Wayward ➳ Edward Cullen

5. Interruptions

It took another hour to finish up all the paperwork. Fortunately, all Sherriff Swan wanted was a statement about the accident. I had no problem keeping Edward's role to just tugging me out of the way. The chief wouldn't have believed the truth even if I'd been inclined to tell him.

He was impressed with Edward's actions, though.

Free to leave after Bobby finished signing, we took off. The roads had thawed enough that I was comfortable letting Sam drive the Ford back to the house. Bobby followed in a rental. Everyone made it back without incident.

"Are you staying overnight?" Sam asked as Bobby climbed out of the car.

Bobby gave a single, short nod. "Might as well." He went to the trunk and pulled out a duffle not dissimilar from mine or Sam's. "Engine on that truck sounded off," he added, chin jutting towards the Ford as we all walked up the rest of the driveway for the sidewalk. "I'll take a look at it tomorrow."

Once inside, Bobby claimed the couch by planting his bag on the floor beside it and strode into the kitchen. The refrigerator door rattled as he pulled it open and peered inside. "No beer?" he grumped.

"It's been me and Sam, Bobby," I pointed out.

Bobby glanced over his shoulder. "Right," he muttered, disappointed. Straightening back up, he swung the door shut. He looked Sam's way as he leaned against the counter. "Shouldn't you be back at school?"

Sam slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Only one class left."

Bobby grunted. "Fair enough." He glanced at the clock. "Well, 'spose I ought to make a quick trip to the store. You two need anything?"

"A few more tv dinners wouldn't hurt," I replied.

Bobby frowned. "Neither of you are cooking?"

Sam and I exchanged a puzzled look before shaking our heads. Moving from motel to motel, we rarely had a stove in the room to cook on. We'd grown up on food from diners and drive-through. Cooking was a skill outside our wheelhouse.

Bobby blew out an exasperated breath and crossed the floor. "I'll get some hamburger. Show you how to make sloppy joes."

Later that night, Bobby made good on his promise. It was the first homecooked meal we'd had since we'd stayed at his place the year before.

≿━━━━༺ 𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 ༻━━━━≾

The next day at school, the near miss was big news. Everyone treated me like a hero for pulling Sam out of the way. Curiously, there wasn't near the same reaction when I said Edward had saved me. After a moment of surprise, they gave some justification that allowed them to brush Edward's actions away to the back of their mind. He was already there, they reasoned. He just reacted.

I'd once thought I was the only one who picked up on the strange vibe Edward gave off—the instinct to get away. I was beginning to think it wasn't just a Hunter thing. Everyone must get that feeling, and they were listening to it—even if they had to rationalize it to themselves.

At lunch, there had been what looked like a spirited conversation at the Cullen's customary table. Edward looked put out, tossing bits of food down on his plate while the others—particularly Rosalie—argued some point with him.

Unfortunately, finding myself the center of attention at my own corner of the cafeteria didn't give me much opportunity to watch the drama. Even Sam's table was suddenly crowded with people. He didn't have a single book out that day as he fielded questions.

Later at Biology, apart from a short nod at my greeting, Edward kept to himself that day in class. Lips pressed tightly together as he kept his eyes on his book or on the board, I took the hint and left him alone. That didn't make it any easier to concentrate on the material. I had too many questions left unanswered. Too many uncertainties about the boy beside me.