyes already half-lidded, cheeks slightly pink - not from the blood, but from the embarrassment he still couldn’t quite shake. Even now, wrapped in safety and quiet, he was flushed from forehead to collarbones.
But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t protest. He was tired. He was little. And he just needed to be held.
“You were so brave today,” Carlisle whispered. “Coming down to see everyone. And letting Mommy hold you, too. She was so proud.”
Edward blinked slowly, the praise settling deep into his chest, easing the twist of guilt he always carried. His hands tightened slightly in Carlisle’s sweater, the bottle lowering as he paused to rest his cheek against his father’s shoulder.
“Daddy…” he murmured, voice impossibly soft and high, almost unsure if he should say it at all.
But Carlisle’s arms only pulled tighter.
“Oh, baby,” he breathed, kissing the top of Edward’s bronze hair. “You don’t have to be afraid here. You’re safe. You’re mine.”
Edward whimpered faintly, then returned to sucking the bottle, more relaxed now. The only sounds in the nursery were the ticking of the mobile on the wall, the gentle creak of the chair, and the small sucking noises as Edward nursed.
The door opened quietly behind them.
Carlisle didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He felt the soft shift of Edward’s body as it tensed slightly in his lap, his legs curling up tighter, his gaze darting toward the doorway.
“Just me,” Bella whispered gently, stepping into the room with bare feet. She wore soft cotton pajamas and had her hair loosely tied back, a book held in one hand. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” Carlisle said with a smile, barely above a breath. “He’s doing very well.”
Edward peeked at her, still drinking, face flaming again as he saw her standing there. But Bella just walked over slowly and knelt next to the rocking chair.
“Hi, love,” she whispered, brushing the back of her hand against Edward’s warm cheek. “You look so cozy.”
Edward turned a little more into Carlisle, hiding his face, but his bottle didn’t stop.
“Shy?” Bella asked gently, glancing up at Carlisle.
“He’s trying very hard,” Carlisle replied, cradling Edward closer. “But he’s very little tonight.”
Bella leaned in and kissed Edward’s shoulder through the onesie, her voice tender as silk.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” she said. “It makes me happy to see you letting yourself be taken care of.”
Edward whimpered again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was something softer. Something more grateful.
Carlisle shifted the bottle slightly. “Almost done, darling,” he said. “Do you want to finish it for me?”
Edward nodded, barely, and nursed the last bit before pushing it away weakly.
“There,” Carlisle said, setting the bottle aside and adjusting Edward into a more upright position. “All full. My sweet baby boy.”
Edward was already drowsy, head lolling on Carlisle’s shoulder, one hand resting against Bella’s chest as she pressed a kiss to his hair.
“Can I stay?” she asked quietly.
Carlisle nodded. “Of course.”
He resumed the rocking motion, and Bella curled up on the floor beside the chair, one hand on Edward’s ankle, grounding him gently. His eyes slipped closed, his breath slow and even as Carlisle began to hum an old lullaby.
The room felt warm, still, sacred.
“Daddy,” Edward whispered again, smaller than ever.
“Yes, baby,” Carlisle answered immediately, kissing his temple. “Daddy’s here.”
And so was Bella. And his whole family. Watching over him.
Loving him.
Forever.